She didn't want to join the dinner group, because she didn't want to watch Carly flirting -with Noah again. She'd spent too much time over the last three days obsessing about whether Carly and Noah -were sneaking off together, and also avoiding any opportunity to find out.
Did Carly need to have all the boys? Every last one? Could she leave one for anyone else?
What if’ she did leave one for me? Ama asked herself fitfully. What would I do about it? Would I talk to him? Would I sit next to him? Would I even stay put for two minutes when he sat next to me? Nothing, no, no, and no. Why shouldn't Carly have Noah, too? Carly had enough for all of them, -whereas Ama didn't have anything for anyone.
That night was cold. Ama lay shivering in her sleeping bag, alternating between fretting about the rappel and fretting about Carly and Noah. This was interrupted when Carly arrived at the entrance to the tent.
Ama immediately pretended to be asleep so she wouldn't have to talk to her, and again it was a miscalculation. Like she had on that first night, Carly brought a guest.
Was it Noah? Ama couldn't move. She opened one eye for a fraction of a second and saw the dark, straight hair. It was Noah! She waited to hear his voice as the two of them crowded into the little tent. She didn't dare turn her head.
Was it definitely him? He didn't say anything. In mortification she listened to Carly's whispers and giggles. And then she listened to the unmistakable sound of kissing.
This was too much! She couldn't take it.
In a fit of anger and jealousy mixed with a few parts humiliation, Ama gathered her sleeping bag around herself and unzipped the entrance with hurried, shaking hands. She grabbed her pack and crashed out of the tent. She tried to walk in her sleeping bag, but she couldn't. She stumbled and tripped, dropped her pack, and clumsily fought for her balance.
“Oops. I guess she wasn't asleep,” she heard Carly say from inside the tent.
“I guess not,” the boy—Noah?—answered.
They whispered and laughed and Ama needed desperately to get away. She couldn't stay there for as long as it would take to get out of her sleeping bag, so she started hopping. It was a hard combination, anger and hopping. She felt ridiculous. But it was impossible, she knew, to feel more ridiculous than she looked.
She hopped to the edge of the campsite. She wanted to make a statement with her anger. She heard a far- off animal sound. But not that big a statement. She didn't want to die.
She slumped over and thought for a moment. She carefully stowed her pack under a clump of dense shrubbery so her stuff wouldn't get too wet if it rained in the night. She stretched out and nestled down, down into her sleeping bag so her head was all the way in.
It was like her own little tiny tent, with no slutty tent mates and no disappointing boys in it. I love you, sleeping bag, she thought. Who needed boys or good grades or even self-respect when you had your own little tiny tent? Maybe she had been born a tortoise in another life.
If I never came out, I think I might be happy, she told herself. She imagined there were rooms and corridors down in her sleeping bag and lots of objects to keep her company. She was like Oscar the Grouch on Sesame Street, -whom she used to watch sometimes in Ghana. Space magically released Oscar from its normal rules and allowed him to have lots of room and plenty of objects inside his little aluminum garbage can. Maybe that was how her sleeping bag could be.
And with that in her mind, Amas thoughts went along in their pretty unweaving toward sleep.
“I could change it. I don't mind,” Polly said to Ms. Miller, the hair and makeup teacher at modeling camp, -who stood shaking her head at Polly's hair.
“I'm thinking extensions,” the woman said. “What about the color?”
Polly peered at herself in the mirror. “What about it?”
“It's natural?”
“Um. Yes.”
“It's so severe. So dark.”
“I could lighten it?” Polly said tentatively. She wondered what her mother-would have to say about that. Her mother was all for hair dye, but only if it was black or pink or green or blue. Blond would not sit well with Dia. As Polly looked around the class, she recognized that she was both the oldest and by far the least blond. Probably not all of the girls came that way naturally.
That was one thing that surprised Polly about modeling camp. Although the brochure said ages nine to sixteen, Polly, at fourteen, -was fully two years older than the next-oldest camper.
