Camp Pleasant Read Free Page B

the living room, talking sports with two of the athletic counselors.
    “—play
hard
ball,
fast
ball.” We got in on the tail end of his speech. “Teach ‘em to
win
, not to lose. I don’t go for this defeatist stuff, it makes a kid think in terms of winning or losing. If that’s sportsmanship, you can have it.” He glanced aside at us, then went on. “You teach a kid how to
win
] that’s the American way. Play hard, play fast and
win
!
”
    He finished, his face reflecting satisfaction with his philosophy as he turned to us. He nodded curtly at Bob, extended his beefy hand to me.
    “Haven’t had a chance to talk to you man-to-man, Harper,” he said. “Glad you dropped by, boy.”
    His bullish handshake sent needles of cutting fire into the raw flesh under my broken blisters and I couldn’t keep the grimace from my face.
    “What’s wrong, boy?” he asked bluffly. “Too rough for ya?”
    I told him it was blistered and he laughed. “Y’need a little toughenin’ up,” he said. “A summer’s hard work’ll do ya good. Sit down, boy, sit down.”
    “Could I get a drink of water first?” I asked, and he shrugged and pointed in the general direction of the kitchen. As I headed for it, I wondered why I’d said that. I wasn’t thirsty at all. Maybe, I thought, I just wanted to get away from Nolan; or maybe I wanted to see Ellen Nolan again.
    She was still at the sink, finishing up the dishes. She looked up with a friendly smile as I came in.
    “May I get a drink?” I asked.
    “Of course.” She gestured toward a cupboard-with her hand. “The glasses are up there.”
    As I stood close to her, running faucet water into the glass, I noticed, from the corners of my eyes, her looking at me. I turned to face her and she smiled quickly.
    “Did your hands blister badly today?” she asked.
    I nodded.
    “Let me see,” she said. She held my hand in her warm palm. “Oh, that looks terrible,” she said concernedly. “You should have it treated.”
    “At the dispensary?” I asked.
    “No, I have some ointment in the house,” she said. “We can do it here.”
    “What’s up, El?” Ed Nolan’s voice inquired loudly as we came into the living room. When Ellen told him, he scoffed. “Aaah, that’s nonsense. A few blisters never hurt anybody. Y’need toughening, boy.”
    “I know,” I said politely, choosing concession as my guide to success with Big Ed Nolan. As I followed Ellen Nolan into the hallway, I heard Ed Nolan say to Bob, “You don’t like sports, do you, Dalrymple?” and Bob’s flustered, “Why … sure, sure I do, Ed. I’m not too good at them, of course, but—”
    “Uh-huh,” said Ed.
    In the tiny bathroom, Ellen got boric acid ointment and a box of gauze.
    “Go on in here,” Ellen said, flicking on the bedroom light. “Sit down.”
    It gave me an odd sensation to sit on the bed beside Ellen Nolan. To hear her husband talking sports in the next room and see the picture of him, bulky in his football uniform, hanging over the bed with the pennant
Carlyle Teacher’s College
tacked under it. To feel the careful touchof her fingers on my palm and watch her serious face as she put on ointment, then wrapped gauze around my hand and tied it.
    “Like hers,” I said without thinking.
    She glanced up at me. “What?”
    “Nothing,” I said, “I was only….”
    I didn’t finish. I felt my heart thudding slowly, harshly. Her hands were like Julia’s hands, warm and certain. I looked away from them.
    “What sort of music will you teach the boys?” Ellen asked me.
    “Oh, the usual run of camp songs,” I said. “I’ve worked with kids before—at other camps—and they don’t seem to like anything but the easiest songs.”
    She nodded. “I suppose so,” she said. “It’s a pity you can’t give them a music appreciation course though. You know, play records and discuss them.”
    “Classical music?” I asked.
    She nodded with a smile. “I think all people would like