“I hope that some of you will become real friends,” Marion said when it became clear that Teddy’s three-second speech was all she was going to get out of him. “Or at least camp friends.”
Maiv asked what camp friends were, and Marion explainedthat teenagers tended to form fast, intense friendships at camp. “I suppose they’re aided by the fact that there’s no technology here. Probably also by their hormones. There’s something about the setting, too, away from the distractions and pressures of their everyday lives. They latch on to each other, and they latch hard. And if they come back the next summer, they pick up right where they left off.”
The rest of the morning was spent going over stuff we’d need to know. The counselors were the ones responsible for the campers on a day-to-day basis, but Marion briefed us on the rules anyway, which covered everything from life jackets to shower schedules.
“What about showers for us?” asked Teddy, who had so far remained silent to the point of sullenness except for when he’d been made to speak about his goals.
“There’s a single-stall shower room behind the artists’ cabins,” Marion said, and Teddy perked up. “Sorry, I should have told you about it last night. It’s not on the map, just to minimize the opportunity for pranks—camp pranks are also a thing.”
“I’m intimidated by the idea of high school kids, to be honest,” Maiv said. “I did not enjoy my high school years.”
“Artsy kids are different,” I said. “They’re not going to fit your image of the typical high school kid. I’m not sure any kid is, actually.” I grinned. “Well, they are kind of obsessed with each other—and themselves—so in that sense they are. I can totally see how this concept of ‘camp friends’ is a thing.”
“Even if they’re not the terrifying teen-movie kids we’re imagining, how do werelateto them?” Danny asked.
“With this age, and in this setting, I think the key is not to try to relate to them as kids,” I said. “Sure, they’re not fully mature people. Their brains are still wiring themselves, which isgood to remember. But for our purposes, especially since we’re not doing any of the direct supervisory stuff, try thinking of them as peers who are not quite as far down the road as you are.” I shrugged. It wasn’t really that hard. “Listen to them. Try to help them.”
After lunch, we met the counselors, most of whom were college students. They were earnest and smiley and very, very hyped. The world had not yet worn them down. The meet and greet was followed by a session in CPR and first aid. I was already certified in both, given my job, but it was good to have a refresher.
We were dismissed around three and told we were on our own until dinner. “Anyone want to go swimming?” I asked. I loved swimming. There was something about floating in water that buoyed me. Literally, but also mentally. Also, it was still hella hot.
Maiv and Caleb were up for it—yay. They were the two I had in my sights as camp friend material. Danny said he was going to the kiln to check on some pieces. Teddy initially said nothing, but when Jack said, “It’s cocktail hour,” he grunted in a way that sounded vaguely enthusiastic, and soon the musician and the writer had a plan to drink together. Fine; they deserved each other.
We walked back to the cabins together, as Maiv, Caleb, and I needed to change into our swimsuits.
“What’s the deal with Marion?” Teddy asked once we were underway.
“Her family manufactures cheese spread,” I said. I was a huge fan of the Kuhn family product line. “She runs the family foundation.”
“They sell enough cheese spread to support a foundation?” he asked.
“Oh yeah, it’s like a cheese spread empire,” I said.
“What the hellischeese spread, anyway?”
No one answered, so I said, “You know, cheese that you spread?”
“Like cream cheese?”
“No. It comes in a tub and it’s usually cheddar and sometimes it has stuff in it like chives or bacon bits.”
“Is it orange?”
I tried not to chuckle. I wasn’t sure why, but the question, and/or its deadpan delivery, hit my funny bone. “It is orange.”
“So what you’re saying is this place is run by a processed cheese heiress.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing, but have you ever had cheese spread?”
“I had something called pub cheese when I was at school at Oxford, but I can’t say that I enjoyed it.” That had come from Jack, and I was a bit startled by it. It had felt for a moment as if it’d been just Teddy and me talking, as we’d bantered back and forth, but of course that hadn’t been the case.
Teddy and Jack went into Jack’s cabin—he apparently had some kind of rarefied sake in there, and they were planning to take it to Teddy’s lakeside porch to drink it. I dashed into my cabin and changed into my bathing suit. I didn’t want to keep my new friends waiting, so I went quickly, and when I emerged, I crossed paths with the sake boys making their way over to Teddy’s.
“You sure you guys don’t want to come with us?” I regretted it the moment it was out. I didn’twantthem to come with us—I was going to work on locking down my camp friends—and I generally tried to avoid partaking in the standard Minnesota Nice politeness-for-its-own-sake bullshit. Or at least the new me did.
Teddy looked at me blankly. He had a way of doing that. Like it took his brain a few seconds to shake loose whatever else it was thinking about and participate in the conversation at hand.
Belatedly realizing I was standing there in my bathing suit, I wrapped my towel around my shoulders. Not that there was anything wrong with my suit. It was a two-piece, but a modest one with lots of coverage on both top and bottom. But their attention, particularly Teddy’s ultraintense brand of scrutiny, made me… what? What was this strange feeling? Was itshyness?
