What It Was Like Read Free Page A

nearer,” he offered.
    â€œNo,” I said. “That’s OK. It’s crowded over there.”
    My Dad pulled the Chrysler over to the curb and stopped the car.
    â€œDon’t worry,” he said. “I don’t have to meet your new friends.”
    â€œIt’s not that!” I protested, but he just chuckled and got out of the car to get my stuff out of the trunk. But I got out faster.
    â€œI’ve got it,” I said, pulling the old Samsonite out with a wide swing, almost hitting him.
    He waited for me to clear away and then slammed the trunk hard.
    â€œGood,” I said, glancing over to the bus and the growing crowd near it.
    â€œWell,” my Dad said. “You made it.”
    â€œThanks,” I said. I stepped forward and gave my Dad a good hug. “Take care of Mom. And the Mets.”
    â€œI can’t guarantee anything!” he shouted as I picked up the suitcase, slung the strap of my knapsack onto my shoulder, and walked toward the crowd. “Especially the Mets!”
    I was glad that he drove me, that we’d had a last good moment together. But he was right; I didn’t want to have to introduce him to all these new people, people I didn’t even know myself.
    You should know that I’m not the most outgoing person in the world. I am, generally speaking, cautious. I like standing back and watching things, but I can get by in most social situations. So as I walked toward the bus and all the people, quite a few dressed in green-and-white Mooncliff uniforms, I felt mildly optimistic about my prospects for the summer. All these people seemed excited and enthusiastic to begin the summer, even at 7:00 a.m. “Energetic, positive young people,” indeed. I approached the group and dropped my suitcase next to all the other suitcases that were being loaded into the open belly of the bus. People were all talking, chattering excitedly. Most of them seemed to know each other, and they appeared genuinely happy to see each other. The girls all seemed to be pretty and bouncy, the guys all tall and jockish. I wondered just how I was going to fit in with all these cheerful, upbeat people.
    â€œIf you haven’t checked in, please check in with Susie at the front of the bus!” some guy bellowed, and I obeyed.
    I walked up to a round-faced, freckle-nosed woman in a Mooncliff baseball hat and sweatshirt with “Susie” stitched on the front, standing near the open bus door with a clipboard in her hand and introduced myself. She welcomed me with such enthusiasm and sheer niceness that I thought she was joking. But she wasn’t.
    â€œMarcus!” she yelled. “Come ‘ere and meet a new guy! He’s gonna be your next-door neighbor!”
    When I said that all the guys were tall and jockish, I should say that there were exceptions. One was a blondish, heavy, sheep-doggy kind of guy who was walking toward me with a big smile and an extended hand.
    â€œMarcus Miller,” he introduced himself. “So I guess you’re in the Inters?”
    â€œI guess I am,” I said.
    â€œWell, don’t worry,” he said with a hearty snort. “I’ve been going to Mooncliff forever – since I was a kid – so I can tell you everything.”
    â€œWhere all the bodies are buried,” added Susie with a secret smile for Marcus.
    Marcus grunted and guided me away from the bus, “She’s just kidding. There are no bodies.” Then he let out with a deep, macabre Dracula-type laugh that surprised me. Maybe there would be some nice, smart people to hang out with this summer.
    One thing: this Marcus could talk. As we waited for the bus to load, Marcus started a running commentary on the camp, the owners, the campers, the quality of the bus we were riding, the box lunch they gave us, everything. I found out that Marcus had to have either something going into his mouth (food) or coming out of his mouth (talk) at all