“Camp Bnos Beis Shalva can corner the market. You’ve been selected because you can help us reach the stars. As such we accept nothing less than perfection. Every camper must be electrified every curfew met every mother thrilled enough to guilt her sister-in-law into signing up next year. Got it?”

C hana discreetly tried to stretch out her cramped feet. So far it had been 45 minutes of rules. Sunscreen every day meds only from the nurse… when would they get the itineraries? The redhead beside her was scribbling frantically in a notebook. Now they were up to the technology rules.

Chana closed her eyes wondering how Shani’s orientation was going. Had she made a mistake by refusing to work in the same camp? She shook her head hard. No touring Europe would be fun but with Shani always one-upping her it wouldn’t be worth it. Anyhow a cross-country trip would be amazing. She’d always dreamed of seeing the Grand Canyon.

Mrs. Konig droned on. Chana tried to rearrange her features into an expression of polite interest like the one a receptionist gives when you take her “how are you?” literally. But wait was this the itinerary at last?

She looked at the hot-pink pamphlet she’d received. “Be a Bnos Beis Shalva Star ” it read. “Get Recognized for Your Hard Work and Talent!”

“Girls.” Mrs. Konig’s voice was low. “There are many camps out there. The industry can be pretty cutthroat. It’s not pretty at the top. But Camp Bnos Beis Shalva can corner the market. You’ve been selected because you can help us reach the stars. As such we accept nothing less than perfection. Every camper must be electrified every curfew met every mother thrilled enough to guilt her sister-in-law into signing up next year. Got it?”

Chana straightened.

“But we understand we can’t ask counselors to be available for girls all night after a full day’s work without some incentive ” Mrs. Konig continued. “We understand it’s unfair to ask you to be sports arts and drama counselors since our budget doesn’t allow for specialty staff without promising you something extra. We’d never dream of asking you to OD every night without making it up to you… And that’s why for the first time Camp Bnos Beis Shalva is revealing its ‘Be a Shalva Star Program’!

“Our winning counselor the one who pours her heart and soul kishkes and gallbladder into the program will receive a $5 000 bonus.”

Five thousand dollars? Wow. That would certainly help pay for her next semester Chana thought. She would love to help ease those worried smiles her parents got whenever discussing her schooling. And think of the shoes she could buy! Chana sent Mrs. Konig a 500-watt smile.

Mrs. Konig motioned to her assistant. “Now for the itineraries.”

Finally! Chana snatched the papers from the girl’s hand and skimmed the paper. Her smile dimmed.

“But… but what about Bryce Canyon?” The redhead on her left frowned. “My brother told me every traveling camp goes there. And I thought we’d probably get in Disney and for sure Yosemite.”

“Yeah!” A wiry girl in front spoke up. “We’re not even leaving the Tristate area? You said we were going cross-country!”

Mrs. Konig sighed the sigh of a woman forced to deal with others far less capable than she. “No no no. Not that country. You know… the country. Woodbourne the Catskills Liberty.”

“A traveling camp to see pizza stores? And Walmart?”

Mrs. Konig pursed her lips. “There are bowling alleys too.” The wiry girl looked annoyed. “It’s the perfect solution for the low-budget parent with high-budget dreams. Now as I was saying — girls! Girls!”

“The classifieds said cross-country! That’s not fair!”

“Yeah! Why wouldn’t you give more details if you weren’t trying to trick us?”

“Word counts ad sizes they add up ” Mrs. Konig said briskly. “Now as I was saying we’re the traveling camp for every Bais Yaakov girl remember? Teenage girl father in kollel mother a teacher. You want to abolish camp because it costs too much to get to Mount Rushmore? Where’s your chashivus haTorah?”

Chana blinked.

Mrs. Konig clapped her hands twice. The room fell silent.

“It’s time,” Mrs. Konig said, “to let the Shalva magic start.”

“Well!” Chana clapped her hands together briskly, trying to channel Mrs. Konig. No one looked up.

