The Bad Thing
It’s a brilliant day when I first meet Eliza and Sammy.
当我第一次见到伊丽莎和萨米时，这是美好的一天。
The clouds are parted.
云彩已散。
The sky is blue.
天空是蓝色的。
In the periphery: feathery waves of the lakeside, the simple dazzle of sunlight hitting the water.
外围：湖边羽毛般的波浪，阳光照射在水面上的简单耀眼。
I’m 11 years old at the Crystal Lake sandbar, a hot, murky beach 15 minutes east of my day camp.
我今年 11 岁，住在水晶湖沙洲，这是一个炎热、阴暗的海滩，距离我的日间营地以东 15 分钟路程。
Around me, the other campers have rolled out their towels.
在我周围，其他露营者都铺上了毛巾。
I hear the sounds of a pea whistle, the dizzied prattle of children.
我听到豌豆哨子的声音，孩子们头晕目眩的喋喋不休的声音。
I’ve been sitting in the nosebleed section of the beach for a while now, my towel draped over the roots of an oak tree, pharaoh ants scouring my backpack for sugar.
我已经在海滩流鼻血的地方坐了一段时间了，我的毛巾搭在橡树的根上，法老蚂蚁在我的背包里搜寻糖。
The water on this stretch of the beach is brackish; algae floats in tectonic clots, cattails stripe the surface.
这片海滩的水是微咸的；藻类漂浮在构造凝块中，香蒲在表面形成条纹。
Minnesota is full of lakes that look just like this one: brown as brown comes and chock full with minnows, stinking of algae and earth and decay.
明尼苏达州到处都是和这个湖一样的湖泊：湖水呈棕色，里面满是小鱼，散发着藻类、泥土和腐烂的臭味。
Not far off, a group of girls my age play.
不远处，一群和我同龄的女孩在玩耍。
It’s bright where they are and the water is clear.
他们所在的地方很明亮，水也很清澈。
They volley a striped ball that they found in the shallows.
他们用在浅滩中发现的一个条纹球截击。
I don’t try and join them.
我不会尝试加入他们。
I’m awkward; I know it.
我很尴尬；我知道这。
It’s my shaggy brown bowl cut and multipack T-shirts, my Pokémon cards, and my big, meaty thighs.
这是我蓬松的棕色碗形剪裁和多件装 T 恤、我的神奇宝贝卡片和我的大而肉的大腿。
I’m one of the few girls that still wears a one-piece, and my balloon of a belly makes it obvious why.
我是少数仍然穿着连体衣的女孩之一，我的大肚子很明显地说明了原因。
But unlike at school, these girls simply ignore me; at camp I don’t feel attacked but simply marooned.
但与在学校不同的是，这些女孩根本不理睬我；在营地，我并没有感到受到攻击，只是感到被孤立。
Instead of swimming I dig a stout hole in an alcove, where a fat vein of clay waits.
我没有游泳，而是在壁龛里挖了一个粗壮的洞，那里有一层肥厚的粘土矿脉等待着。
My cuticles darken.
我的角质层变黑了。
My hands draw me deeper.
我的手把我拉得更深。
I dredge up slippery fistfuls of earth.
我挖起一把滑溜溜的泥土。
When I first catch Sammy and Eliza walking toward me, I pretend not to see them.
当我第一次看到萨米和伊丽莎朝我走来时，我假装没有看到他们。
They’re a mirage in the distance: part shadow, part light.
它们是远处的海市蜃楼：一半是阴影，一半是光。
Of course, I recognize the two instantly.
当然，我一眼就认出了这两个人。
They’re younger campers, at least a few grades my junior, and their contrast is noteworthy.
他们是年轻的营员，至少比我低几个年级，他们的对比值得注意。
One girl has milky skin and the other mahogany; one has blonde hair and the other has black.
一个女孩是乳白色的皮肤，另一个是桃花心木的；一个是金发，另一个是黑色。
Eliza, the latter, is cut like a gemstone, whereas Sammy is doughy, without any angles.
后者的伊莉莎 (Eliza) 切割得像宝石一样，而萨米 (Sammy) 则是松软的，没有任何棱角。
I’ve often found myself watching them haunt the periphery, circling group activities but refusing to join.
我经常发现自己看着他们在外围出没，围着团体活动但拒绝加入。
Beyond this I know very little.
除此之外我所知甚少。
Each girl is an unanswered question, a cavern, a void.
每个女孩都是一个悬而未决的问题，一个洞穴，一个空虚。
Both carry towels under their arms.
两人腋下都夹着毛巾。
They are backlit in darkness, their faces inscrutable.
他们在黑暗中逆光而行，面容难以捉摸。
I watch as they close in on me under the oak tree.
我在橡树下看着他们向我逼近。
Neither girl speaks until their shadows are on me.
两个女孩都没有说话，直到她们的影子落在我身上。
Each girl is an unanswered question, a cavern, a void.
每个女孩都是一个悬而未决的问题，一个洞穴，一个空虚。
I fixate on the ground and the things right above it.
我注视着地面和上面的东西。
There’s the fresh hole, some crabgrass, and now Eliza’s legs.
那里有新鲜的洞，一些马唐草，现在还有伊丽莎的腿。
She’s still dripping wet from a plunge in the lake.
她从湖里掉下来，浑身湿漉漉的。
Her tiny brown feet are grouted with mud.
她棕色的小脚上灌满了泥。
“What are you doing?” she suddenly shouts, seemingly unaware of her volume.
“你在干什么？”她突然喊道，似乎没有意识到自己的音量。
I flinch and look up at her.
我畏缩了一下，抬头看着她。
She’s tiny but looming and there’s a hand on her hip.
她身材娇小，但若隐若现，一只手放在她的臀部。
She’s wearing an indigo swimsuit with floral print, framed by a yard of black licorice hair.
她穿着一件印有花卉图案的靛蓝色泳衣，周围是一码黑色甘草色的头发。
Her eyes—dark and massive—iridesce like an oil slick.
她的眼睛又黑又大，像浮油一样闪烁着虹彩。
I can’t tell from her face if she’s happy or not.
我无法从她的脸上看出她是否高兴。
“I’m digging up clay,” I say.
“我正在挖粘土，”我说。
There’s dirt up to my elbows and my face starts to redden.
我的肘部全是污垢，我的脸开始变红。
I feel apprehended, like a pig in the mud.
我感觉自己被逮捕了，就像一头陷入泥沼的猪。
Eliza throws a glance over her shoulder to Sammy, who, until now, has been nearly eclipsed.
伊丽莎回头看了一眼萨米，到目前为止，萨米几乎已经黯然失色。
She’s a short girl like Eliza, but a pale, ghostly negative.
她和伊丽莎一样个子矮小，但面色苍白、阴森恐怖。
She has livid blue eyes and a bikini to match them.
她有一双碧蓝的眼睛和与之相配的比基尼。
They pause, then lay down their towels and sit.
他们停了下来，然后放下毛巾坐下来。
“We want to do that,” Eliza announces, so loudly again that it stuns me.
“我们想这么做，”伊丽莎再次宣布，声音如此之大，让我震惊。
The two girls position themselves directly across from me.
两个女孩就站在我的正对面。
I can see them both clearly now, made degrees less severe by the bisected shadows.
我现在可以清楚地看到他们两个，被一分为二的阴影使程度变得不那么严重。
Eliza appears earnest, her expression fiery but warm.
伊丽莎显得很认真，她的表情火热但温暖。
Sammy’s face is as plain and cool and round as a raindrop.
萨米的脸像雨滴一样朴素、冷酷、圆润。
They nod and lean forward, awaiting instructions.
他们点点头，身体前倾，等待指示。
I pull my hands from the hole that I’ve dug.
我把手从我挖的洞里抽出来。
For the rest of the afternoon we sit by the oak tree together, wrenching up clay.
下午剩下的时间里，我们一起坐在橡树旁，拧起粘土。
We coax sticky mounds into misshapen vessels, sculpting loose vases and handle-less mugs.
我们将粘稠的土堆放入畸形的容器中，雕刻出松散的花瓶和无把手的杯子。
There are teapots and bowls and a disfigured flower vase, though one piece hardly looks distinct from the next.
里面有茶壶、碗和一个变形的花瓶，尽管其中一件看起来与下一件几乎没有什么区别。
The clay—if it can be called clay—is wet and unwilling: Each shape we impose it slowly rejects.
粘土——如果它可以被称为粘土的话——是湿的且不情愿的：我们强加的每一种形状，它都会慢慢地拒绝。
It’s studious work, undertaken in quiet.
这是一项勤奋的工作，需要安静地进行。
Even so I become cognizant of a certain camaraderie building: our dry elbows rubbing as the hole grows between us, our mingling fingers as they poke through the muck.
即便如此，我还是意识到了某种友情的建立：我们干燥的手肘摩擦着，我们之间的差距越来越大，我们的手指在淤泥中伸出来。
After some time Eliza leans back from the pit.
过了一会儿，伊丽莎从坑里向后靠了靠。
She’s covered now; flecks of mud stain her swimsuit, freckle her shoulders and legs.
她现在已经被覆盖了；泥点弄脏了她的泳衣，在她的肩膀和腿上留下了雀斑。
She looks at me.
她看着我。
For a moment her expression is illegible, steady.
有一瞬间，她的表情难以辨认，很稳定。
It is the same face she wore when she approached me much earlier.
这是她早些时候接近我时的那张脸。
The clay—if it can be called clay—is wet and unwilling: Each shape we impose it slowly rejects.
