“Gee, I don’t know,” Val said with a shake of her head. “He’ll be on the lookout, so it’ll really be hard to get something past him.”
“Well, whatever you guys think,” Dawn said, sensing the girls’ hesitancy. “We can always let some of the others think one up this year.”
Just then the bell clanged announcing the end of breakfast. Fran stood, saying, “Come on, you all. Cabin cleanup. I want that pizza party.” One by one, they started for the tray return window while Marlee sat toying with her bowl of soggy corn flakes.
Dawn held her breath, willing the others to turn around and notice. It was Val who did. “Aren’t you coming, Marlee?”
Marlee started. “I–I guess so.” She got up so quickly that Dawn had to catch her chair to keep it from falling over.
“Shelly’s doing the inspections today,” Dawn announced giving Marlee a sly wink, “so I won’t be able to help you out any like I did yesterday.”
“Don’t worry,” Esther called. “That place will be so neat, she’ll be able to eat off the floors!”
Dawn watched them leave in a cluster, like a small flock of geese. Marlee hesitated slightly, and then tagged doggedly after them.
That afternoon during the rap session, Dawn and Gail led their group in a discussion about their feelings about having cancer. Dawn listened as campers shared, but she kept watching Marlee. The girl sat on her hands, her long legs wrapped around the legs of the chair, and stared at the floor. Her shoulders were hunched, her back slumped. Dawn tried to pull her into the discussion by asking, “How about you, Marlee? What’s your story?”
Marlee looked up, and her expression reminded Dawn of a deer caught suddenly by headlights. She glanced quickly from one person to another. All at once, she announced, “This is boring. I’m out of here.” She jumped up and headed out the door.
“Wait. Don’t leave,” Gail called and looked to Dawn. Her expression said, Go after her.
Dawn darted out only to see Marlee vanishing down one of the camp trails. “Marlee!” Dawn called. The girl kept going, and Dawn had to run to catch up. She drew alongside and grabbed her arm. “Hey, wait up.”
“Leave me alone!” Marlee shouted. “I hate this place, and I hate having cancer!” She tried to shake Dawn off, but Dawn wouldn’t let go.
“Do you think any of us had a choice?” Dawn asked. “No one asked me when I was thirteen if I wanted to get leukemia. No one consulted me about chemo and spinal taps and blood work.”
“But you’re well now.”
“Am I? So far my transplant’s been a success, but there are no guarantees. Come back to the group with me. Listening to the others helps you feel less alone. Who knows? Maybe it’ll help make you feel better about yourself.”
“I hate being defective,” Marlee said bitterly. “And hanging around this place isn’t going make me feel any better, no matter how much fun I try and have.”
“Defective? What do you mean by that?”
“Flawed, imperfect, not right.”
“So who’s perfect?”
“Certainly not me,” Marlee said, shaking Dawn’s hand loose and running off toward the cabin.
Dawn stood in the middle of the sunlit trail and watched her disappear. She felt torn with uncertainty between helping Marlee or just writing her off as hopeless. Yet Dawn couldn’t forget the look that had been on Marlee’s face as she called herself defective. It was as if she felt that getting cancer had been her fault.
* * * * *
Marlee’s reaction stayed in Dawn’s thoughts the rest of the day. While everyone else prepared for Monster Movie Night, she wandered down to the lake, sat on the end of the pier, and stared out at the setting sun.
“You look like you could use a friend,” Brent drawled as he came up behind her.
“Hi.”
He sat beside her. “I missed seeing you at dinner.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“It’s Marlee.” From the far side of the lake, a whippoorwill called for its mate. Dawn told him about the short-sheeting episodes. “I thought she’d be really angry, but she wasn’t. In fact, she ate breakfast with us.” Next she told about the rap session and what Marlee had said about being defective. “And then she stayed in her bed all afternoon. I wish I knew how to get through to her.”
“Why do you want to?” Brent asked.
