the Intermediate group, pushed up to Pam. “I don’t see why Susie should
get special privileges, Miss Pam. I’ve been at camp four summers. And
I’m not afraid of the dark, so why—”
“What’s this?” Pam snapped. “Special privileges?”
“That’s right, Miss Pam,” chorused a number of girls. And one of them
shouted, “Susie slept with Miss Peggy all night!”
Peggy did not feel called upon to make excuses. In fact, she laughed.
But not before she had noticed the glance exchanged between Pam and
Lilian. Then both girls turned their gazes on Peggy.
“Actually,” Lilian said, “the child slept next to Peggy, not with her.”
“Oh, no,” Peggy said. “She crept into my bedroll. We slept together, all
right, but I don’t see what’s such a special privilege about that!”
“Don’t you?” Pam’s gray-eyed stare was boring holes in Peggy. She knew
there would be no further discussion in front of the campers. But that
glare of Pam’s promised a session about the matter at the next
counselors’ meeting. Pam turned away, was suddenly all smiles as she
faced the campers. “Forget it, kids. It won’t happen again.” She
finished her chocolate and strode toward the station wagon, calling
huskily, “See you at camp.” She left amid calls to “Take us with you,”
and “We want to ride, too!”
When Pam had gone, Susie walked over and sat down next to Peggy.
“You know,” Susie said gravely, “I think I liked Miss Pam better when
she was just a counselor. She used to be lots of fun.”
“Mean to say you were at camp before?”
“Sure. But I was too young for overnight hikes.” Susie paused. “I guess
Miss Pam is still kinda nice.” Then in the same breath she said, “Isn’t
Miss Lilian beautiful?”
Peggy glanced toward Lilian who now was standing near the glowing coals.
She was wearing pencil-slim red slacks and a matching cardigan over a
white blouse. Her black hair was held together with a rubber band at the
back of her head and fell in a single long curl down her back.
She certainly did not look as though she had spent the last twenty-four
hours outdoors, Peggy mused. Yet as handsome as she appeared, there was
an artificiality about her get-up that struck a jarring note amid the
natural beauty of the surroundings.
But to Susie, who was patiently waiting for an answer, Peggy said, “Oh,
yes. Lilian is quite beautiful, Susie.”
“You know,” the girl confided, “I didn’t like her very much at first.
But after you get to know her, she’s not so bad. Especially if she likes
you.”
“Hey, Susie,” one of the other campers yelled. “You’re supposed to be
helping.”
* * * * *
The little blonde flashed a smile at Peggy and ran off, all flying legs
and streaming hair.
Back at camp, Peggy supervised while the girls scoured the cooking
utensils in the large metal sink. They washed and rinsed and dried until
they were given permission for a quick dip before dinner. Peggy gladly
hurried them off to their cabins to change into their suits, then headed
for the lounge where she sank into a straw-backed chair. She could not
remember when she had been so exhausted. If only she could sit there and
nap, she thought. She closed her eyes dreamily, but opened them when she
heard footfalls. She saw Mike walk through the doorway and fish a coke
out of the cooler.
Peggy flushed at the sight of the redhead, wondered what to say—how to
say it. Dozens of remarks spun around her brain.
Mike held up the frosty bottle. “Want one?” she asked.
“Please,” Peggy answered, glad for the ice-breaker.
Mike reached for another bottle, then sauntered across the room to hand
it to Peggy.
“How was your night?”
“Not bad,” Peggy said. “I enjoyed it. I think the kids did, too.”
Mike took a swig of soda. “By the way, a bit of news,” she said. “Your
Ted called. I told him you weren’t here, but I don’t think he believed
me.”
“Next time he calls,” Peggy said, “tell him I went to Patagonia.”
Mike frowned. “You mean that, Peg?” In her huskiest tone, she added, “He
doesn’t seem so bad. I talked to him a while. I thought he sounded like
a lot of fun.”
“Like a gorilla,” Peggy said. “Patagonia,” she repeated, tilting up her
bottle. “Tell him I went there.”
“Whatever you say.”
Peggy glanced around the room. Counselors were drifting in for sodas and
cigarettes before the evening meal. Some were still dressed in their
swim-duty bathing suits, their bare limbs glistening.
Peggy glanced at her own legs stretched gracefully in front of her. The
days of sun had turned them a tawny gold. She looked up and caught
Mike’s eyes traveling down her thighs, too. Quickly, the redhead looked
away. She thrust her bottle among the empties, then walked out of the
lounge.
Peggy sat quietly, unthinkingly sipping her coke and staring at the pine
trees outside the windows. A squirrel, halfway up a nearby oak, stared
back. Peggy winked. The thing scampered out of sight.