粘土——如果它可以被称为粘土的话——是湿的且不情愿的：我们强加的每一种形状，它都会慢慢地拒绝。
“Why do you always sit alone?” she asks.
“你为什么总是一个人坐着？”她问。
Her voice is bright, clear, and loud enough to carry.
她的声音明亮、清晰、响亮，足以传唱。
For a few gut-wrenching seconds I scan the periphery, wondering if the older girls are listening in.
在令人心痛的几秒钟里，我扫视着周围，想知道年长的女孩们是否在偷听。
When I’m satisfied that no one can hear her or us, I look back to the girls and square up my shoulders.
当我确信没有人能听到她或我们的声音时，我回头看着女孩们，挺起肩膀。
Both have stopped digging.
两人都停止了挖掘。
Sammy watches my face from the wedge of a blue eye, pretending as though she isn’t listening keenly.
萨米用一只蓝眼睛的楔子看着我的脸，假装她没有在认真听。
“Well,” I say.
“好吧，”我说。
It’s a good question, one that I’ve wondered about for most of my life.
这是一个很好的问题，我一生中大部分时间都在思考这个问题。
It’s not that I don’t like being alone, exactly, but that I’ve never seemed to have much of a say in the matter.
确切地说，并不是我不喜欢独处，而是我似乎在这件事上从来没有太多发言权。
I don’t look for friendship, nor does it ever arrive.
我不寻求友谊，它也永远不会到来。
“Maybe because I like to do this kind of stuff,” I venture a guess.
“也许是因为我喜欢做这种事情，”我大胆猜测。
I gesture to our pots and I shrug.
我指着我们的罐子，然后耸耸肩。
It’s a stupid reply, mostly because I know it’s not true.
这是一个愚蠢的回答，主要是因为我知道这不是真的。
Whatever wrongness exists is buried deeper within me.
无论存在什么错误，都深深埋藏在我内心深处。
Still when both of them nod my shoulders release.
但当他们俩都点头时，我的肩膀就松开了。
“Well, we like hanging out with you,” Eliza announces and the two of them grin.
“嗯，我们喜欢和你一起出去玩，”伊丽莎宣布，两人咧嘴一笑。
She punches my knee with her dry, muddy fist.
她用干燥、沾满泥浆的拳头捶打我的膝盖。
“Cool,” I say.
“酷，”我说。
“That’s cool.” I let out a laugh.
“这很酷。”我笑了笑。
I’m reticent, thrilled, humiliated, giddy.
我沉默、兴奋、羞辱、头晕。
“Me too.”
“我也是。”
I study the pinch pot in my hands.
我研究着手中的捏壶。
It seems suddenly urgent not to see them seeing me.
突然间，不让他们看到我似乎很紧迫。
Heat crawls from my cheeks to my hairline.
热量从我的脸颊爬到发际线。
I hear the furious thrum of blood in my ears.
我听到耳朵里传来血腥味。
With my fingers I smooth down the walls of my pot.
我用手指抚平锅壁。
To my utter relief, no more questions follow.
令我彻底松了口气的是，没有更多的问题随之而来。
Some hours later, after we’ve made more pots than we can possibly keep, the counselors call us back to the bus.
几个小时后，当我们制作的罐子数量超出了我们所能保留的数量后，辅导员叫我们回到公共汽车上。
They stand at the edge of the beach, their arms waving overhead like wild antennae.
他们站在海滩边，手臂像狂野的触角一样在头顶挥舞。
Our camp’s name, Camp Empower!, now razors the air.
我们营地的名字“Camp Empower！”现在已经响彻空气。
Camp Empower head out!
赋能营出发！
Back to the bus!
回到巴士！
The three of us stand and shake out our towels.
我们三个人站起来抖毛巾。
We abandon our pottery at the roots of the oak tree.
我们把陶器遗弃在橡树的根部。
Beside them the pit yawns, nearly funerary, its void as misshapen as each of our pots.
他们旁边的坑张开大口，几乎是葬礼，它的空虚像我们的每个罐子一样畸形。
“Do you want to sit with us on the way back?” Sammy asks.
“回来的路上你愿意和我们一起坐吗？”萨米问道。
She is grinning.
她正在微笑。
Each of her teeth is small and round like a Tic Tac.
她的每颗牙齿又小又圆，就像井字棋一样。
“Sure,” I say, and shrug for effect.
“当然，”我说，并耸耸肩以求效果。
All my synapses are firing with pleasure.
我所有的突触都兴奋地兴奋起来。
We gather our things and begin our march toward the idling bus.
我们收拾好东西，开始向那辆闲置的巴士走去。
As I go I take note of the last of my pots, and its walls—like the rest—seem to sag with relief, slowly collapsing into the shape of its emptiness.
当我走的时候，我注意到我的最后一个罐子，它的墙壁——就像其他的一样——似乎松了一口气，慢慢地塌陷成空的形状。
June leapfrogs over us, then so does July.
六月超越了我们，然后七月也超越了我们。
Eliza and Sammy drag me through the heat of the summer, yanking my wrists like the reins of a pull sled.
伊丽莎和萨米拖着我度过了炎热的夏天，像拉雪橇的缰绳一样拉着我的手腕。
We play games.
我们玩游戏。
Before I met Eliza and Sammy I had no idea how many games a person could play.
在我遇到 Eliza 和 Sammy 之前，我不知道一个人能玩多少游戏。
There’s playmate and hopscotch and bobo ski watten.
有玩伴、跳房子和波波滑雪瓦滕。
We design our own handshakes, secret nicknames for counselors.
我们设计自己的握手方式、辅导员的秘密昵称。
When the talent show comes we do a dance on stage, lip syncing to “I Want Candy” by Bow Wow Wow.
当才艺表演开始时，我们在舞台上跳舞，对口型配合 Bow Wow Wow 的“I Want Candy”。
When the chorus begins Eliza throws candy into the crowd, and the kids beneath us squabble over the pieces.
当合唱开始时，伊丽莎向人群扔糖果，我们下面的孩子们为糖果而争吵。
It’s not that I don’t like being alone, exactly, but that I’ve never seemed to have much of a say in the matter.
确切地说，并不是我不喜欢独处，而是我似乎在这件事上从来没有太多发言权。
I don’t look for friendship, nor does it ever arrive.
我不寻求友谊，它也永远不会到来。
Our camp goes on field trips at least once a week.
我们的营地每周至少进行一次实地考察。
We do everything there is to do around Burnsville, Minnesota.
我们做明尼苏达州伯恩斯维尔周边能做的一切事情。
As a rule, there isn’t much.
一般来说，没有太多。
We adopt highways, pick strawberries, pull books from the library.
我们走高速公路，摘草莓，从图书馆借书。
We walk along paths with long, trigger-operated arms, picking up wrappers and cigarette butts.
我们用扳机操作的长臂沿着小路行走，捡起包装纸和烟头。
We throw water balloons at the park down the road, the sun scorching our skin shades of pink and tawny.
我们向路边的公园扔水气球，阳光将我们的皮肤晒得粉红和黄褐色。
I’ve noticed, as the months pass, that I’ve begun to lose weight; my shorts are beginning to hang at my hip bones, my T-shirts grow roomy around my belly and chest.
几个月过去了，我注意到我的体重开始减轻；我的短裤开始垂到我的髋骨处，我的 T 恤在我的腹部和胸部周围变得宽敞。
These results are a part of the goal of our day camp, which is geared toward living a “health-conscious lifestyle.” Each day we exercise past the point of exhaustion, pick at rabbity meals that lock in our deficits.
这些结果是我们日间营目标的一部分，该目标旨在过上“健康意识的生活方式”。每天我们都会锻炼到筋疲力尽的程度，然后选择兔子餐来弥补我们的赤字。
I’m not skinny yet, but even so I feel narrowed; as the summer rolls past I grow smaller and smaller.
我还不算瘦，但即便如此，我还是感觉自己变窄了；随着夏天的过去，我变得越来越小。
By the second half of July all of Burnsville turns brown.
到了七月下旬，整个伯恩斯维尔都变成了棕色。
The sun is so hot that the leaves on the trees fall, the grass stiffens and becomes sharp underfoot.
太阳太热了，树上的叶子都掉下来了，脚下的草也变硬了，变得锋利了。
It’s during one of these weeks Cascade Bay appears on the agenda, a water park located 20 minutes east of our camp.
就在这几周的某一天，喀斯喀特湾 (Cascade Bay) 出现在了我们的日程上，这是一个位于我们营地以东 20 分钟路程的水上公园。
For days we’ve been playing hot games of tag in the park, our shirts tented with sweat, our hair thrown up into ponies.
几天来，我们一直在公园里玩热辣的捉人游戏，汗水浸湿了我们的衬衫，头发扎成了小马。
The Bay is the balm that everyone has been waiting for.
海湾是每个人都在等待的香膏。
Once it appears it’s all we can talk about.
一旦它出现，我们就只能谈论它了。
“I want to do all the slides,” Eliza announces one day at lunch.
“我想做所有的幻灯片，”有一天午餐时，伊丽莎宣布。
Her voice is as loud and abrupt as a bullhorn.
她的声音像扩音器一样响亮而突然。
The three of us are sitting in a misshapen triangle, sandwiches and SunChips fanned out in our laps.
我们三个人坐在一个畸形的三角形里，三明治和太阳薯片呈扇形散落在我们的腿上。
“And the lazy river too!” Sammy replies.