She tried again. “Welcome to Bnos Shalva, girls!”

A girl in a pink T-shirt adjusted the volume on her MP3 player. No one else moved.

Chana gritted her teeth. “We’re gonna have the best summer! Am I right or am I right? C’mon, girls, did you come to camp to sleep?”

“Well, yeah,” mumbled Frizzy Pony from behind thick glasses. “But that seems to have been a sad, sad mistake.”

Chana forced a smile. “It’s gonna be a great summer! The best! Because Camp Bnos Shalva is—” She let her eyes skim the girl’s name tag. “It’s the best, Huvi. Now, let’s— come on, put down that paper, Malka. Wait, you’re enrolling in Excelsior? Now?”

Malka shrugged. “I’m leaving for seminary in two months, I may as well take care of this first.”

“And that’s how you prepare for Artzeinu Hakedoshah?”

The short black-haired girl — that would be Chaya Dina, right? — looked worried.

“Preparing for seminary? As if!” The girl in the pink — Rena — pouted. “My mother’s hands are full, with my older sister’s chasunah and my little brother’s tonsils, so it’s off to camp Rena goes, never mind I have no clothing. But who cares about me?”

Chana sighed. “Come on, Bunk Yud Beis Bnos Shalva! Time to hit the road! Woodbourne, here we come!”

“Well, that was fun, wasn’t it!” Chana said, putting extra emphasis on the exclamation point, a la Mrs. Konig.

“For Malka, maybe,” Rena said. “She got what, six strikes? I barely got the ball out of the gutter. Story of my life.”

“Uh-uh,” Chaya Dina gestured, brandishing her bentsher. Eight minutes later, she put it down. “Rena, if your life is in the gutter, let’s get it out. We can do that by focusing on internal growth, not bowling. I have this amazing sefer that you—”

“Is night activity canceled?” Huvi looked hopeful. Chana turned to her, then bit her lip when she noticed Mrs. Konig standing nearby, clipboard in hand.

“Are we having fun, girls?”

Chaya Dina quickly picked up her sefer Tehillim. Huvi rolled her eyes. “Define ‘fun,’ in a practical context as it pertains to our situation, and I can assess—”

Rena heaved a dramatic sigh that spanned four octaves. “Everything here is fine, I guess, but it’s hard to be so far from home…”

Mrs. Konig scribbled decisively on her clipboard and then hurried on. Chana clenched her teeth so hard that she instantly regretted leaving her retainer at home.

“Is everything okay?” Rena looked worried.

Chana sighed. “Well, Mrs. Konig hates me, and I basically have no chance of winning the Star program, but yeah, other than—” Suddenly she remembered herself. “Everything is fine, Rena. Amazing. Let’s go to night activity.”

As they left the dining hall, Huvi elbowed Rena, passing her a small, hot-pink pamphlet.

Night was always a better time for reflections, Chana noted. But how to foster an atmosphere of vulnerability and trust? She should start.

“So, girls, what do you think? I’ve never slept in a trailer before, but this looks pretty nice, doesn’t it? Honestly, I was pretty unsure about coming… but now I see what a great place Camp Shalva is and I think I made the right choice.”

She let her words trail off. Too heavy-handed?

“Choice? I wish I had a choice!” Rena snorted. “But that’s how it goes for the sandwich generation. Today my baby brother got shots and my sister got a gown. Me? I got a sunburn and my mother’s answering machine.”

“That sounds… tough,” Chana said, wondering what words of empathy and understanding a Shalva star counselor should use.

“There’s nothing tougher than the chicken at supper.” Huvi shuddered. “All those denatured proteins. And don’t get me started on the salad, I almost had to flee the table in horror.”

Yikes. This was not going the way she’d planned. Chana turned to her right. “So, Malka! What brings you to Camp Bnos Shalva?”

“So, to be honest, I’d hoped to get a head start on seminary planning,” Malka said. “But then Mrs. Konig reached out to my mother, and my mother thought I should kick back and relax before getting serious about life.” She rolled her eyes. “And here I am.”

