“Who cares about Aunt Sonia?” Robin answered in full voice. “Jeez! What an outfit she chose for visiting day. Like she thought she was going to a dance or something. No wonder she sent Amy a dress for the social.”
“Stop it, you guys,” Erin said as I studied the baking tins on her bed—homemade cookies and brownies, I supposed. I pleaded with Erin to hurry so we could leave. I wasn’t looking for trouble in the cabin. I wanted trouble outside, where both of my parents would see it. I had to check the attack until lunch. “Not so fast,” Rory said as soon as Paula and her mother left the cabin. “Let’s get something straight. I’m talking to you, Erin. You and the fruit girl. First, we’re not your guys. And second, we’re not interested in what you have to say. Either of you.”
“Let’s go!” I held my racquet with one hand, latched on to Erin’s arm with the other.
“No. They can’t make fun of your mother that way.”
“Zip it, Hollander,” Rory hissed. “Who’s gonna stop us?”
“Come on.” I pulled Erin by the wrist.
“At least Amy’s mother showed up,” Erin shot back. “That’s more than I can say for yours.”
The sound of a crash followed us out the door. I knew what it was: a baking tin smacked at the wall. Erin’s cookies and brownies, broken and smashed, probably dotted the floor.
“What was that?” Mrs. Hollander wanted to know.
“Just Rory,” Erin answered. “It stinks, how mean she is.” “But she seems like such a nice girl,” my mother said as we
walked behind Erin and her mom. “She’s probably jealous, that’s all.” I clenched my fists as my mother kept on. “It must be hard for a camper without parents on visiting day. We should ask her to have lunch with us.”
Erin and her mother froze. “Don’t you know what’s been going on?” Mrs. Hollander turned and asked as campers and mothers, eager for lunch, hurried by at the head of the path. “If I knew that Amy hadn’t discussed it with you, then I would have told you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” my mother answered.
Erin’s mother locked eyes with me. She knew the truth about Rory. The truth about everything, I imagined, except about Uncle Ed. Erin had agreed not to tell that. Sure, it was okay for me to despise him, but I didn’t want the whole world in on his secret. He was family, after all. Dad’s family.
“Amy, why haven’t you told your mother about Rory?” Mrs. Hollander asked when I looked away.
“I… well… I just haven’t had a chance yet.” Seniors and mothers wandered ahead. Everyone but Rory and Robin, who stayed behind to steal goodies, no doubt.
“She has to know, hon,” Mrs. Hollander said. Her voice sounded as if she were comforting a sick child. “What about Rory?” my mother asked.
Mrs. Hollander glanced down, offering me a moment to get it out. But I didn’t know how to start. How could I explain why I hadn’t told my parents about Rory and her gang?
“I’ve been trying to tell you all morning,” I finally said. “Rory’s not nice.”
Mrs. Hollander hustled Erin ahead, leaving my mother and me behind on the now-empty path. We took a few steps in silence, the only sound the crunching of pine needles, laughter up ahead.
“And I’ve been trying to tell you, Amy: Rory says she tried to get to know you, but you didn’t make an effort.” My mother lowered her voice. “I suppose it’s Erin’s fault, the way she keeps you to herself. It’s obvious she’s not a popular girl.”
Anger burned in my chest. How could my mother blame Erin for my social standing? I wouldn’t let her put down the one person who had jeopardized her own summer by welcoming me on the bus. “You don’t know what goes on here.” The words spewed out. “And Erin’s the nicest person I know.”
“But she isn’t the kind of person who can help you. You never know when you’ll need your friends in order to survive, Amy.” Another clue to my mother’s history. But trapped in the present, I couldn’t think about her past. “And Erin’s just not the right girl for you to stick with,” my mother went on. “I have no use for her.” I thought I heard the period in my mother’s voice, but it was only a semicolon. She squared her shoulders and continued, her voice muted, even though Erin and Mrs. Hollander were far in front of us now. “I’m a good judge of character, Amy, and I have no use for her mother either.”
That’s when I knew I had to prove my mother wrong. We’d been waging our war for years, a war in which she had all the power. Yet she was wrong about Rory, wrong about Erin. Wrong about me. Certainly I was a better judge of character than my mother. I would make her see that, even if it wouldn’t get me out of camp. And maybe that was fine. Maybe Takawanda wasn’t worse than home, just more open in its battles. If not for Charlie, I might have wanted to stay after all. “You pays your money and you takes your chances.” Isn’t that what Clarence had said?
Uncle Ed smiled when he found my mother and me as we neared the junior camp lawn, where Erin’s father spread blankets for our picnic lunch. “Sonia!” my uncle called, his arms outstretched as he rushed toward us. I wished he would stop acting as if he still wanted my mother. Wasn’t Patsy enough? “Sorry I couldn’t give you a proper greeting at the lake, Sonia. Quite a place I’ve got here, isn’t it?” My mother stiffened in his hug. “And everyone’s having a great time.” Uncle Ed kept talking as my mother pushed away. “Isn’t that so, Amy?” I didn’t answer.
In the distance, Charlie and my father stood by the junior camp tetherball. Charlie followed the game with his head as if watching a Ping-Pong match. I told my mother I would get them, but her raised eyebrows stopped me. She didn’t want to stay with Uncle Ed any more than I did, and she squirmed around the Hollanders as if Erin’s family had an itchy rash. “Excuse me, Ed.” The chill in her voice made me shake. “I need to let Lou know we’re here.”
Erin jumped up as we got close, but Mrs. Hollander held her back. “No, baby. Let’s give Amy a little more time with her mother,” I thought I heard Mrs. Hollander say as I waved to Erin. Mrs. Hollander probably thought I’d been reporting on what Rory had done. Erin’s mom couldn’t know that my mother had decided all the problems were Erin’s fault for sticking close to me, or my fault for not being popular.
“I just wish you’d choose other friends. Like Rory,” my mother said when we wove between blankets and towels spread on the lawn. We skirted the clothed buffet table as we headed for Charlie and my father. “You could do so much better, Amy.”
Nothing I could say would convince my mother she was wrong. But she would see for herself soon enough, I believed. Rory would attack during lunch. I was as sure of it as I was that Charlie would race into my arms when he saw us coming.
My father waved as we approached. Charlie sped toward me until the sound of a dog halted his flight. Not a deep bark like Zeus’s, the Sparbers’ black Lab, but the squealing yap of an itty-bitty thing, as Robin had warned. I ran to my brother and scooped him up. “It’s okay, buddy,” I crooned as I hugged Charlie, while I scanned younger campers and parents heading for picnic places. I didn’t see the dog, though I knew who I’d see where the barking came from. “Hi, Mrs. Becker!” Rory yelled before my father reached us. “All set for lunch?” Robin stood beside her and grinned.
I turned away and hugged Charlie harder. “It’s all right now.” I whispered my promise: “I won’t let them hurt you.”
“Why don’t we invite Rory to join us for lunch?” my mother suggested when my father caught up with us. “Give Erin’s family a little time to themselves.”