the last girl scout trip

My best friends were Lisa, Mary and Val. We had all decided to room together on our upcoming girl scout trip to Boston. We were so excited to be off on our own, (sort of), in a big city. We talked about who would bring which snacks, and what mix tapes we'd listen to on the bus ride. I packed and repacked in anticipation.

And then, just like that, everything changed. The hormonal tide of pre-adolescent girls had turned, and I was out. I walked into school a few days before the trip only to find that Lisa, Mary and Val were no longer speaking to me. I stood in front of them, waving my hand in their faces. They stared through me, smirking out of the corners of their eyes. Rose was sitting in my usual seat, and the newly formed foursome talked about how much fun they were going to have rooming together in Boston. What? I protested, but I was invisible to them. I pleaded throughout the day for an explanation. I apologized for whatever I had done wrong. I passed notes begging for another chance. I hated myself for doing it, but I saw no other way out. I desperately wanted to fit in. The girls breezed past me at the end of the day, pinching their noses and saying, what is that smell?

Once home, I threw myself on my bed and cried. When my mother asked what was wrong, I choked out the story of how I was "out". She stormed to the phone, muttering something about "little bitches" and what she would do to them. I heard her voice rising and falling on the phone. Within a minute, she came back in and assured me that everything had been taken care of.

I hugged her with relief, glad that she was able to find the words to soothe my friends. She then dropped the bomb that she had called my scout master, who was going to assign me to a new room. I was mortified. What if I had to bunk with the nose picker-eater? Or the girl who always had lice? Worse still - the bed wetter? I burrowed under my blanket and swore off the trip to Boston.

On the morning of the trip, my mother piled my bags by the door and told me to get a move on. I wouldn't budge. My mother persisted. She sat on my bed and told me I couldn't let those little "brats" (the way she said it I knew she meant "bitches") get the better of me. She told me I had to show them what I was made of, bla bla bla, and all that other confront-the-bullies stuff. I swallowed a sob that was making my lip quiver and agreed.

I waited next to the bus outside of the girl scout house. Girls flitted about excitedly. I stood off to the side, my head hung down, as Lisa and the others leered at me. I was ready to call it quits when someone hip-checked me from behind. I turned to see Viv, Ali and Sue smiling at me. They were the older, cooler girls, at least 13, maybe even 14. Ali and Sue were all open smiles. Viv looked me up and down and said, Cool. We like you. Let's get on the bus. She then put her arm around my shoulder and we boarded the bus. Lisa stared with her mouth open. I knew she was afraid of Viv. Actually, we all sort of were. She had a boyfriend who had given her a promise ring and lots of hickies. There were rumors that she had gone all the way. My body relaxed as I felt Viv's protective hand on my shoulder.

The bus ride was long and educational. We sat in the coveted back of the bus, away from the prying eyes of the scout masters. Viv smoked out the window and talked about her boyfriend. I was in awe. She described the first time he put it in her, the burning sensation, the blood. But now, she said, it no longer hurt, and she couldn't get enough of it. My eyes widened with fear and reverence. She talked about different positions and places they had done it. The school cafeteria, the roof of her tenement. I had no idea what "69" meant. I had only recently learned what it meant to be 86'ed.

My favorite part of the ride was the utter fear Viv inspired in Lisa and my other friends when they came to use the bathroom at the back of the bus. When Mary, Val or Rose used the bathroom, Viv would scream at the smell they left behind on their way out. Lisa, however, was not permitted to use the bathroom. Twice she shuffled towards us, and twice Viv placed her foot on the door and said, Out of order. Lisa winced with desperation, but she didn't dare protest. When we finally pulled into our hotel in Boston several hours later, Lisa ran off the bus in pain. It was the best bus ride of my life.

The trouble started as soon as we got to Boston. Viv, Ali, Sue and I went to our room to unpack. Ali and Sue were best friends, so they decided to share a bed. That left Viv and I. I was intimidated. Viv talked about sex constantly. She said she couldn't go one day without it. Her boyfriend was hundreds of miles away. Would she bring some strange man back to our room? Or worse, would she turn her voracious appetite loose on me?

While we were unpacking and getting ready for our fancy welcome dinner, Viv decided to strip down naked. She hated to be restricted in clothing. At first, I averted my eyes nervously. I wasn't sure what a body that had sex looked like. Then, I accidentally saw her fully naked in the mirror, and I let out an audible gasp. I thought she must have lied about her age, because I didn't know girls could look that way. She was all fleshy curves and hair, with enormous breasts and a shelf of a butt. My posture sagged when I thought of my own angular frame. I watched her the way I watched the polar bear at the zoo - with awe and fear and utter amazement.

