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Monday
The day was already mayhem and Harry hadn’t even brushed her teeth. Rather, Harry had forgotten–as she seemed to forget every summer on the first full day of arts camp–that she needed to brush her teeth before breakfast, because there was no guarantee she or her cabinmates would have time to head back to their bunks and the showerhouse between breakfast and the first session of the day.
And so there Harry was, teeth unbrushed, standing in the dining hall wearing what she considered her most artsy outfit–the one she was so looking forward to wearing now that she was back at camp, and part of the oldest cabin, the 16/17 cabin–and the gauzy off-the-shoulder top she’d been so excited about wearing with her favorite leggings had pancake syrup dripping all down the front. Great.
Harry would have grumbled, or maybe even started to cry from frustration, if it weren’t for the two adorable, identical little girls in front of her: wide-eyed, holding hands, and one of them holding a now-empty pitcher in her free hand.
“Daisy didn’t mean to get syrup up on you, promise!” The one without the pitcher spoke quickly while her twin (Harry assumed) started to sniffle, her bottom lip beginning to wobble. Harry knew what that meant–she was quick to cry herself when the universe upset her plans.
“Hey, no, it’s okay!” she assured the girls. “I know you wouldn’t dump syrup on purpose. I mean, you must really hate pancakes if you were going to waste your syrup on a joke!” There, she thought, I’ll joke with her so she knows it’s okay.
Except the girl–Daisy, it seemed–started to have an even more wobbly lip, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “Oh no, Phoebe!” she said, her voice getting louder on every syllable. “What will we have on our pancakes? Ourcabinwillhateme!”
Harry’s eyes were as wide as the twins’–she’d made it worse, how had she made it worse, this day is not doing me any favors! She felt the beginning stages of panic, not knowing how to comfort these tiny kids, all the while continuing to drip syrup on the wooden floors between the kitchen and the dining tables. Somehow the other campers and all the counselors were so focused on their breakfast that they hadn’t noticed this sticky situation. Not the time for puns, Harry, she thought to herself.
Or, at least, almost no one had noticed the scene, because just as Harry was about to crouch down to try to reassure the girls–hadn’t she learned in child development that it’s good to get on the same level as a young kid when talking to them?–she saw a figure out of the corner of her eye. Someone moving toward them.
“Hey, ladies, what’s going on over here?” The voice was raspy and high–music track? Harry wondered, then shook the thought from her head as she concentrated on the situation at hand.
“Everything’s fine, really,” Harry said calmly, nodding to the girls. She started to turn toward the voice that had come to check on them, assuring, “It was an accident–I got some syrup on me, but I have all my other t-shirts back in my cabin so I can definitely go and change before first session starts–”
Harry’s start to a ramble fizzled out as her eyes communicated with her brain, and her brain with her mouth, registering the fact that the older girl who had come to check on them was, well, gorgeous. Tan in athletic shorts and a soccer team t-shirt, short brown pixie haircut that Harry could only dream of being brave enough to get, and smiling kindly at the twins.
“Oh, Phee, Dais, what happened? I know we talked about what it’s like at camp, but I don’t remember talking about making friends by sharing your syrup quite so creatively, huh?” The girl gently nudged each girl under the chin, getting their focus and the barest hint of a hesitant smile.
“Loulou, it was an accident but that was our syrup for our cabin and now they’re going to be so mad at us! We’re not going to have any friends at camp!” one of the girls whimpered–Harry couldn’t remember which now that this “Loulou” was part of the equation.
“Hey, squirt, no crying over spilled syrup, okay? We can get more from the kitchen to take to your cabin, and I’ll get this cleaned up.” A big sniffle met the girl’s offer to help, and it looked like the threat of tears was passing. “And our friend here”–she pointed at Harry–“she said she knows it was an accident and that it’s okay, so no need to worry, right?” Another smaller sniffle. “Isn’t that right…”
It took Harry a moment to realize that the pause was for her to share her name.
“Oh, right. Harry. I’m Harry. It’s totally fine, accidents happen!” Her voice squeaked a bit, but overall she managed to not make too big a blunder of the introduction, she thought.
“See, girls? Harry said it’s okay. She’s fine, and you can go right up there to the counter in the kitchen,” the girl pointed toward the food counter where one of the kitchen attendants already stood with another pitcher of syrup, smiling at the girls, “and ask for more syrup to take to your table. But maybe this time carry it with both hands, yeah?”
The twins nodded and headed into the kitchen, the older girl watching them go before turning to Harry.
“Sorry about that, Harry,” she said. “My baby sisters are a bit clumsy at the best of times, let alone on their first day away from home.”