Another thing -was that the camp -was situated right near the parking lot of a large shopping mall, and it turned out that the curriculum involved a lot of supervised shopping. Polly had not been expecting -woods on a lake and tents and canoes, exactly, but she hadn't been expecting a parking lot and a mall, either.
The shopping -was a problem for one thing because she didn't like shopping and for another thing because she had spent every dollar she had earned babysitting on getting to the camp in the first place. That didn't leave any budget for shopping or the camp snack bar. Which -was probably just as well, because she still had two pounds to lose.
Which led her to another of the things she was surprised about. For a bunch of girls who aspired to be models, they sure did spend a lot of time in the snack bar.
During the free periods in the middle of the day, while the other girls sat in the snack bar and watched TV Polly sat in the classroom and continued her research on famous models. She knew she should be making more of an effort to get some friends, but she was self- conscious about being older and she knew she was different.
Anyway, it was easier for her to spend time among super models rather than -with actual girls who only hoped for the things the supermodels already had, and with -whom the conversation -was supposed to go both -ways.
Jo put on her favorite shorts and wore her hair down for her shift that night, hoping to make herself feel better. She wanted badly to see Zach. When she saw him all her regular, slow thoughts retreated and new, darting thoughts took over, and today that seemed like it would be a good thing.
When she spotted him in the dining area, she went over to him and put her hand briefly in his back pocket. “Hi, Zach.”
She wanted him to kiss her, just a tiny one. That was the one thing she had been focusing on for the last twelve hours, but he was rushing to the kitchen to put in his first order.
Zach, Zach, Zach, Zach, Zach. Now that she knew his name she did enjoy saying it. Are you my boyfriend? Are you, Zach, my boyfriend?
During her break, she hung out in the back -with the other girls as they smoked and text- messaged, their fingers a blur. She felt like she was one of them now, minus the cigarettes. Jo recognized a new girl she'd spotted several times over the course of the night.
“Is this your first shift?” Jo asked her.
“This summer, yeah,” the girl said. “I worked here last August.”
She was probably seventeen or eighteen, Jo guessed, but she looked older. She wore the standard- issue Surfside T-shirt, but she filled it out in a way that Jo did not. She had luxurious dark hair, good tanning skin, and a substantial nose. She was striking, more sexy than pretty.
“I'm Jo,” Jo said. “Are you from D.C.?”
“Bethesda. What about you?”
“Same,” Jo said. “Where do you go to school?”
“South Bethesda. I'm a senior.”
Jo nodded, feeling very young and small. She decided not to say that was where she went too. She wanted this girl to see her as a fellow waitress (sort of) with a boyfriend, and not as just a measly high school freshman.
“Are you bussing?” the girl asked somewhat dismis-sively, looking around in her purse for something.
“Yeah,” Jo said. She wanted this girl to know that she wasn't just some little hanger- on, that she was part of the group. She was the girlfriend of the hands- down hottest guy in the place. She was a busser, yes, but she had stature here, even -with the waiters.
The girl applied some gloss to her lips, swung her purse over h
er shoulder, and headed back into the restaurant.
“Hey, Effie, hold up,” Violet called after her.
Jo, feeling pale and extra- freckly, -walked back to the dishwashing station -with as much dignity as possible. She thought about the night ahead. When Zach popped up at the end of the shift, as he inevitably -would, and -wanted to take her down to the beach and kiss her, she -would go for it. Not like she hadn't before, but this time -would be different. She -was ready to have a real boyfriend now. She knew the value of a guy like Zach, and she didn't -want to mess it up.
By ten- fifteen all but one party of diners had left and Jo -was cleaning and setting up tables for the following day. She looked around to catch Zach's eye, but he -wasn't anywhere in the dining area.
Bryn -wheeled the silverware cart over. “I heard Zach's girlfriend from last summer is back,” she announced in a stage -whisper.
