“So, I was actually thinking … Well, what I'm trying to say …” She blushes. “It's clear we're attracted to each other, right?” She looks at me for confirmation.
I bob my head vigorously up and down. “Yes, definitely,” I agree.
“So, what if…” she continues. My heart speeds up, a hope I haven't felt since high school lifting me. “Well, what if we kept doing this? Kissing? Like … like … like a summer fling?”
“A summer fling,” I echo hollowly. As quickly as it came in, the hope leaks out of my body. “What would that mean,” I say carefully, “for you?”
“Well, like, we enjoy a physical relationship this summer.” My eyebrows rise. “PG-13,” she clarifies quickly. “We're both here, we both want it, and neither of us want anything serious, right?”
Wrong, I think.Absolutely wrong. Could not be more wrong.
I lift one shoulder. “I guess?”
The truth is I’ve wanted Olivia for so long that I’ll take whatever she’s offering. Happily. And maybe by the end of the summer, she’ll feel differently about a real relationship.
I put away my questions about our past, so I can focus on my new mission here and now.
“So, are you in? Summer fling?”
I grin at her, hoping she can’t detect the ambivalent feelings under the surface. “Yeah,” I agree. “I'm in.”
I really hope I don’t regret it.
This week, I have a very active group of nine ten-year-old boys. One of the boys from last week, Martin, is back again, but everyone else is new.
I learn quickly that a boy named Gabriel is determined to set himself apart as the funny kid. He has plans for jokes and pranks and isn’t satisfied unless he’s making someone laugh. I’ll admit, heispretty funny, but the more I let it show that I’m actually enjoying his antics, the more carried away he gets. It’s hard maintaining a stern face when I’m dying laughing inside.
Of course, his energy is contagious, and pretty soon I have nine boys running around trying to prank, wedgie, and horseplay with each other and with me.
I decide to help my campers channel all that spirit into some safe and sanctioned hijinks that also have the benefit of letting me spend time with Olivia. Sort of.
The boys help me plan our attack. First, we stockpile our arsenal of squirt guns, water bombs, and water blasters. We discussed it and agreed not to use water balloons because of the mess and the danger to the wildlife. None of us want to spend an hour afterward picking colorful pieces of latex off the ground.
Next, we choose our targets. The ten-year-old girls are an obvious choice, and it works out that we don’t have any activities scheduled during their free-swim time. Plus, I notice that some of my boys seem to be terrified of the girls, so hopefully this will help break the ice a little too.
The boys ask me why we would start a water fight when the girls are already in their bathing suits and swimming. “Wouldn’t it be funnier to get their dry clothes all wet?”
I explain that we want this to be fun for everyone, and the girls might not appreciate us soaking them in their regular clothes. Also, we have to attack while the girls are at the lake so that I can see Olivia, though I don’t share that part with my kids.
I also remind them that the lifeguard has a very important job to do and is off-limits.
Then, we suit up. Literally, I have all the boys put their swimsuits on, but they also want battle paint. We borrow some washable paints from Nina in the craft cabin and soon the campers are decorating their own and each other’s faces—dark lines across their cheekbones, blue (because boys rule, naturally) dots across their noses. One kid even does the wholeBraveheartlook, which surprises me because aren’t these kids a little young to knowBraveheart? That movie came out almost ten years before I was born, even.
Finally, we’re ready to attack. There’s not much cover between our cabin and the lake, but we do the best we can hiding behind buildings and a few scrawny trees. We approach as the girls are lined up on the dock getting a safety reminder from the lifeguard, Rocky. Their backs are to us, so they don’t see us approach.
It’s an ambush.
I silently motion the boys to stop walking. Then I hold up my hand, putting one finger down at a time for a silent countdown.5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1!
With roars and shouts, we run toward the dock, squirting our guns, and launching water at the girls when we get close enough.
The girls turn their heads when they hear the commotion and start screaming, some of them jumping into the lake to avoid the attack.
I’m armed with a Super Soaker that holds thirty ounces of water, giving me plenty of ammunition to annihilate my opponent. Of course, I have a specific opponent in mind.
I see Olivia standing at the end of the dock, trying to avoid the water war going on in front of her. There’s no way I can get to her without her seeing me, but she also has nowhere to go.
And she knows it. She stands with her hands on her hips trying to hide her smile as I get closer and closer, blasting her with the Super Soaker with every step.
