by Mary McCoy
But then again, if they forfeited now, they would have lost and it would be over. Kadie ran scenarios in her mind, trying to think of an angle Cressida had overlooked.
While she was thinking, though, Dora spoke up.
“We’ll do it,” she said.
Cressida tried her best to conceal her excitement while slow smiles spread over Vivian and Kimber’s faces. Even if they didn’t win the All-Camp Sport & Follies, at least they were going to get a better look at the canopied terraces and shining glass edifices of the Inge F. Yancey Young Executives Leadership Camp. Kadie’s expression was harder to read, and maybe she alone was considering that this might not be the safest decision.
The girls from Cabin 1 followed the Inge F. Yancey campers back to the main road where their private cars were waiting. There was much eye rolling and complaining as it was determined that several of the Yancey campers would have to share cars in order to accommodate the girls from Camp So-and-So. At last, two agreed to double up, and the Cabin 1 girls squeezed themselves into the extra car, four in the backseat and Kadie up front, quaking with nerves and anticipation. She’d seen the Inge F. Yancey Young Executives Leadership Camp from across the lake and had actually set foot on its boat dock earlier, but beyond that, it was a mystery to her.
Their driver regarded them with indifferent, hooded eyes and stubbed out a cigar on the dirt path before getting into the driver’s seat. Unlike the Inge F. Yancey campers’ drivers, he did not hold the doors open for them. They traveled down the long, unnecessarily winding road until they came to a turnoff that none of them had spotted before and that almost certainly had not been there when their parents dropped them off at camp. The driver, who had thus far been silent, stopped the car and handed them each a small black sack.
“I’ll have to ask that you place these over your heads as we enter the facility,” he said, and cracked his knuckles in a way that suggested there would be repercussions if they resisted.
While the experience was humiliating and more than a little bit frightening, the fabric was a brushed Egyptian cotton, a very high thread count and extremely gentle on the skin, the girls had to admit.
After ten minutes of driving, the car came to a stop. They heard the driver roll down his window and punch a series of buttons on a keypad, each one emitting a different tone. Then they heard the mechanical whir that must have been the gates opening because the car began to move again.
“You may remove the sacks,” the man said.
When they did, they saw that they were approaching the stables, which had been built to resemble a petite Tudor lodge with a slate roof and a cobblestone walkway leading up to sturdy double oak doors. The entire thing was surrounded by an English rose garden that was at its peak blossoming. As they got out of the car, Kadie and Cressida tried to keep their bedazzlement in check. Neither of them had expected anything so grand.
Inside, a snide-looking groom led them down a corridor with walls tiled in mosaic that depicted scenes of the historical legacy of horsemanship over the course of ten centuries. Their sneakers squeaked on the granite floors. The horses’ stalls were varnished teak, intricately carved with leaves and angels. The horses themselves were sleek, muscled creatures from storied lineages. They were not summer camp nags meant for nothing grander than a trot down a forest trail. They had been bred to be champions. Cedar shavings, heather, and hay lined the floors, creating an intoxicating aroma that was not the slightest bit horsey.
A Note from the Narrator: All the horses at the Inge F. Yancey Young Executives Leadership Camp were shampooed daily, and sprigs of lavender were braided into their manes afterward.
The snide groom guided them outside, where a lush pasture unfolded for acres over gently rolling hills, a sparkling little stream bubbling through it. Ron and Tania stood waiting to greet them, their minions crowded around them. Off to the side, the three judges murmured amongst themselves, largely ignoring the rest of the proceedings.
“Welcome,” Tania said with all the warmth of the alpine tundra. “We’re so glad to have you here.”
“If you’ll come this way, we’ll show you the course,” Ron said, motioning toward a hedge-lined footpath. “Of course, we favor a slightly more refined style of riding here, though I’m sure you’ll have no trouble adapting to it.”