Oh, sisters, thought Harry; that’s really nice. She suddenly remembered that she should reply to this girl in front of her.
“Oh, yeah, it’s totally fine,” Harry said in a bit of a mumble. “Just like I told them. I can change like I said, but first I should let someone know about the mess on the floor–”
“I’ll deal with it,” said the girl. “I can take care of it so you can go change and still have time to eat before first session.”
“Oh, no,” Harry hurried, “I can clean it up–you shouldn’t have to just because they’re your sisters. Although that’s really nice of you…”
“Louise,” the girl said, grinning in a way that seemed like she had a secret. “But my friends call me Louis. And I would be the person to clean it up anyways–I’m not a camper this year, I’m a counselor-in-training. Not really because I want to be a counselor, but because if I came this year as a counselor in training, the camp was willing to give us a discounted rate. Now that the twins are old enough to come and there are five of us girls here, Mom couldn’t pass on that offer, so it’s indentured servitude for me!” She was so cheerful she was practically whistling.
“Oh, wow,” said Harry. “Five sisters at camp. That’s got to be fun, and a bit of a handful. Louise.” She blushed as she said the girl’s name a bit quieter at the end.
“I’m probably the biggest handful,” the older girl quickly responded with a chuckle and a shrug, “but I also have lots of practice cleaning up messes, so it works out. And I told you, my friends call me Louis–so you can call me Louis.” Harry blushed even harder, and Louis clearly noticed. “Maybe Daisy and Phoebe are onto something about new ways to make friends? See you around!” Louis gave Harry an exaggerated wink and a wave as she turned toward the kitchen–to help her sisters, or get cleaning supplies, Harry guessed.
Harry stood there for another moment, eyes still wide as her brain tried to process what had just happened. It took in everything in reverse–Louis, friend, sisters, syrup. Syrup, right! I need to go change! she realized, jogging herself out of her momentary stupor. Harry rolled her eyes at herself for getting so caught up in this girl all of a sudden. But she felt herself blushing again, too, as she looked once more in the direction of the kitchen, then started to move toward her table to tell her counselor she needed to go back and change.
Wednesday
There were sixteen campers in the musical theater track this week. While the younger kids–ages six through ten–spent their week hopping between arts areas to try a bit of everything, the older ones–ages eleven through seventeen–picked a track when they registered. While the younger kids explored, the older ones focused within their track for the two morning and afternoon sessions each day, all with the intention to have something to showcase on Friday evening when parents came to pick up their kids.
Harry remembered the joys of trying all sorts of visual and performance arts when she was younger, bouncing between groups and instructors–she’d been coming to this arts camp every summer since she was seven. Now, having turned sixteen over the winter, Harry found herself immersed in musical theater for the week. On Monday, she’d been a bit nervous when she realized she was the oldest girl in the group, and so would likely have the biggest role in their showcase number. The only older camper was a seventeen-year-old boy she recognized from previous summers, Jon.
By Wednesday, however, all Harry’s initial nerves were replaced with vocal exercises and fast-paced choreography lessons. If Monday had been all about warming up and getting to know one another, and Tuesday was trying on different showtunes to pick a musical medley that would suit the group, then Wednesday was its own special brand of chaos as the sixteen campers put all their energy into learning a medley from Grease.
“Harry, Jon, I need you to act a little more like you like one another, please!” hollered Veronica, their instructor and the director of their showcase piece. Veronica had made a few comments now about the chemistry–or lack thereof–between Harry and her co-lead. Apparently they weren’t making a very convincing Sandy and Danny.
Harry blushed despite the fact that Veronica had already turned her attention to the younger kids to focus on their choreography for the “Hopelessly Devoted to You” section of their medley–lots of prop-waving, from what she could tell. I’d almost rather be waving props than having to sing longingly for Jon, she thought. She went over her blocking in her head while Veronica continued to work with the younger performers.
“Quick break, then from the top!” Veronica shouted–her two volumes were stage whisper and project-to-the-back-of-the-house. Harry took a drink from her water bottle before joining her castmates so they could quickly reset their scene, taking a place on the picnic table of their practice stage for “Summer Nights.” She fidgeted with the hem of her t-shirt.
“Don’t worry, Harry,” said the blonde girl to her right, proudly wrapped in a costume pink jacket meant to show she was a Pink Lady. “My sister taught me a trick for having to pretend emotions for a play.”
Harry smiled at the kindness of this young girl–Lottie, Harry reminded herself. She introduced herself as Lottie.
“Oh yeah? Why did you need a trick for pretending emotions?” she asked.
