Chapter 2 | Camp

‘Maudie. Pull your head in. An oncoming train’ll lob it right off,’ Vika grumbled, keeping her eyes on the pages of Maud’s Vogue magazine, grimacing as she tilted it to get a better look at an image of a woman writhing naked on black velvet; her pose weirdly titillating. 

Maud, her long brown hair almost static from the blast of wind and her features spread wide open with a gum-exposing grin, grabbed handfuls of the wayward hair and stuffed it in a ponytail, her mouth holding the barrette as she twisted it around her wrist and pulled it through her hair. She threw herself onto the seat across from Vika and whooped with delight.
‘Summer and the livin’ is easy.’ Maud's crooning was off key. She spun giddily. Vika threw out a foot to forestall her.
‘Easy Suzi Quatro. Camp is your idea. If I turn up at the station with your head under my arm, there’ll be questions.’ Maud attempted a crestfallen expression and settled back onto her side of the seat, her grin once again a wattage of craziness.

Maud thumped Vika on the knee. ‘You’re going to adore this place.’
‘J’adore, J’adore.’ Vika waved a hand at her friend. She tossed the magazine back to Maud and propped her elbow on the window, cradling her chin in her hand and observed the passing scenery, ignoring Maud’s yackerty-yack expressions. Maud pouted, momentarily discouraged at Vika’s phlegmatic manner, wanting at least some imitation of enthusiasm but then her smile returned. The summer months too rousing a prospect, too seductive to let her circumspect friend dull her mood.
‘Tell me again what’s so great about this place?’ Vika yawned into her fist; a sign of nerves. Not that she’d be letting on.
Maud romped up and down on the seat and looked at her cross-eyed. She bounced off her seat and came along side Vika, wriggling like a psychotic Labrador pup. ‘Man. Where’s your enthusiasm? You used to be fun once.’
‘Stop squashing me.’ Vika used her side to shove her friend away. 

Maud huffed. ‘Please, please don’t do your usual thing and get crabby about stuff that annoys you.’
‘What I don’t get it is how this place can be so—I dunno—how it can get you so jazzed.’  
‘I’ve been wanting to get you to come for eons. Plus, it’s not a job as such. It’s a state of mind.’
‘Spare me the Tony Robbins BS. What are we expected to do again?’
‘It’s camp. We’ll be burying unsuspecting kids up to their necks and leaving them to dry out in the sun until summer is over. Hopefully the rain’ll keep them watered.’ 

Vika sighed. The two of them had batted this topic to and fro for a few weeks now. Vika still decidedly dubious that a summer job looking after other people’s frankenspawn could rate with the moon landing. But worse still, why she’d agreed to the idea in the first place. She was the least qualified person to be in charge of children. They were a species she didn’t much like. Plus Vika was nervous that these privileged kids would sniff her as out an outsider quicker than a wet fart in a windsock.  

‘Oh stop it. Once you get over the language barrier you’ll be fine.’ Maud had no patience for Vika’s allergy towards anyone younger than herself, failing to care that she herself was as good as bullet proof against the slights that plagued the rest of humanity. ‘And you make it sound like you have honest-to-god plans for the summer. Which you don’t.’ Maud jounced back to her seat and tugged on a large backpack propped next to her. Vika stared mutinously out the window while Maud wrestled briefly with a pocket and pulled out a bag of jelly beans. She ripped it open and poured herself a handful. ‘Want some?’ Vika shook her head and sat up a little straighter as the train started to slow down. Maud slid towards the window and tilted her head towards the glass. She threw a jelly bean in the air and caught it smoothly in her mouth, then shot to her feet and started dragging bags from above their heads. She looped the arms of the backpack around her elbow and leant towards the window again. She snapped two fingers at Vika. ‘Move it sunshine. This is us.’ 

~ ~ ~

Vika had never visited this particular Valhalla but she’d heard plenty about it over the years. Most summers, Maud would disappear for at least a month to this mythical place upstate. That’s how she referred to it when holiday snippets were exchanged back at school. Camp. No embellishments. Initially, Vika vaguely imagined someplace in the woods with tents surrounding a fire pit. Perhaps with a cinder block shed nearby for one’s ablutions and a ramp to launch canoes. But early on in their burgeoning friendship, Vika twigged that Maud’s kind used summer as a verb and to extend that thinking, camp took on a distinctly different hue. Maud’s kind didn’t pile into a station wagon sans AC, towing a camper van, and head west with the seat upholstery sticking to the backs of thighs in the heat; the first stop the New Jersey Turnpike. And the highlight was definitely not an over-night stay in a motel on the outskirts of Rocky Mountain National Park along with a fistful of stamps for all the state parks you’d visited between Colorado and New York. Goran and Lyudmila had a mania for the endless vistas and freedoms of the American road. Visiting national monuments during school break allowed them to indulge in the lure of the mythical west.

