Dad’s still grinning, and I know what’s coming. “Like I told her this morning: Just look at those clothes to remember what to tell the boys at camp!” He rubs my head the same way he rubbed it this morning when he made the same joke, the same way he always rubs his best dog. He always makes dumb jokes, and I always laugh. I laugh now, but I hope the talking will end soon and they’ll get me out of the sun.

My mother hands Sue the clipboard. “Did I do everything right?”

Sue shows them where to sign. They sign. Along with the intake forms, I’m handed over in the sandy parking area. Mom bends down. I tilt my head up for a kiss that smells like face powder and feels like lipstick. Dad gives me a noisy smack on the forehead and a friendly slap on the back. “Now try to behave yourself, girl. Do us proud.”

I wonder if it will be this hot the whole time.

That’s it. I should have a spaz attack, but I don’t. There should be a strong emotion of some kind, but there isn’t. Ever since that August in 1970, I’ve pressed hard to squeeze something out of my memory, but I always find it dry. I have to accept it. When I lean back to receive goodbye kisses from my mother and father, all I feel is hot.

*   *   *

The doors thunk shut and the engine rumbles. Dad waves through the window and honks good-bye. I can’t see, but I know Cindy is lolling around and Mom is worrying. Mom does so much worrying that I never have to worry about anything.

Sue lays the clipboard on my lap. “Jean, I’m going to take you to the lodge now.” She pushes me toward a low building framed in natural timbers with a steep pitched roof.

“Since this is your first time at camp, I know you’re wondering what it’s like, and I can tell you you’ll have a great time. You’ll make all kinds of friends. There’s a lot to do.” Her voice fills the space behind and above my head. Below, my casters scrape through sand that’s too loose for traction.

“I think Carole’s down at the cabin. She’s the other counselor. I’m sorry your folks didn’t get to meet her.” She doesn’t give me time to talk. Maybe she thinks I can’t.

“Almost everyone’s here now. We have eight girls in the cabin—a full house—and we’ll mix with other cabins for activities.…”

The one-sided conversation doesn’t bother me. She means well. We get past the sand and roll onto the pavement in front of the lodge. In the heat I can smell the blacktop.

*   *   *