“Because it’s impossible to pretend to like boys, duh!” said Lottie, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re just…boys. Ick.”
Harry laughed. “Yeah, you’re right, Lottie,” she said. “It’s hard to show anything besides ‘ick’ on my face when I have to pretend to have a crush on Jon–or Danny, I guess.” She shrugged.
“I know, that’s why my sister taught me this trick!” Lottie replied. “All you’ve gotta do is imagine something you do feel that way about. So, like, if you have to act angry, imagine you’re talking with whoever you’re angry at. If you have to act like you love Jon” she said the boy’s name with a hilarious amount of disdain, “then you should imagine you’re on stage with someone you do love. Or at least someone you like like, like a movie star or something.”
Harry blushed again as she realized how quickly Louis from Monday came to her mind as soon as Lottie had said “someone you like like.” You do NOT have a crush on the syrup sister, no matter how cute she was with her sisters! Harry chastised herself.
Harry cleared her throat softly before replying. “That sounds like a good trick, Lottie. Thank you for sharing with me.” She saw Veronica move to the chair she sat in to watch them perform, so Harry started to stand from her seat at the picnic table to move to her mark. “If your trick works, you’ll need to thank your sister for me when you see her after camp,” she said.
“You can tell her thanks yourself, Harry,” replied Lottie matter-of-factly. “My sister is here, too. Actually, she’s right over there by the costume trunk.” Lottie turned with a giant smile on her face and waved. “Hi, Lou!”
Harry caught a glimpse of Louis, who was wearing her own smile and waving–first at Lottie, exaggeratedly big, followed by a smaller wave in which she wiggled her fingers more suggestively toward Harry. Harry blushed harder than she had all day and stumbled, almost fell, getting up from the table. Not because I was startled to see Louis, of course. Nope. Not at all.
“Woah, Harry, careful there!” yelled Veronica. “Can’t have our leading lady getting hurt, the show must go on! Places, everyone! Let’s try the medley the whole way through!”
Harry stood up straight on her mark, a bit embarrassed but also energized, and more than a tad relieved to see Louis had headed away from their practice stage already. Off to do whatever counselors in training do, Harry thought before calling to mind her lyrics and choreography.
And if Sandy seemed much more smitten with Danny in this run-through, and the ones after, well, no one had to know why Lottie’s trick worked like a charm.
Friday
They were halfway through their medley from Grease and Harry was absolutely exhilterated. She felt amazing on stage for the showcase, much more confident than she ever would have guessed where her mom dropped her off on Sunday evening. She had done her part with the full cast to get the audience chanting with them during “Summer Nights,” then took center stage with the other girls as she belted out “Hopelessly Devoted to You.” Her theater teacher at home would scarcely believe how assured she was.
Now she was off to the side of the stage behind their makeshift curtain, taking off her costume poodle skirt and sweater and putting on a black faux leather jacket over her black leotard and tights. She felt the anticipation of the final number, “You’re the One That I Want,” and how it made her feel, even as she watched the boys in the cast start “Greased Lightning.”
Harry used this break for the girls to take a look from the wing out to the boys on the stage. Jon was definitely hamming it up, exaggerating his movements–and is that an attempt at an Elvis impression? Harry rolled her eyes a bit as her gaze moved to the “car” that Jon was dancing on top of.
We made a pretty great plywood car, she thought, observing the hand-painted wooden frame around the picnic table that had earlier been their set for the schoolyard. Musical theater track really was an everything-and-the-kitchen-sink kind of experience, with the group members not only singing and dancing, but assembling their costumes from the trunks in the lodge basement, and creating props and stage pieces with arts and craft supplies.
Harry’s gaze moved to the crowd. She saw her parents and her older sister toward the back, bodies swaying slightly with the music. They were smiling, and it made Harry smile, too. She didn’t see Louis–not that I’m looking for her!–but she figured she must be nearby, since one of her sisters was in this part of the showcase. Harry immediately resolved to put an end to this train of thought before she distracted herself, or made herself nervous.
That’s when she noticed a decidedly unpracticed move from Jon, his arms windmilling haphazardly until he tumbled off the picnic table and behind the stage as “Greased Lightning” came to an end.
There was a gasp from the crowd as Veronica ran behind the stage to where Jon was slowly standing up, blood gushing from his nose but otherwise appearing fine. The musical interlude continued–it was still playing on the camp laptop, and no one had hit pause.
Harry looked to Veronica with alarm, mouthing What do I do? Veronica looked toward the rest of the cast, and Harry saw Lottie run to her and whisper something in her ear. Veronica nodded.