“Because that’s why I’m here—to help kids with cancer.” There was more to it, but Dawn wasn’t sure she could tell Brent because it involved Sandy. When Sandy had realized how shy Mike had been about his missing leg, she’d made a joke about him having more hair than she did. It had put him at ease and started their friendship. Dawn had never forgotten about her friend’s sensitivity and sweetness.
Now, with Marlee, she longed for some of Sandy’s compassion and instinct for saying the right thing. She glanced toward Brent. “I don’t understand why Marlee’s the way she is—and I want to.”
“Well, maybe it would help if she fixed herself up a little.”
“What do you mean?”
“She could make a little effort. You know, some makeup, covering her head—stuff like that.”
“But that’s the point of this place. No one has to get fixed up.”
“I’ll bet Marlee never pulls herself together.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know how.”
“I thought most girls knew how to do that stuff from birth. Sandy was always primping, and Jennifer’s only eight and she’s already the same.”
There was just enough light for her to see his eyes twinkle. She punched him playfully. “Oh, come on. Sandy and I weren’t that way.”
“You mean you’re just naturally pretty?”
Dawn felt a fluttery sensation. “Sandy was the pretty one,” she said. “I sometimes wonder just how pretty she would have been if she’d gotten to grow up.”
“We’ll never know, will we?” Brent answered. He picked up a pebble and tossed it out into the water. Dawn heard it plop and saw rings move in ever-widening circles across the surface of the tranquil lake. He shifted beside her on the dock and turned so that he was facing her. The closeness of him made her heart beat faster. He said, “I’m glad I met you, Dawn. You help me feel connected to my sister. I like the feeling. It makes me less lonely.”
“You help me feel connected to her, too. I guess that’s the way it is with people who live with cancer. It joins you together like nothing else.”
“Are you saying that if it weren’t for Sandy, you wouldn’t even be talking to me?”
She heard the teasing tone in his voice and was grateful his mood had grown lighter, less somber. “You’re the one doing all the talking,” she kidded.
“Just for that, you’ll have to go to the Fifties dance with me tomorrow night.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Begging you.”
She felt a tingly warmth spread through her. “Well, since you put it that way—it’s a date.” She heard the sound of her own heart thudding and hoped he couldn’t hear it. She told him, “Maybe we’d better get back to the main hall. I’ll bet Dr. Ben’s about to start the movie.”
He draped his arm around her shoulder. “We’ve got plenty of time. You can’t watch a horror movie until it’s pitch black out.”
They sat on the dock watching the stars come out and the fireflies flicker and listened to bullfrogs and crickets serenade the night. She nestled against him, feeling content. Sandy’s life had made it possible for the two of them to meet. Like a connect-the-dot puzzle in a child’s coloring book, cancer had joined all of them.
Which meant that she was connected to Marlee Hodges, too.
Eight
WHILE the campers swam the next afternoon, the staff turned the assembly hall into a soda shop from the 1950s. Dawn couldn’t believe how much work was involved. But once everything was ready, she had to admit that the effort had been worthwhile.
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One side looked like a drugstore soda counter. Dr. Ben and some of the kitchen staff would serve sodas, ice cream, and snacks there throughout the evening. A jukebox filled with CDs with songs from the Fifties had been delivered, and it faced the dance floor. Pink plastic tablecloths covered the tables, and cardboard cut-outs of guitars and musical notes hung on the walls.
Dawn gave a quick, satisfied look at their work and ran back to the cabin. Before camp, a letter had been sent to the campers telling them what to bring. Dawn was pleased to see that all of them had dragged along something for Fifties Night.
“What do you think of my wig?” Esther asked, turning to show off a long, blond ponytail. “Don’t I look awesome?”
“They didn’t talk like that in the Fifties, silly,” Fran said laughing. “They would have said you look cool,” she added.
By the time Dawn showered, dressed in her mother’s old poodle skirt, bobby socks, and saddle shoes and arrived at the hall, the place was jumping. An old song by Elvis was playing on the jukebox, and in the center of the floor Brent was doing a terrific impression of the King of Rock ’n’ Roll. He’d blackened his hair, slicked it back on the sides, and wore a jacket that glittered in the light. Every time he gyrated, the girls would squeal and shriek.
