Chapter Twenty-Four
Frisbee and a Haircut
Ben
Ben and Mallory were standing outside the cafeteria after dinner, trying to figure out what to do next. There were a couple of evening activities. Ben was leaning toward Frisbee. Mallory said she was leaning toward anything but Frisbee, although she said she wouldn’t mind sitting in the grass and watching. Before they could head toward the field, Fozzie walked by and said, “Ben and…” He squinted at Mallory.
Mallory solved his confusion. “I’m Mallory.”
“Would you two mind coming to the office?”
As they fell into step behind him, Mallory whispered. “What do you think it is?”
Ben had to admit. Whatever Fozzie was up to, it seemed serious. On the way to Fozzie’s office, they collected Blake, too.
Properly seated in his office, Fozzie putzed around looking at junk mail for a minute. The director never blurted anything out; he liked to make campers sweat a little before he read the verdict. When he wasn’t the one sweating, Ben admired Fozzie’s style. After a deep breath, Fozzie finally settled down and said, “First of all, girls, you’re both staying for the rest of the session.”
Ben breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t been official before. Fozzie hadn’t been able to get ahold of Mr. Jones. “I tried to send you home, but your father wouldn’t hear it.”
Ben bet that Mr. Jones made a large donation to the camp to get his way. Next summer there’d probably be twelve new canoes or a new volleyball court in honor of this incident.
Fozzie leaned back in his chair and cracked open a bottle of—at first Ben thought it was root beer—but it wasn’t. It was Hite Beer. The guys had figured the South Koreans just didn’t come through. Derek said it might have been a delivery problem, something about alcohol in the mail. It was just an interception by the Foz. From the look on Fozzie’s face, Hite Beer wasn’t that good. He cringed and inspected the label, as if to see what the nasty swill he was drinking was called. Fozzie leveled a stare at Ben. “You wouldn’t know anything about this, would you, son?”
Ben shook his head. “No, sir.”
Fozzie let them sweat for the time it took him to savor another sip and said, “So, Camp Pine Ridge is a wholesome and friendly camp. Over the last couple of weeks, there have been a lot of shenanigans. Not to mention, there’s a lot of gossip. Camp’s turned into a Hollywood backlot.” He shook his head and took another swig of Hite.
Shamelessly, Blake chewed her gum and waited for whatever he was going to say. Mallory bent her head. Seeing how nervous she looked, Ben reached for her hand. When he gave it a squeeze, she flashed a mini smile.
No matter how much trouble they got in, they had each other now.
Blake sighed heavily and looked at the ceiling. “This is really all my fault.” She made a pretty a little speech about how Mallory hadn’t done anything wrong. It seemed a little rehearsed, perhaps an opportunity for a monologue, but altruistic all the same. And how much change could you really expect from someone?
Fozzie took a deep breath. “I’m relieved to hear you say that, young lady.”
So was Ben. He might even stop thinking of her as a sociopath if she kept being human.
“The assistant DA also agrees that this is all your fault. I gave him a call per my beginning-of-the-session instructions. I was to call him if there was any funny business from you.” He eyeballed Blake. “Your switcheroo, I think you would agree, qualifies as funny business.”
Blake’s eyes grew to actual Disney princess proportions. The whole scene was very Rapunzel-being-sentenced-to-jail.
Fozzie chuckled at her reaction. “Don’t worry. I put in a good word for you. Your behavior at camp has been just fine, other than the obvious.” He paused to take another swig of Hite. “Davis mentioned community service. I imagine you’ll be cleaning up roadsides and slaving away in a soup kitchen for most of the next school year. You’re to report to his office the day after camp is out to discuss the details.”
Ben had to admit, he was glad to hear she wasn’t getting away with torturing him all year. It’s not like he wanted to see her rot in prison, but a little justice felt good.
He whispered, “Don’t worry; you’re going to look great in an orange vest.”
She scowled, but he just grinned back.
Finally, Fozzie sent them on their merry way. He’d just wanted to scare them a little, let them know who was in charge. It was good to have that cleared up, but there was still another issue.
Even several days after the “Holy shit! There are two Blakes!” moment at the dance, everyone was confused. No one was sure which Jones twin was which. The fact that Mallory started going by her real name without explanation didn’t help. The only thing campers were sure about was the weird incestuous love triangle with Ben at the center.
Ben was offended for Mallory, but sort of proud of himself. It was the kind of rumor a guy could write home about, which he did. He texted his brother about the rumor a bunch of times with some smug selfies.
But he was a gentleman, and the rumors were bothering Mallory, so Ben decided to put a stop to them. Standing in the guys’ cabin, he gestured to his hottie girlfriend and said, “Dudes, this is Mallory. She’s from Sofia. We go to the same school. Her twin sister Blake is here, too. Mallory and I are dating. I am not, nor have I ever dated, Blake.”
The guys gave him a thumbs-up and went back to gaming. It might not have done anything, but at least he’d tried.
To most of the campers, Blake and Mallory looked pretty much identical. Hell, Ben hadn’t been able to tell them apart up until he’d started making out with Mallory. Even then, he’d spent a day with Blake thinking she was overtired or something. There’s no way he would ever mix them up now. Mallory was subtle. You had to pay attention to know what she was thinking. Blake—her emotions played out on her face, leaving zero room for question. She was a live-action gif.
Mallory said, “I wonder if I should cut my hair. We’d be easier to tell apart at least.”
“That’s a great idea.” He wondered why Mallory hadn’t done that years ago.
“Do you have scissors?” Mallory asked. It seemed like she was just going to take it off right then and there, no booking an appointment at a luxury day spa like all the other Bellevue girls.
He raised his hands in defense. “I don’t want to cut your hair.” There was no way he wanted to be responsible for another hair trauma.
She shrugged. “I can always have it straightened up later, if it turns out bad.”
When the guys went back to gaming, he and Mallory walked out to a quiet spot outside. She found a tree stump that she declared perfect for hair-cutting and handed him the scissors she’d wrangled. He looked at the girl in front of him. She was trusting him with her hair. He figured her sister would probably rip the scissors from his hand and stab him before he even made one cut. “I totally don’t know how I bought your charade. You and Blake are nothing alike.”
She looked up at him with a little mischief in her big Disney princess eyes. He had it so bad. “I know. I’m not even a good actress.”
“Are you sure you want me to cut your hair?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yep, do it. Lop it off at my chin. Maybe it’ll be liberating.”
Ben was skeptical, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. If he refused, she said she’d just get someone else to do it. The scissors were dull, and she had a lot of hair. It was like mowing long, wet grass with a crappy lawnmower. His cuts looked all choppy, but there was no going back. This wasn’t going to be a good haircut.
She said, “How’s it look?”
“Well, you look nothing like your sister anymore.” Trying to break it to her gently, he explained, “I didn’t get it the straightest, though.”
She laughed. “You’re not one of those guys who is only into long hair, I hope. I forgot to ask.”
He blurted out a laugh. He just hoped that she didn’t kill him.
She smiled. “I don’t care what it looks like. I just don’t want to look like my sister anymore.” With a quirky smile, she said, “We can be the weird couple at school who cuts each other’s hair and…I don’t know. What else are we going to do?”
“Make out in the library,” Ben answered. “It sounds like Jill owes you.”
“Perfect.”
Hand in hand, they walked back to camp. Ben had to admit she was right, the hairdo hadn’t been a bad idea. Mallory looked pretty cute in her bad haircut and a big smile. The sun was just starting to set over Camp Pine Ridge. Between the cabins and the little lake, it looked like the perfect American summer camp. It would go down in history as the best punishment ever.