Camp Lore - 31. Chapter 31

Dan, Jim, and Paul pulled their next prank on Steve. But to do that, they needed Greg’s help.

Besides the comedy troupe doing their weekend shows, the six actors also separately had other jobs – they hosted game and talent shows on the various nights of the week. One of the games involved anyone at camp being challenged to do something. If they refused, they had to pay the penalty.

Some of the challenges, especially for the younger kids, were easy, but others grew increasingly ridiculous, depending on how much you wanted to embarrass your friends. Because the point never was to meet the original challenge – it was to perform the penalty gracefully.

Contestants were sometimes chosen at random – when there were no names submitted – but most often people chose their friends, or audience’s favorites like counselors or waiters. So when Steve’s name was called, he just grinned and hopped up on the stage. And when Greg asked him to “Sing the camp song,” everyone groaned because that was so easy, and they knew Steve would do it right off.

Except he wouldn’t do it because all his friends knew he hated to sing. He didn’t just hate it – he refused, instead simply moving his lips when it came to any kind of sing-along.

“You can stand right next to him,” Nate assured us, “and you won’t hear a thing.”

So faced with singing the easy camp song in front of two hundred people, instead he just glared toward where he knew his friends were sitting. He couldn’t really see them because the stage lights were too bright.

“But he knows he’s been set up,” Paul said, “and he’s mad.”

Now you can turn down the penalty and simply stomp off the stage. But you’d be the running joke of the weekend show and maybe for the rest of the summer. And since Steve always wanted to be the good guy, he just sighed and asked Greg, “What do you really want me to do?”

“Sing The Star-Spangled Banner.”

This time, everyone laughed because they knew it was a much harder song. But it wasn’t that much harder, and the whole thing didn’t seem up there with the best challenges, so the kids were bored..

“But he’s really burning now,” Jim noticed. And ever from across the Rec Hall, you could tell Steve was.

Greg helpfully offered him a card with the lyrics, and the music counselor played the familiar intro, ready to play along on the old upright piano. “What key?” he even called out.

That made everyone laugh, because they knew most people knew nothing about keys.

“I just need a minute,” Steve told Greg, and Greg turned to the audience for a Yay/Nay vote. Almost everyone yelled, “No! No!” because they wanted this to be over. But in the time Greg took to ask, Steve jumped off the stage.

“He’s gonna run,” Dan said. “That’s not like him at all.”

“He’s gonna catch it for that.”

“A counselor did that maybe five-or-six years ago. He thought he was above it all and just walked out.”

“He did it quietly.”

“And politely.”

“He was in no way rude.”

“And he really thought that would be the end of it.”

“Not even close.”

“No one would let him forget it.”

“Kids wouldn’t even let him off.”

“Until he volunteered for the game show again.”

“And did something really humiliating.”

“But he did it smiling.”

“And everyone cheered.”

“And things was fine after that.”

“Except they never really were.”

“Because his friends never completely let him off.”

“And Steve knows that.”

“And he wants to work at the camp for another few years.”

“Maybe even through college.”

“Without always being a joke.”

“So he must really be sweating.”

As it happens, Steve didn’t run. He just talked with the music counselor for a minute and then got back on stage. Greg led the polite applause, which the six of us tried to build up, yelling, “Steve! Steve!” but no one really cared. So the music counselor started the intro again, and some of the stage lights dimmed, and Steve was left in a spotlight.

“This is gonna be awful,” Nate predicted.

“It’ll be funnier to see how furious he is when he gets to us.”

“He won’t come to the Canteen. He’ll be so mad, he’ll stomp off somewhere.”

“We should take him out for a drink,” Brian suggested.

Occasionally, we all squeezed into the car and drove the mile-or-so to the nearby bar.

“Take us,” Paul offered instead. “We’re the ones gonna suffer.”

“Take the whole camp.”

By then, the guys realized Steve was singing. He was standing straight, smiling, and was completely unembarrassed. And he sang the hell out of “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

Perfectly.

Professionally.

Amazingly.

He even hit the optional high note at the end.

By that point, everyone in the Rec Hall was stomping and whooping. They didn’t know what was behind the joke, but they knew they’d heard something spectacular.

“Now where did he learn that? Jim asked, astonished. He turned to Nate. “Did you know he could do that?”

“Not a clue.”

“And we’ve known him most of his life.”

“Holy jeez.”

As everyone clapped and hollered, Steve took a bow – well, a half-dozen of them. Then Greg quieted the crowd, and Steve headed offstage and out of the Rec Hall. Of course, we all followed – except Greg, who was stuck on stage.

“You were really good,” Nate led.

“Thanks,” Steve said, almost uninterested.

“When did you learn that?” Paul asked.

“A while back.”

“Can you do that with every song?”

“Many.”

“Wow!”

“How come you never told us?”

“How come you never...”

“How come you always...”

“How come you refuse to sing?”

“Because I stick out too much.”

“No.”

“Yes – believe me.”

And he told us the whole thing.

“I started singing professionally when I was five – maybe a little younger. And I never stopped. It’s how I saved for college.”

“A lot?”

“A lot.”

“That’s no reason to be embarrassed.”

“But I always was – because no one else sang that well – no one I knew. No one else was pointed out... and patted on the head.... and told what a wonderful career he had ahead.”

“At five?”

“Yeah – and I was still impossibly cute. Which made it worse.”

“At least you grew out of that.”

“Thanks a lot.”

We all laughed. The seven of us were standing outside the Rec Hall, mostly in the dark.

“So I never let anyone who didn’t have to know find out. And I never – never – sang at school... Or at camp... Or anywhere around my friends.”

“You never slipped?”

“Probably... early on. But if I did, it was in front of adults, and they kept asking for more. I felt like a trained dog.”

“Arf,” barked Paul.

“You got it. Sing on demand. So I quit.”

“I thought you did it professionally.”

“I did – I do – almost anywhere my agent books.”

“You have an agent?”

“I’m a pro. You don’t think I handle this myself?”

“No, but...”

“We thought maybe your parents...”

“They used to drive me places... Till we hired someone to do that. Even if it’s just in the city, and I could take a train.”

The guys just laughed at themselves, admitting they’d pulled a lousy prank.

“I don’t know – it’s pretty good in reverse,” Steve said.

“And you weren’t even trying.”

“No.”

“So you’re not mad?”

“Well, I figured you were all behind it – or some of you. The ones who knew, all these years, that I hated to sing. So you were putting one over.”

“We got skunked.”

“We skunked ourselves.”

“This is gonna be a great story to tell.”

“I won’t do that,” Steve promised.

“But we would,” Dan said, laughing.

And we all joined in.

“Have you ever played a prank?” Paul soon asked Steve.

“Sure... lots... I’ve been in with all of you.”

“But that’s not the same as planning one.”

“On your best friends.”

“And catching them good.”

“Right where it’s softest.”

“Could you sing one more song?” Jim asked. We could all tell he was fake begging. “Couldya? Couldya? Pleeze?”

“Shut up,” Steve advised.

“Yes, sir.”

And everyone laughed.

“But I really want your autograph,” Jim went on. “Just in case it’s worth something someday.”

“Nah... I’m gonna make so much money doing something else, I’ll never have to sing again.”

“Meanwhile, it’s ‘Arf!’” Dan said. “For another five years.”

Steve sighed.

“Yeth, Thir.”