“We’ll give them a few minutes to get hot and heavy out there,” Erin reminded me, “and then we nail ’em.” She pulled me over to Donnie. “I think he’ll keep her busy for a while,” she told our gatekeeper, “but if they want to come in, don’t let ’em.”
Erin turned to me. “Now we find your uncle, which shouldn’t be hard. I saw him talking to your aunt right after he chewed Andy out. Maybe said he wasn’t feeling well or something, ’cause he went upstairs. So this is it. Let’s get him.”
Erin and I skulked up the steps. She pushed me to my knees at the top rung. “Stay low in case anyone looks up here. We’ll try one room at a time. And when we find your uncle, you tell him there’s a problem and you need him to come outside right away.”
Two empty bedrooms and a bathroom. The fourth door was closed. “I’m opening it,” Erin whispered.
“You can’t just barge in.”
“Do you want to be polite, or do you want to get Rory?”
“Get Rory,” I answered, knowing that politeness didn’t count anymore. The only thing that mattered was Uncle Ed’s catching Rory in her final false move.
Erin reached up to turn the knob, then shoved the door open. She pushed me into the room, where Patsy sat at the edge of the bed. Uncle Ed stood facing her, very close, his back to us. He whirled around, hand on his zipper.
I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t move. Erin yanked me from the room.
We ran downstairs, hunched over so no one would see us. “Get your aunt,” Erin ordered.
“Oh my God. No.”
“Just so she can catch Rory,” Erin explained.
I looked around at the dancing, the campers, the Saginaw boys—all hazy and unfamiliar. “I don’t see Aunt Helen,” I told Erin.
“Try the kitchen. Say anything to get her outside. And hurry. I’ll meet you by the door.”
I babbled something about noises when I pulled my aunt away from the refrigerator. We raced across The Lodge, parting dancers as we pushed through. Erin followed us out.
What greeted me made my breath catch. It wasn’t just Rory and her new boyfriend, but Robin and a boy too. The guys explored the girls’ breasts while the girls simply tilted their heads back, eyes closed.
Aunt Helen grabbed Robin’s arm. “What in the devil’s gotten into you, Robin? You should be ashamed of yourself!” She pried Robin from the Saginaw camper who gave her up without argument. “Just wait till I tell your father about this.” She dragged Robin to the porch steps, ignoring the boy who had massaged her daughter’s chest, disregarding Rory and her beau.
Robin chuckled. “Yeah. Go ahead and tell Dad, if you can find him.”
Aunt Helen pulled her toward the door. “For your information, he’s upstairs resting.”
“Right, Mom. Believe what you want. What do I care?”
Rory smirked at Erin and me. We watched her guide her boyfriend toward the side of The Lodge, away from view.
Erin steered me inside. Our gang blitzed us with questions. I let Erin explain how Uncle Ed was upstairs, and how Aunt Helen hadn’t even noticed Rory. “And for this I gave up the boy of my dreams,” Paula said. “Nice work, Erin. We still have Rory, and now I don’t have a boy to dance with.”
We still have Rory. Those words pounded in my brain with images of Patsy and Uncle Ed upstairs; Rory grinning at Erin and me.
“Look it, you guys,” Erin said as we huddled with our group. “We’ll find a way. We’ll make another plan. But there’s nothing else we can do tonight. So let’s just enjoy the rest of the social.”
Paula and Karen hustled to find the boys they had left for guard duty. Donnie and Fran headed for refreshments.
“Not to worry, Ame,” Erin said. “If things get really bad, we’ll tell your uncle he has to send Rory home or we’ll spill his little secret.”
Confusion and anger pressed like bricks on my chest. “No,” I told Erin. “I can’t blackmail my own uncle. And I don’t want you to tell anyone either.”
“Okay, I hear you. We’ll just come up with another plan then.” Erin spoke as Chubby Checker sang “The Twist.”
“But right now, Ame,” Erin continued, “let’s dance.”
I couldn’t believe she went on as if nothing had happened. Just thinking about what Uncle Ed and Patsy must have been doing made me want to throw up.
Erin swiveled her hips to draw two boys. “Yes, we’d love to dance,” she said, before the Saginaw campers even asked.
I didn’t notice Uncle Ed come downstairs. I didn’t see him come over to me. “You stop that gyrating this instant, young lady, or I’ll call your father and tell him about this indecent behavior.”
I couldn’t look at him, though I knew I had more to tell than he did. I turned from my partner before the tears came.
Uncle Ed followed me to the wall of chairs. “And don’t you ever tell anyone what you saw upstairs. ’Cause if anyone ever hears about it—and I mean anyone—you’re in big trouble.” Then he walked away, leaving me alone.
Erin found me on the sidelines. “Uncle Ed’s really mad,” I told her. “He said he’d call my father if I kept twisting.”
“So let him. I’ll bet your father would be happy to hear you were dancing. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at a social?”
“He said I was being indecent.” Tears finally broke through. Erin put a hand on my back. “Come on. He’s just trying to scare you so you don’t snitch on him. I mean, who’s the indecent one here?”
I didn’t know how long Patsy had been watching us, but once I started crying, I suppose she felt safe coming over. “I just want to say nothing happened upstairs. I mean I just went up to find a bathroom, and Mr. Becker was up there. So we were just havin’ a little chat, that’s all.”
“Yeah, sure,” Erin said, pulling me off my chair. I sideswiped Patsy as The Tokens started singing “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.”
Donnie, Paula, Fran, and Karen giggled as they wandered over. When Nancy finally arrived, she found us huddled in the corner, everyone singing but Erin and me.
“I thought you’d all be dancing,” Nancy said. “But it looks like you’re having a great time together. And that’s what camp’s about: fun and friendship.”
She forgot the third part: secrets. But I didn’t need a reminder about that.
Chapter 12
It’s Our Secret
The night of the Saginaw social, I dreamed of a white door. I stand on tiptoe and, with little-girl fingers, grab the old- fashioned glass doorknob. Locked. I push, try again. A whisper. A moan behind the door. Who’s there? I squeeze the knob. Turn harder. Still locked. Locked out. Always the same, this dream that came again and again.
I stirred in my camp bed. In the haze between sleep and awakening, the door filled my mind. I drifted back to sleep, back to a time before Charlie—a time before we had a house, when my parents and I lived in an apartment. My father’s at night school. I try not to bother my mother. She vacuums the living room while I sit in the big chair where Dad reads to me on weekends. In his absence, I trace with my index finger illustrations in The Tall Book of Fairy Tales: Cinderella, Rumpelstiltskin, Hansel and Gretel. I tell the stories, voice hushed so my mother won’t get angry. She fluffs the cushions on the sofa. “Remember the rules, Amy. Don’t tell your father I had company today.”