“They divorce?” Lauren said.
“Yeah.”
“I want to be a camp counselor when I’m older,” Lauren said. “It’s the best job in the world. Dad says it’s a great way to build character or something, but I don’t care about that. I love being away from them.”
Something far at the corner of my eye moved. Or was I imagining things? If we were caught out of bed after hours, we’d get into trouble. They’d tell our parents, and then when I got home, I’d be grounded, ruining the few days with my parents before school. Holding my breath, I came to a standstill. Lauren gripped both of our wrists and dragged us into the woods to hide behind the first line of trees. Something tumbled against the trail, the stone crumbling beneath quick footsteps.
Without so much as a word, Mike raised one finger and pointed up. We climbed the skeleton of the trees. Once we stilled, there was no more rustling of the leaves. The trees stood eerily still in the summer air. In between my shallow and quick breaths, there was a sharp scent of soil. Trying to deepen my breathing, I concentrated on the ground, where the dirt around the tree was lumpy with roots, and tried ignoring the part of the branch that cut through my cotton shirt.
I was overcome with dizziness and when I closed my eyes my thoughts spun round and around in circles. I’d never climbed this high in my life. My knees and hands needed to touch the dirt, but my shaking limbs wouldn’t let that happen. Over the sound of my heart thumping I couldn’t hear what Lauren or Mike said to me. When I did manage to peek over at them, they were descending from the tree. No words tumbled out of my mouth to ask for help, and they didn’t offer.
When I finally dared to attempt to get down by myself, I reached up to grab the branch above me to keep myself steady and saw a wasps’ nest. If I moved, they would wake up and sting me to death. I was deathly allergic.
Lauren and Mike left me to suffer for hours up in that tree, and to no surprise, it started to rain.
The crickets’ chirps guaranteed it, after all.
I startled myself awake gasping from that memory/nightmare. My body’s normal response to stress was napping, but now I had to work on getting out of the toolshed, working in the dark because my phone was at ten percent. I had shoved it in my bra, considering our uniform shorts didn’t have pockets.
“This, this is why I hate camping.”
Three
I managed to escape the toolshed after thirty minutes, and meandered around the nearly deserted camp. I headed to the check-in point where we registered, outside the main building. Grabbing my luggage, I noticed a plastic bag with a mattress protector and sheets, and another with brand-new swimming gear. My mom had planned this to the smallest of details.
A prickling sensation appeared at the base of my neck. A sense of danger lurked when that shiver appeared. The first time I’d felt that rush of anxiety was the night Lauren and Mike left me to fend for myself in the tree. Now it was a nonsensical terror as it was the middle of the day, yards away from the outskirts of camp where the trees stood, but it wasn’t something that logic could remedy.
Trying my best to look as casual as possible, I met the eyes of a few worn-
out strangers fixated through a window of the recreation building. I should have stayed in the shed—that was a far better option than listening to whatever instructions, camp spirit, or other garbage spilled from that room.
Abandoning all intentions of actually attending the welcome session, I slipped into my cabin, after searching for it for ten minutes because I forgot which numbers belonged to the Beavers.
“Here, let me help you with that.” The sudden voice made me jump.
“I think I can—nope. It’s an impossible feat.” When I turned around, there stood a frail-looking pixie-like person with short, spiky hair. “I might be the least athletically inclined person ever to exist, but even I could flick you away with my thumb.”
“I’m sensing a challenge.”
Compared to the bag, she was tiny. “Are you considering accepting?”
The girl snatched it from my grasp and held it like it weighed nothing at all, leaving me with my mouth gaping open. She leapt into the air to plop the bag into the compartment above my bunk, then she hopped back down with a broad grin.
“You might want to sit down,” she suggested, amusement evident. “People tend to get testy when standing. And we can’t have that grouchiness during our first-impression stages.”
“And after we’ve gone through that hell?”
“Be your typical grouchy self.” She had mad psychic abilities. “You have that look about you. That aura. I dig it.”
Up I went via the ladder to the bunk, and the girl flitted up next to me, eventually pulling my pillow onto her lap. I folded my hoodie next to me and muttered to myself, “I solemnly swear not to judge a book by its cover again.”
“That might save you a lot of time,” she agreed.
“You’re judging me right now,” I accused.
The girl placed a hand over her heart and broke into tinkling laughter. “I have a feeling we’re going to be the best of friends, Emma.”
“How do you know my name?”
Deadly serious, she said, “I’m a psychic.”
“Wait, what?”
“Relax.” She flicked a tag on my hoodie. “Name tag on your clothing?”
“It says Lane,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“You were in my year at school. You sat in front of me in home economics. Always made me tie your apron. Never could return the favor, Ms. Lane, but you always let me sample your food, and it was always amazing.”
One of the side effects of deep depression was memory loss, so I wasn’t surprised I didn’t remember her. “Nice to see you again . . .”
“Gwen,” she filled in for me. “No one takes notice of me at school. It’s Gwen Black.”
“Nice to meet you again. If it helps, I barely even noticed myself then.”
“I can understand bizarre tendencies. After all, I am from a rather insane family. And that’s being polite. But this, name tagging clothes? No, this doesn’t make sense. You must explain.”
“You never know when someone might want to claim something as theirs,” I said.
“That’s your reason? I don’t see you being at all devoted to the art of clothes shopping.”
“It’s a travel day.” I looked down at the camp clothing, then at the grey sweatpants I had previously worn, tossed on my other pillow.
“Speaking of, why aren’t you at the assembly?” Gwen asked.