The girls in Redwood knew something was amiss the moment they returned to their cabin, but their counselor Lee Anne already had the scoop. “Check your stuff. Ponderosa’s raided us,” and Marge saw that a pair of her panties were missing, the same as everyone.

“It means we’re challenged to a Freestyle,” explained Lee Anne, as if it were a scheduled camp activity. “They’ve already chosen Martin,” though how she already knew that, didn’t make sense to Marge.

Marge had heard rumors, but had thought them to be jokes. A representative from a girl’s cabin wrestles a representative from a boys’ cabin. They can do whatever they want to each other until one surrenders, and the winner gets to finish what he’s been doing, the “he’s” because everybody knows the boy’s going to win, but the rules can’t say that. The loser’s allowed to show off a little, it not being her fault.

You have to stay on a blanket. If you get off, those from the other cabin can touch you wherever they like until you get back on.

As for him getting to finish what he’d been doing, there were various opinions. Everyone agreed that it included feeling you up, Most agreed that you’d for sure lose your bra. Some, your panties, but maybe that depended on the boy.

There was also a difference of opinion regarding how much the loser got to do back. Your hand on his fly seemed to be a no-brainer, but getting inside it caused a few —Marge included — to have concern.

Lee Ann and Tony, the Ponderosa counselor, would act as refs, and throw a top blanket over things, should the Freestyle get to that point. Marge was unsure if the contestants would then have sex, though she knew most of her friends weren’t opposed to the possibility. The longer you hold out, they said, the more chance he’ll have to do it. If so, there’ll be a truce to put on a condom. The refs will have them. That part made sense to Marge, as everything at camp — canoeing, archery, whatever — had to be done safely.

If you want some for practice, she’d heard, ask the camp nurse, but don’t ask for a bunch or you’ll also get a speech. Never use one the boy brings because he’s probably run a pin through the package.

Last year, Marge heard, the girl ref spent too much time checking if the boy had it on correctly and he came while she was checking, and they had to do a rematch after the next campfire.

If the boy makes you come, everybody agreed that you should say you were just faking. Marge wasn’t clear on why you’d fake it, but she’d also heard that you should until you got better at it. If you make the boy come on the blanket, though, you have proof who won. They say that if you look at the blanket, you can see proof that the girl sometimes, in fact, wins.

But that wasn’t all. Some said that the campers from the losing cabin get blindfolded and those from the winning cabin get 30 seconds to do what they want. The refs count it down and the ones from the winning side run back to their group before the losing side can remove their blindfolds.

It would be weird, Marge thought, to be talking to some boy the next day, not knowing if he’d been the one under your sweatshirt. Or had the match turned out differently, talking to a boy, him not knowing it was you who’d felt his penis.

Some said that the refs have sex afterward, plus any of the w who want to, but Marge doubted that any of the boys would think to ask her. She’d say no, of course, but it would be fun to be asked.

If she were the contestant, she’d like her opponent to be Greg. When they’d done mess hall duty, she’d bent to clean the table and let him see her bra. They’d talked about their schools and it turned out that they’d both be taking Spanish 3. He’d said he liked her headband; it looked Scandinavian. She’d worn it and let him see her bra again on the hike to Jumping Jack Ridge. She’d not represent her cabin, though, because others were more popular.

Lee Anne proved this to be the case, turning toward Redwood’s best boy-baiter, “How about you, Jill? You’ll know how to pull an upset.”

Jill played basketball, but while most basketball players are flat, she had great boobs. Most of all, though, everybody knew that she was hot for Martin, who Ponderosa would pick.

Oh well, decided Marge. I really didn’t want to because I’d mess up.

That evening, the Redwood girls headed to meet their Ponderosa foes behind archery in a clearing festooned with the purloined panties, Marge’s Penny’s near the middle.

“Come on Jill, nail his ass,” one of the girls encouraged, as Tony spread the blanket over the pine needles.

“Hey Martin, hers is free tonight,” one of the boys countered, Marge thinking it to be rude.