Carl went over to the edge of the trail and gazed down at the creek. The water was deep and dark. A few tree branches drifted slowly along. On the far side land rose up again, trees and brush. Dimly in the brush more tents could be seen.
“What’s over there?” Carl asked.
“I don’t know.” Jimmy threw a stone into the creek. Ripples poured away, widening silently.
“It sure is quiet.”
“Let’s see where they all are.”
They ran back along the trail, the way they had come. They came to the dining building and the sand bar where everyone was out swimming. Shouts and splashes echoed around them. On the far side of the creek was a high platform and a diving board. A few brown shapes basked in the sun. The sand bar was swarming with swimmers. Canoes, red and blue and orange, drifted up and down the creek.
A counselor with boys hanging from him made his way toward them. “Did you boys just come?”
“Yes.”
“Put on your trunks and jump in.”
They ran back to get their trunks. They changed quickly. A moment later they were pattering back along the trail, the wind blowing against their bare bodies, tiny stones cutting into their feet. Jimmy hopped expertly. Carl did the best he could.
“Come on!” Jimmy shouted.
“I’m coming!”
They reached the sandbar, past the redwood dining building. The sand was warm and dry under their feet. Jimmy leaped into the water. Carl ran to the edge, making his way through the brown glistening bodies curled up in the sun.
At the edge of the water he halted, looking around him. He stood gazing across the creek, at the platform on the other side.
Jimmy’s head rose up in the water, spluttering and gasping. “What’s the matter?”
Carl did not answer.
“What’s eating you?”
Carl dived into the water. He swam around and came up to the surface. He paddled toward Jimmy. The water was icy. He gasped, goose-pimples breaking out all over him.
“It’s freezing.”
“It sure is.”
They crawled up on the sandbar. Water ran down their faces, dripping from them. They struggled to breathe.
“I’m worn out,” Jimmy muttered.
Carl was worn out, too. More by excitement than anything else. No one paid any attention to them. Most of the figures on the sandbar were asleep. A few splashed into the water from time to time. One boy struggled with another to get a huge green ball. Across the creek a lithe shape dived from the platform into the water.
“You just come?” a fellow said to them.
They nodded. “We just got here.”
“How long you going to be here?”
“Two weeks.”
“This the first time?”
“Yes.”
“Nice place,” the fellow said.
Carl gazed at the shapes splashing and shouting in the water. He was very quiet, saying nothing.
Jimmy punched him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Homesick?”
“No.” Carl looked up toward the platform on the other side. Figures lay in the sun. Beyond them a bank of black earth rose, twisted tree roots. A road, half way up the hillside. Along the skyline a distant row of firs.
“What, then?”
“I didn’t know there were girls here. I thought it was just boys.”
“They live across the creek,” the fellow put in.
“Sure, we saw their tents,” Jimmy said.
On the edge of the platform a girl sat resting. In the sunlight her body sparkled and glistened. She had taken off her cap. Her hair was long and dark. It fell around her neck and shoulders. She was staring down into the water, her face expressionless.
Carl watched her until Jimmy grabbed him and tried to roll him into the water.
“Let go!” Carl shouted. The water closed over him. He dragged himself out, spluttering and spitting, water pouring from his mouth and nose.
“You’re mad,” Jimmy said, noticing his expression.
Carl threw himself onto the sand. “No.”
“Yes you are.”
On the platform the girl had disappeared. Carl did not know where she had gone. He waited, but she did not come back. A girl came up the ladder from the water, onto the platform, but it was not her. It was someone else.
The sun crossed the sky. A cold wind whipped around them. The swimmers left the water.
“Time to go in,” a counselor said. “Get cleaned up for dinner.”
There was a dance. It was night. The tables in the redwood dining room had been cleared away to make room. A phonograph had been set up, records and a loudspeaker in the corner. Boys shuffled in, moving over to one side, lining up as far away from the girls as possible.
“I can’t dance,” Jimmy said.
“Too bad,” said Carl.
“I didn’t come to camp to do any dancing.”
A lot of the boys were punching each other and shuffling around. In the center of the room was a big space, separating the boys from the girls. Mr. Fletcher, the man who ran the camp, got out in the middle, waving for silence.
“The first dance is girl’s choice!” he announced, wiping his neck with a red handkerchief.
The music started from the phonograph. The boys slunk back against each other, moving toward the wall. A few girls came across the space toward them.
“What’ll I do if some girl asks me to dance?” Jimmy muttered.
“Tell her you want to sit this dance out.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means you don’t know how to dance.”
A skinny girl with yellow hair wandered around in front of them, looking for somebody to dance with. The boys edged sullenly away, watching her uneasily.
“Let’s go,” Jimmy whispered, tugging at Carl.
“Where?”
“Outside.”
“We can’t go outside. We’re supposed to be in here dancing.”
Jimmy said nothing. The girl had gone off with a little short fellow wearing a bow tie. “Whoever heard of a bow tie,” Jimmy said.
In the warmth, the fellow’s face was shiny with perspiration. Several couples were dancing slowly.
“Look at them.”
Carl tried to see across the floor to the other side. Was—was she there? The girl with the dark hair. He looked and looked, but he could not see her.
“What are you staring at?” Jimmy demanded.
“Nothing.”
“You see somebody?”
“No.” It was true. He did not see her. More couples were on the floor. More girls had come across to ask boys to dance. Jimmy was getting more nervous.
“I’m going outside,” Jimmy said.
“All right.”
“Aren’t you coming?”
“No.”
“You—you turd.” Jimmy punched him and then made his way over to the door and outside.
Carl was alone. Sadness filled him. The music roared through the room. Couples shuffled around him, back and forth. A low murmur of talk dinned against his ears. He wandered around aimlessly. At a table there was punch, served in paper cups. A woman gave him a cup. He went on, sipping it. The punch was warm and thick. It tasted of fruit, like stale pop.
When he got back to where he had been standing he saw her. His heart turned over inside him. She was dancing, in a long white dress with red flowers in her hair. She was laughing. He could see her teeth, little and even. Her skin was dark. She was Spanish or something. Her eyes were large and bright.
Gloom descended over Carl, a strange sweet gloom, like the punch in the paper cup. It made him ache all over. He moved to the edge of the circle of watching boys.