“Thanks so much for thinking of me, Shani!” Chana had once read you could tell if the person you were talking to on the phone was smiling by the sound of their voice and forced her lips upward. “You’re… oh, you’re hiding in a closet? Yeah, I know the feeling… those campers just want to talk to me all day, it’s impossible to find a minute alone. Oh — what? Oh, it’s not so bad because the closet in your hotel room is the size of your bedroom at home? Ha ha, that’s so cute! Oh, wait, Shans, gotta go, I think I hear a camper calling me for another DMC.”

Chana slid off her sagging bed and trudged out of the trailer. She’d told the girls they could skip dodgeball if they promised to show up for lunch, but it was 1:07 and no one was around. She plodded onward, noting that Bunk Ches was making friendship bracelets and Bunk Yud was wearing matching shirts, but oh, no, not her bunk, Bunk Yud Beis had to go and…

“You took over the staff laundry room?” Chana tried to keep the panic from her voice. “During roll call?”

“Tell me! Just tell me!” Rena thrust a white button down under Chana’s nose. “Is this normal? I sent it to the laundry and it comes back covered with orange spots? Isn’t the laundromat a place where clothing gets cleaned, not dirtier?”

“Not in Bnos Shalva!” Huvi sang out, looking pleased. “Shaaalva, where your whites turn orange! Shaaalva, where the rinse cycle adds dirt and the spin turns it to mud! Shaaalva, where—”

“Enough, Huvi,” Chana snapped, even as she made a surprised mental note that Huvi was pretty musical. Maybe she could put her in charge of bunk night. On second thought, maybe not.

Malka looked up from her iPod, where she’d been tap-tapping away at something. She glanced at the shirt. “Rust, probably. Mix a paste of baking soda, salt, and lemon juice, smear it on the stains, and leave in direct sunlight for, oh, one to two hours.”

“Let’s hurry, girls,” Chana urged. “It’s lunchti— oh.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mrs. Konig scribbling on her clipboard again, lips pursed. “Let’s go,” she said wearily.

“Rena, we’re going to be late,” Chana urged, a vision of Mrs. Konig and her clipboard hovering before her eyes like those purply-black spots you see after you accidentally look at the sun. “You look great, for real, and we’re just going to hike Bear Mountain. Don’t you think the curling iron is… a bit much?”

Rena snorted. “Um, Chana? I’m 17! I’m going to seminary in two months! I can’t walk around looking like a homeless ragamuffin.”

“Well,” Chana said in her most reasonable voice, “I’m 21, and I’m wearing my hair in a pony.”

“Yeah, well, no offense or anything,” Rena said, “I mean, I know it’s not easy being an older single, but maybe if you were a bit— like add some bronzer, maybe some light pink nail poli— ”

Chana backed out of the bathroom. “Okay, okay. But five more minutes and we’re leaving.”

At the summit, Chana plopped down, surveying her campers. They’d made it, and it had been a good feeling when the girls started cheering as Mrs. Konig walked by. Her musings were interrupted by a wrist thrust into her line of vision.

“Can you see my tan mark?” Rena asked. “I must be tanned by my sister’s chasunah.”

“Really?” Huvi asked languidly. “Did you know that every tan increases your risk of melanoma by—”

“You look great,” Chana interrupted. “You’re wearing sunblock, right? Let’s head over to the field and play machanayim, okay?” She got up. “Oh, shoot. Did anyone bring a ball?”

“Here.” Huvi tossed her a large, silver-wrapped wad. “We can use this instead.”

“Uh, thank— what? Huvi, this is your supper! We can’t throw it around!”

“Why not? Not like I’m going to be eating that stuff.”

Chana sighed. “It’s a tuna sandwich, Huvi, not arsenic.”

“Not much of a difference at Camp Shalva,” Huvi said with a grimace.

