An Eye for an Eye

S ometimes during rest hour, Erin and I visited Nancy in the head counselor’s cabin, and sometimes we went to the boathouse. Erin brought whatever treats her mother had stashed in her latest care package: candy hidden in a stationery box, gum sealed up in envelopes, cookies tucked into T‑shirts.

“You know, parents send stuff like this all the time,” Erin told me the first day she showed up with snacks. She handed me a Sugar Daddy. “My mother hides the good stuff so it’s not obvious. You know, ’cause we’re really not supposed to have food in the cabins.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yep. No junk food allowed. Except on visiting day, when everyone eats like crazy. But tell your mother she can still send whatever you want. She just has to make sure her care packages don’t look like they’re filled with food.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I popped the Sugar Daddy into my mouth. Care packages. Someone would have to care about you to send them. I shut my eyes and savored the sweet Sugar Daddy.

Erin and I headed to the boathouse separately the day after the ice cream party. Why give Rory a chance to sneer at our friendship? Why risk Robin seeing us?

“Better not let your cousin know we’re meeting today,” Erin said, lagging on her way out of breakfast that morning. “I mean, Robin’s getting as bad as Rory, always putting her nose into everyone’s business and sticking with Rory as if they were glued together. No offense, but it’s hard to believe you’re related.”

So Erin noticed it too–how Robin and Rory had become buddies. How could Robin be the same girl who used to invite me to her birthday parties? And why did she seem to hate me now?

Erin and I sat on the boathouse floor that afternoon, our backs to canoes racked against the wall. I tried to tuck my legs to the side rather than cross them. Patsy would manage to sit like a lady, I was sure. My mother too. They would assume the perfect pose no matter how hard the damp floorboards pushed against their limbs. I wriggled to find comfort and poise, then gave up. Why chafe my thigh when my mother wasn’t there to see me? I crossed my legs as the story about Rory and her father burst out. “But don’t tell anyone,” I said. “Donnie said no one’s supposed to know.”

“Well, actually, I heard that rumor last summer,” Erin said.

“But doesn’t it bother you?”

“I don’t know. Guess I don’t think about it much or I would’ve already told you. I mean, why should I even think about that? Why think about something that might not even be true about someone I hate to think about in the first place?” Erin paused to stare at an army of ants working its way up a paddle. “But what I do think about,” she went on, “is what Rory did to you. And what really makes me angry is she gets away with it. And she’ll do it again and again till someone stops her. So maybe that’s what we ought to be talking about. It’s time for revenge, I say. Don’t get mad; get even.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we should get her before she tries anything again.” Erin twirled a pigtail with her index finger. “It’s like I told Nancy: I’d rather eat worms than cave in to Rory all summer.”

“So what can we do?”

“Give her a taste of her own medicine. That’s what I say. Make Rory suffer for a change.” A smile crinkled Erin’s face, visible in the thin line of sunlight that snuck through the boathouse door, which we always left cracked open. She threw a playful punch at my shoulder. “We’re smart. We’ll think of something.”

“But last night, when Uncle Ed threatened to kick her out of camp, you should have seen her.”

“ What? He did what?”

I told Erin what had happened the night before.

“That’s great. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner. So how’s this? We get Rory to do something really bad when your uncle’s around. Maybe at the Saginaw social.” She twirled her pigtails until I thought her hair would spring from her head. “Holy moly! We could get her sent home.”

“I don’t know. You didn’t see how Rory looked when Uncle Ed said he’d kick her out.” I surprised myself with this hesitation. Of course I wanted Rory kicked out. Sometimes I still wished she would drown in the lake. Every time I looked at her now, I imagined pushing her off the float and waiting for the snapping turtle to strike. But even so, I didn’t want her to suffer at the hands of her father.

“Listen, Ame.” There it was: my nickname, the bridge to friendship. Best friends for the next six weeks. Maybe getting even with Rory wouldn’t be wrong, no matter what might happen to her. After all, she had threatened Erin and the others when they left my initiation. Maybe it was my turn now to do something for them: help them go after Rory. An eye for an eye. That old Hammurabi Code I’d learned about in social studies.

“Listen,” Erin said again. “We need to make a plan. The Saginaw social’s coming up. Whaddaya say we get our gang together tomorrow at rest hour and work it out?”

“What gang?”

“You know: you and me, Donnie, Fran, and Karen. The ones who turned on Rory during that stupid initiation. And Paula too, from my cabin. We’ll meet here in the boathouse. Rory’ll never find us. You and I are the only ones who use this place. So tomorrow then. I’ll spread the word. Rory watches you more than me, so I’ll get everyone here. You just show up during rest hour. Okay?”

An eye for an eye. I couldn’t say no.

“Leave it to Erin,” Donnie said when she caught up to me on the way to the boathouse the next day. “She’s right. Don’t get mad; get even. And it’s about time we get even with Rory.”

Getting mad I could handle. But getting even? When I thought about Rory’s father, I still really wasn’t sure. A chill worked through me although heat pushed down on us again, reminding me of the weather on the morning I’d left for camp. My father in his T‑shirt: “Think I’ll turn on the air conditioner. Maybe a little air’ll get in here.” My mother holding him back: “We’ll be gone before it cools down.” Why did my father always hand her the reins? Was it her looks, her perfect figure? Something to do with sex?

