It's 1987, and Eric will do just about anything to get away during the summer break. Wearing a bear suit at a New Hampshire amusement park and taking on a bet with his girlfriend/"partner in crime" are the easy parts. Matters of the heart? Not so much. Eric, Sookie, Freyda. EPOV. AH. AU.

The most obvious thing I could say about the bear suit was that it was hot.

Next to that, it stank, though not of what you might expect. Not like human body odor. "That's real bear skin you're wearing," the Old Man liked to remind us, as if we couldn't tell from the moment we put it on.

"It's a walking health hazard," Mustapha said more than once. He wore it too, along with Clancy, Lafayette, Warren, and Claude. Thirty minutes outdoors was supposed to be our limit on any day above 80 degrees, but no one followed that rule, for different reasons. "There's power in the suit," Clancy boasted, and Lafayette agreed in his own way. "You ever get to that point when your vision splits and voices sound far off?" Heat stroke, Lafayette figured, might teach him something new about the universe.

I wore the suit because it was my job. More importantly, my job was a ticket out of D.C. and away from my controlling father for the summer, in 1987, the year before I graduated from college. The place was Beartown, an old-fashioned amusement park that had the flavor of the Wild West in the middle of the mountains of New Hampshire. There was a water slide, a few rides, a petting zoo, "Indian raids" at high noon and five PM, and a bear show. Lorena the bear was the star of Beartown according to the Old Man, whose real name-if you care to know it-was William Compton. He'd taken over the place from his father, who'd maybe taken it over from his father, or something like that. The man liked to pontificate. Sometimes I tuned him out.

"You have been hand-selected to wear the suit," he told us. "In our dodranscentennial year, no less." He was one of the biggest bullshit artists I ever met. One of the most stubborn, too. "This particular suit," he said, "comes from Our Original Maker."

I'm not even kidding about that. He used those exact words—Our Original Maker—and for a moment, I wondered whether he was running a bear worshiping cult, which would have made him inordinately more interesting. But, no, Old Man Bill wasn't charismatic enough to lead a cult, even though he wanted badly for us to think that we were all in this together, striving to keep Bear Town the most beloved "family entertainment center" in all of New England. Don't scare the little kids with the suit was his mantra.

The thing was, the suit was outright vicious, with mangy and matted fur, a mouthful of snarling teeth, and eyes white-rimmed with rage, like it had spent the past 100 years stalking down hikers and devouring them alive. You put something like that on and immediately you want to fuck with people.

"No pretending to maul anyone. No jumping around corners," Sophie-Anne, the artistic director, had droned, reading from a list of prohibited activities. "No mocking. No humping. No grabbing little kids…"

Fucking-A, it was tempting, especially when the dads would shove their kids at me for a hug and a picture. "Hot enough for ya?" they'd say with a joshing laugh, their eyes peering at the suit, searching for the peephole through the teeth.

"Like a summer camp for college students," was how Freddy had described it when she'd first told me about Beartown. I didn't care if it was a pig farm. I'd have followed her anywhere just to get away from my father during the long hot months, and she knew it. She was getting antsy, eager to hit a new wall with me. To keep things interesting, she made a proposal: "I pick one for you. You pick one for me."

Together since our freshman year, we'd done this before, so it seemed like nothing new. Freddy liked sending me off for sexual conquests who were similar to her. The closer she could get to herself, the more thrilling the risk and the more affirming our reunion. It was us against the world, one challenge after another, followed by really spectacular sex.

"All right," I said.

"So you agree?"

"Sure. You must already have someone in mind for me."

Freddy's smooth demeanor turned manic with a wide, toothy grin. She stuck out her chest. "Welcome to Bear Town! We're having a birthday! We're seventy-five years-old! Would you like a commemorative letter opener? "

"Sookie Stackhouse. The chick who runs the hospitality tent." Of course I knew who she was. Sookie was a well-known figure at Beartown, and not only because of her much-admired boobs. She also seemed to be the unofficial second in command of the joint and—rumor had it—was servicing the Old Man with blow jobs.

Freddy continued with her mocking. "Restrooms are located just to the right of the entrance. Would you like me to wipe your ass for you?"

Freddy didn't see much about Sookie beyond the crazy grin and squinty eyes. "Nice Jellies," Freddy had said snidely of her shoes. I put her in her mid-twenties, a few years older than me. All-in-all, she was strikingly different from Freddy, though physically not unlike a few women I'd dated before her. Rumors aside, I had to wonder what had gotten her in tight with the Old Man, though, of course, there's no overestimating the power of a good blow job.

"No turning back now," Freddy said with a wicked grin. "Who do you pick for me?"

"I need more time to think."

"No. You have to pick now, or else you'll have more time than me to scheme."

"You've already had more time to scheme." I didn't know many people at Bear Town, aside from my roommate and all the guys who wore the suit. Except…

"The Old Man's out," she said right away, as though she knew my train of thought.

I thought about Sookie's brother, a dimwit who hung around with Hoyt Fortenberry in the dorms, but he hardly seemed like any conquest. Half of the game was figuring what Freddy saw as the challenge for me and then coming up with an equivalent match for her. I was sure she saw Sookie as someone I'd never date in a million years but beyond that, I would need to be discrete to stay in good with the Old Man and keep my job.

"I know," I said, an idea coming to me at once. "That girl with the brown hair who always wears the hiking boots. Lives off site."

A dawning of recognition crossed her face. "Interesting," she said. "Amelia, right?"

I shrugged. "Something like that."

"All right," she agreed without hesitating, quickly enough for me to know that I'd surprised her. As far as I knew, she'd never slept with someone so outdoorsy. Plus we were still in the dark ages back then in the 80s. Ellen's coming out episode was still at least a decade away, which meant that reputation-wise, Freddy had far more to lose if she got caught with Amelia.

She stepped closer to me. "Sure you're up to the challenge?"

"Sookie won't be able to resist."

"I think by the end of the summer, she won't know what she missed." Her hand slipped between us, reaching for the zipper of my jeans. Nearly whispering, she said, "Do you want to fuck one more time before your long dry spell?"

I nudged her hand away, which made Freddy's face light up. "I knew I could count on you. You're one of the best game players I know." She stepped back, switching to business mode. "So..no dorm visits between us. No public display of affection. Nothing that would show that we're anything but friends. Agreed?"

I nodded.

"As usual, first one to get laid, wins. Word of honor counts."

"Game on," I said.

Disclaimer: I'm not profiting from this story.