“What are you talking about?”
“That new -waitress? You know, the one -with the huge boobs and the dark hair? She told Megan that Zach is her boyfriend. They hooked up last summer and stayed together all year.”
Not very close together, Jo thought, but did not say. She kept setting the table, like this was of no special interest to her. “I don't believe it. Megan told you that?”
“Violet told me. Megan told Violet.”
“Right,” Jo said, casually, as though she didn't much believe it or care.
Jo looked around in mounting frustration. She had seven tables still to set and one party that would not leave. It was unfair, because most of the waiters were allowed to go once their section had cleared out, while the bussers had to stay until every last table in their section -was wiped and set.
The majority of the girls were already gathered in the bathroom. Earlier, during the lunch shift, Megan had said Jo could come along tonight, but Jo knew they weren't all going to wait for her. They would take off for the night's activities while Jo was still stuck here. Zach -would wait for her, though.
She wiped manically, ignoring Bryn and her gossip. The big- boobed, dark- haired girl might believe she was Zach's girlfriend, but she was obviously wrong. Zach didn't think so. Maybe they had hooked up last summer. That was totally possible. But Zach had clearly moved on, and that girl was just going to have to deal with it.
Jo watched with a sense of desperation as the girls left in a noisy group. The other -waiters had mostly closed out too. She -was left among the lowly people: Brownie, Jordan- the- doofus, and Carlos. Even Bryn and Lila had already left.
She and Brownie wrapped up the paper from table after table with all the crab shells and guts in them and carried them to the big garbage cans out back. Jo was going too fast to be careful. She was going to stink of crab guts for the rest of her life.
Zach -was probably -waiting out back for her. He'd jump out from behind a Dumpster or something. But how long would he wait?
She considered leaving. Would Jordan fire her? He'd have to give her at least one more chance, wouldn't he?
When she finally got out of the restaurant Zach -was gone. The rest of the group was long gone.
She took out her cell phone to call her mom. She couldn't just go home. No possible way.
“Mom, I'm going to go out with the staff for like, half an hour, okay?”
“Jo, it's almost eleven.”
“I'll be back by eleven- twenty at the latest. I promise.”
“Do you want me to come pick you up?”
“No, that's okay. I'm fine.”
“Honey, did you call your dad?”
Damn. She was supposed to call him and she forgot, just like she forgot last night and the night before. “It was really busy. I'll call tomorrow.”
She walked fast along the boardwalk, hoping the guilt wouldn't get a chance to settle on her. She appreciated the fast- blowing -wind against her face.
She'd pass by the big arcade and then swing past the Chatterbox. There weren't that many places they could be, unless they were partying on the beach.
They weren't in the arcade, but she did recognize some familiar faces as she approached the Chatterbox. The group of them liked to sit at the big table by the front window. She grabbed the brass door handle and was about to pull it open and walk in -when she caught sight of Zach through the big window.
She felt her hands shaking as she dropped them to her sides and backed away from the light.
She'd really only seen half of Zach's face, because the other half was buried in the neck of the dark- haired girl. The girl had her arm looped around him possessively while she talked to somebody across the table.
The dark- haired girl thought Zach -was her boyfriend, and Zach apparently agreed.
Ama dreamed rough dreams that night, both tedious and strenuous. She went in and out of sleep, too tired to keep track of anything.
The first sting came after dawn. She coiled and scratched her ankle and threaded it into the narrative of her dream. Some time later, the second and third stings came, dreamlike too, but when the fifth through the fiftieth came all at once, she had no choice but to wake up and stick her head out the top of her sleeping bag and scream.
She stripped off her sleeping bag and smacked at her ankles and arms.
Fire ants! Ahhhhhhh! She jumped around and screamed and slapped with superhuman speed and dexterity until she got them all off.
After that she looked up slowly, very slowly. In the full light of day she looked up, expecting to see the rest of the campers watching her insane performance.