“I hate machanayim anyway,” Rena chimed in. “Can we go home now?”

“Not yet,” Chana replied automatically. “First let’s— wait, where’s Malka?”

Malka was nowhere in sight. “Oh, great. Okay, Rena, go check the summit. Huvi, see if she went ahead to the zoo. Chaya Dina, you stay here in case she comes, and I’ll go back to base camp to see—”

“To see what?” It was Mrs. Konig’s voice. She was everywhere, pen perpetually poised over her clipboard.

“Well. Ah. We were just going to—” Chana’s heart sank, a vision of her parents’ bank account appearing before her eyes. That $5,000 would have been so helpful.

“We’re missing Malka!” Huvi interjected helpfully.

“I’m right here,” Malka chimed, from where she had appeared behind Chana. “Sorry, just needed to take care of something.”

Mrs. Konig scribbled meaningfully on her clipboard. Chana cringed.

“See?” Rena said firmly. “We’re all here, Mrs. K. Chana’s great! We love camp!” She kicked Huvi in the shin.

Huvi sighed. “If one has to be stuck in camp, I suppose Shalva isn’t the worst option. Especially with Chana as counselor.” Then, looking warily at her legs, she added, “And I feel very, very strongly about that. Like, strongly enough to call my wealthy cousins with a bunch of teenaged daughters.”

Mrs. Konig jotted down more notes as Chana stared, bemused. What was going on? As soon as Mrs. Konig disappeared, she wheeled on Malka. “So where were you?”

“Oh… around.”

“But what were you doing?” Chana asked, painfully aware of the differences between Malka’s starched shirt, pencil skirt, and ballet flats and her own sneaker-slinky-skirt ensemble.

“Nothing really.”

“Come on,” Huvi urged. “If we’re stuck here, I want to at least get a picture of the porcupines before we leave.”

“Shani! What a treat. Oh, ha ha ha, yeah, speaking of treats, the food here is great. Well, yeah, it isn’t international cuisine, of course, but our caterer is pretty inventive. You wouldn’t believe what he did for supper! What? Sure, I can try to see if he’ll share the recipe, but — oh, they’re bringing out dessert, gotta run. What is it? Uh, is flambי the word? I really gotta go! Bye!”

Chana poked at her bowl. How had they managed to burn chocolate pudding?

Chaya Dina looked worried. “Does anyone know if this is bishul Yisrael?”

Huvi picked up her plate. “The compost pile is calling my name.”

Chana felt her overbite coming back.

“So nice of you to call me, Shani.” Chana tried to keep cool. “Oh, camp is awesome, how’s it going by you? Oh, Eiffel Tower is overrated but the Louvre was nice? Totally hear you, I hate tourist traps. We’re uh… trying to get more local color, experience day-to-day life… that’s how you really experience traveling, you know. Oh! Gotta go, let’s talk!” Chana jammed the off button so hard she broke her nail. Shoving her phone into her pocket, she set off for Walmart’s electronics section. Maybe there’d be a Verizon representative who could change her number.

At checkout, Chana tapped her foot. “Anyone see Malka? If we miss the tour, Mrs. Konig will kill me.”

Rena rolled her eyes. “Just go without her, it’s not like she cares. More time for her to — whatever.” She stopped abruptly. “She’d probably be thrilled, actually.”

“So would Mrs. Konig, if you just sold it to her right,” Huvi opined. “A 25 percent reduction in our bunk’s admissions fee, multiply that by six paid attractions weekly, figure you can apply that to eight out of ten bunks, four weeks, that’s a 12 percent reduction in costs without affecting her brochure or—”

“Oh, be quiet, Huvi. Where is she — oh, here. Malka! I checked every aisle.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Where were you?”

“Library. Just was taking care of some things.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, you know, things that need to get done before seminary. It’s fine.”

Chana’s jaw clenched. “Don’t let it happen again. Hurry! We have 15 minutes.”

