“What are you talking about?” Emily asked.
“You didn’t want to know about my play. You were just making conversation.”
Emily looked down at her feet, which were crunching on the gravel path. She didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t have to.
“I come from a family in which you don’t write plays, you play baseball and football and soccer,” Maxwell continued. “Oh, yeah, and I shouldn’t forget swim team. My big brother follows the family pattern and comes home with trophies. I don’t. I don’t even come home with straight A’s to make up for it. So to my parents and teachers I’m an underachiever. Mislabeled, of course.”
He looked down at Emily as he held the door to the lobby open for her. “How about you? Have you got any older brothers to bug you?”
“No brothers. Only two sisters, both older, and they do come home with straight A’s.”
“And you don’t?” Maxwell asked.
“There you are, darling,” Emily heard her mother call.
“See you, Maxwell,” Emily said, relieved that she didn’t have to answer the question. She wasn’t Angela. She wasn’t Monica. She was Emily. Why couldn’t anyone understand that?
Mrs. Wood stepped up, resting an arm around Emily’s shoulders, and soon she had introduced herself and Emily’s father to Haley and Maxwell, and their parents.
Some of the faces of staff members floated into view again as they stopped to speak. Emily realized that she was going to live with them for the next six weeks, so this time she tried to put names with faces and remember them.
Dr. Kendrick Isaacson himself … thick mane of white hair … smooth tan … dark, piercing eyes … teeth too white and perfect to be real.… He makes me feel like a bug on a microscope slide.
“It will be my ultimate satisfaction to see Emily and the other young people here strive for their highest potential,” Dr. Isaacson announced to Emily’s parents.
“Wonderful!” Emily’s mother responded.
Emily suspected that Dr. Isaacson would make this same announcement over and over to every parent in the room. Did it really mean anything?
Dr. Lorene Anderson, the director’s assistant … tall … slender … narrow-eyed, intense look on her face.… Is she always so supercharged when she talks about the center, or is she putting it on for the parents?
“I’m an ardent fan of Dr. Isaacson’s teaching methods,” Dr. Anderson said to Emily’s parents. “I’ve worked with him for years, and I’m eager for Camp Excel to succeed because we will all share in its success.”
As Mrs. Wood murmured agreement, Dr. Anderson added, “Dr. Isaacson is on his way to becoming a major name in the field of education. Since you live in Dallas, you must be familiar with his work.”
“We’ve never lived in Dallas,” Mrs. Wood said. “We live in Houston.”
Dr. Anderson smiled. “Please forgive me,” she said. “I’ve obviously mixed you up with the Drake family. So many new faces and names to learn all at once.”
Gary Anderson, math teacher … Dr. Lorene Anderson’s husband. He’s fairly good-looking for a guy who’s obviously over forty, but the stink of cigarette smoke clings to his clothes. Mom read the rules aloud, so I know that smoking is forbidden on camp grounds. Mr. Anderson must sneak off now and then for a smoke. I wonder where.
“You’ve met my wife,” Mr. Anderson said. “This camp’s all she’s been able to talk about for months.”
“Have you worked with Dr. Isaacson long?” Mrs. Wood asked, and Emily wondered if her mother had also suspected that Mr. Anderson lacked his wife’s enthusiasm for this summer job.
“Longer than some of the others,” he answered. “That’s how Lorene and I met—at the center.”
Gail Comstock, history teacher … short brown hair, pug nose, and a face splashed with freckles. Wide smile. Does she ever get tired of smiling?
“I like working with kids,” Mrs. Comstock said. Even though she seemed to be speaking to Emily’s parents, her gaze never left Emily’s face. “I expect the best of them, and I’ve always got an ear for their problems, if they want to confide in me.”
Emily found herself moving a step closer to her mother. She had no intention of confiding in anyone, especially this teacher, who might be as interested as she claimed, but who was probably just nosy.
Dr. Lydia Hampton, counselor … reddish blond hair, gray streaked, pulled back into a tight twist … deep brown eyes.
