wanted to get back to camp. Even sitting on my bunk flossing my teeth seemed more exciting than continuing this conversation with Gerald. I started back along the path. “Sometimes it’s nice just to be friends, G. E. You don’t have to make it anything special,” I said. “Okay?”
“The story of my life,” Gerald said morosely. He put his hands in his pockets, and we walked along in silence for a while.
I thought of a girl I knew back in junior high who didn’t have a lot of friends and finally stood in front of a train. It didn’t exactly help to tell someone just to forget about having somebody special. There wasn’t anyone special in my life just then, but I felt pretty sure there would be someday. Why was Gerald worrying about that now?
“Well, thanks for being honest with me,” he said when we got close to camp again.
And that’s where I lost it. “G. E., listen to yourself! We’ve not even been here a week, I hardly know you, and you tell me you’re looking for a girl who’s good with children. I’m not thinking thatfar ahead! I’ve got a lot of living to do, and so do you. Be a radio announcer or something. Be a singer!”
“I am a singer,” said Gerald. “How did you know?”
I was so relieved to have something else to talk about that I actually smiled. “Because you’ve got a great voice. You’ve got the best-sounding voice of any guy here. I’ll bet you sing bass.”
He grinned a little. “I do. I sing with the madrigals at our school.”
“See?” I said. “You just need to get reacquainted with your good points. G. E., meet Gerald. Gerald… G. E.” He laughed, and so, finally, did I.
When I got back to our cabin, I faced a drama of a different sort. The Coyotes were back from the music program, and Gwen was having a face-off with Estelle. Gwen’s voice was loud: “I don’t care what you thought Latisha was saying about you, girl! If you’ve got any complaints, you bring them to me. You don’t go dumping someone else’s stuff on the floor.”
“She got my shoes!” Latisha was shouting. “She done something with my shoes!”
“Have you got Latisha’s shoes, Estelle?” Gwen demanded.
Estelle was just begging for a fight, I could tell. Tossing her long black hair behind her, she thrusther face forward, scrunched up her eyes and nose, and said, in a mocking voice, “No, I don’t have her stinking shoes, smelling up the place.” And then she muttered, “Those nigger-smelling feet.”
It took both Gwen and me to pull Latisha off her and get the girls separated.
“She think niggers smell, she ought to smell her own shit,” shouted Latisha. “Her shit smells worse’n anybody’s, all that dog food she eats.”
Now it was Estelle lunging for Latisha. This time I took hold of her and kept her back. Kim was cowering on her bunk, about as far away as she could get, and Mary had Josephine on her lap and was rocking her back and forth. Ruby simply watched from a top bunk, swinging her legs.
Don’t get stuck on the language here, I told myself, remembering the advice in our handbook. Focus on the feelings behind the words. Estelle had prejudice, Latisha had attitude, and Latisha most of all wanted her shoes back.
I gripped Estelle by the shoulders and looked her square in the eyes. “Where are Latisha’s shoes?”
Estelle tossed her head again. “Out there.”
“Out where?”
She pointed and I went to the door to look. Latisha’s sneakers, the laces tied together, had been tossed up over a sign strung above the road outside the cabins. An arrow pointed up the hilltoward the dining hall. Latisha’s sneakers hung down over the “c” in “Office.”
Gwen and I looked at each other. “Why did you do that?” she asked Estelle.
“I told you why!” Estelle countered. “Latisha’s always leaving them for me to stumble over, and they stink!”
“No worse’n yours do!” Latisha shouted.
“And Latisha’s always bossing us around, telling people
“The story of my life,” Gerald said morosely. He put his hands in his pockets, and we walked along in silence for a while.
I thought of a girl I knew back in junior high who didn’t have a lot of friends and finally stood in front of a train. It didn’t exactly help to tell someone just to forget about having somebody special. There wasn’t anyone special in my life just then, but I felt pretty sure there would be someday. Why was Gerald worrying about that now?
“Well, thanks for being honest with me,” he said when we got close to camp again.
And that’s where I lost it. “G. E., listen to yourself! We’ve not even been here a week, I hardly know you, and you tell me you’re looking for a girl who’s good with children. I’m not thinking thatfar ahead! I’ve got a lot of living to do, and so do you. Be a radio announcer or something. Be a singer!”
“I am a singer,” said Gerald. “How did you know?”
I was so relieved to have something else to talk about that I actually smiled. “Because you’ve got a great voice. You’ve got the best-sounding voice of any guy here. I’ll bet you sing bass.”
He grinned a little. “I do. I sing with the madrigals at our school.”
“See?” I said. “You just need to get reacquainted with your good points. G. E., meet Gerald. Gerald… G. E.” He laughed, and so, finally, did I.
When I got back to our cabin, I faced a drama of a different sort. The Coyotes were back from the music program, and Gwen was having a face-off with Estelle. Gwen’s voice was loud: “I don’t care what you thought Latisha was saying about you, girl! If you’ve got any complaints, you bring them to me. You don’t go dumping someone else’s stuff on the floor.”
“She got my shoes!” Latisha was shouting. “She done something with my shoes!”
“Have you got Latisha’s shoes, Estelle?” Gwen demanded.
Estelle was just begging for a fight, I could tell. Tossing her long black hair behind her, she thrusther face forward, scrunched up her eyes and nose, and said, in a mocking voice, “No, I don’t have her stinking shoes, smelling up the place.” And then she muttered, “Those nigger-smelling feet.”
It took both Gwen and me to pull Latisha off her and get the girls separated.
“She think niggers smell, she ought to smell her own shit,” shouted Latisha. “Her shit smells worse’n anybody’s, all that dog food she eats.”
Now it was Estelle lunging for Latisha. This time I took hold of her and kept her back. Kim was cowering on her bunk, about as far away as she could get, and Mary had Josephine on her lap and was rocking her back and forth. Ruby simply watched from a top bunk, swinging her legs.
Don’t get stuck on the language here, I told myself, remembering the advice in our handbook. Focus on the feelings behind the words. Estelle had prejudice, Latisha had attitude, and Latisha most of all wanted her shoes back.
I gripped Estelle by the shoulders and looked her square in the eyes. “Where are Latisha’s shoes?”
Estelle tossed her head again. “Out there.”
“Out where?”
She pointed and I went to the door to look. Latisha’s sneakers, the laces tied together, had been tossed up over a sign strung above the road outside the cabins. An arrow pointed up the hilltoward the dining hall. Latisha’s sneakers hung down over the “c” in “Office.”
Gwen and I looked at each other. “Why did you do that?” she asked Estelle.
“I told you why!” Estelle countered. “Latisha’s always leaving them for me to stumble over, and they stink!”
“No worse’n yours do!” Latisha shouted.
“And Latisha’s always bossing us around, telling people
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