“还有漂流河！”萨米回答道。
“I want to do the wave pool,” I say and the two of them stare at me.
“我想做波浪池，”我说，他们两个盯着我。
“If we have time after everything else.”
“如果我们还有时间的话。”
“Right,” Sammy says and her expression walls up.
“好吧，”萨米说，她的表情凝重起来。
The conversation reorients back to the river.
谈话又回到了河边。
We’d gone to the Bay earlier that summer, before the three of us became friends.
那年夏天早些时候，我们三人成为朋友之前，我们去了海湾。
But now that we were together everything would be different.
但现在我们在一起了，一切都会不一样了。
I resurface the memory of its gasping blue waters, the slides, the wave pool.
我重新想起了那蔚蓝的海水、滑梯、造浪池。
The anticipation of swimming whips us all in a frenzy.
对游泳的期待让我们所有人都陷入了疯狂。
We make plans we won’t stick to, design games we won’t play.
我们制定了我们不会坚持的计划，设计了我们不会玩的游戏。
“And Dan will be there!” Eliza finally shouts.
“丹也会在那里！”艾丽莎终于喊道。
The two of them clasp hands and Sammy releases a giggle.
他们两人握着手，萨米咯咯地笑起来。
Dan is the camp’s only bus driver.
丹是营地里唯一的公交车司机。
He’s an old, knobby man that everyone likes.
他是一个人人都喜欢的又老又多节的男人。
On hot days, Dan doesn’t wait on the bus.
在炎热的日子里，丹不会等公交车。
Instead, he joins the trip with the counselors and campers.
相反，他与辅导员和营员一起参加了这次旅行。
At the sound of his name my excitement deflates.
听到他的名字，我的兴奋就消退了。
Ever since becoming friends with Eliza and Sammy I’ve seen Dan often.
自从与伊丽莎和萨米成为朋友以来，我经常见到丹。
He talks to the girls as they’re boarding the bus, though he’s never attempted to say hi to me.
他在女孩们上车时与她们交谈，尽管他从未试图向我打招呼。
I can never put why I hate him into words.
我永远无法用语言来表达我恨他的原因。
It might be his old age or his wan, eyeless smile; his thin, knobby figure or his dumb, clownish laugh.
可能是因为他年事已高，也可能是因为他苍白、无眼的笑容；他瘦削、多节的身材，或者他愚蠢、小丑般的笑声。
That Eliza and Sammy could be drawn to him floors me.
伊丽莎和萨米可能会被他吸引，这让我很震惊。
Even so, Dan is universally beloved by the campers.
即便如此，丹仍然受到营员们的普遍喜爱。
On the surface, I suppose it isn’t hard to see why: He’s friendly with everyone, and seldom riles like the younger counselors.
从表面上看，我想不难看出原因：他对每个人都很友好，很少像年轻的辅导员那样生气。
Instead he bends a knee when a child comes to speak to him, cupping the hollow of his shriveled pink ear.
相反，当一个孩子过来跟他说话时，他会弯下膝盖，捂住他干瘪的粉红色耳朵的空洞。
Sammy and Eliza are among his favorite campers.
萨米和伊丽莎是他最喜欢的露营者之一。
I cannot convince them of my shapeless disdain.
我无法让他们相信我无形的蔑视。
“But he’s so nice,” Sammy tells me, then laughs her small laugh.
“但他真是太好了，”萨米告诉我，然后小声笑了起来。
She finds my hate funny and it makes me feel crazy.
她觉得我的仇恨很有趣，这让我感觉很疯狂。
I resort to standing aloof whenever they crowd him, watching the two squeal at the top of their lungs.
每当他们拥挤他时，我都会远远地站着，看着他们两个用尽全力尖叫。
But I know better than to moan about Dan.
但我知道最好不要抱怨丹。
He’s a moot point, a nuisance, and no one believes me.
他是一个有争议的问题，一个令人讨厌的人，没有人相信我。
Instead I wait for the conversation to turn.
相反，我等待谈话的转变。
Eventually Eliza brings up a dream she had last night.
最终伊丽莎说出了她昨晚的一个梦。
I watch as her brown eyes electrify, widen.
我看着她棕色的眼睛充满电，睁大了。
Her hands beat midair like two featherless wings.
她的双手像两只没有羽毛的翅膀一样在空中拍打。
“I fell really, really fast,” she says, the marbles of her temples showing.
“我摔倒得非常非常快，”她说道，太阳穴的大理石都露出来了。
“As fast as a bowling ball.
“像保龄球一样快。
I couldn’t stop.”
我无法停下来。”
She has some version of this dream every night.
她每天晚上都会做这个梦的某个版本。
New details, same ending.
新的细节，同样的结局。
She never seems to get the thing she wants out of telling us, so every day she tries to tell us again.
她似乎从来没有从告诉我们的事情中得到她想要的东西，所以每天她都试图再次告诉我们。
Beside me she sits pin-straight in her chair, her eyes wide and mouth rigid.
在我旁边，她笔直地坐在椅子上，眼睛睁得大大的，嘴巴僵硬。
She seems awake but not awake, staring down something that’s not in the room.
她似乎醒了，但又没有醒，盯着房间里不存在的东西。
Sammy nods along, elbows on the balls of her knees.
萨米点点头，手肘撑在膝盖上。
She’s interested—she always is.
她很感兴趣——她一直都很感兴趣。
Her sunny hair curtains forward, obscuring her features.
她阳光明媚的发帘向前垂，遮住了她的容貌。
Like always, I try to follow but can’t.
像往常一样，我尝试跟随，但做不到。
The details are plotless and never cohere.
细节毫无情节，而且从来不连贯。
Instead I think of the water park, the cool thrill of the waves.
相反，我想到了水上乐园，海浪带来的凉爽刺激。
All week we’ve been pent up doing nothing but sweating.
整个星期我们除了流汗之外什么也不做。
I’ve missed the fresh air, chlorine’s chemical smell.
我想念新鲜的空气和氯的化学气味。
As Eliza speaks she begins to pull apart the soft parts of her sandwich, pilling the bread into balls with her fingers.
当伊丽莎说话时，她开始撕开三明治的柔软部分，用手指将面包揉成球状。
She flicks crumbs of dough to the floor, the laminate steadily speckling.
她把面团碎屑弹到地板上，层压板上不断出现斑点。
“Do you want this?” Eliza finally asks, thrusting her sandwich my way.
“你想要这个吗？”伊丽莎终于问道，把她的三明治塞给我。
Today she has bitten it only with her fingernails, a sign of restraint that I only dream of possessing.
今天她只用指甲咬它，这是我梦想拥有的克制标志。
I stare at the sandwich.
我盯着三明治。
Apart from one end, it remains wrapped in its original film.
除了一端外，它仍然包裹在原来的薄膜中。
I don’t know why I take it—I’ve already eaten.
我不知道为什么要吃它——我已经吃过了。
My stomach is cavernous, an unfillable pit.
我的胃是一个巨大的洞穴，一个无法填满的深坑。
Eliza turns toward Sammy again while I’m eating.
我吃饭时，伊丽莎再次转向萨米。
“I don’t know what happens after that,” she says, putting an end to her story.
“我不知道之后会发生什么，”她说，结束了她的故事。
“Whenever I hit the ground I always wake up.”
“每当我落地时，我总会醒来。”
When I wake up it’s another dog day of summer, sunny and cloudless and already warm.
当我醒来时，又是一个三伏天，阳光明媚，万里无云，天气已经很温暖了。
Later that morning Eliza, Sammy, and I line up at the bus for Cascade Bay Water Park, our beach towels clutched to our chests.
那天早上晚些时候，伊丽莎、萨米和我在前往喀斯喀特湾水上乐园的巴士上排队，我们的沙滩毛巾紧紧地抱在胸前。
It’s early, 9 a.m.
时间还早，九点半
at the latest, but the heat has already descended.
最迟，但热度已经下降。
The lot smells of baked tar and dry mulch, of pipe water drying in the raised bollard planters.
这片土地上弥漫着烤焦油和干覆盖物的味道，还有高高的护柱花盆里干燥的管道水的味道。
The campers are wearing swimsuits under their clothes, the counselors green ball caps that read Empower!
营员们在衣服下穿着泳衣，辅导员则戴着绿色棒球帽，上面写着“赋能！”
Down my chest runs a lone finger of sweat, which I dab at with my towel when no one is looking.
我的胸口流下一根手指的汗水，我趁没人注意的时候用毛巾轻轻擦拭。
I hate the feeling of sweat on my body.
我讨厌身上出汗的感觉。
I hate the feeling of my body, period.
我讨厌我身体的感觉，就这样。
My swimsuit is a size too small for me, and its elastic bites down on my shoulders and groin.
我的泳衣尺码对我来说太小了，它的松紧带紧贴着我的肩膀和腹股沟。
My legs ooze through the holes like two bright loaves of dough, pitted with bruises and dry, itching scabs.
我的双腿像两条光亮的面团一样从洞里渗出来，上面布满瘀伤和干燥、发痒的痂。
From behind the paneled glass I glower at Dan, who stands in the way of our imminent shade.
我从镶板玻璃后面怒视着丹，他挡住了我们即将到来的阴影。
He is checking his mirrors with glacial slowness.
他极其缓慢地检查镜子。
Finally the bifold glass doors accordion open.
终于，双折玻璃门手风琴打开了。
Campers mount the black stairs.
露营者登上黑色楼梯。
Today Dan is wearing swim trunks and a white cotton T-shirt.