This was why she was as reluctant as Maud was eager to throw herself into the coming holiday weeks. For Vika and her galloping insecurities, this ‘camp’ smacked of elitism and secret handshakes since she’d been hearing about it, to make it the very last place she wanted to visit. Vika put it down to her unexpected giddiness at completing her SATs that she’d allowed Maud to finally breech her ramparts.

~ ~ ~

A guy called Ed met them at the station. He was peering at his teeth in the side driver’s mirror of a battered jeep when they emerged from the station. He straightened up and tossed a raggedy string of dental floss to the ground. He smiled widely and did a two handed pistol shoot at Maud as she rushed him. Maud leapt into his arms with her legs a monkey grip around his waist. She rubbed his hair ecstatically. Vika gazed on disinterestedly as they practically made out in the carpark. Ed was a large man, probably in his mid twenties with a deep voice, fleshy lips and a slight lisp. He had the coloring of a natural redhead, along with a truculent expression that he threw Vika after his mutual leg humping with her friend. His small eyes, a little too close together Vika thought cattily, assessed her with a dismissive excuse for a smile. Vika made sure he saw her yawn. Maud made the introductions and Vika gripped his hand hard and pumped with false enthusiasm.

‘So good to meet you. At last. Maud couldn’t stop talking about you on the trip up. Ed this and Ed that. All the way from Albany.’ Her friend shot Vika a warning look. 

Ed helped with loading their gear in the back of the jeep and then the three of them piled into the front cabin. Maud sat between the two of them and chattered almost to herself, purposefully oblivious to the silence of the people either side of her. Ed concentrated on his driving, using the shift stick with an enclosed upside down fist, occasionally laughing at something Maud said about people Vika didn’t know. He didn’t bother to display even a cursory interest in Vika. Screw you, she thought.

It was another two hour drive north from Utica train station and after a bit, Vika’s stomach started to loosen. Ed’s driving was an exercise in putting the new girl off her game. Maud, accustomed to the long trek north, leant into the curves while occasionally reaching for Ed’s knee to anchor herself. ‘It’s not the Indie 500,’ she complained. Ed cackled gleefully. Vika had her own roiling stomach to worry about and held on to the door handle with two hands. She occasionally felt Ed’s gaze glancing across at her. She lurched from side to side with eyes closed, the driving making her dizzy.   

At last, the pickup slowed and turned off the road. The wheels crunched gravel. Vika was vaguely aware of overhanging maple and chestnut trees, crowding the road. 
‘Stop the car.’ She yanked on the van’s side door whilst holding her mouth, as Ed brought the jeep to a stop. Yesterday’s evening meal, a witches brew of regurgitated pasta and Bolognese, erupted from her mouth and onto the gravel road.
Maud rubbed her back. ‘Mind my shoes,’ she said as Vika heaved away. 

Afterwards, Vika climbed back into the car and tipped her head back and sighed. Ed wordlessly handed her a bottle of water, reaching across Maud. Vika took a swig, the acid bile sliding back down her throat. She screwed the top on and handed it back to Ed, holding down a vinegary burp and not bothering to wipe the lip of the bottle. His baleful glare pleased her. 
‘Give me a moment.’ Vika said, her head lolling back against the car seat. In her line of sight, a hand carved wooden sign bolted to a towering maple off the side of the road, greeted them: Welcome to Camp. Underneath the sign, was the scrawl of recent graffiti: Trespassers wanted. Vika suppressed another hurl.

She leaned forward and placed her forehead on her folded elbows on the dashboard. She kept her head down despite Maud’s imploring to take a look around her. They finally swung round a circular gravel drive bordered by a high yew hedge that shrouded the back of a large building. Maud reached across her and yanked the door handle. She climbed over Vika after the most cursory of glances to satisfy herself Vika was a one-off vom-cano, and launched herself towards a screen door draped extravagantly in flowering wisteria, disappearing inside. Vika could hear raucous sounds of greeting from her seat in the van. She opened an eye and looked over to Ed who’d stuck his head back into the driver’s window. Probably to check the state of the van’s upholstery more than anything. ‘Do I follow her?’ Ed returned her gaze with disinterest and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I guess.’ Ed made a wiping gesture. ‘You have vomit on your chin.’

Jackass.  

~ ~ ~

Vika entered a large kitchen. Too many people for her liking lounged about against benches and a round table. Maud was snuggled up against a tall man who kissed the top of her head and squeezed her close to his side. Maud simpered, her self-satisfied importance in the bosom of these people at odds with her usual indolent self. Whether it was deliberate or not was hard to gauge but watching Maud standing there with her arms looped around the man’s waist, she made it clear that she was far more than the sum of the parts that Vika knew. Her life contained multitudes; Vika better pay attention. 