Dawn searched the room until she spied Marlee sitting off by herself. Dawn approached her and asked above the noise, “Can I join you?” Startled, Marlee nodded. “So what do you think?” Dawn asked.
Marlee was watching Brent with a look in her eyes that almost seemed to be like longing. “He makes a good Elvis.”
“There’re some cute guys here, don’t you think?” Dawn asked, gesturing toward groups of boys near the jukebox.
“They’re all geeks.”
“They’re not that bad.”
“I think they are.”
Just then, Brent came dancing toward them, a cluster of young girls squealing after him. He stopped in front of Dawn and Marlee and continued his number. Dawn laughed, but Marlee turned bright red. Brent held out his hand to her, but Marlee shrank back and refused it.
“Dance with Elvis, Marlee!” someone shouted.
Marlee shook her head furiously. Brent held out his arms again, but she sat on her hands. To help Marlee out of her embarrassment, Dawn jumped up and grabbed Brent’s hand. They bopped and twirled while the crowd clapped. As the song wound down, Brent hung onto Dawn, waved to his admirers, and dashed out the door, pulling her along behind him.
“Elvis! Come back!” the girls’ shouted.
“In a minute!” he told them.
Together Brent and Dawn ran through the woods, laughing. They stopped finally, breathless and still giggling. Dawn said, “You can’t run out on your fans like that, Elvis.”
Brent leaned against a tree and took in great gulps of air. “It’s not easy being a legend, you know. I think I dislocated my hips.”
“Wasn’t it worth it? Look at all the girls falling at your feet.” Dawn fluttered her eyelashes. “Look at all the hearts you won.” The moon overhead flickered through the trees, and she saw his eyes sparkle.
“I prefer the hearts of big girls,” he said.
Dawn’s mouth went dry, and her head felt suddenly light. “Marlee couldn’t take her eyes off you. I think she has a crush on you. I’m glad you asked her to dance.”
“I think I embarrassed her.”
“Probably, but it’s a really good kind of embarrassment.”
“There are good and bad kinds?”
“Sure. When you trip in the lunchroom and drop a tray of food and everybody stares at you—that’s a bad kind. But when Elvis picks you to dance from all the rest . . .” She let the sentence trail off.
He accepted her good-natured kidding. “Why’s it so important to you that Marlee have a good time?”
“Maybe because she’s so dead set against having one.”
“Dawn Rochelle to the rescue? Is that your life mission?”
Dawn poked him. “Never! By the way, your hair color’s running, Mister Rock Star.”
Brent tried to wipe off his forehead, which in the moon’s light looked streaked with black rivulets. All he did was smear them around.
“Let me,” Dawn insisted between fits of giggles. She found a tissue wadded up in the pocket of her skirt and blotted his forehead. She was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. He smelled of peppermint.
Brent’s hand caught hers and stopped its motion. His skin felt warm. Her gaze drifted into his, and her heart hammered. He tilted her chin upward and lowered his mouth. He was inches away from kissing her when she heard shuffling in the bushes. Her back stiffened. “What’s that noise?”
Brent paused but didn’t take his gaze from her face. “I don’t hear anything.”
“There it is again.” She listened as leaves rustled and voices murmured.
Suddenly, from out of the darkness she heard a symphony of high, small voices sing out, “Dawn and Brent are sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!”
“Val, Fran, Esther—is that you?” Dawn called, her face hot with self-conscious color.
“Friends of yours?” Brent teased.
“We followed you, Elvis.” Paige’s voice answered from the bushes.
“I think we should catch them all and throw them in the lake,” Brent announced while nudging Dawn and pointing in the direction of the voices.
“That’ll teach them to spy,” she added and ran toward the clump of bushes.
Five girls shrieked and scattered, darting between trees and yelling, “You can’t catch me!”