They wound through a labyrinth of hedges, marveling at the delicate beds of tea roses and lavender that had been planted on the sides. Finally, they emerged from the maze onto what looked like an oversized miniature-golf course. Stone walls, high hedges, water hazards, and white lattice fences were arranged in a large oval formation. There was no trail or track, just freshly manicured grass.
Tania beamed, “We’re very proud of our steeplechase course here at Inge F. Yancey. It’s been certified by the American Cup.”
“Don’t brag, Tania,” Ron said, patting her arm. “But it is a fine course. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
“What’s a steeplechase?” Vivian whispered to Dora.
“I’m not sure,” Dora whispered back. “I think we’re supposed to race the horses through the obstacles, maybe?”
A smug look on his face, Ron said, “If you’re not familiar with steeplechase, now would be the time to let us know. This is not for beginners.”
None of the girls said a word but looked to Kadie for direction, and Cressida wondered whether Kadie was willing to let one of their cabinmates actually attempt the steeplechase rather than admit none of them knew how to do it.
“I’ll be riding for us, of course,” Tania said. “Have you selected your rider?”
Kadie suddenly imagined one of them tumbling from the saddle and being trampled beneath a horse’s hooves. What if a horse got hurt because of their bad riding? Kadie may have disliked the Inge F. Yancey campers, but she had nothing against their horses. Maybe they should just go back to camp and spend the rest of the week sunning themselves on Mosquito Beach and being bored out of their minds.
Assuming, of course, that they had a choice. Assuming that they would be permitted to leave.
“It’s me,” said Dora. “I’m riding for us.”
Before Kadie could do or say anything to stop her, the groom had already led Dora away to the stables to pick out a horse.
“Do you think she’ll be all right?” Cressida asked.
“I hope so,” Kadie said.
Ten minutes later, Dora emerged from the stables dressed in silks, breeches, riding boots, and, thankfully, a helmet, leading a dark bay filly by the reins.
“Her name’s Helena,” Dora said, while the horse nickered into her ear.
A Note from the Narrator: Helena was accustomed to being whipped, goaded, tugged at, and scrubbed within an inch of her life, and found Dora’s gentleness and her soft, encouraging voice to be a happy change of pace. Dora wouldn’t even take the riding crop or spurs from the groom. Within minutes, the horse was quite devoted to her and resolved to help her in any way possible.
“Are you sure about this?” Kadie asked. “Please don’t do this on my account. I don’t care if we forfeit. I just don’t want you to get hurt over some stupid contest.”
“Don’t worry,” Dora said.
To Helena, she whispered, “You do exactly as much as you can, Helena. If there’s an obstacle you don’t want to do, you just go around it, okay?”
The horse whinnied, as though she understood.
A Note from the Narrator: In fact, she did.
“As our guests, of course you’ll do the honors and go first,” Ron said.
Dora climbed into Helena’s saddle and rode her to the starting line, whispering to her and stroking her mane the whole way, and in return, Helena whinnied adoringly. Noticing that the next event was about to get underway, the three judges elbowed one another and shuffled over to the steeplechase course, leaning on the fence to watch.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Tania said, tightening the straps of her helmet under her chin. “Once around the course.”
�
�Okay,” Dora said, then lightly pressed her heels against Helena’s sides, and they were off.
The horse cleared the first obstacle, a low stone wall, landing as gently as possible so that Dora would not be jolted out of the saddle. At the second obstacle, however, the horse slowed, eyeing the high white gate uneasily. Dora said something to her, patting her on the side of the neck, and Helena trotted around it. The Inge F. Yancey campers hooted in triumph, but Dora and Helena paid them no mind. The next obstacle, a hedge with a pool of water beyond it, Helena sailed over effortlessly, and kept her momentum for the next wall as well. Another high, white gate came next, and as before, the horse wanted nothing to do with it. Dora guided her around it, whispering encouragements into the horse’s ear. Near the end, they built up speed and vaulted across a terrifyingly high hedge and over a pool of water, clearing it by over a yard before crossing the finish line and circling back to where they’d started. Dora cheered from the saddle and hugged the horse around the neck.