今天丹穿着泳裤和白色棉质 T 恤。
As we approach the front of the line I notice how the cloth clings to him, as if charged with some sort of static electricity.
当我们接近队列的前面时，我注意到布料是如何粘在他身上的，就像带有某种静电一样。
I spot the toothy comb of his rib cage, his hip bones, his sternum.
我发现了他的胸腔、髋骨和胸骨上的齿状梳子。
Both his shoulders articulate like the spurs of a boot.
他的双肩像靴子的马刺一样清晰可见。
When it’s our turn to board the girls race up the stairs.
轮到我们登机时，女孩们争先恐后地跑上楼梯。
Eliza has already begun shouting hello.
伊丽莎已经开始打招呼了。
“Hi!” Dan flashes a smile that seems genuine.
“你好！”丹露出了真诚的笑容。
“How are you two doing?”
“你们两个怎么样？”
Dan has never said hi to me outright.
丹从来没有直接向我打过招呼。
It’s a mutual silence, one I don’t dare try to breach.
这是一种相互的沉默，我不敢尝试打破。
I stand to the side as the line clots behind us.
当我们身后的队伍堵塞时，我站在一边。
I feel the weight in my legs at the top of the stairs.
在楼梯顶上，我感觉到双腿的重量。
A kid behind me taps me hard on the shoulder.
我身后的一个孩子用力拍了拍我的肩膀。
“Move it,” he says.
“移动它，”他说。
Other campers groan in reply.
其他露营者以呻吟声回应。
“I’m going to go grab our seat,” I say, to no one in particular.
“我要去抢座位，”我对没有特定的人说。
I shoulder past Eliza and Sammy and into the cabin.
我从伊丽莎和萨米身边走过，走进了小屋。
A steady trickle of kids follow my lead.
源源不断的孩子们跟随我的脚步。
I choose a seat toward the front where I can call to them easily.
我选择了一个靠前的座位，这样我可以轻松地打电话给他们。
In the meantime I wait and observe my friends chatting.
与此同时，我等待并观察我的朋友们聊天。
Amid the din of the campers I can’t catch any particulars; there are some gesticulations, broken fragments of sound.
在露营者的喧闹声中，我听不到任何细节。有一些手势、断断续续的声音片段。
Eliza is doing the bulk of the speaking, Sammy emitting rare yeahs of support.
伊丽莎（Eliza）负责大部分发言，萨米（Sammy）罕见地表示支持。
Beside them Dan tilts his eggy head forward, close enough now to feel the breath leave their lips.
在他们旁边，丹向前倾斜着蛋形的头，距离现在足够近，可以感觉到呼吸离开了他们的嘴唇。
It is a horrible proximity, but not one I recognize.
这是一种可怕的接近，但我不认识。
My stomach drops.
我的胃在下降。
I can’t seem to stop looking.
我似乎无法停止寻找。
“Hey!” a camp counselor finally shouts out toward the front.
“嘿！”一名营地辅导员终于向前方喊道。
“Get a move on, you two.”
“你们两个继续前进吧。”
They soon slide in beside me.
他们很快就滑到我身边。
The motor erupts to life.
电机突然启动。
The ride to Cascade Bay is miserable.
去喀斯喀特湾的旅程很痛苦。
The bus isn’t air-conditioned, and by the time we cross into Eagan, the seats are sweat-slick and musty.
巴士没有空调，当我们进入伊根时，座位上已经湿透了，还发霉了。
We open the windows as far as they go, venting hot air into the bus.
我们将车窗尽可能地打开，将热空气排入车内。
Eliza, Sammy, and I take turns wagging our hands in front of our faces.
伊丽莎、萨米和我轮流在脸前摇晃双手。
“It’s too DANG hot!” Eliza says, her version of swearing.
“太热了！”伊丽莎说，这是她的脏话。
Sammy groans and unsticks her thighs from the seat bench.
萨米呻吟着，把大腿从座椅上松开。
The two play hand-clap games in the swelter while I press my cheek to the shuddering window.
两人在闷热的天气里玩拍手游戏，而我则把脸贴在颤抖的窗户上。
My legs sag like pillows on the brown rubber seat.
我的双腿像棕色橡胶座椅上的枕头一样下垂。
I stare down in misery for the length of the ride.
我痛苦地低头凝视着这段旅程。
Sammy and Eliza, on the other hand, look frustratingly perfect: Their frames are fleshless and narrow, their suits laced like frills on a sheet cake.
另一方面，萨米和伊丽莎看起来完美得令人沮丧：他们的身材瘦削而狭窄，他们的西装像蛋糕上的褶边一样系着花边。
Later, as we step out of the bus and onto the blacktop, they smile at each other as if sharing a secret; the camaraderie of thin and beautiful girls.
后来，当我们走下公共汽车并走上柏油路时，他们互相微笑，仿佛分享着一个秘密。瘦弱而美丽的女孩们的友情。
I smile too, though at no one in particular.
我也微笑，虽然不是针对特定的人。
I am desperate to appear on the inside of the joke.
我非常渴望出现在笑话里面。
Dan tilts his eggy head forward, close enough now to feel the breath leave their lips.
丹向前倾斜着蛋形的头，距离已经足够近，可以感觉到呼吸离开了他们的嘴唇。
It is a horrible proximity, but not one I recognize.
这是一种可怕的接近，但我不认识。
My stomach drops.
我的胃在下降。
Wristbands are passed out and we walk toward the entrance.
腕带被分发出去，我们朝入口走去。
Dan drifts with the counselors beside us, though both of my friends are too busy to notice.
丹和我们旁边的辅导员一起漂流，尽管我的两个朋友都太忙而没有注意到。
And it isn’t long before I forget his company, too.
不久我也忘记了他的陪伴。
From over the fence I glimpse the lip of a tube slide, hear water gushing into the shallows.
越过栅栏，我瞥见了管道滑道的边缘，听到水涌入浅滩的声音。
Beside me, Eliza and Sammy are walking through the map of our day.
在我旁边，伊丽莎和萨米正在我们今天的地图上行走。
We have plans for the jungle gym, the slides, the sandbar.
我们有攀登架、滑梯、沙洲的计划。
Slowly I forget my body and my unflattering swimsuit.
慢慢地我忘记了自己的身体和不讨人喜欢的泳衣。
A smile surfaces, then a glow.
笑容浮现，然后是光芒。
Yes, I decide.
是的，我决定。
I will have a good day.
我会度过美好的一天。
Despite all the planning we’ve done through the week, the three of us settle on one game and one game only: dolphins.
尽管我们这一周做了很多计划，但我们三个人还是决定玩一场比赛，而且只有一场比赛：海豚。
This is how the game goes: We act like dolphins.
游戏是这样进行的：我们表现得像海豚。
We swim.
我们游泳。
We splash around in the water.
我们在水里嬉戏。
Each time we play it devolves into chaos.
每次我们玩它都会陷入混乱。
I like dolphins because it isn’t anything, really.
我喜欢海豚，因为它什么都不是，真的。
It’s just swimming.
这只是游泳而已。
Eliza’s springy hair grows glossy and wet in the water, laminated down the arch of her back.
伊丽莎弹性十足的头发在水中变得光滑而湿润，顺着她的背弓垂下来。
She drags Sammy and I through the shallows of the park, her chin high, constantly dictating the terms of a new, better game.
她拖着萨米和我穿过公园的浅滩，扬起下巴，不断地口述新的、更好的游戏的条款。
Each time, after Sammy and I have each sworn on our lives to play by the rules, the game lapses back into dolphins.
每次，当萨米和我发誓要遵守规则后，游戏就会回到海豚。
We’re just splashing again, rolling around in the water, our heads cocked to the halogen daylight.
我们又开始溅水，在水中打滚，头朝卤素日光倾斜。
Hours of the day wear on just like this.
一天的时间就这样过去了。
Open-mouthed laughter, the sensation of water and turf underfoot.
张嘴大笑，脚下有水和草皮的感觉。
When the three of us grow hungry we wander out of the pool toward the dry knoll where the camp counselors sit on coolers.
当我们三个人饿了的时候，我们就走出泳池，走向干燥的小山丘，那里的营地辅导员坐在冷却器上。
They spread out on beach towels, kick their legs into the grass, and watch the park from beneath the shade of their sunnies.
他们铺在沙滩巾上，把腿踢到草地上，在太阳镜的树荫下观看公园。
Dan has joined them; his body, thin and pernicious like a weed, sits tangled beneath the shade of a canopy tent.
丹加入了他们；他的身体像杂草一样瘦弱而有害，盘绕在天篷帐篷的阴影下。
White tufts of hair fur his scalp like a fungus.
一簇簇白色的头发像真菌一样覆盖着他的头皮。
He smiles as Sammy, Eliza, and I select our sandwiches and eat.
当萨米、伊丽莎和我选择三明治并吃时，他微笑着。
When we finally return to the water, Sammy and Eliza are officially tired of dolphins.
当我们最终回到水中时，萨米和伊丽莎正式厌倦了海豚。
I, in turn, am officially tired of them being tired of dolphins.
反过来，我也正式厌倦了他们厌倦了海豚。
We haven’t been to the wave pool, and we’ve hardly spent any time on the slides.
我们没有去过造浪池，也几乎没有花时间在滑梯上。
But they are my friends, my only friends, so I relent.
但他们是我的朋友，我唯一的朋友，所以我态度软化了。
The three of us sit along the shallows as Eliza describes the rules of a new game.
