A/N: In anticipation of the Netflix series "Wet Hot American Summer-The First Day of Camp", I watched the original again and was reminded of my other "WHAS" Story, "The Summer of Henry". It was only a matter of time before a continuation would surface and so here it is. Thank you to Kristen3 and Jessie33 for your reviews on the original (and to you, Kristen for so bravely suggesting that I write a sequel! =)) and I hope that this continuation is just as enjoyable .
1983
In my dorm room at Bates' College, my hand trembled as I picked up the receiver of my pink princess phone and put it down again. I stared at the letter in my other hand, knowing full well that I didn't even have to look at it to know what it said. I'd read it a hundred-no, a million, times before. It was as though I had gotten a letter from Rob Lowe asking me to marry him and that he anxiously awaiting my reply. But this wasn't from him, nor was it from anyone famous. It was from someone that I loved… or used to love. Or thought I loved. I don't know. All I knew was that the summer that my parents had sent me (against my will) to Camp Firewood, I was sure that it would be the worst experience of my life. Who knew that it would turn out to be not only the best but the most heartbreaking?
When I had gotten the letter from Henry, I read it over and over again… Heck, I was still reading it, even months; almost a year later. In fact, I read it so many times I had it memorized. Never in my life will I ever get over the fact that he was not only asking me if I wanted a job at Camp Firewood, but that he named his daughter after me! Me, a lame freshman at Bates College! Well, I wasn't one back then; a Bates College Freshman, I mean. Lame, yes… I guess I've always been that way.
But there was a time when I didn't feel lame, even if it wasn't for an extended period. Better than nothing right? Brett Morris, who had made all of my dreams come true when he came up to me one day in the hallway and told me that he'd broken up with Stacy Abbott and that he wanted to go out with me. Me! I couldn't believe it! I was so excited that I rushed through the hallways to my best friend Bianca's locker to tell her. We both screamed at the same time and threw our arms around each other as though we were a couple of nerds. I suppose we were, but hey, this was major! I had a date with Brett Morris.
We dated for a while…. A long while, actually and when graduation came, we were making plans for our future. I still remember the picture that I sent in my reply letter to Henry, the one with me in my graduation cap and gown, standing in between the two people that I loved most; Bianca and Brett. But it turned out that I wasn't the one that Brett loved the most. He sent me a letter (a letter!) from his dorm room at the University of Miami saying that he'd met someone and was planning on asking her to marry him! Just like that.
God, I don't even want to begin to describe that humiliation. The pain was a thousand times worse than when I found Henry and Beth kissing on the dock at Camp Firewood. And that was way beyond humiliation. But in all fairness, Henry didn't love me, so it wasn't his fault. It was mine for being stupid enough to fall in love with him.
And as much as it hurt knowing that Henry was in love with Beth and not me, at least he sent me a letter explaining things. Brett just decided to take the easy way out. And so I was eternally grateful that I was alone that morning when I'd gone to get the mail, hoping for a letter from the boy I loved. But that was not the kind of letter that I was expecting. I ran to my dorm room and tore the letter open, my heart racing with anticipation. And by the time I finished reading it, barely realizing that it was way too short for a break-up letter, I was sobbing so badly that I could hardly pick up the phone, let alone see to dial Bianca's phone number. I swear, they should have something that makes dialing faster. It's completely ridiculous! I mean, I knew the number by heart but still…
It rang and rang and rang and I knew it was stupid, calling her at this hour of the morning, knowing full well that she'd be in class. I mean it was a Tuesday after all and classes were in session at Bates College as well as at the University of Maine. If we hadn't been going to colleges that were one hundred and thirteen miles apart I might have jumped in my car and raced to her dorm at U of M, sobbing at her door until she returned. Instead I dialed her number again and again listening to the ringing until it became like a bad pop song that thundered in my head. And suddenly it stopped.
The sound was so deafening that I almost didn't realize that it had stopped until I heard her voice. One word… Hello… That's all it took for me to burst into tears and sobs…