“Now that Dolly’s here,” Sue says, “none of us girls will get any attention!” Carole adjusts Dolly’s thin peasant blouse that has fallen off one shoulder. Three strings of love beads hang lopsided around the opposite breast. She’s wearing green eye shadow, lots of blush, and frosted pink lipstick that’s already smeared. Again the blouse falls off Dolly’s shoulder. Again Carole reaches for it, but then holds back, maybe realizing that her efforts may be not only futile but also unwanted.

The boy counselors try to outdo one another in outrageous flattery.

“Look at that sexpot!”

“Man, she’s really hot!”

“I can’t stand it! Yow!”

I search for a hint of sarcasm but find none.

One sweaty guy crouches beside Dolly and whispers in her ear. Long sentences. He whispers until she howls, and, as she howls, she writhes against the belts that hold her in her chair. I’m sure I am blushing. It looks like she’s having sex all by herself, with no touching required. Maybe this is what they want. They’re certainly encouraging it.

I need something to do. I have to stop watching. I am afraid the surfer guy will get into the scene around Dolly, and that would make me crazy. When a walkie-talkie guy asks me to dance, I nod yes right away, without even sizing him up. I jerk and jerk to rock ’n’ roll. CP makes it easy. I clench my fists. I don’t want this guy to take my hand. I don’t want him to touch me. I don’t want any of them to touch me right now.

He pushes me back to Sara and asks her to dance. Her refusal allows no argument, and he goes away. Fine.

“You ne-ver dance?”

“Not in eight years in this place. That’s a record.”

“Do you think I should say no?”

“I don’t know. I guess there’s no harm. Just don’t let them mess with your mind.”

The music changes to rhythm and blues, and I wonder what do you do to keep people from messing with your mind. But before I can come up with an answer, the music starts to draw me in.

One bass guitar, one lone bass guitar, repeats five notes, less than a tune, over and over again. As though called by the bass, black counselors and black walkie-talkies fall in line on the floor. Holding hands, Denise and Margie take places at the end, and all seven brown bodies start bobbing up and down. The bobbing continues, and the bass continues, continues until it is almost too much, those five notes throbbing like an aching tooth.