After a brief silence, Vika forced herself to step to one side of Ed and nod her head at the faces turned her way. ‘Vika,’ she muttered to the assembled group.
Maud grinned up at the tall man, ‘she’s almost as tall as Freja wouldn’t you say?’
He answered Maud with a further kiss on the crown of her head, untangled himself and stepped towards her with an outstretched hand. ‘Christopher.’ Vika gripped his hand and smiled anxiously at him. 
‘Everyone. Everyone!’ Maud shushed a few people to her left and clapped her hands to get the room’s attention while Vika thought about all the ways she could garrote her. ‘Say hello to Vika.’ People stopped what they were doing, what they were eating and turned to the stranger in their midst. She stared back. 

Christopher smiled wryly at her, sensing her discomfit. ‘Vika. Maud here told me she’d be bringing a plus one. Pleased you could make it.’ The man’s vowels were clipped and precise. A lead actor straight out of the PBS period dramas her mother claimed to watch purely to help her grammar. ‘Anyone else you’d like to know?’ Christopher gestured with a wave of his hand at the other persons standing in the kitchen. Vika gazed nonplussed at the assembled faces in front of her and wanted to bolt. She laughed nervously and looked at Maud—again forgetting she was not her spirit guide in this moment—when her friend ran at a figure who clattered into the kitchen behind her. Vika pushed herself against a fridge door to avoid being bowled over and watched, now less surprised, as she grabbed another male around his neck and kissed his jaw. ‘Prosper!’ 

The man in question ran a hand through a bad case of bed hair, most of it hanging in his eyes. He stood in khaki shorts and walking boots with the laces undone and a shirt stuffed carelessly into his waistband. The first impression was someone a few years older with a prepossessing self composure, even with the sleep-encrusted eyes he rubbed. He smiled drowsily down at the girl hanging onto him.
‘Look at you, you gorgeous thing.’ He kept her close, running his nose across her cheek. ‘I’ve been wondering when you’d turn up.’ Vika studied him, was that sarcasm she heard or was it wishful thinking on her part? He traced lazy fingers across Maud’s shoulders and didn’t acknowledge Vika. ‘Is there coffee?’ He paused and only then looked across at Vika blearily as if she’d provide both the sustenance and an explanation for her presence.
‘Introduce yourself my fine fellow,’ admonished Christopher while Maud hung off his neck giggling like a demented sprite - Marianne and Mick in a woodland setting.

‘Hello Maud’s offsider. Prosper.’ He extended his right hand while Vika shook it as formally as it was presented. The man in question took a moment to study her briefly without the smile he bestowed on Maud. ‘You’re tall,’ he continued. Vika gazed at him flat-eyed.
‘Yuh.’
Prosper returned her bland expression before addressing the rest of the crowd gathered in the kitchen. ‘Jesus Gerard can snore,’ he announced to the room, Maud still clamped to his side with the tenacity of a U-bolt. ‘How long have we got before the junior burgers arrive? Beauty sleep will be required if I’m to be in any sort of state to keep tabs on them.’ Vika was dismissed. Someone kindly handed her a mug of tea and gestured for her to help self to milk and sugar. Vika nodded her thanks and mouthed ‘Vika,’ for politeness. The person in question mimicked the gesture, ‘Gerard. The so-called snorer but let’s not believe everything that bonehead tells us. First time here?’
‘Uh huh. You?’
‘Part of the furniture.’ He grinned at her with the toothiness of a friendly vampire, exposing an expanse of gums and gnashing incisors. Gerard’s looks were conventional, handsome even if it weren’t for the hint of wing nut ears poking out from thick short hair. He took her elbow in a courtly gesture and made introductions that Vika thought should have been Maud’s responsibility. 

Amongst the chaos of lunch fixings, Gerard deftly managed introductions with alacrity, sensing Vika’s disquiet despite her attempts at indifference. ‘Allow me the pleasure,‘ he would say with a glint of humor as he discreetly grabbed passers-by. ‘This person here is Vika and Vika can I introduce you to the quite oddly dressed… Jesus Andrew; what is that on your head?‘ Andrew absently yanked a dried cicada shell from his hair and looked at it with befuddlement while shaking Vika’s hand. Another female with the most outrageous head of curls and an expression that hinted at impish possibilities nodded at her in between mouthfuls of muesli. An interesting choice for lunch. ‘Avril,’ she said as bits of mouthful sprayed from her mouth. She covered her mouth with her hand, ‘shorry,’ as more breakfast spritz fell. Someone shoved sandwich into Vika’s hands and she held the bread diffidently, too polite to tell them if she took a bite, in all likelihood they’d be wearing it a moment later.