Ali and Sue didn't seem to mind Viv strutting around naked. They busied themselves dressing for the night's swanky dinner. Viv grabbed her pack of cigarettes and threw open the curtains. The hotel was U-shaped, and each room had a balcony. Ali reminded Viv that she was naked and other rooms could see into our room. Unphased, Viv slid open the balcony door and walked out onto it in the fading sunlight. We all screeched and begged her to come in, but she ignored us and sucked on her cigarette. She walked back and forth on the balcony, shading her eyes from the sun shining on her. Within minutes, she had attracted the attention of every man staying at the hotel. There were catcalls of, Oh baby, come to my room. Look what daddy has for you! and What room are you in? To our horror, Viv shouted a response. 814. Come on over and see us. With that, Ali and Sue ran out to the balcony and wrestled Viv back into the room. We berated her nervously, fearing the inevitible knock on the door of the 40 horny men who would be coming to visit Viv, and us. The phone began ringing off the hook. One after another, men called and whispered dirty things into the phone. Viv talked dirty back, and made dates to meet different men in the lobby. After about ten calls, Sue took the phone off the hook.

Once we finally convinced Viv to put some clothes on, we headed out to meet the rest of the group in the lobby and proceeded to a fancy French restaurant. It was the first time I had had chocolate mousse, and I fell in love. Halfway through the dinner, Viv excused herself from the table and disappeared. After 20 or so minutes had passed, our scout master Marge went to search for her. Sue, Ali and I looked at each other nervously. Marge eventually came back with her thick sausage fingers clutching the back of Viv's neck. Viv's scarlet lipstick was smeared across her face, and she grinned with satisfaction. The rest of the meal passed in silence. We couldn't wait to get back to the room to hear what Viv had gotten in to.

A waiter, it turned out, is what Viv got in to. Or rather, the waiter had gotten into her. In the bathroom. And Marge walked in on it. We squealed with disgust and delight as Viv went into the details of her anonymous encounter with the waiter. Marge had threatened to send Viv home, but VIv pointed out that her mother would want to know how Marge had let her young daughter be molested by an older, more experienced man. Marge relented but promised dire consequences if Viv acted out again.

Once back in the room, Viv again stripped off all her clothes and strode out onto the balcony to smoke. The balcony was now strewn with Playboy magazines that some of Viv's fans and thrown there. Some had phone numbers and propositions on them. We begged Viv not to call, as we had all had enough excitement for the first day.

We all settled into bed to watch television before going to sleep. I slept as close to the edge of the bed as I could, afraid that I would accidentally graze against Viv's naked body in my sleep. Viv lit up a cigarette in bed next to me. I asked her to be careful with it right before I drifted off to sleep.

I was awakened by a wailing noise and felt the bed convulsing. I fell onto the floor and looked up to see my bed on fire. Viv was smacking the flames out of the blanket. Ali and Sue were jumping up and down on the bed, waving the smoke away from the screaming smoke detector. There was a banging at the door. We heard Marge demanding that we open the door, wanting to know what was going on. Viv stomped out the fire and I opened the balcony door wide open. We tried to wave the smoke out of the room, but it was futile.

Marge and a hotel manager opened the door and stared in amazement. The bed was a charred mess. Playboy magazines were strewn about the floor. Viv was still naked and smudged with soot. The manager covered his eyes and barked into his walkie talkie. Marge's voice was so shrill it became indecipherable. The four of us broke out in church giggles, the kind that you know are totally inappropriate but still escape you like a fart. The rest of the night was a blur. Marge became breathless with insults and threats. We packed up our room and moved into another. All except Viv. Although none of us would say who had been smoking, Marge knew it was Viv. She punished Viv by making her bunk in her bed. Viv called her a lesbian, and threatened to call Girl Scout headquarters, wherever that was.

Sue, Ali and I missed Viv in our new room, but we got to spend all day with her. As punishment for our involvement in the fire, the four of us were forced to hold hands everywhere we went for the rest of the trip. We traipsed around the House of Seven Gables, the Salem Witch Museum, and Harvard, the four of us in a line, united in our shame. Viv spent the nights bunking with Marge, but she spent the days telling us how she spent the nights torturing Marge. One day she scrubbed the toilet with Marge's toothbrush. The next she threw all of Marge's underwear off the balcony.

I know the purpose of making us hold hands in public was to shame us, but it sort of made me feel like a rock star. I now had a "reputation". Stories swirled about what had actually happened that night in our room. There was talk of drug use, a fist fight between Viv and Marge, and an orgy. (Ali and Sue explained that one to me). Lisa and the others no longer leered at me. They averted their eyes when our chain gang of disgrace walked by. They seemed so childish and immature to me now. I sneered at the idea that we had ever been friends.

Getting off the bus back at the girl scout house, I walked a little taller and felt a whole lot older. I high-fived Viv and the others good-bye. Viv didn't come much to the meetings after that. A few years later I saw her on the street, and she had just had her first baby. She seemed happy, with her daughter on her hip and a cigarette dangling out of her mouth. Ali, Sue and I soon tired of girl scouts too. All of the girls there were so immature. They both looked out for me, comforting me when I first got my period and advising me about high school. When my mom's friends would ask if they should sign their daughters up for girl scouts, there was only one answer I could give. Definitely.