我们三个人坐在浅滩上，听伊丽莎描述新游戏的规则。
In it, she is a dolphin but also a princess, and Sammy and I are charged with saving her.
在里面，她是一只海豚，也是一位公主，我和萨米负责拯救她。
From what?
从什么？
We aren’t exactly sure.
我们不太确定。
All that we know is she’s in terrible danger.
我们只知道她正处于可怕的危险之中。
It isn’t long, however, before we are interrupted.
然而，没过多久，我们就被打断了。
At some point during Eliza’s exposition a long knife of darkness emerges overhead—its shadow casts past my knees, then my chest, then finally my eyes.
在伊丽莎阐述过程中的某个时刻，一把黑暗的长刀出现在头顶——它的影子投过我的膝盖，然后是我的胸口，最后是我的眼睛。
Our gazes slant upward.
我们的目光向上倾斜。
An egg-shaped head eclipses the heat of the sun; around us, the lightless water grows cold.
蛋形的头遮蔽了太阳的热量；在我们周围，无光的水变冷了。
“Hey girls,” Dan says, smiling.
“嘿，女孩们，”丹微笑着说道。
“How’s it going?”
“怎么样了？”
Eliza and Sammy brighten, the spell of their focus broken.
伊丽莎和萨米精神焕发，他们的注意力集中的咒语被打破了。
“Goooood,” they echo back.
“太好了，”他们回应道。
Eliza beams.
伊丽莎笑容满面。
Sammy’s eyes narrow to pins in the sunlight.
萨米的眼睛在阳光下眯成细针。
Without answering, I smile and draw a finger through the water.
我没有回答，只是微笑着将一根手指划过水面。
I’m impatient to swim again.
我迫不及待地想再次游泳。
Dan interrupts this.
丹打断了这句话。
“Just have lunch?” he says.
“刚吃午饭吗？”他说。
The girls nod and say yeah.
女孩们点头说是的。
Eliza begins to narrate our day while Sammy bobs along in agreement.
伊丽莎开始讲述我们的一天，而萨米则点头同意。
Our trip, in her mouth, sounds more fun than it has been.
在她的嘴里，我们的旅行听起来比以前更有趣。
I’m in awe of how quickly she can remake a story.
我对她能如此迅速地重新创作一个故事感到敬畏。
I watch her Tic-Tac teeth wink in the light as she speaks.
当她说话时，我看到她的井字棋牙齿在灯光下眨着眼睛。
Around us the afternoon pales in comparison.
相比之下，我们周围的下午显得黯然失色。
It smells of baking chlorine, of mildewing towels.
有烘烤氯气和发霉毛巾的味道。
The conversation wears and with it my patience.
谈话耗尽了我的耐心。
From the hard, glittering edge of the pool I watch other kids as they traipse through the water, poking their heads through the free-falling streams.
在坚硬、闪闪发光的泳池边缘，我看着其他孩子在水中漫步，把头探进自由落体的溪流中。
No one I recognize from camp is nearby.
附近没有我认识的营地里的人。
I imagine they are still eating lunch, or drifting down the lazy river, or playing their own game of dolphins.
我想象他们还在吃午饭，或者沿着漂流河漂流，或者玩自己的海豚游戏。
I begin to jiggle my leg as I wait.
在等待的过程中我开始晃动我的腿。
My agitation with Dan, and by extension Eliza and Sammy for entertaining him, is palpable.
我对丹以及伊丽莎和萨米招待他的激动是显而易见的。
After what seems like an eternity, Eliza seems to exhaust every possible avenue for conversation.
在看似永恒的时间之后，伊丽莎似乎用尽了一切可能的交谈途径。
The talk peters out.
谈话逐渐消失。
I eye Sammy, who shrugs a small shrug of enjoyment.
我看着萨米，他高兴地耸了耸肩。
She seems just as happy here as she is in the water.
她在这里看起来和在水里一样快乐。
Finally Dan clears his throat.
最后丹清了清喉咙。
His eyes draw wide circles around the park, his smile flattening.
他的眼睛在公园周围画了一大圈，笑容变得平淡。
As I watch him an old instinct plucks at my belly.
当我看着他时，一种古老的本能在我的腹部拉扯。
I notice that Dan does not seem to have any eyelashes.
我注意到丹似乎没有睫毛。
None whatsoever.
一点也没有。
His expression, as a result, appears uncomfortably naked; stripped down to its raw parts, its most vulnerable wantings.
结果，他的表情显得赤裸裸，令人不舒服。被剥离到最原始的部分，最脆弱的需求。
For whatever reason, this detail is what cements my feelings of urgency.
不管出于什么原因，这个细节增强了我的紧迫感。
I want to be free of his presence immediately.
我想立即摆脱他的存在。
“Do you guys want to go get a drink?” he says.
“你们想去喝一杯吗？”他说。
“No thanks,” I say.
“不用了，谢谢，”我说。
Sammy and Eliza lock eyes.
萨米和伊丽莎四目相对。
Immediately I am struck by the memory of our original meeting; the two girls suspended in wordless conversation, engrossed in a world I am unable to penetrate.
我立刻就被我们最初见面的记忆所震撼。两个女孩陷入无言的对话，全神贯注于一个我无法洞察的世界。
“Sure,” Eliza says.
“当然，”伊丽莎说。
I’m so irritated I nearly groan.
我很生气，几乎要呻吟起来。
As they shake water free from their legs and stand, I grab Eliza’s hand.
当他们抖掉腿上的水并站起来时，我抓住了伊丽莎的手。
I still don’t know why I do this.
我仍然不知道为什么我要这样做。
It could have been impatience, it could have been anger, it could have stemmed from fear I hadn’t learned to articulate.
这可能是不耐烦，可能是愤怒，也可能源于我还没有学会表达的恐惧。
The skin of her wrist is cool like soapstone.
她手腕上的皮肤像皂石一样冰凉。
My thumb presses hard on the throb of her pulse.
我的拇指用力按压着她的脉搏。
“Come on,” I whine.
“来吧，”我抱怨道。
She laughs at me and shakes her head.
她对我笑着摇摇头。
Dan has already begun to lead them away, Sammy trailing quickly behind.
丹已经开始带他们离开，萨米很快跟在后面。
She slips from my grasp like a thought.
她像一个念头一样从我的手中溜走。
I don’t remember seeing Eliza or Sammy again that day, though I know already that this isn’t possible.
我不记得那天再次见到伊丽莎或萨米，尽管我已经知道这是不可能的。
Perhaps I see their towels in the changing rooms, or hear their voices while waiting in line for the bus.
也许我在更衣室里看到了他们的毛巾，或者在排队等公交车时听到了他们的声音。
Perhaps we even find time to talk to each other, though details of these last conversations are lost.
也许我们甚至会抽出时间互相交谈，尽管最后谈话的细节已经丢失。
My memory offers no final flickers: When I let go of Eliza, I let go for good.
我的记忆中没有最后的闪烁：当我放开伊丽莎时，我就永远放开了。
On the bus home I sit alone, forced to wedge myself—wet, dejected—beside two other campers while Dan shuttles us back to the day camp.
在回家的巴士上，我独自一人坐着，浑身湿透，沮丧地挤在另外两名露营者旁边，而丹则送我们回日营。
I press my face to the shuddering glass.
我把脸贴在颤抖的玻璃上。
A hot blur of road passes.
道路经过时一片热模糊。
My hair dries and brittles.
我的头发又干又脆。
I’m exhausted.
我累极了。
My skin is burnt and my muscles are pulsing.
我的皮肤被烧伤，肌肉在跳动。
I huddle under my beach towel and fall into a black, thoughtless sleep.
我蜷缩在沙滩巾下，陷入了黑暗、漫不经心的睡眠中。
When my friends don’t return from their water break, I don’t go looking for them.
当我的朋友破水后没有回来时，我不会去找他们。
I don’t know that I ought to, how to listen to the feeling their absence announces.
我不知道我应该这样做，如何聆听他们的缺席所传达的感觉。
The silence that succeeds them is not jarring but soft; it’s the same one, after all, we learn to ignore our whole lives.
接下来的沉默并不刺耳，而是柔和。毕竟都是一样的，我们一生都在学着忽视。
After 10 minutes of waiting in the shallows I begin to suspect they will not return, and a swell of relief surges up through my body.
在浅滩等待了 10 分钟后，我开始怀疑他们不会回来，一种如释重负的感觉涌遍了我的全身。
The day is my own again, everything suddenly feels possible.
这一天又是我自己的了，突然感觉一切皆有可能。
I migrate to a spot Eliza and Sammy were too scared to swim, a deep stretch of pool with an untouchable bottom.
我搬到了伊丽莎和萨米不敢游泳的地方，那是一片很深的泳池，底部触不可及。
I wade to my ribs, then my shoulders, then the lobes of my ears.
我涉水到我的肋骨，然后是肩膀，然后是耳垂。
I’m standing on my toes and then I’m standing on nothing; the vinyl floor plummets, then completely falls out beneath me.
我踮起脚尖，然后就什么也没有了；乙烯基地板直线下降，然后在我脚下完全掉下来。
I dive and pop back up like a cork.
我像软木塞一样潜入水中又弹出来。
I’m gasping for breath and pumping my hands.
我气喘吁吁，挥舞着双手。
The water is dark now, the kind of blue that lacks oxygen.
现在水是黑色的，是那种缺氧的蓝色。
It’s a cool, certain color like a bruise or a vein.
它是一种很酷的特定颜色，就像瘀伤或静脉一样。
I know that I’ll have to come up with a story.