From the sidelines, the three judges clapped politely and made notes on their score sheets. The other girls mobbed Dora, praising her bravery and Helena’s skill. Both the girl and the horse seemed surprised by the attention, but enjoyed it nonetheless.
Tania mounted her horse, a chestnut mare, and clapped sarcastically in their direction.
“Nicely done,” she said. “Of course, you’ll be penalized for the gates you failed to clear, but I’m sure you knew that.”
She dug her spurs hard into the mare’s flank and gave it a swat with her riding crop. As they trotted toward the starting line, it almost seemed as if Tania’s horse looked back at Dora and Helena with longing in its mournful eyes, not that such a thing was possible.
A Note from the Narrator: Of course it is.
Suddenly, a panicked look crossed Dora’s face and she dropped to the ground on all fours, scouring the blades of grass with her fingertips. She did not cut a distinguished figure, crawling around in front of everyone like an animal. Some of the Inge F. Yancey campers just stared openly as she did this. Others pointed and howled with laughter.
“Are you okay?” Vivian asked, looking back at the Inge F. Yancey campers with embarrassment at her cabinmate’s erratic behavior. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Has anybody seen a pocket watch?” Dora asked, crawling toward the starting line, running her hands over every inch of ground she crossed.
“You’re not allowed to have a watch here,” Kadie hissed at her. “It’s against the rules.”
“It was my grandfather’s,” Dora said, sounding more agitated by the second. “I always carry it with me. It must have fallen out of my pocket on one of the jumps.”
“Get her out of the way,” Ron said, shoving two of his minions onto the course. They each took one of Dora’s elbows and hoisted her to her feet, dragging her away from the starting gate before she could be trampled by Tania.
Oblivious to the small drama unfolding on the sidelines, Tania let out a primordial shriek and bore down on the chestnut mare once again with her riding crop. They thundered toward the stone wall, the horse’s eyes wide and rolling. Kadie was horrified. She wasn’t a horse person, or even particularly an animal lover, but even she knew this was a loathsome way to treat so noble a beast.
Tania and the mare cleared the first wall, and then jumped the high, white gate that had given Helena problems. As she rode past, Tania turned to bare her teeth at the girls from Cabin 1 in a vicious grin, then rained fresh blows and insults on her horse as they approached the next obstacle.
She’s awful, thought Kadie. She’s cruel. She’s vain. She’s bloodthirsty. She cheats. She doesn’t deserve to win.
The horse leaped over the hedge and was sailing over the pool of water when a curious thing happened. Tania’s arm froze in the middle of the beating she was delivering, and she sat up ramrod straight in the saddle. The riding crop fell from her hand, her feet slipped out of the stirrups, and when the horse landed on the far side of the pool, the impact jolted Tania loose from the saddle and sent her flying backwards into the pool of water.
The horse twitched, bucked, neighed loudly, then took off in the opposite direction of the next gate. The water seemed to bring Tania back to herself, and she sat there with dripping hair, spewing curses after the chestnut mare as it bounded toward the hilly pastures.
“Does that mean we win?” Kimber asked.
Inge F. Yancey: 2
Camp So-and-So: 2
With great effort, Tania lurched out of the water and around the hedge. She doubled over like she was going to be sick, but instead, she reached down into the grass with a gloved hand, brought up something that glittered silver in the sunlight, and chucked it onto the sidelines like it weighed thirty pounds, not a few ounces.
“What, may I ask, is that doing in the middle of the steeplechase course?”
Her breathing was labored and her arms hung limp at her sides, yet every fiber of her being quaked with rage.
No one said a word.
“No foreign objects on the steeplechase course,” she said, grabbing onto a fencepost for support. “The horse spooked. I could have been killed!”
Odd, Kadie thought. It was her fellow Inge F. Yaney campers Tania seemed to be yelling at, not the Cabin 1 girls. And it wasn’t the horse that had spooked. It was Tania who had frozen, and now there seemed to be something the matter with her. Kadie turned to find Cressida, to see what she made of all of this.