“I’m intent on reaching into the psyches of these kids and helping them achieve success by breaking down the barriers that are holding them back,” she told the Woods. “It’s a win/win situation, as it will be for all of us when Dr. Isaacson proves what this camp can do.”
“Emily’s had therapy,” Mrs. Wood said hesitantly. “The therapist felt that since Emily’s two older sisters have consistently excelled, Emily has compared herself unfavorably, and he was unable to …”
Her voice trailed off weakly, but Dr. Hampton stepped close and spoke decisively. “The younger child syndrome is quite common. We should have no problem with that.”
We? Emily thought. How did my problem get to be yours?
Arthur Weil, English teacher … bald … skinny shoulders and a potbelly. I hope I’ll never have to see him in a bathing suit.
Emily jumped when Dr. Weil leaned into her face and said, “We’ll keep journals, Emily. Do you get that? We’ll keep journals. We’ll write in journals. We’ll never, ever use the noun journal as a verb. People who use the English language correctly do not journal.”
Emily nodded quickly. “Yes, sir,” she answered, wondering what that was all about.
There were other names and faces, too many to remember. She was thankful when a dinner gong sounded, double doors were opened, and the group began flowing into a large dining room.
The tangy wood-fire smell of brisket and barbecue sauce was so strong that Emily’s stomach rumbled in response. But there were introductions of the staff all over again, and as director and founder of the camp, Dr. Kendrick Isaacson gave a welcoming speech.
“Some have called my approach to underachievement radical,” he said. “And I suppose it is. But radical or not, it works, and this summer we’re going to prove to the world of education that it works. I’ve assembled teachers and counselors who wholeheartedly follow my plan, and your children are going to benefit.” Modestly, he gave a little bow and added, “We’re all going to benefit.”
“Oh, I hope so!” Emily heard her mother whisper as the applause began.
Emily was glad when the speech was over and plates heaped with barbecued beef, potato salad, and cole slaw were quickly slapped down at every place by a group of waiters who must have been told to hurry.
The buzz of conversation rolled over the tables in waves, but Emily, eyes downcast, didn’t talk. She had nothing to say that anyone would want to hear, so she just concentrated on her food, which was very good. At least mealtime during camp life wouldn’t be too bad.
Emily went through the rest of the evening like an automaton. In and out of her ears bounced lists of rules and schedules, and she collected fistfuls of papers that she was either supposed to sign, read, or put into a special three-ring notebook with CAMP EXCEL and her name stamped on the beige cover in a dark greenish gold.
By the time parents were scheduled to say goodbye, Emily’s numbness had turned to resentment. Clutching the notebook and papers to her chest as a bulky barrier to her mother’s tearful hug, she said, “I hope you can see what a really great summer you’ve given me.”
“Oh, Emily,” Mrs. Wood answered. “Please don’t take that attitude. We’re trying to help you—”
Emily interrupted. “Six weeks. Six weeks of people prying into my mind, just to please my parents. You didn’t do this to Angela or Monica.”
“But they didn’t need—”
Dr. Wood shook his head. “It doesn’t do any good to argue with her, Vicki. Let it go. Someday Emily will look back at this experience and th
ank us for it.”
Fighting off tears, Emily couldn’t give up. “Oops, for a minute I forgot,” she said. “Parents are always supposed to be right.”
Mrs. Wood leaned forward and kissed Emily’s cheek. “Goodbye, darling. We’ll be back for you in six weeks, and we’ll write often. Please write to us. We’ll miss you terribly.”
“Goodbye, Emily,” Dr. Wood said, and he kissed her other cheek.
Emily stiffened and refused to look at her mother or answer her. She knew she was being hateful. Above all else she wanted to throw her arms around her parents and hug them and keep them with her, if only for a little while, but they were leaving her here for the summer, and she couldn’t forgive them for that.
Silently, she watched her parents climb into their car and drive away. Only after they were out of sight did the tears come.