我知道我必须想出一个故事。
When I see the girls later, I will act like I lost them—a plain enough lie I know I can sell.
当我稍后见到女孩们时，我会表现得好像我失去了她们——这是一个我知道我可以推销的简单谎言。
In the meantime I luxuriate in the sudden gift of alone time, which, until this very moment, I didn’t realize I’d been missing.
与此同时，我享受着突如其来的独处时间的礼物，直到此刻，我才意识到我已经错过了。
For the first time in months I can do what I want.
几个月来我第一次可以做我想做的事。
The day relaxes open like a fist to a hand.
这一天就像握紧拳头一样放松。
She slips from my grasp like a thought.
她像一个念头一样从我的手中溜走。
I go to the water slides alone.
我一个人去滑水道。
I go to the wave pool alone.
我一个人去造浪池。
I swim and spit water and cannonball into the pool.
我游泳，把水和炮弹吐进池子里。
Eliza and Sammy become daytime ghosts, thin mirages of heat and light.
伊丽莎和萨米变成了白天的幽灵，是热和光的稀薄幻影。
I hardly think of their absence as it steadily lengthens.
随着时间的不断延长，我几乎不去想他们的缺席。
The larger it looms the less it seems to disturb me.
它越大，对我的干扰似乎就越小。
I still play dolphins, but elaborate on its rules.
我仍然玩海豚，但详细说明了它的规则。
I decide that this time I will exist at the center of the game that Eliza had described in such agonizing detail—a princess, but also a dolphin, in need of being saved.
我决定，这一次我将出现在伊丽莎所描述的如此痛苦的细节游戏的中心——一位公主，但也是一只海豚，需要被拯救。
Because there is no one to play with me, I make adaptations.
因为没有人陪我玩，所以我会进行适应。
I recast myself instead as an animal avoiding capture.
我把自己重新塑造成一只逃避捕获的动物。
Traps are set all over the park, and a hunter lurks in the darkness and waits.
公园各处都设置了陷阱，猎人潜伏在黑暗中等待着。
From structure to structure I circulate through the grounds, imagining the hunter hot on my trail.
我在场地中从一个建筑到另一个建筑循环，想象着猎人紧追不舍。
At the top of the waterslides I picture that the princess-napper—a hooded figure, an undefined malice—is only moments away.
在滑水道的顶部，我想象着公主小睡者——一个戴着兜帽的人物，一种不明的恶意——就在不远处。
Then, bam!
然后，嘭！
I slide down the tube in a frenzy, my dolphin-self gliding through the rivering water.
我疯狂地滑下管道，我的海豚自我在河水中滑行。
With feigned relief I plunge into the deep pool below, kicking my legs in broad strokes like a tail.
我假装如释重负地跳进下面的深水池里，双腿像尾巴一样用力踢着。
Each time the figure closes in, the threat is more daunting than the last.
每一次人影逼近，威胁都比上一次更令人畏惧。
Every time I make my narrow escape.
每次我都死里逃生。
I hate to admit it, later.
后来我不愿意承认这一点。
But my day is good.
但我的日子很好。
Everything about it.
关于它的一切。
Days pass, and the absence of my friends extends through to the weekend.
日子一天天过去，朋友们的缺席一直持续到周末。
In the meantime, a charge builds that no one explains.
与此同时，一项无人能解释的指控逐渐形成。
Back at camp counselors speak in low, urgent whispers.
回到营地后，辅导员们低声紧急地低声说话。
They clump by the break room, take long walks to the fountains.
他们聚集在休息室，走了很长一段路才到喷泉。
Our field trips into next week have been mysteriously canceled.
我们下周的实地考察被神秘地取消了。
No one says why and none of us asks.
没有人说为什么，我们也没有人问。
Each day the campers are left in the gym, where we do workouts together or play supervised games.
每天营员们都会留在健身房里，我们一起锻炼或在监督下玩游戏。
We run suicide sprints, play hopscotch, jump rope.
我们进行自杀冲刺、玩跳房子、跳绳。
We blare “Hips Don’t Lie” over the old FM radio.
我们通过旧的调频收音机播放“臀部不说谎”。
Around me the older girls practice their hipless gyrations, while the rest of us dance and do step-up aerobics.
在我周围，年龄较大的女孩练习无臀旋转，而我们其他人则跳舞并做有氧运动。
When it comes time for lunch I sit alone in the corner, taking small, practiced bites from my sandwich.
到了吃午饭的时间，我独自坐在角落里，熟练地吃着三明治。
“No little friends today?” a girl named Dani asks when we cross paths in the lunch line.
“今天没有小朋友吗？”当我们在午餐队伍中相遇时，一个名叫丹尼的女孩问道。
She’s a tiny, weasel-faced girl with a blunt-cut Rihanna bob.
她是一个身材娇小的、长着黄鼠狼脸的女孩，留着蕾哈娜式的钝发波波头。
She grins in my direction, her narrow incisors flashing.
她朝我的方向咧嘴一笑，狭窄的门牙闪闪发光。
I hesitate, my embarrassment frothing to anger.
我犹豫了，我的尴尬变成了愤怒。
I want to do something heinous like pour juice in her hair.
我想做一些令人发指的事情，比如把果汁倒在她的头发上。
Instead I shrug a small shrug and defeat washes over me.
相反，我耸了耸肩，失败笼罩着我。
It’s not Dani I’m angry at, but Eliza and Sammy.
我生气的不是丹尼，而是伊丽莎和萨米。
For leaving me here without explanation.
把我留在这里没有任何解释。
How could they not tell me they’d be gone for this long?
他们怎么能不告诉我他们会离开这么久呢？
We had games we had planned on, field trips we were scheduled to take.
我们有我们计划好的比赛，我们计划进行的实地考察。
The betrayal is soon the only thing I can think of.
背叛很快就成为我唯一能想到的事情。
My friends are like pulled teeth, their voids bloody and fresh.
我的朋友们就像拔掉的牙齿，他们的空虚鲜血淋漓。
For the next week all I seem to be able to do is mope around camp.
接下来的一周，我似乎能做的就是在营地里闷闷不乐。
I do not join group activities.
我不参加集体活动。
I hide in the bathroom.
我躲在浴室里。
The counselors seem too busy to notice.
辅导员们似乎太忙了，没有注意到。
In the meantime I obsess over how I’ll demand restitution.
与此同时，我一直在思考如何要求赔偿。
I won’t share my SunChips, I’ll sit in the window seat through August.
我不会分享我的 SunChips，整个八月我都会坐在靠窗的座位上。
Anything to make them pay for their crimes.
任何能让他们为自己的罪行付出代价的事情。
But these efforts prove pointless; they don’t show up.
但事实证明这些努力毫无意义。他们没有出现。
I never see Eliza or Sammy again.
我再也没有见过伊丽莎或萨米。
My childhood home is full of tile that runs from entry to kitchen to hallway.
我童年的家从入口到厨房再到走廊都铺满了瓷砖。
I remember the touch of cool stone under my feet that night, my mother in the kitchen with a knife and a cutting board.
我记得那天晚上我脚下踩着冰凉的石头，母亲在厨房里拿着刀和切菜板。
She is fixing something simple for a 6 o’clock dinner.
她正在为六点钟的晚餐准备一些简单的东西。
Her hair is a dry, golden color like wheat chaff or flax.
她的头发是干燥的金色，像麦壳或亚麻一样。
She is singing so softly it sounds like a whisper.
她的歌声如此轻柔，听起来就像耳语一样。
I pull up a chair to our kitchen island and watch her.
我拉了一把椅子到我们的厨房岛边看着她。
This is so often our posture—her cooking, my watching—that I don’t originally notice the tension that hangs in the air.
这常常是我们的姿势——她做饭，我观看——以至于我最初并没有注意到空气中弥漫的紧张气氛。
At some point the song stops.
在某个时刻，歌曲停止了。
The knife is laid supine on the cutting board.
刀仰卧在切菜板上。
My mother clears her throat and I feel her eyes narrow on me.
我妈妈清了清喉咙，我感觉到她眯起眼睛看着我。
“Natalie,” she says, as if beginning a missive.
“娜塔莉，”她说道，就像开始一封信一样。
Our eyes meet across the island and I can see I’m in some sort of trouble.
我们的目光在岛上相遇，我发现我遇到了麻烦。
“What?” I ask, which is short for what did I do?
“什么？”我问，这是我做了什么的缩写？
I wait for some harbinger of her anger, but nothing arrives.
我等待着她愤怒的预兆，但什么也没有到来。
Instead my mother softens.
相反，我的母亲态度软化了。
Her face grows sad and expressive, her lips pressed together with feeling.
她的脸变得悲伤而富有表情，嘴唇因感情而紧闭。
“Did you hear what happened last week at your camp?”
“你听说上周在你的营地发生的事情了吗？”
I don’t understand what she means by this question.
我不明白她问这个问题的意思。
Nothing has happened at camp, at least nothing out of the ordinary.
营地里没有发生任何事情，至少没有发生任何异常。
I frown and shake my head in reply.
我皱着眉头，摇摇头作为回答。
For a moment my mother’s face seems to flatten, the tension removed from the stoop in her brow.
有那么一会儿，我母亲的脸似乎变平了，眉毛上的紧张也消失了。
A kind of practiced composure, if not relief, crosses her features.
她的脸上流露出一种熟练的镇静，甚至是宽慰。
She begins describing an email she received earlier from the camp organizers.