Peggy sighed, rose, walked out of the lounge. She had suddenly become
restless. Just outside the lodge she ran into Beth.
“Going swimming?” Peggy asked, noting the nurse’s suit.
“For a few minutes. Join me?”
Peggy’s eyes skimmed over Beth’s lightly clad body. The pale knit
swimsuit showed off her curves to perfection, while its high neck and
wide straps hid much of her nakedness. This was not the orange suit. It
was of a light-blue material that clung to her well-rounded body,
caressing it, molding her fully blossomed breasts and flowing hip line.
Peggy’s eyes darted to Beth’s face. “I’d love to,” she said in answer to
the nurse’s question, “but I’m just too damned tired. Hiked eight miles
today, you know.”
Beth smiled. “Rest yourself, then. And remember, whenever you feel like
it, drop by at the Pillbox.”
Did Beth mean that or was she just being polite? Peggy hesitated.
“Okay,” she blurted. “Maybe tonight.”
EIGHT
Peggy went to the Pillbox that night, talked for an hour or so, drank
coffee. And she went often after that. She tried not to wear out the
invitation, but found herself drawn more and more to the cozy room and
sympathetic nurse.
She was able to face both Mike and Lilian unashamedly now, although she
found little time to be friendly with the redhead, and Lilian, it seemed
to Peggy, was being rather distant. Other than that camp life progressed
normally.
Pam had not raised the issue of “special privileges” at a counselors’
meeting, but instead had spoken to Peggy in the privacy of the camp
office. A counselor, Pam had said, had to be careful about giving the
kids any idea that she was playing favorites. Peggy had agreed, had
explained the circumstances, had promised to handle such situations,
should they occur, in a different way. That had been the end of that.
Peggy knew perfectly well that horror was looking over her shoulder,
that behind the facade of wholesome camp activity lurked abominations
too dark and terrible to be named. She knew that there were at least two
lesbians—her precious Beth, and probably Mike—in the camp. She had a
strong feeling that about herself, Lilian suspected the worst. The very
word “lesbian” was almost totally new to Peggy’s lexicon, had the power
to make her shudder, to make her ill. The most awful thing of all was
that these creatures were abroad in a camp for children, girl children.
Lesbianism in such a setting should be at once exposed, torn out by the
roots.
Yet there was no absolute proof Mike was a lesbian. As for Beth, thought
Peggy, it was as plain as the nose on your face that she was the most
marvelous of women. Far from damaging others, she helped them night and
day—and especially, she helped Peggy. She took the alarm and the worry
out of Peggy. She opened Peggy’s eyes to dawns, horizons, worlds beyond
worlds, all by sitting with her sometimes, talking, sharing music over
the radio, exchanging smiles and glances. In short, Beth was a friend.
So Peggy was not about to damage Beth by exposing her. Oh, no. It was
not indicated. As for the campers, the girls—why, the last thing Beth
would do would be to hurt them. She was so tender, so sympathetic and
affectionate, with the kids.
Peggy was enraptured with her new friendship and by the end of the first
month, as she readied for another overnight, she felt certain that
things would run smoothly for the remainder of the summer.
However, that very afternoon found her wrong in her assumption.
Each Friday, every girl in the camp was sent on a hike with one group or
another. Friday was the kitchen staff’s day off, and as at most camps on
that occasion, expeditions had to be arranged. Friday was the day the
canoe trips threaded the lake, the girls climbed nearby peaks, the
visits were made to other lakes, other camps.
The overnight hikers, however, usually left on Thursday mornings, spent
Thursday night in the open, returned late Friday to meet the other
homecoming girls. They were considered an elite group, since only those
attending Peggy’s campcraft and woodcraft sessions were allowed to spend
a night in the open. Lilian, as the senior counselor, was in charge of
these overnight hikes, of which there were four each summer, but it was
Peggy who actually led them. The camp directors considered this her most
important function.
This sleepout had begun as all others. After breakfast the campcrafters
had trundled up to the lodge, lugging their bedding and other gear over
their shoulders or on their backs.
Peggy watched from the top of the hill, greeting each girl with a bright
“Hi.” Because of the weight with which the girls were struggling, the
reply was usually a mere, “Ugh!” When the girls were gathered inside the
main room, Peggy joined them, counted noses, found one camper missing.
After instructing the girls to count off, she told them, “Evens spread
your blankets here. Odds over there. Those with sleeping bags, over
here.” She pointed to another section of the room. “Last trip, our
bedmaking was pretty sloppy. We’re going to run through the routine once
more before starting out.”