They chased one another like frisky puppies in the moonlight while the woods rang with their high-pitched laughter. Dawn understood their jubilation. She was reminded of the night she and Sandy had stolen Dr. Ben’s underwear and had dashed through the woods trying to hold back their laughter. She’d felt giddy and bubbly because they’d succeeded. But it had been more than the joke that had made them feel good. They’d been together and that had made the moment even more special and memorable.
Don’t think about it, she told herself. Just think about tonight and these girls. She tried, but like the moonlight slipping through the leafy trees, the image of Sandy clutched at her memory and refused to go.
* * * * *
By the time Dawn and Brent had helped clean up after the dance and Dawn had arrived back at her cabin, it was almost lights-out. In the cabin, the girls were sprawled across two bottom bunks, nibbling on candy bars and poring through a heap of eye shadows, lipsticks, and blushers.
“Where’s Gail?” Dawn asked, coming over to them.
“Oh, some kid in cabin five got really sick, so she went to help out,” Fran said matter-of-factly. “His chemo is all messed up, and they may have to send him home.”
Dawn felt sorry for the boy, but she didn’t want her girls to dwell on it. Cheerfully, she asked, “So what are you doing?”
“Trying on makeup,” Paige told her. Dawn joined them on one of the bunks.
“Are you mad at us for interrupting you and Brent?” Paige asked shyly.
Dawn ruffled her hair. “Of course not.”
“So what’s it like being kissed?” Val asked.
Dawn felt warm all over. “Isn’t it time for lights-out?”
“Nope.”
Dawn glanced at the eager faces. At the very back of one bunk, with her back pressed to the wall, sat Marlee. She reminded Dawn of someone hanging around the edge of a campfire—hungry and eager to get warm, but afraid to come too close.
Cindy flopped over on her tummy and tucked a pillow under her chest. “I’ve been kissed before,” she announced.
“By who? Your dog?” Esther asked.
The others laughed, and Cindy stuck out her tongue. “It was at a party with kids from school. We were playing a kissing game, and I ended up with Mark Bresford, and all the other girls were jealous because they all had a crush on him and I got him.”
“So what was it like?” Fran asked, eagerl
y. She’d untied her scarf from her bald head, and it had slid unnoticed to the bed.
Cindy wrinkled her nose. “Wet.”
“I told you it was her dog.” Esther said. Val let out an exasperated squeak and rolled over on the bed. “Some romantic story that is, Cindy.”
“You’ve got a better one?”
“Aw, who wants to kiss a girl who’s bald and barfing?”
“It can happen,” Dawn heard herself say. All eyes turned toward her.
“Someone kissed you when you looked all wasted from chemo?” Fran asked, wide-eyed.
“Tell us. Tell us all about it.”
Nine
NATURALLY, Dawn hadn’t meant to tell them about it. But hearing how a few of them longed to be kissed and how unattractive they felt about themselves, she just couldn’t help herself.
“It–it was at camp.”
“Oh, so he was a chemo geek, too,” Esther said with an understanding bob of her head.
“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Paige scolded. “Dawn’s pretty. She’s probably been kissed hundreds of times.”
“Half a hundred,” Dawn joked, making the others laugh. Actually only once, she thought. It would have been twice if they hadn’t interrupted Brent earlier.
“All right, so some guy kissed you at camp. But what about a normal guy—one who doesn’t have cancer?”
“Yeah, do you have a boyfriend?” Paige asked, scooting closer on the bed. The empty sleeve of her nightshirt swayed with the movement.
Instantly, Dawn thought about Jake Macka. “Well, I liked a guy once from school.”
“Who was he? What did he look like?” Cindy wanted to know.
“His name was Jake, and he had black hair and gorgeous brown eyes. He sent me a card when I was in the hospital the first time. At least, I always suspected it was him. It wasn’t signed.”
“What happened to him?”
“He moved away.”
“But didn’t anything happen between you?” Cindy sounded disappointed.
“We didn’t kiss, if that’s what you mean, but I’ve never felt about anyone else the way I felt about him.”