no,” a voice called out. “Not ‘The Doughnut Song.’”
“Please not ‘The Doughnut Song,’” Octavia pleaded.
“I’ll brush my teeth two times if I don’t have to sing ‘The Doughnut—’”
“Sing!” Mrs. Margolin demanded.
We sang:
“Life without Jesus is like a do-ough-nut!
Like a do-ooough-nut!
Like a do-ooough-nut!
Life without Jesus is like a do-ough-nut!
There’s a hole in the middle of my soul!”
There were other verses, involving other pastries, but we stopped after the first one and cast glances toward Mrs. Margolin to see if we could gain a reprieve. Mrs. Margolin’s eyes fluttered blissfully. She was half asleep.
“Awww,” Mrs. Hedy said, as though giant Mrs. Margolin were a cute baby, “Mrs. Margolin’s had a long day.”
“Yes indeed,” Mrs. Margolin answered. “If you don’t mind, I might just go to the lodge where the beds are. I haven’t been the same since the operation.”
I had not heard of this operation, or when it had occurred, since Mrs. Margolin had never missed the once-a-week Brownie meetings, but I could see from Daphne’s face that she was concerned, and I could see that the other girls had decided that Mrs. Margolin’s operation must have happened long ago in some remote time unconnected to our own. Nevertheless, they put on sad faces. We had all been taught that adulthood was full of sorrow and pain, taxes and bills, dreaded work and dealings with whites, sickness and death. I tried to do what the others did. I tried to look silent.
“Go right ahead, Linda,” Mrs. Hedy said. “I’ll watch the girls.” Mrs. Hedy seemed to forget about divorce for a moment; she looked at us with dewy eyes, as if we were mysterious, furry creatures. Meanwhile, Mrs. Margolin walked through the maze of sleeping bags until she found her own. She gathered a neat stack of clothes and pajamas slowly, as though doing so was almost painful. She took her toothbrush, her toothpaste, her pillow. “All right!” Mrs. Margolin said, addressing us all from the threshold of the cabin. “Be in bed by nine.” She said it with a twinkle in her voice, letting us know she was allowing us to be naughty and stay up till nine-fifteen.
“C’mon everybody,” Arnetta said after Mrs. Margolin left. “Time for us to wash up.”
Everyone watched Mrs. Hedy closely, wondering whether she would insist on coming with us since it was night, making a fight with Troop 909 nearly impossible. Troop 909 would soon be in the bathroom, washing their faces, brushing their teeth—completely unsuspecting of our ambush.
“We won’t be long,” Arnetta said. “We’re old enough to go to the restrooms by ourselves.”
Ms. Hedy pursed her lips at this dilemma. “Well, I guess you Brownies are almost Girl Scouts, right?”
“Right!”
“Just one more badge,” Drema said.
“And about,” Octavia droned, “a million more cookies to sell.” Octavia looked at all of us, Now’s our chance, her face seemed to say, but our chance to do what, I didn’t exactly know.
Finally, Mrs. Hedy walked to the doorway where Octavia stood dutifully waiting to say goodbye but looking bored doing it. Mrs. Hedy held Octavia’s chin. “You’ll be good?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“And remember to pray for me and your father? If I’m asleep when you get back?”
“Yes, Mama.”
WHEN THE other girls had finished getting their toothbrushes and washcloths and flashlights for the group restroom trip, I was drawing pictures of tiny birds with too many feathers. Daphne was sitting on her sleeping bag, reading.
“You’re not going to come?” Octavia asked.
Daphne shook her head.
“I’m gonna stay, too,” I said. “I’ll go to the restroom when Daphne and Mrs. Hedy go.”
Arnetta leaned down toward me and whispered so that Mrs. Hedy, who’d taken over Mrs. Margolin’s task of counting Popsicle sticks, couldn’t hear. “No, Snot. If we get in trouble, you’re going to get in trouble with the rest of us.”
WE MADE our way through the darkness by flashlight. The tree branches that had shaded us just hours earlier, along the same path, now looked like arms sprouting menacing hands. The stars sprinkled the sky like spilled salt. They seemed fastened to the darkness, high up and holy, their places fixed and definite as we stirred beneath them.
Some, like me, were quiet because we were afraid of the dark; others were talking like crazy for the same reason.
“Wow!” Drema said, looking up. “Why are all the stars out here? I never see stars back on Oneida Street.”
“It’s a camping trip, that’s why,” Octavia said. “You’re supposed to see stars on camping trips.”
Janice said, “This place smells like my mother’s air freshener.”
“These woods are pine,” Elise said. “Your mother probably uses pine air freshener.”
Janice mouthed an exaggerated “Oh,” nodding her head as though she just then understood one of the world’s great secrets.
No one talked about fighting. Everyone was afraid enough just walking through the infinite deep of the woods. Even though I didn’t fight to fight, was afraid of fighting, I felt I was part of the rest of the troop; like I was defending something. We trudged against the slight incline of the path, Arnetta leading the way.
“You know,” I said, “their leader will be there. Or they won’t even be there. It’s dark already. Last night the sun was still in the sky. I’m sure they’re already finished.”
Arnetta acted as if she hadn’t heard me. I followed her gaze with my flashlight, and that’s when I saw the squares of light in the darkness. The bathroom was just ahead.
BUT THE girls were there. We could hear them before we could see them.
“Octavia and I will go in first so they’ll think there’s just two of us, then wait till I say, ‘We’re gonna teach you a lesson,’” Arnetta said. “Then, bust in. That’ll surprise them.”
“That’s what I was supposed to say,” Janice said.
Arnetta went inside, Octavia next to her. Janice followed, and the rest of us waited outside.
They were in there for what seemed like whole minutes, but something was wrong. Arnetta hadn’t given the signal yet. I was with the girls outside when I heard one of the Troop 909 girls say, “NO. That did NOT happen!”
That was to be expected, that they’d deny the whole thing. What I hadn’t expected was the voice in which the denial was said. The girl sounded as though her tongue were caught in her mouth. “That’s a BAD word!” the girl continued. “We don’t say BAD words!”
“Let’s go in,” Elise said.
“No,” Drema said, “I don’t want to. What if we get beat up?”
“Snot?” Elise turned to me, her flashlight blinding. It was the first time anyone had asked my opinion, though I knew they were just asking because they were afraid.
“I say we go inside, just to see what’s going on.”
“But Arnetta didn’t give us the signal,” Drema said. “She’s supposed to say, ‘We’re gonna teach you a lesson,’ and I didn’t hear her say it.”
“C’mon,” I said. “Let’s just go in.”
We