The youngsters took great pains to lay out their blankets evenly on the
floor. Some rounded them three or four times, straightening an edge,
pulling a corner, inspecting, then hurrying to the other side once more.
Others crawled across the woolen squares on their hands and knees,
smoothing ripples as they went.
One nine-year-old made her way to the middle of the blanket on all
fours, then stopped, turned to one side so she could examine both ends.
Satisfied, she started up, pushing herself by her hands, her little rear
end rising first.
Just then a hefty twelve-year-old next to her bent over to smooth a
ripple. _Boom!_ The two pairs of buttocks smacked each other, toppling
the smaller girl into a complete somersault.
The lodge rang with loud, happy laughter, high-pitched giggles, shy
twitters. Even Peggy roared.
The noise finally died away. The two girls straightened their blankets
once more—being especially careful to keep out of each other’s way.
Deciding not to wait any longer for the stray girl, Peggy called the
group together to watch a bedmaking demonstration.
It was then that the missing girl came in. She stopped a moment in the
doorway, her bedding slung across her back. Peggy glanced at her.
Alice Hart was an odd mixture of baby fat and young womanhood. She had a
round, cherubic face with full cheeks now flushed from the struggle to
get her gear to the lodge. Her breasts, well-developed for a
fourteen-year-old girl’s, heaved with her heavy breathing, straining
against the snug cardigan she was wearing.
The first two buttons of the cherry-red sweater were undone. The
third—in a most strategic place—threatened to fly off any second. Even
more insecure, it would seem, were her white ultrashort shorts. Peggy
wondered how she had been able to struggle into those skin-tight pants,
and how soon they were going to burst.
Alice’s sandy hair was rolled back in an attempted twist, but one strand
had fallen from place, hung straight and straggly to her shoulder.
Her mouth was a pink-red blob of lipstick; her eyes were black with
make-up.
Peggy shot a glance at Lilian, whose expression was inscrutable as she
said to the girl, “You’re late.”
Alice crossed the room, her tightly encased buttocks bouncing girlishly,
swaying provocatively. She dropped her bundle to the floor, and watched
the rest of Peggy’s demonstration.
Afterward, while the other girls struggled with their bedrolls, Peggy
walked around, advising, instructing, answering questions. She stopped
at Alice’s side. As the girl bent to fold the blanket, Peggy held her
breath, watching, waiting for the seams of the white pants to explode.
But they did not, and Alice stood up, still in one piece.
“Alice,” Peggy said, as quietly as possible, “as soon as you finish,
you’d better go wash your face. That stuff would get smeared all over
you on an overnight.”
Peggy could tell Alice was hurt, in spite of the girl’s attempt to
smile.
“Since you have to go back to the cabin,” Peggy continued, wishing she
knew some of Mike’s child psychology, “maybe you should change your
pants, too. It would be a shame to ruin them, don’t you think?”
Alice swallowed. “Yes’m,” she said, her eyes searching the floor. When
she had tied up her bedroll securely and was starting for the door,
Peggy called after her.
“I think you’d better bring along a blouse. It might get pretty warm
today,” she said, hoping the girl would not take offense.
The day never became particularly hot—the sun followed the group behind
a cloud screen. But Alice gradually regained her high spirits. She
marched along sturdily in blue Levis—tight, but not as snug as the white
pants and, in any case, guaranteed not to rip. She also wore a sloppy
navy sweatshirt over a white blouse, and sneakers. Her face had been
scrubbed to a clean, glowing pink. She had pulled her hair into a
ponytail bound with a red ribbon.
At one point Alice dropped back in line to join Peggy.
They trailed behind the other girls for a while, Alice wordless.
Suddenly she blurted, “Miss Peggy, did I look very awful? I mean with
all that glop on.”
“Why, no, Alice. You didn’t look exactly awful.”
“But I didn’t look exactly good, either, did I?”
“I wouldn’t say that. You could probably use some experience in making
up, but you’ll get there.”
Alice hesitated before her next question.
“Do you think—I mean, did I look, you know, sort of glamorous?”
Peggy forced herself not to smile. “You’re an attractive girl, Alice.
You—”
“But I didn’t look glamorous? Not even a little bit?”
“Why do you want to look glamorous? Especially on an overnight?”
Alice examined the ground. She seemed to be studying painstakingly each
piece of gravel they stepped on. Then she raised her eyes. Peggy
followed her gaze along the line of campers to its head, where Lilian
was walking Indian-straight, her regal countenance held high, the black
hair swaying in a single braid down her back.
