A Feminist is Born

Laura loved everything about her first summer at Camp Sycamore for Girls—until the day they boarded the bus for the social with Camp Arrowhead. For Boys.

Boys? She’d thought the whole point of going to a girls’ camp was to get away from boys for a few weeks. To wear shorts and t-shirts every day and never care how her hair looked. To play softball and tennis without having to worry about how some boy would feel if she beat him. To rave about Peter Frampton without having some boy tell her how Boston was so much better.

The days leading up to the social confirmed her worst premonitions. Her cabin mates started pulling pretty tops out of their trunks for the first time all summer. They dabbed on eye shadow and lipstick during after-lunch rest period and debated what looked best on who.looked best in what. Debbie and Sarah even trimmed each others’ hair.

Laura didn’t have any pretty tops in her trunk and had never worn makeup in her life. Sarah offered her a pink polo shirt to try on. It was too tight in the bust, and the others said she looked hot, but she didn’t want to look hot. She didn’t want to look anything. She decided she’d wear her Brewers t-shirt and her cleanest white shorts. At least she’d be comfortable.

She was staring out the bus window at the rolling moraines of a dairy farm when her counselor slid into the empty seat next to her. Rebecca was small but athletic, the camp’s best tennis player and bawdiest song leader. With her short, fuss-free hair and omnipresent aviator shades, she reminded Laura of the cool female cop who held her own with the guys on some TV show. Rebecca seemed so confident and grown-up Laura sometimes couldn’t believe she was only seventeen, just three years older.

Rebecca leaned close and asked, “You okay?”

“Sure.”

“Liar.”

Laura glanced sideways at Rebecca. “Huh?”

Rebecca lowered her shades to the tip of her nose and said, “Every other girl on this bus is wound for sound, but you look like you’re on your way to a weekend with Aunt Mildred. What gives?”

“I dunno. I guess this whole thing doesn’t sound like much fun.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Rebecca stared straight ahead and spoke under her breath, as if they were spies. “I was scared shitless at my first social.”

“You were not.” Laura couldn’t imagine Rebecca being scared of anything.

“It’s true. But once the dance started, I just went with it and had a great time.”

Laura fingered a small scab on her knee. “But I don’t even know how to dance.”

“Nobody does,” Rebecca laughed. “Just move to the groove.”

“But how do you even know who to dance with?”

Rebecca made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Don’t sweat it. Boys choose.”

Boys choose? Boys?

Laura covered her face with her hands and stifled a scream.