“Harry, girls, go! The song as you rehearsed!” Veronica stage whispered. Harry was confused but didn’t have time to second guess her instruction as the familiar opening beats of “You’re the One That I Want” came through the speakers.
Harry had followed her choreography, strutting halfway across the stage, before she realized Danny–Jon–had the first lines of the song. She was about to turn around to look for further direction when she heard–“I got chills! They’re multiplyin’.”
The lovely, strong voice caught Harry entirely off guard, but she was proud of herself for keeping her composure as she continued to face away from the mystery singer as they finished their verse.
As she’d rehearsed, Harry did a quick turn to face Danny as she began to sing, “You’d better shape up.”
Louis. It was Louis. Louis was her Danny, shrugging off the costume letterman’s sweater that Harry herself had hot glued yesterday in the art barn. Louis whose eyes were twinkling at her as she sang her piece and walked toward Louis until they were practically nose to nose.
Thankfully the millions of times they’d sung their medley in rehearsals meant that Harry sang on autopilot. Well, not quite on autopilot. She was sure that if Veronica were watching her closely, she’d see a Sandy displaying much more affection for Danny than at any other time throughout the week. Harry hoped Veronica was paying attention to Jon’s bloody nose–or, rather, she would have hoped that, were her brain able to process anything aside from the surreal feeling of words tumbling from her mouth and the way her body was moving alongside Louis’s.
“To my heart I must be true,” Harry sang out, a little more confident now that the shock of the sudden scramble had lessened.
“Nothin’ left, nothin’ left for me to do!” replied Louis in her lovely high voice.
A giant smile overtook Harry’s face as she began the shimmy that she knew, somehow, Louis would mirror perfectly for the chorus.
The rest of the song was a blur, and before Harry knew it she was in Louis’s arms as the music faded out and the crowd broke into applause. They looked into one another’s eyes for a moment. Louis smirked, and Harry blinked slowly before coming to her senses and breaking away from Louis to take her stage bow.
It wasn’t until Harry was off stage that she realized she was holding Louis’s hand–gosh, she must have grabbed her hand for the bow and not let go, could she be any more awkward with this girl? She pulled her hand back and rubbed it absentmindedly.
“I’m so sorry I got in your space at the end of the song, Louis, really! That wasn’t part of the choreography, and you had already jumped in to save the number and then I go and grab onto you–”
“Hey, no, Harry, that was me!” Louis rushed. “When we did Grease last year at school, that was our choreography. At least that’s how it ended up when Zayn–the girl who played Sandy–and I made a few in-show tweaks.” Her eyes shimmered with a bit of mischief at the memory, and she smiled at Harry.
“Oh,” replied Harry quietly, her brain trying to piece things together. “So, wait. How did you know Danny’s part then, if you weren’t Sandy?”
“I was Danny, of course!” Louis said proudly.
“Girls, you need to quiet down!” Veronica stage whispered toward them. “The drama track is up and your voices carry!”
“Sorry!” Louis stage whispered back. She grabbed Harry by the wrist and moved them both further from the stage.
Harry must have still had a confused look on her face, as Louis clarified, “I went to an all-girls school for my last two years. I needed to get my grades up to have a better chance at the colleges I wanted to apply to, and they had a better academic support program.”
“Oh, I see,” Harry said. She realized she probably should have said more, but Louis’s fingers were still wrapped around her wrist and it was hard to process anything but that.
They were silent for a moment before Louis filled the space between them again, this time more quietly–hesitantly–than any of her previous interactions with Harry.
“Turns out they had better theater club options, too, especially if you’re into, um, switching things up and playing roles differently?” Louis seemed almost nervous.
The self-consciousness in Louis’s tone jolted Harry from her daze.
“Oh, yes. Yes!” she said, trying to express enthusiasm and acceptance. It was hard when she couldn’t raise her voice without disrupting the drama track’s performance, and it was dark and so she couldn’t quite see Louis’s expression. “I definitely get what you mean. That’s really great to get to do things differently. Like you said.”
She felt suddenly braver as she thought of Louis’s fingers still touching her wrist.
“I’m grateful you rescued the performance, but I’m especially glad I got to be Sandy to your Danny. Thank you, Louis.” Harry placed emphasis on saying Louis’s name.
Louis smiled–no matter how dark it was, it would have been impossible for Harry to miss a smile that wide.
“Looks like you might need to keep me as a friend, then, Harry, seeing as how you keep finding yourself in these sticky situations.” Louis looked so pleased with herself, and Harry couldn’t fault her. She was feeling pretty pleased, too.
“Maybe I will, Louis. Maybe I will.”