She was wearing slacks of rich brown and a matching sweater. A gold
scarf was pinned at her neck. She looked ready for a date, rather than a
sleepout, Peggy mused, forcing her attention back to Alice.
“She always looks that way, doesn’t she?” Alice said, a toss of her chin
indicating Lilian. “Glamorous.”
“I guess she does.” Peggy looked at the girl, who was gazing wistfully
at the front of the line.
Peggy sighed. Kids sure were funny. These crushes of theirs.
Then the irony struck her. What the hell, she herself had a crush,
didn’t she? A crush on Beth?
Alice heard Peggy laugh and laughed too. What Alice did not know was
that Peggy was laughing at herself.
* * * * *
When the girls stopped at the Allister farmhouse, the place seemed
deserted. The youngsters refilled their canteens and continued on their
way.
They arrived at the campsite, divided into groups to go in search of
firewood. Feeling more lighthearted than usual, Peggy ran with one of
the parties, hopping the gullies, leaping over rocks, scampering up a
hillside. Carrying armloads of kindling, she trotted back with the
youngsters.
While Lilian helped to set out the cooking utensils, Peggy supervised
the fire builders. The custom was for the girls, some of them seasoned
campers, to do all the cooking and serving.
Dusk began to gather as they ate soup and hamburgers. Then they sat
around the glow of the fire sucking campfire sodas—peppermint sticks
plunged into round, ripe, juicy oranges—and singing camp songs.
Night was quietly drifting over the hills. Concerned by her bad
timing—the bedding had not yet been laid out—Peggy glanced at her watch.
It was still early. Puzzled, she examined the watch once more. Just then
a low rumble from overhead shook the hills. In the middle of a song,
Peggy left the circle, rounded the fire to where Lilian was sitting.
“What do we do if it rains?”
“There’s no shelter in this area except for the trees. But Miss Duncan
won’t let us sit out here if it gets bad. They’ll send the station wagon
for us.”
“My gosh, Lilian,” Peggy said, her voice rising. “Camp is a good
distance away. The kids will be drenched by the time someone gets here.”
“Well, I suppose we could start back now, and stop off at the Allister
farm. But—”
She was interrupted by a flash of headlights. Both girls tensed as a
strange car pulled to a halt and a man slid from behind the wheel.
“Peggy! It’s me,” he called. “Kirby.”
Relieved, Peggy bounded to meet him.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly.
The campers were on their feet now, clustered near the fire, excitedly
discussing the gathering storm. All eyes were intent on Peggy.
“Have you heard from the camp?” Kirby was asking.
Peggy shrugged. “Nobody’s been here yet. I was just talking to Lilian
about it.” She glanced doubtfully at the dark sky. “I suppose the storm
might pass.”
“It won’t,” Kirby said. “They just announced it over the radio—thunder
showers early tonight, continuing through tomorrow. Aunt Lelia insisted
that I check on you girls. She said if you want, you can stay at the
house.”
“Oh, we couldn’t do that.” Peggy gestured with a sweep of the arm.
“There are seventeen of us, including counselors.”
Kirby smiled. “Aunt Lelia has plenty of room, believe me. Besides—” he
grinned—“we can always put you up in the barn.”
Peggy hesitated. “I suppose we ought to take shelter there, anyway.”
“You’d better hurry up. When this thing breaks—”
Peggy ran to consult Lilian and was back in seconds.
“All settled,” Peggy said. “But we have to stow the bedrolls and
equipment.”
“Load the pots and things in the car with as many girls as you can stuff
into the back seat. I’ll buzz them over to the house while you and a
couple of the kids pack the bedding. I’ll be back as soon as I can with
tarpaulins.”
“Right.”
Quickly the cooking utensils and knapsacks were loaded in the trunk.
Then Lilian and eight girls jammed themselves into the sedan. Soon they
were off, leaving Peggy and the bedroll crew behind.
As the car rolled away, a flash of lightning slashed the blackness
overhead.
“Let’s go, kids,” Peggy called to her helpers.
* * * * *
Mrs. Allister was quite elderly, but spry as a farm filly. Short and
stocky, with glinting blue eyes and snowy hair, she was bustling about
in a blue chenille robe when Peggy arrived with Kirby and the bedroll
crew. As they walked into the kitchen, she turned away from the sink
where she had been rinsing cups.
“You sit yourselves right there,” she said to the girls, indicating the
large, old-fashioned kitchen table. “I have some nice hot chocolate for
you.” She smiled at Peggy. “The others are all tucked in, though I doubt
they’ll sleep for some time. You know how children are in a strange
place.”
She scurried from the sink to the stove to the table, rinsing cups,
warming milk, pouring the thick, rich drink for her guests.
