Somebody from the Age 11 group who had heard it from somebody from the Age 13 group who had heard it from their cousin who had come to the camp a long time ago said it was the way you knew you were cool because only the cool kids did it, and when they invited you, you were *in.*

Everyone knew it happened behind the Mess Hall on a full moon. And even you were supposed to get your own flashlight from the counselors’ office, it was easy. The college-aged counselors, would seemed to know what was happening, drank beer at the lake on the other side of the camp and didn’t lock the door. And that when you were *in* you had to work hard to stay there.

Her friend Jenny had made it in. The popular girls—the ones who wore bikinis with a shirt on top and shaved their legs and rolled their eyes at everything older than them and laughed at everyone less cooler than them—had invited her, and she with her thrift store shoes and one-piece swimsuit had been left behind. Jenny sat with them at the cafeteria and sometimes left her behind during hikes. But they still shared a bunkbed and passed each other notes.

When she got the letter underneath her pillow (“Friday. 11 pm. Behind the Mess Hall.”), she knew Jenny had done it. So, she stole a flashlight, the first time she stole, ever, and met Jenny and the others at the meeting spot.

And then the game began. They split into teams, and she was on Jenny’s. They ran and hid from the others, tagging the rival team and covering the lights with their hands to not get caught.

Maybe it was 30 minutes or an hour before she realized everyone else was the quiet.

“Maybe we went out too far,” Jenny said. “Let’s go.” Jenny led them back, but after three turns, it was the wrong way.

It was a clearing near the lake, and the popular girls had been waiting with four buckets and trash bags.

“Jenny,” said one. “You have come with your sacrifice. Are you ready?”

Jenny looked over at her. “Yes.”

“Good.” A bucket was hefted into her hands. “Go on. You must douse the sacrifice with all the buckets before our witnesses, if you want to be initiated. Begin!”

With a hand underneath its bottom for balance, Jenny hefted the first bucket. And with the onslaught of rotten milk and garbage in her face and hair and shoes, there was nothing she could do.

She walked back to her cabin and then thought better of it and walked to the showers. She washed herself as many times as Jenny had poured garbage on her and used up all her shampoo.

And she thought what she would do to get them all back and make them pay.