Only, Cressida wasn’t there.
She wasn’t with the others, who were feeding Helena apples and oats. She wasn’t with the Inge F. Yancey campers, who were fussing over Tania. It was as if she’d simply disappeared.
Or taken advantage of the distraction to ditch them.
There was only one way she could have gone. Kadie ran down the hedge-lined path they’d taken to the steeplechase course, calling Cressida’s name. She reached the stables and had started to open the door to cut back through, when she noticed a cobblestone path that led in another direction, toward a tulip-covered knoll with a working windmill perched on top. Scrambling up the path as fast as her spindly, chicken legs would carry her was Cressida. Kadie watched as she waded through the tulips toward the windmill, opened a door at its base, and went inside.
Kadie raced after her. Athletic and sure-footed, she arrived at the windmill in less than a minute, but paused outside to collect her thoughts. Kadie knew she could physically overpower Cressida if it came to that. But what if she wasn’t alone in the windmill? What if she was meeting someone? Kadie grabbed a shovel that was resting on the ground next to the windmill, slung it over her shoulder, and slowly opened the door.
Inside, it took Kadie’s eyes a moment to adjust to the light. Across the room, she spied a crude set of stairs leading toward a loft area. Brandishing the shovel, she crossed the room and began to climb them. When her head popped up into the loft, she heard a small squeak of surprise. Kadie didn’t even think. She hoisted the shovel up and made an awkward swing, reeling backwards as she felt it make contact with something soft but solid. There was a grunt, a thud, and then some quiet wheezing. Kadie bounded up the last stair into the loft to see Cressida on the floor, clutching her left calf with one hand and shielding her face with the other.
Kadie raised the shovel over her head, ready to strike again. “Why did you run away? You have five seconds to tell me what you’re doing here or else.”
“You idiot,” Cressida wheezed, still struggling to catch her breath. “Can’t you just mind your own business? Or did they put you up to this, too?”
Kadie lowered the shovel and knelt down beside Cressida.
“What are you talking about? Who do you mean, they?”
Cressida caught Kadie by the arm and squeezed it so hard her bones groaned.
“Don’t play dumb,” Cressida said. “I know you’re one of them. An Inge F. Yancey stooge.”
Of course, nothing could have been further from the truth. Kadie’s lip curled at the ver
y suggestion.
“You’re the spy!” Kadie said, struggling against Cressida’s grip. “All your disappearing and sneaking around.”
“Why do you act like you know so much about this place?” Cressida asked, giving Kadie’s arm another tight squeeze.
“Camp So-and-So is my camp. It was last year; it is now.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Cressida said, digging her fingernails into Kadie’s skin. “You weren’t at camp last summer. I know for a fact you weren’t.”
Cressida was rarely wrong about things, and she wasn’t wrong about this.
Kadie let out a gasp and sat down hard. The shovel clattered to the floor.
She held out her hands and studied them, first the backs, then the palms. She looked down at her legs stretched out in front of her. Everything looked the same, but Kadie knew that it wasn’t.
I wasn’t at camp last summer, she thought. I was never here before in my life.
CABIN 2
KILLER IN THE WOODS
[SCENE: After their plot to fix the truck and escape Abigail ends in tragedy, WALLIS, CORINNE, SHEA, BECCA, and HENNIE flee on horseback into the forest.]
For Cabin 2, it was still the middle of the night, that never-ending, dark, terrifying first night at camp. They had not slept; they were still on the run from Abigail. Wallis was afraid and battered, and she had seen terrible things. Her lungs were raw from breathing in smoke and ash, but the moment she swung into the saddle and rode onto the forest path, the shortest way back to the road and safety, her heart flooded with boldness. The horses changed everything. They were speed, they were armor, they were a way out. And even though these horses were more accustomed to plodding trail rides, they sensed the urgency of this journey. With the girls clinging to their manes, they galloped down the path as though the hosts of hell were behind them.
