You know what, morning dancing might have made me chipper, but she is being grouchy. And I’m a little done with it

The grounds are just as pretty as I remember. Debbi links her elbow through mine and we meander past the lake. It’s so beautiful and perfect and I make a decision.

“I’m never going back to Toms River,” I tell Debbi conversationally. We wave at two girls who look way too young to be in camp; they giggle shyly and scurry away.

“Ahhh, the youth of today,” Debbi says loftily.

I crinkle my nose. “Are they getting smaller?”

Debbi pokes me. “No, madame, you are just a giant among frum girls.”

Oh, please, I’m five-foot-five. I toss my hair over my shoulder. “No, you’re just miniature.”

We crack up. “Anyway,” Debbi says kindly, “you can’t live here, because there are, like, bears. And Polish janitors. And weird noises at night.”

“Oh. ’Kay fine.”

And we laugh so hard, we scare away an oncoming group of freshies.