I gagged at the idea as I tried to flick my mother off my shoulder. Two wrongs don’t make a right, my mother whispered in my ear as Donnie opened the boathouse door. Was my mother telling me not to go after Rory? Would she say I had gotten what I deserved: punishment for being me, for not being pretty like she was? For not being sexy like Robin, like Rory? Sure, they might not have attacked me if I had big hair and polished nails. Yet it was my mother who wouldn’t let me use rollers; my mother who told me I couldn’t wear polish if I still picked at my cuticles. I heard her voice again: Two wrongs don’t make a right, Amy.

Whose code held the truth, my mother’s or Hammurabi’s? And what about the Takawanda code? The law of the jungle: Eat or be eaten.

“Okay, you guys,” Erin said as we settled in a circle on the dank floor. “First we need a secret word.”

“What for?” Paula asked.

“For when we’re at the social,” Erin explained, “which is when I think we should get Rory in trouble. We say the word, and bingo, we get her.”

An eye for an eye. Hammurabi was right. So what if Rory’s father would abuse her? I couldn’t keep letting her get me. Camp was a jungle; I’d play by the law. Eat or be eaten. “Think about what Rory does,” I said.

“Mean things.”

“Sexy things.”

“Right.” I enjoyed the limelight for a change, enjoyed ignoring my mother’s two wrongs don’t make a right mantra. “And when Rory does those things,” I continued, “she roars.”

“That’s great, Ame.” Erin picked up my thought. “She roars like a–”

“Lion!” we shouted.

“Holy moly! That’s it,” Erin said. “Lion. Our secret word, the code for our plan. Now let’s work on it.”

Paula spoke first. “All we have to do is arrange for Mr. Becker to find Rory doing something wrong, something bad enough to get her kicked out.”

“That shouldn’t be hard,” Donnie said. “Rory does bad things all the time. We just have to figure out how to get her to do it when Mr. Becker’s around.”

“Do it?” Karen said.

Fran snickered. “ It, as in sex?”

I didn’t understand this focus on sex. I expected that from Rory’s gang, but not from mine. Yet even Erin grinned. “Now we’re cooking,” she said, pulling the rubber bands from her hair. “So here’s the deal. The Saginaw social will be in The Lodge. What if we get Rory to sneak upstairs with a boy? Then we’ll get Mr. Becker to find her there doing something naughty.”

“Doing it?”

“Having sex?”

“Well, she doesn’t have to go all the way,” Erin explained. “Just has to have her shirt open or something with a boy in a room where she’s not supposed to be.”

“And how do we arrange that?” Paula asked.

“Well, we could tell Rory we’re sorry we haven’t been getting along better, and–”

“Or maybe I could tell her I’m sorry I got her in trouble in the dining hall over that stupid piece of cake,” Donnie said. “I could say I’m making it up to her by arranging a little privacy for her and the boy of her choice.”

“A piece for a piece,” Karen added. “That’s great.”

Fran elbowed her. “That’s disgusting!”

I couldn’t admit I didn’t fully understand what they were saying. If the girls found out how little I knew about this type of stuff, they might not want me in their group. I heard my mother’s voice again: You don’t know anything, Amy. Nothing. I realized she was right. I didn’t know anything. And if I admitted it, I’d have no one.

“It’ll never work,” Paula said. “First, we won’t be able to get Rory upstairs without anyone seeing. And second, even if we do, how’re we gonna get Mr. Becker up there to find her?”

If I helped with the plan, they would like me even better. If I helped with the plan, they wouldn’t know how stupid I was. I blurted out a better idea. “Maybe we could get Rory to go outside with a boy while we block the door so no one sees them leave, and then we could tell Uncle Ed we hear noises or something. Get him to go out and find them.”

“Ame, you’re brilliant,” Erin said. “So Operation Lion, ready to go. Amy and I can work out the details. The rest of you will just block the door when we say the word. So… the bell’s gonna ring soon. You guys go back to senior camp while Amy and I finalize the plan. And remember: top secret.”

“No problem.” Donnie spoke for all of us. “The lion is caged.”

“Not to worry,” Erin told me after the others left, closing the door behind them. “You and me, Ame. We’ll make it work. Pretty soon Rory will have roared her last roar.”

Erin put a hand on my shoulder as we moseyed toward the door. It opened before we got there. “Well, look who’s here, Ed,” Patsy purred. “Mr. Becker and I were just takin’ a little walk, and we thought we saw some gals headin’ out from here. So what are y’all doin’ in the boathouse?”

“Nothing. Just goofing off,” Erin answered.

Uncle Ed’s eyes fixed on mine. “This boathouse is off‑limits, Amy. I don’t expect to see you here again. And by the way, I just spoke to your father. He says there hasn’t been much mail from you. So I suggest you use rest hour for letter‑writing from now on. That’s the least you could do for your parents and your brother.”

^{Chapter 9}

Дата добавления: 2015-10-16