Emily heard the crunch on gravel as someone stepped up beside her, but she couldn’t stop crying.
“If you keep that up, your eyes will be all red and puffy, and you’ll look horrible,” Haley said. “And you won’t seem nearly as desirable to Maxwell McLaren in his fabulously gorgeous knit cap.”
Emily’s sniffle turned into a hiccup. She couldn’t help smiling.
Haley turned toward the main building. “Come on, Em,” she said. “Everyone’s supposed to meet in the auditorium for a get-acquainted program, which is probably going to be a real bore.”
Emily shivered. She didn’t want to be part of a get-acquainted program. She’d already met more people here than she really wanted to know. Why couldn’t she just be left alone? “You go ahead,” she told Haley. “I have to go wash my face.”
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Haley asked. “I mean, I keep thinking about the warning the runes gave you. Do you want me to go with you?”
“I’ll be fine by myself. Go to the program,” Emily insisted, eager to be alone.
She walked down the path toward the dorm, but as soon as Haley was out of sight and a few stragglers had also gone into the main building, Emily turned toward the lake. The beach lay before her, open to view by anyone at the buildings, but to her right lay a path that led into a stand of broad-limbed Spanish oak, where vine-draped limbs tangled with the twisted branches of madrone trees, blocking the camp buildings from sight.
Intent on being alone, Emily took the path, quickening her pace until she broke through the tunnel of green to a small bay in the lake. At her feet lay the wooden planks of a short dock.
A faded red rowboat, tied loosely to a post at the end of the dock, bobbed up and down like a bathtub toy. Although the lake lay in shadow, with the low sun now hidden behind the surrounding forest, Emily walked to the end of the dock, her eyes on the dark ripples that flowed rhythmically across the lake from the river that fed it. The water was deep and peaceful. Emily began to relax, content to be alone.
She easily slipped into the comfortable silence, hearing only the soft lap of wavelets against the dock and an occasional creak of the aging planks. Across the expanse of water a few shore lights winked on and grew brighter as the sky gradually darkened.
It took a while for Emily to become aware that she was no longer alone. She had heard no sound, nothing that would make her believe that someone had approached. But she sensed that she was being watched. Eyes seemed to bore into her back. Someone was behind her. Hidden. She could feel it.
Emily turned, peering into the lowering dusk. “Who’s there?” she whispered.
No one answered.
CHAPTER 4
I made time to scout out this part of the camp grounds, and came across a spot that is totally hidden from anyone on the path. Coach Jinks did not know that I watched him make some repairs on the old dock. Yet I was very near. At the time I had no idea that my hiding place would become useful for stalking Emily Wood.
When I spoke to her this evening, I searched her eyes but found no recognition there. She hasn’t responded to my name or to my face. So why do I consider her a threat?
Because I do not know how much Emily remembers.
She’s standing alone at the end of the dock. It’s rocky there and deep. There’s a possibility that she could fall into the lake and not come up. An accident. No one would think otherwise. Then the worry of what she might say or do would cease to exist.
But is it necessary?
I don’t know yet.
She’s turned. She’s searching the area. She seems to realize that she’s not alone here. I dare not move.
If I were to appear, blocking her path …
Not yet. Something tells me not yet. I must bide my time. Wait and watch. I’ll need more information before I decide what to do about Emily Wood.
CHAPTER 5
“Who’s there?” Emily repeated.
The silence became as absolute as someone holding his breath, and for a moment Emily froze, tiny droplets of cold sweat trickling down her spine.
Suddenly the small crack of a twig breaking snapped the silence, ending the spell.
Emily panicked, running back into the tunnel that snaked through the tangle of vines and branches. Stumbling, tripping over an exposed root, scraping her hands on rough bark as she flung herself against the support of a tree, somehow she managed to follow the path to the clearing and break free.
She abruptly stopped, bending over, arms stiffly braced on her knees while she sucked in loud gulps of air.
“Em?”
The voice was behind her, and Emily whirled. In terror she tried to scream. Her mouth opened, but the only sound she could make was a strangled gasp.