Chana stalked toward the store entrance, and Rena slung a hand over Malka’s shoulders. “Look, Malka, you want to do your own thing, be my guest. But just be careful not to mess up our thing. Ever heard of the Shalva Star Initiative?”

“Now this,” Rena said, “is a trip. Finally!”

Chaya Dina pursed her lips. “I worry about you, Rena. Im yirtzeh Hashem, you’ll be in seminary next year, a chance to reach tremendous heights, but you need to be prepared… Do you worry about getting addicted to shopping?”

Rena beamed. “No worries! Mamilla is just a few minutes from the Kosel. I’ll be fine!”

Malka spoke up. “Chana, I’ll just sit here while you tour the Galleria, okay?”

Chana bit her lip. Was Mrs. Konig around? Would she care? “Why don’t you come along?”

“Oh, you know,” Malka said. “I’m tired. I’ll just sit here, maybe read a little. I’m not much of a shopper.”

“Well… fine. I guess. But stay nearby, okay?”

“Sure.”

Two hours later they returned, Rena bearing two bulging shopping bags and Chaya Dina frowning. Chana could practically feel the intensity radiating off her, a sanctimonious cloud of opinion.

“You know, Huvi,” Rena was saying, “you could really use more shoes, especially if you keep dragging your feet like that. Let’s stop off at Nordstrom’s just—”

“It’s almost shkiah,” Chaya Dina said primly. “Shouldn’t we—?”

Rena groaned. “It’s not even five! Shkiah’s in like three hours!”

“Well, I just want to be sure we have enough—”

“Enough!” Chana said. “I’m in charge here, and it’s time to head back to— where’s Malka? Oh, not again.” Chana grimaced, then noticed Malka deep in animated conversation with the owner of a Dead Sea lotions stand.

“Great!” Malka was saying. “So, you have my e-mail, right? We can—”

“Malka!” Chana interjected. “You said you wanted to read!”

“I did read!” Malka’s eyes were wide. “But I just spoke with Lila for a couple minutes. I was trying to be polite.”

Chana sighed. “Bus. Now.”

When Malka’s back was turned, Chana sidled over to the cart. “Do you have any samples I could try? My skin’s been feeling dry…”

While Lila rubbed moisturizer into the back of Chana’s hands, Chana craned her neck to see the stack of papers Malka had left. “Consent Form: Study Participation” — what was that? Suddenly the document was whipped out of her sight.

“Oh, uh, sorry. Just a crick in my neck,” Chana apologized to a disapproving Lila. “Uh, what? Yeah, the pain-relieving cream sounds great. Right, right, I’m sure it will help my neck.”

Ten minutes later and $68 poorer, Chana was still confused. Malka seemed like a good kid, sure, but could she know?

Chana yawned. It had been nice of Mrs. Konig to plan that counselors’ night out but wow, was she tired. She hoped the girls were already sleeping, so that she could just make a dash for her own soft— She groaned. The lights were out, but the girls were all huddled around Rena’s bed. She paused by the door.

Rena drew her covers to her chin. “So I just need to answer these questions now? And then ask my roommate about them, Chanukah-time? Sure, why not.”

“Are you two in?” Malka half-turned. She was still in her coordinating sweater and tailored skirt, Chana noted.

“Bli neder,” Chaya Dina answered.

Huvi, perched on Rena’s bed in pajamas, shrugged. “If I have any friends, I don’t mind asking them.”

Chana started forward. “Uh, girls? It’s almost 1 a.m. What’s going on?”

Rena looked away. Chaya Dina frantically grabbed her siddur and began whispering Hamapil. Huvi sighed. Only Malka met Chana’s eyes. “We were just schmoozing, y’know?”

Chana glanced at the papers Malka was holding. “Predictors of Socialization: A Psychometric Assess—”

The papers snapped closed. Malka folded them in half and slid them into her bag.

“But— but what are you doing?”

Malka shrugged. “Getting ready for bed. Night, Chana.”

