Free What It Was Like by Peter Seth Page A

do – and falling in love too. Which had never happened before.

Record of Events #5 - entered Thursday, 9:01 P.M.

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    The Evening Activity that night with the local Eagle Scouts from Boonesville was, on the one hand, very easy. We counselors just basically sat there and let these Eagle Scouts, who were almost my age but seemed more like goony teenagers, entertain the Inter boys, going on about knots and scouting and what they did for their merit badges. Dale helped guide the session; Stewie helped demonstrate the knots by letting himself be tied up; Marcus made sarcastic comments to me about the Boonie Scout leaders under his breath virtually without pause; and I spent the whole time frustrated, thinking constantly about Rachel. Why was I wasting my time in here when there was this fantastic, exciting girl out there ?
    I thought about what I had learned during our talk at the volleyball courts. I already knew that she was pretty and clever, but there was definitely something complex and maybe a little dangerous about her. I knew that I would have to “handle” her carefully if I was going to get anywhere with her.
    Also, she was rich. I could have known that just because she had been going to Mooncliff all these years: all these kids were basically from rich families. Two of the Doggies’ parents were doctors. But from the town Rachel lived in and the way she talked about her parents’ fight over their divorce – how much alimony Mrs. Prince was entitled to, who was going to get the new Cadillac, and who was going to get the condominium in Fort Lauderdale – and the casual way she talked about money, made me think that she might be rich rich. That thought both excited and worried me.
    I wound up having to get the Doggies into bed by myself that night. Stewie had a “very sure thing” set up with Marcy, this bouncy semi-blonde from the Midwest, who was in the bunk next to Rachel’s. He was going to meet Marcy at the Main Office, where you had to sign out anytime you left the camp, and take her to Bailey’s, the best bar in Boonesville. I told him to go, no problem. Just after he left, a nasty fight between the Redheaded Doggy and the Very Fat Doggy broke out over the order of possession of this much-passed-around Classics Illustrated Count of Monte Cristo comic book, and I had to break it up, yell a lot, and punish both of them. I dumped both their beds over onto the floor – the frames, the mattresses, everything: a traditional Mooncliff punishment. Then, they had to pick up their beds and make them themselves, in silence. This was after repeated warnings. I hated getting that angry at the kids. First of all, I am not, by nature, a violent person. (I know that may seem like a ridiculous thing to say, writing this from a jail cell, but it is the absolute truth.) It just seemed like a lot of wasted energy.
    When things quieted down, Doggy tears all dried, I turned out the bunk light and went out with my book, blanket, and flashlight into the cold night to take up my O.D. post on the bench in the middle of Inter Circle until midnight. I also borrowed a bag of Doritos from the Fat Doggy, which I told him I would replace. I set myself up on the bench, putting out my stuff for the couple of hours in the cold. Occasionally, there would be something to do on O.D. Sometimes, a kid would get sick, or some kids would start a ruckus (say, a “raid” on another bunk, using wet toilet paper or water balloons or squirt guns as the weapon of choice). Then you’d have to get off your butt and go deal with the situation. But mostly, it was quiet.
    All the counselors who weren’t on O.D. were usually hanging out in the bottom of the Rec Hall at the Snack Shak, or were at the Main Office, making calls on the pay phone outside, or had gone into town like Stewie in his Super-Coupe with his Very Sure Thing, to Bailey’s or, if they really got lucky, the Quarry, the old