她开始描述她早些时候从营地组织者那里收到的一封电子邮件。
Dan, the camp’s bus driver, had done a bad thing to some girls on our trip to the water park.
丹，营地的巴士司机，在我们去水上公园的路上对一些女孩做了坏事。
He has been arrested, she says, and was fired shortly thereafter.
她说，他被捕了，不久后就被解雇了。
Here she pauses, as if waiting to see how the information will land.
说到这里，她停了下来，仿佛在等待信息如何落地。
It doesn’t.
事实并非如此。
Or, at least, not the way she seems to expect it to.
或者，至少，不是她所期望的那样。
I wait for her to say more, but no information arrives.
我等她再说更多，但没有任何信息。
The room feels suddenly cavernous, carnivorous.
房间突然给人一种巨大的、肉食性的感觉。
There is a small lease of blood from where my father cut the venison earlier, pink and round like the petal of a flower, that has pooled and dried in the grain of our cutting board.
父亲早些时候切鹿肉的地方有一小块血迹，呈粉红色，圆形，像花瓣一样，在我们切菜板的纹理中积聚并干燥。
Its mark looks something like my very first period, the stain on my linens when I woke in the morning.
它的痕迹看起来有点像我的第一次月经，即我早上醒来时床单上的污渍。
I study it now like I studied it then, wondering which part of my life it foreclosed.
我现在像以前一样研究它，想知道它剥夺了我生活的哪一部分。
My mother seems to find some aspect of my confusion relieving.
我母亲似乎发现我的困惑在某些方面得到了缓解。
She sighs.
她叹了口气。
Slowly her expression walls up, along with the sadness that lingers behind it.
慢慢地，她的表情变得凝重起来，背后还有挥之不去的悲伤。
I feel guilty and sick but I cannot say why.
我感到内疚和恶心，但我说不出为什么。
I don’t tell her about the park that day, at least nothing of particular substance.
那天我没有告诉她关于公园的事，至少没有告诉她任何具体的内容。
Instead I am lost in my own recollections.
相反，我迷失在自己的回忆中。
I think about Dan, the water, the girls.
我想到丹、水、女孩们。
About the part of the story I now hold and can’t share.
关于我现在掌握但无法分享的故事部分。
A silence opens up like a trap door between us.
沉默像活板门一样在我们之间打开。
“It’s a shame,” my mother finally says.
“这真是太遗憾了，”我母亲最后说道。
“It’s really a shame.”
“真是可惜了。”
I can see she has nothing left to tell or ask.
我看得出她没什么可说或可问的。
Her eyes return to the cutting board, her hand to the knife.
她的目光又回到了切菜板上，手又回到了刀子上。
The two of us sink into the quiet of the room.
我们两个人陷入了房间的安静之中。
I think: some girls.
我想：一些女孩。
And then I think: a bad thing.
然后我想：这是一件坏事。
I am lucky, as each of these phrases means something imprecise.
我很幸运，因为这些短语中的每一个都意味着一些不精确的东西。
I fix my eyes on my mother, my mouth dry and insensate, and my thoughts peter out.
我凝视着母亲，口干舌燥，失去知觉，思绪渐渐消失。
Some girls and a bad thing.
有些女孩是一件坏事。
What could have possibly happened?
可能发生了什么？
I think about Eliza and her small, perfect wrist.
我想起了伊丽莎和她那小而完美的手腕。
The way that she laughed and the way that I didn’t.
她笑的方式和我不笑的方式。
From the stool I can’t touch the floor underneath me.
从凳子上我无法接触到我下面的地板。
Some girls and a bad thing.
有些女孩是一件坏事。
It’s a phrase that’s so empty it nearly means nothing.
这是一个空洞的短语，几乎没有任何意义。
For years I don’t think of it again.
多年来我不再想起这件事。
I spend the remainder of camp that summer socially unmoored, drifting from activity to activity.
那年夏天营地剩下的时间里，我在社交上无所事事，从一个活动转到另一个活动。
I exhaust the stockpiled step aerobics videos, rehearsing the routines I see on the screen.
我用完储存的踏步健美操视频，排练我在屏幕上看到的动作。
I always marvel at the beautiful women, their sinewy television bodies bedazzled in sparkling outfits.
我总是惊叹于那些美丽的女人，她们在电视上的健美身材穿着闪闪发光的衣服，令人眼花缭乱。
I mime their movements and imagine myself as their glitzy, bouncing counterpart.
我模仿他们的动作，把自己想象成他们闪闪发光、跳跃的对手。
I will not be, cannot be, fat and ugly forever.
我不会、也不可能永远又胖又丑。
My adult self, whose waist is as thin as a branch, whose eyes glitter and roll in her sockets, waits for me somewhere in the darkness beyond.
成年后的我，腰细如树枝，眼睛在眼窝里闪闪发光，在黑暗中的某个地方等待着我。
It is unclear how one self will connect to the next, or what hurdle between girl and woman remains.
目前尚不清楚一个自我将如何与另一个自我联系起来，也不清楚女孩和女人之间还存在什么障碍。
Still I am certain it is there waiting for me, each day its threat drawing closer and closer.
但我仍然确信它就在那儿等着我，它的威胁每天都在逼近。
My future.
我的未来。
A door that shuts tightly behind me.
一扇在我身后紧紧关上的门。
The names and faces of my friends quickly lose definition.
我朋友的名字和面孔很快就失去了定义。
They begin to exist only in concept—two girls who are, then aren’t.
她们开始只存在于概念中——两个女孩曾经存在过，后来又不存在了。
I finish out the summer at camp, and then—at the time, inexplicably—it closes for good.
我在夏令营结束了整个夏天，然后——当时，令人费解的是——夏令营永远结束了。
On my last day a counselor hands me a pile of old merchandise.
在我的最后一天，一位辅导员递给我一堆旧商品。
Basketball shorts, T-shirts, branded lanyards, and socks.
篮球短裤、T 恤、品牌挂绳和袜子。
Clothing sags over the lip of my elbows.
衣服从我的肘部垂下来。
I climb into my mother’s car that afternoon like it’s Christmas day.
那天下午，我像圣诞节一样爬进妈妈的车。
Nearly two decades later, when I turn 29 years old, I sit down and unravel what’s left of the story.
近二十年后，当我 29 岁的时候，我坐下来解开这个故事的剩余部分。
Or, what minuscule part of it I currently hold.
或者说，我目前持有的那一小部分。
The girls are unfindable on account of their ages, but records of Dan are all over the internet: He’s in the courthouse directory, case texts, the news.
由于年龄的原因，这些女孩无法找到，但丹的记录遍布互联网：他在法院名录、案件文本、新闻中。
The single report is slim, falling just under 200 words.
这份报告很薄弱，不到 200 字。
Camp bus driver guilty in sex case.
营地巴士司机在性案件中犯有罪。
On the Department of Corrections website I find Dan’s mugshots.
在惩教署网站上，我找到了丹的照片。
One is a front-facing view and the other a profile.
一张是正面视图，另一张是侧面图。
He is wearing a white T-shirt like the day I last saw him, he has a dowager’s hump and two dead, bombed-out eyes.
他穿着一件白色T恤，就像我上次见到他的那天一样，他有一个寡妇的驼背和两只死气沉沉的、被炸毁的眼睛。
I spot a twist on his mouth that suggests he is smirking, but it’s an insincere asymmetry that does not touch his features.
我发现他嘴角的扭曲表明他在傻笑，但这种不真诚的不对称并没有触及他的特征。
I stare for a while, not that it helps me.
我盯着看了一会儿，但这对我没有帮助。
Trying to draw anything from these photographs—if indeed that is what I am doing—is like trying to let blood from a stone.
试图从这些照片中汲取任何东西——如果这确实是我正在做的事情的话——就像试图从石头上放血一样。
His nose is a little straighter, I suppose, than I originally remember it.
我想，他的鼻子比我最初记忆中的鼻子要直一些。
But beyond this, he is my memory’s striking identical.
但除此之外，他和我的记忆惊人地一模一样。
When I look at his face all I see is an absence.
当我看着他的脸时，我看到的只是缺席。
My friends are not here nor in this website’s vicinity.
我的朋友不在这里也不在该网站附近。
To use Dan as their coordinate was an insult, a wrong.
用丹作为他们的坐标是一种侮辱，一种错误。
I stop searching for Dan, and with him the girls.
我不再寻找丹，也不再寻找他和女孩们。
For months I lay the story to rest.
几个月来，我一直把这个故事搁置一边。
It’s during this time I sign up for a pottery class near my apartment.
正是在这段时间，我报名参加了我公寓附近的陶艺班。
Sessions are held out of a drafty brick warehouse in the brewery district.
会议在啤酒区一个通风良好的砖仓库外举行。
After the last class each evening an open studio follows, which—as it so happens—only I seem to attend.
每天晚上最后一堂课之后，都会有一个开放的工作室，碰巧只有我参加。
I spend many nights at the studio, in the dark, by myself.
我在工作室里度过了很多个夜晚，在黑暗中，独自度过。
I like the work, the alone time, the beer that I bring.
我喜欢工作、独处的时间、我带来的啤酒。
Still my pots, despite practice, are lumpy and terrible.
尽管经过练习，我的花盆仍然凹凸不平，而且很糟糕。
Over the course of 10 weeks I miss nearly every class milestone: I don’t make a mug or a candlestick, a plate or a chip bowl.
在这 10 周的时间里，我几乎错过了每一个班级里程碑：我不制作杯子或烛台、盘子或薯片碗。
Instead I practice the same, fledgling shapes I once attempted in my girlhood.