Chana stood in the entrance of the trailer and smiled. She’d never dreamed four weeks could feel so long, but they’d made it, somehow, through Huvi’s grumbling and Chaya Dina’s earnest mussarizing and Rena’s hysteria when the hydrogen peroxide she’d combed through her hair worked a little too well. And somehow, they’d become a group. Chana allowed herself a quick smile.

“Ready, girls? Banquet’s in 20 minutes.”

And miraculously, they were, Huvi kvetching about her nap, Chaya Dina with her Tehillim in hand, Malka as starched and inscrutable as ever. Rena — who, Chana noted, was dressed to kill, her hair blown and in four-inch heels — beamed at Chana.

“You’ll see, Chana! This is your night to star.”

Chana arched an eyebrow.

The girls approached the dining hall together.

“People are still getting mail?” Huvi asked as they passed the mail table. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“I’ll take that,” Malka said, snatching an envelope from Rena’s hands.

“It’s from Thomas Edison,” Rena tattled. “It’s a — ohmigosh, Malka, is that a degree?”

Malka sighed. “I told you, just some things I needed to take care of this summer.”

“I told you she was CLEPping,” Huvi muttered.

“What’s that?” Chana asked.

“Oh, nothing.” Malka whisked another envelope into her bag, but not before Chana saw the bright blue words “GAVIN GUNHOLD UNIVERSITY: Master’s Thesis Requirements.”

“Aren’t you… Didn’t you just sign up for your bachelor’s?” Chana persisted.

“Can’t hurt to be proactive. Besides, that was last week.”

“You got your degree already?” Rena sounded envious. “You know how good that sounds for shidduchim?”

Mrs. Konig bustled over. “Oh, good, mail’s here! Those must be the bouquets I ordered!” she said, snagging a large box.

Chana looked up. “Hey, wasn’t Malka’s name—” But Mrs. Konig was already in the dining room, box in tow, and Malka was distracted by Rena’s questioning. Chana shrugged. Let Mrs. Konig review Malka’s dissertation, for all she cared. She followed the girls into the dining room.

Two hours later, the thrill had waned. Chana was glad Shalva had a successful summer, but did Mrs. Konig need to talk for so long? Suddenly, Rena elbowed her. “It’s time!” she whispered.

“And now!” Mrs. Konig boomed, “For the counselor who showed us how to care and conquer—”

She opened the box in front of her dramatically. And shrieked.

“A moouuse!” screamed a girl in the front row.

“Help! This place is infested!”

“Catch them!”

Chana looked up sharply.

Malka, for once, was pale. “Is she crazy? I special-ordered those from pedigreed embryos! I need them for my thesis! What is she doing!?”

“Stop!”

Was that Huvi?

“Everyone calm down. They’re not wild, I bet they’re vaccinated and disease-free”—here Malka nodded miserably—“Just give us a few minutes to round them up.”

Twenty minutes later, the girls were seated again, the air thrumming with a vague undercurrent of tension. Mrs. Konig had resumed her place at the podium, reading off her notes again.

“And now, for the counselor who showed us how to care and conquer...” She looked up, glared at Chana, and pivoted. “Leeeaaah Levi!”

The room exploded in applause. Chana shrugged miserably.

Suddenly, Rena squeezed her arm. “You may not be the winner,” she whispered, “but you’ll always be the person who taught me about using white eyeliner to make my eyes look bigger.”

Chana smiled. Just 12 more hours till she could do laundry in her own home.

“And now,” Mrs. Konig continued, “for our staff member who showed us that it’s the effort that counts, for the staff counselor who showed us that while we can’t all be stars, we can all keep plodding, for the woman who showed us that if you don’t land among the stars, you can always aim for a moderately sized skyscraper… Chana Meier, come on up!”

In a daze, Chana made her way to the podium. Mrs. Konig hugged her, then pressed a voucher into her hand. Chana squinted.

“Good for... Four More Weeks at Camp Bnos Beis Shalva.”

(Originally featured in Family First Issue 549)