‘Arno.’ A young man, a few years older, caught Vika’s gaze and pointed to himself. He was a body double for Helmut Berger in The Damned, without the sneer. A poster child for Aryan youth with neat creases in his shorts and a dark red polo t-shirt. His wink saved him from caricature. She raised a mug of tea in acknowledgement and gave him her first unabashed smile.  

Vika surreptitiously placed her sandwich by the sink and wedged herself into a corner and looked about her. Four large picture windows with diamond patterned panes looked onto a smooth lake. A big oval table sat underneath a window on a large braided rug. A large island held an antique measuring scale, various ceramic bowls overflowing with fruit and looking like an Old Dutch still life, crowded round the scale. Someone had dumped well-thumbed copies of The Atlantic and The New Yorker on one corner of the island. Anchoring the kitchen was a large fireplace with a sturdy stone ledge and an iron protector over the opening. Pewter jugs lined the mantlepiece and cast iron pans and leather bellows hung either side of the fireplace. On another wall stood a long dresser, groaning with pudding bowls, hardcover recipe books, bottles of wine—some half emptied—and a blousy flower arrangement shoved into a huge glass vase; its magnificence a shambolic profusion of colors and scents. Against the other wall was a long stainless steel bench with a double sink that overlooked the gravel drive where the pickup was parked. The stainless steel was the only concession to the professional requirements of feeding big numbers, along with a huge two door fridge. A cool room had been cleverly concealed in a lean-to by the kitchen but even that flowered extravagantly with wisteria. 

Three young men, roughly her age, clattered into the kitchen while she sipped on a second cup of tea. ‘Jack - over here,’ Gerard called out. ‘And bring your friends.’ Jack bowled over. He looked eighteen, maybe nineteen.
‘Wassup?’ Jack had the stride of a towering ego or perhaps it disguised a sensitive young man. Who knew. Who cared. 
‘Say hello to Vika. It’s her first summer. Be gentle if that’s even possible. And the two behind him are David and Max. Make nice the three of you.’
‘I came with Maud.’ Vika kept it short.
‘Ahh. Our pinup.’ Jack said, maybe thinking he was across something Vika missed in all these years. Jack sketched a bow, twirling his hand downwards as he executed a Shakespearian bend of the knee.
Vika gazed at him. ‘Please tell me you don’t have her on your bedroom wall.’ 
David and Max blushed and looked at their shoes while Jack smiled reluctantly and said gamely, ‘blue-tacked right there next to Liv Tyler.’ 

Vika gave up tracking the deluge of names and faces; a lineup that could have filled the expository pages of a Tolstoy novel, some making more of an impression than others. But all of them exhibiting an entitled nonchalance of people taking for granted the shabby grandeur about them. They spoke an in-house patois about personalities, terms, locations that, unintentionally or otherwise, excluded Vika. This she didn’t much care about but she was aware of Maud casting her the occasional glance throughout the day. Whether that was Maud regretting dragging Vika here in the first place, the odd one out, or to ensure that Vika was aware of Maud’s own status, Vika found she couldn’t care less. She was too busy taking it in, realizing a little panicked, Maud was not joking about this place in the woods. There was something powerfully seductive about its setting.

Maud

Vika’s a slippery fish. I’ve been wanting to invite her to camp for years. I am possessive about this place. I'm not dragging just anyone up here. I know at least two other girlfriends who’d give their questionable virtue to get the nod. They are so not getting to meet the likes of Prosper, Christopher, Arno. Besides, Prosper’s mine. That’s this summer’s goal. 

Vika doesn’t know it but it’s her take me or leave me persona that has always appealed. It’s an ongoing puzzle why I want to impress her. I’ve been dropping hints about this place for years in an effort to dazzle her. She’s never bitten. The gall. 

So I also censor myself about this place. Not too much gushing, just enough to get one of her side eyes that tells me she’s paying attention despite herself. I’m not introducing her to this place to show off. If anyone’s feeling inadequate, it’s me. My theory with my opaque friend is she’s that person you measure yourself against. That rare person you use as a refracting device to understand the interesting parts about yourself. Vika’s that someone for me. Go figure. 

And now she’s good and mad. A win for me. I’ve lured her here and summarily dropped her in it. Don’t mistake my wish to impress Vika for a fawning need to look after her. Forget that. I want to see for myself if she can stand on her own two feet at this place. If she can’t, then I’ve been very much mistaken about her. I’ll have to rethink my theory. So far, she’s the Vika I know.  

I had a hard time keeping a straight face witnessing the snide between her and Ed. That’s my girl. And the puking on the road. Way to go.

She didn’t respond to Prosper how I’d imagined. I kinda hoped that she’d be halfway impressed. Never mind. Christopher likes her. And he’s going to do what he usually does with people he likes: wield his Jim Jones jujitsu.

Vika doesn’t have a hope.