相反，我练习了我在少女时代曾经尝试过的相同的、刚刚起步的形状。
It’s in these dark, failing hours that the two girls return to me.
正是在这些黑暗、失败的时刻，两个女孩回到了我身边。
I feel them in the sensation of each structure collapsing, the wobbling cavities my clay builds to surround.
我在每一个结构倒塌的感觉中感受到它们，在我的粘土建造的围绕着摇晃的空腔的感觉中。
I remember the beach where the three of us met: the soft, glittering edge of horizon, the grass stiff and yellow and hungry for shade.
我记得我们三人相遇的海滩：地平线的柔软、闪闪发光的边缘，草地又硬又黄，渴望阴凉。
For years I have wondered if we were better off never meeting—had I never abandoned them, nor learned the shape of their absence.
多年来，我一直在想，如果我没有抛弃他们，也没有了解他们缺席的情况，我们永远不见面是否会更好。
It’s a difficult question, inflected both by my guilt and my sadness.
这是一个很难回答的问题，我的内疚和悲伤都影响着这个问题。
The hole that they left is one I’m not sure I can fill.
他们留下的漏洞是我不确定能否填补的漏洞。
Weeks pass, and so do nights at the studio.
几周过去了，工作室里的夜晚也过去了。
Nearly every pot I make I promptly destroy.
几乎我做的每一个罐子我都会立即毁掉。
It’s a skill issue, one that my teacher calls “centering.” It’s as impossible to learn as it is to teach.
这是一个技能问题，我的老师称之为“居中”。学习和教学一样不可能。
Before coning the clay walls, the clay body must find the middle of the wheel’s spinning surface—any small variation and the pot may wobble or collapse.
在对粘土壁进行锥化之前，粘土体必须找到轮子旋转表面的中间——任何微小的变化，锅都可能会摇晃或倒塌。
You’ll just know, my teacher says when I ask her for tips.
当我向老师寻求建议时，你就会知道。
I spend the next several weeks perfecting this skill.
我在接下来的几周里完善了这项技能。
When the clay body nears center, I collapse it and start over.
当粘土体接近中心时，我将其折叠并重新开始。
And my teacher is right.
我的老师是对的。
I really do know it when I feel it.
当我感觉到的时候我真的知道了。
When I finally reach center it’s a physical truth, like tuning an instrument or striking a jab.
当我最终到达中心时，这是一个物理事实，就像调整乐器或出拳一样。
The clay spins in a perfect brown circle beneath me, its edges softened with water and the folds of my hands.
粘土在我下方旋转成一个完美的棕色圆圈，它的边缘被水和我双手的褶皱软化了。
I try again and I lose it.
我再试一次，但我输了。
I try again and succeed.
我再试一次并成功了。
I make a pot and destroy it, then return to center again.
我做了一个罐子并摧毁了它，然后再次回到中心。
It is the first time, since starting, that I enjoy making pottery.
自从开始制作陶器以来，这是我第一次享受到制作陶器的乐趣。
It’s no longer about the pots, but the process behind them.
重点不再是罐子，而是罐子背后的过程。
I really do know it when I feel it.
当我感觉到的时候我真的知道了。
When I finally reach center it’s a physical truth, like tuning an instrument or striking a jab.
当我最终到达中心时，这是一个物理事实，就像调整乐器或出拳一样。
I think of my afternoon spent with Eliza and Sammy, our pots as ugly and thick-walled and caved in as the next.
我想起我和伊丽莎和萨米一起度过的下午，我们的罐子和下一个一样丑陋、壁厚、凹陷。
It wasn’t the pottery we enjoyed, but the shaping, the friendship slowly building between us.
我们喜欢的不是陶器，而是塑造过程，以及我们之间慢慢建立的友谊。
There was the wind pushing inland and dappled light overhead, the rippling water and the prattle of children.
风吹向内陆，头顶上斑驳的阳光、碧波荡漾的水面和孩子们的叽叽喳喳声。
We’d walked to the bus together, later, with our arms hooked at the elbows.
后来，我们双臂勾在肘部，一起走向公交车。
Nothing was kept beyond the laughter between us.
我们之间除了笑声之外什么也没有保留。
I come to realize that there is no vacancy, no loss that still asks to be filled: I have never forgotten the friendship they showed me.
我逐渐意识到，没有任何空缺、没有任何损失需要填补：我从未忘记他们向我展示的友谊。
As I read through Dan’s court documents, I find myself wondering which details I have chosen to push to the center, which lopsided facts no longer belong.
当我阅读丹的法庭文件时，我发现自己想知道我选择将哪些细节推到中心，哪些不平衡的事实不再属于其中。
For years I have sought out Eliza and Sammy, both online and in my own failing memory, believing that to recover their story is to recover parts of my own.
多年来，我一直在网上和我自己的记忆中寻找伊丽莎和萨米，相信恢复他们的故事就是恢复我自己的部分故事。
But this principle no longer seems as true as it once did, and—despite my failed efforts—I feel no closer to the girls than I did as a child.
但这条原则似乎不再像以前那样正确，而且——尽管我的努力失败了——我感觉自己和女孩们的关系并不比小时候更亲近。
The truth slowly dawns that it might not be their story I’m seeking, but one of my own that precludes their perspectives entirely.
真相慢慢浮现，我寻找的可能不是他们的故事，而是我自己的故事，完全排除了他们的观点。
I sit down one night and try to write it again, picturing the girls as they once were: fiery and thrilling and ebullient and kind.
有一天晚上，我坐下来尝试重新写一遍，描绘出她们曾经的样子：火热、令人兴奋、热情洋溢、善良。
I want to believe that in writing everything down—from the beginning of my memories to the end of them—I can find something honest in my own raw material.
我愿意相信，在写下一切的过程中——从记忆的开始到记忆的结束——我可以在自己的原始材料中找到一些诚实的东西。
Things return first in piecemeal, then a deluge.
事情首先是零散地回归，然后是洪水般的回归。
I remember Dan’s translucent skin, his dry, crackling laughter.
我记得丹半透明的皮肤，还有他干巴巴、噼啪作响的笑声。
The smallness of a wrist in my hand, and the appalling smallness of its disappearance—carrying no heft at all, the easiest thing to let go of.
手腕在我手中的渺小，以及消失时的小得惊人——毫无分量，是最容易放手的东西。
It isn’t the girls that I think of now, but the girl that I once was: tugging at her swimsuit, her eyes burning and red with chlorine.
我现在想到的不是那些女孩，而是曾经的我：拉着泳衣，她的眼睛因氯而灼热而通红。
She is drifting to the deeper end of the pool, her feet losing traction on the blue floor beneath her.
她正漂向泳池的更深处，双脚失去了脚下蓝色地板的牵引力。
She is swimming alone and her two friends are gone.
她正在独自游泳，而她的两个朋友却不见了。
The meaning of their absence, its importance, eludes her.
她不明白他们缺席的意义及其重要性。
It is this spectacular innocence upon which I find myself fixated, this final luxury of girlhood letting slip through my hands.
我发现自己着迷的正是这种令人惊叹的纯真，少女时代最后的奢华从我手中溜走。
A meaning emerges, comes slowly to center.
一种意义浮现出来，慢慢地成为中心。
It isn’t the girls I discover, but just one girl, just me.
我发现的不是那些女孩，而是一个女孩，只有我。
As I am writing I ask myself this: Does it make any difference at all, putting words to the thing, hitching language to its swift, slippery undertow?
当我写作时，我问自己：用文字表达事物，将语言拴在其快速、滑溜的暗流中，这有什么区别吗？
Can words do a single thing I have been asking of them: heal a guilt that has already calcified, rescue girls who are already women?
言语能否完成我一直要求她们做的一件事：治愈已经僵化的罪恶感，拯救已经是女人的女孩？
Rescue myself?
救我自己？
There was a pit on a beach, a tree with roots in the sand.
海滩上有一个坑，一棵树的根扎在沙子里。
There was a bus with a glass door.
有一辆带有玻璃门的公共汽车。
There was blood on a flat sheet.
床单上有血迹。
There were three girls arranged in a triangle, sandwiches in hand, chlorine water drying to sugar in their hair.
三个女孩排成三角形，手里拿着三明治，头发上的氯水被烘干成糖。
The entire day was ahead of them.
一整天的时间就在他们面前。
They stood together, lined up shoulder to shoulder, their feet pink shells.
他们站在一起，肩并肩地站成一排，脚上有粉红色的贝壳。
They ran toward the open water.
他们跑向开阔的水域。
N.C.
北卡罗来纳州
Happe is a memoirist currently residing in Chicago.
哈佩是一位回忆录作家，目前居住在芝加哥。
Her recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in Kenyon Review, Ninth Letter, Guernica, and Indiana Review, among others.
她最近的作品已经或即将发表在《凯尼恩评论》、《第九封信》、《格尔尼卡》和《印第安纳评论》等杂志上。
N.C.
北卡罗来纳州
is the grateful recipient of the 2025 Luminarts Fellowship in Prose, the StoryStudio Chicago Emerging Writer’s Award, and the 2024 Disquiet International Literary Prize.
是 2025 年 Luminarts 散文奖、StoryStudio 芝加哥新兴作家奖和 2024 年不安国际文学奖的获奖者。
Editor: Krista StevensCopyeditor: Cheri Lucas Rowlands
编辑：克里斯塔·史蒂文斯文案编辑：Cheri Lucas Rowlands