“What’s the matter with you?” Haley stepped forward, grasping Emily’s shoulders. “What happened? Why are you acting like this?”
Emily sagged against Haley’s strength, then straightened, taking a long, deep breath. “You scared me,” she said. “I didn’t see you or anyone else. I didn’t know you were there.”
“Hey, you scared me. I had no idea where you were,” Haley answered indignantly. She dropped her arms and stepped back, looking at Emily accusingly. “I promised to keep an eye on you. Remember? Because of Loki’s warning. But then you sneaked away.”
“I didn’t sneak.”
“You did sneak. You said you were going to wash your face and you’d be right back. But you didn’t come back.”
Emily saw Haley’s expression change as she studied her. “Something scared you,” Haley said. “What was it?”
“Part of my nightmare,” Emily blurted out without thinking.
“What nightmare?”
She barely even knew Haley, but she was so unnerved she was unable to stop talking. “Sometimes I have this nightmare. Not very often, but when it comes it’s always the same. There are trees and honeysuckle vines, and I’m trying to get through them, and …”
Emily halted in midsentence. Why was she telling Haley all this? She didn’t even like her that much.
Haley impatiently asked, “And what?”
Emily didn’t want to tell the rest. She didn’t want to even think about it. The tree limbs that brushed her face, the vines that tangled around her, her struggle to get through them, the strong fragrance of honeysuckle … At least this time there had been no body, no staring eyes, no blood. Emily put her hands to her head. It was beginning to ache.
“Go on. And what?” Haley repeated.
“That’s all there is,” Emily said.
“That’s your nightmare?”
Emily brushed her hair from her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it, Haley. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay. Come back to the meeting. We’ve broken up into discussion groups. What for, I have no idea. I mean, I already know who I want to talk to and who it would be totally useless to know, like Pink Hair.”
Emily sighed. She was glad for the moment that Haley had appeared when she did, but Haley was a snob. “Her name is Taylor, not Pink Hair,” Emily said.
Haley shrugged. “Whatever.” She glanced in the direction of t
he lake and the finger of forest that crept down to meet the water, then took a step toward the lighted main building. “Let’s not stay out here in the dark. You may not take the Loki warning seriously, but I do.”
Emily didn’t need Haley’s urging. She wasn’t positive that someone had been in the forest watching her. Maybe it had only been her imagination. Or perhaps a small animal caused the twig to snap. In any case, her desire to be alone was gone. She needed to be with other people.
They entered the meeting room to the hubbub of squeaking folding chairs, the thud of shoes hitting the wooden floor, and bodies up and in motion. The warm air was heavy with the leftover scent of barbecue, stale sunblock lotion, and someone’s overdose of aftershave.
“Time to change groups, girls,” Coach Jinks said. He gestured toward two empty chairs, and Emily soon found herself sent to one group, Haley to another.
Taylor scooted her chair two inches to the right to make room for Emily. “Cool hair,” she said to Emily. “Where’d you find that almost white shade?”
“I was born with it,” Emily said.
“No kidding? Cool. I mean really cool.” Taylor reached out and gently touched Emily’s hair with her fingertips. “It’s so curly. That’s why it stands out like that. It makes me think of one of those little soft clouds that hangs all alone in a hot summer sky.”
Taylor’s words were like something from a greeting card, but her smile was so earnest, Emily smiled back easily. “Thanks,” she said.
A woman who wasn’t as tall as the kids around her stirred on her folding chair, raising her voice. “Okay, everybody. Time to settle down. We’re supposed to be getting acquainted.”
Emily glanced from the woman, whom she had met earlier as Maria Jimenez, the camp nurse, to the others seated in their tight circle.
“I’m Mrs. Jimenez,” the nurse continued. “I’m on the spot if you get sick or hurt, which you won’t if you use good common sense, eat properly, and get enough sleep.”
One of the guys gave a snort, and a couple of the other guys in the circle laughed.
Nightmare Page 3