But there wasn't anyone around. She was disoriented. She felt the sun on her head. It was later than she'd thought.
She turned around and saw the grassy hill behind her. When she'd fallen asleep she'd been at the edge of the campsite, and now she wasn't.
She must have rolled down the hill. Amazing but true. She saw the bushes where she'd left her pack, uphill and several yards away.
She lifted her sleeping bag and wrapped it around her shoulders. So much for its magical powers of protection. She headed slowly up the hill.
She found her backpack right away, just where she'd left it. She pulled it from the bushes and walked into the campsite. At first, she was relieved that it was empty so nobody could make fun of her for being attacked by vicious ants and rolling down a hill in her sleep. But that relief was short- lived. Where was everybody?
She walked around the clearing. She saw where they'd had their fire, and a few remnants from cooking. This was indeed the campsite. She hadn't woken up in an alternate universe or anything.
She tried to remember the plan for today. They were going to hike down into a canyon, she recalled. They were supposed to get an early start, probably hiking the first hour before sunrise.
The worry -was alive and churning in her intestines, growing by the minute. Had they left her? How could that have happened? Wouldn't they notice she wasn't there? She thought of how often she'd lagged behind the rest of the group. Hadn't they seen her pack? She thought of how she'd carefully buried it in the bushes.
“Hello?” she called out. Her voice sounded timid and small in the forest. “Hello?” she tried more loudly.
Maybe if she started hiking she could catch up with them? She tried to push aside the knowledge that she could barely catch up with them even -when she got a head start. Which direction had they gone in?
The canyon had to be downhill, she thought. Canyons -were made from -water. Water traveled down. Her thoughts raced up and down and around. They couldn't have gone in the direction she had rolled in, because if they'd gone that way they would have seen her.
In a panic she began stuffing her sleeping bag into her pack. She strode several yards before she realized she hadn't gotten dressed. She wildly unpacked the top of her pack and pulled on the first clothes she saw over her long underwear.
She marched along, downhill, trying to quiet the panic. She walked faster and faster. What if she couldn't find them? What if she wandered around lost, without food or water? She
could die here and nobody would even notice!
She scanned the trees for markings of a trail, but saw none. Just trees and trees and trees and they were all the same. What should I do?
“Hello?” she shouted uselessly at the trees.
She sped up her pace to a near run, vaguely recognizing how much stronger her legs had gotten, how much sturdier her ankles were. She kept on going, barely noticing that she was out of breath and her lungs were aching. She barely felt the weight of her pack.
“Hello?” she shouted down a hill an hour or more later, searching for signs of water, hearing nobody.
“Can I ask you something?” Jo had gotten to the restaurant early so she could catch Zach on his way in.
Zach glanced around and then at his cell phone, -which he held in his hand. “Anything you want to know,” he said lightly, but he didn't look quite like he meant it. “Until my shift starts in three minutes.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” She'd debated the -wording of it for all the hours it had taken her to fall asleep the night before, and that -was -what she had come up -with. She'd thought of saying Do you have another girlfriend? but she -was -worried about being confusing or presumptuous at such a moment. If he really liked her, he'd say You're my girlfriend, Goldie.
“Do I what?” he said, like he was hard of hearing.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Besides me? a part of her wanted to say. Besides you? she wanted him to say.
“You mean Effie?” he asked.
That was the wrong answer. “I don't know who I mean. Is Effie your girlfriend? Is she the one with the dark hair and the big—if she is, then I guess that's who I mean.” Jo wished her mouth -would stop with the talking.
“Effie and I got together -when -we were -working here last summer,” he said, jiggling his phone around in his hand. “I didn't realize she -was coming back.”
I bet you didn't, Jo thought. It might have been the first completely true thing he'd said. “Are you still together?”
He sighed, as though her line of questioning -was irrelevant and somewhat exasperating. “Together? I don't know. I mean, -we hang out.”