“Where’s Lilian?”
“Upstairs with her kids.”
“Did she call the camp?”
“Not that I know of,” Mrs. Allister said. “But I’m delighted to have you
all. Lots of room, you know.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “I was one of five
sisters and four brothers, and we were living on here at the farm even
after some us were married and had children. Why, I can remember when—”
“Aunt Lelia,” interrupted Kirby, smiling crookedly, “I think Peggy would
like to telephone the camp.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Allister said. “Kirby, you show her where the phone
is.”
By this time, rain was pelting the farmhouse like buckshot. Crackling
thunder punctuated the forked flashes of lightning hurling themselves at
the hills. Peggy had trouble getting through to the camp. After fifteen
minutes of trying without a result, she decided that the wires must be
down somewhere and was about to give up, but just then a local operator
came to her rescue. The call was rerouted, and a few moments later Miss
Duncan, the director, answered. She sounded beside herself with worry.
“Oh, Peggy! I’m so glad to hear from you. Look, a number of girls got
caught in canoes by the storm. They had to beach at the other end of the
lake, and the station wagon is out rounding them up. As soon as it gets
back, I’ll send it for you.”
“You don’t have to, Miss Duncan. We’re all safe and dry.”
“Where are you?”
“At the Allister farm.”
“Of course! There’s plenty of space there, I know. But aren’t we
imposing?”
“I wouldn’t say so. Mrs. Allister is enjoying it, and so are the kids.”
“All right. You stay the night. If it hasn’t stopped raining by morning.
I’ll have the station wagon there.”
Peggy hung up, returned to the kitchen, and sat sipping hot chocolate
with Kirby. Aunt Lelia shooed the rest of the youngsters off to bed,
then excused herself. She always rose at five, she explained, and needed
her night’s rest.
Peggy and Kirby sat quietly, listening to the rain slash the window
panes.
After a while, Kirby said, “It must get lonely for you girls, being out
here in the wilderness with no guys around.”
“I kind of like it,” Peggy said unsmilingly.
“Oh, come on. You can’t be serious. I bet you don’t like it so much that
you would turn me down if I asked you for a date.”
“I bet I would.”
Kirby’s face fell. “Are you saying you won’t go out with me?”
Peggy swallowed the last of the hot chocolate. “That’s right.” She
pushed back her chair, stood up.
“But—”
“I’d like to go to bed, now,” she said.
Kirby jumped to his feet. “You didn’t mean that, did you? About the
date?”
“I meant it.” She turned away.
Kirby caught her by the arm, forced her to face him.
“But look at you,” he said. “You’re a beautiful girl. Why, you’re built
like—like a movie star. You must have feelings, desires. It wouldn’t be
normal if you didn’t.”
Her hazel eyes blazed into his brown ones. “So maybe I’m not normal,”
she said coldly.
“Well, I am, damn it!” With that, he threw his arm around her, forced
her in close to his lean, hard body. His head came down. He clamped his
mouth to hers.
In that first shocked instant, Peggy was too astounded to react. Then
she felt a familiar hot stirring in her loins, faint at first, but
growing in intensity second by second. Guilt filled her as Kirby held
the kiss. Not because of those stirrings inside her. Peggy knew she was
a passionate girl. No—the guilt came because she was responding to the
same precipitous, self-centered, humiliating approach that Ted used—and
every other male used, for all she knew.
Who did this Kirby think he was, Casanova or somebody?
She broke away. Putting all her strength into it, she slapped Kirby’s
face.
“You’d better show me where I sleep, now.”
He was holding his cheek.
Without a word he led the way down the hall.
* * * * *
Peggy did not see Kirby again before leaving the Allister farm. When she
got up the next morning, the sun was bright, not a cloud marred the sky.
Investigating, Peggy found Mrs. Allister in the kitchen brewing steaming
coffee for herself and the two counselors, and more hot chocolate for
the campers.
The woman pulled a tray of biscuits from the oven. “Dig in. Better than
walking back on an empty stomach.”
Peggy thanked her, asked permission to use the phone, then, after
talking to Miss Duncan, went to wake the girls. Soon, in shifts, they
invaded the kitchen to sip hot drinks and munch warm biscuits swimming
in butter and topped by honey or home-made jam.
When Peggy thought they had had their fill, she suggested the clean-up
committee help Mrs. Allister in the kitchen, while the rest of the girls
straightened the quarters in which they had slept. The gesture delighted
the kindly old lady. Reminded her of the old days, she said, when she
had been one of the cooks at the camp, and the girls had always been
running around underfoot.