by Joey Comeau
“Oh,” Martin said. “One more question?”
“Out with it.”
“You’ll save me some eyeballs?” Martin said.
“Of course,” she said. “I’ll mail you a big tub of eyeballs at camp, return address marked: “The bowels of Hell.” That’ll help you make friends, I’m sure. And Martin?” She knelt so their faces were at the same level. “I might even send you some bloodstained teeth.”
* * *
On the last day of school, Zoe and Christine gave Martin a small box of chocolates wrapped in a bow. There was a small folded card and they smiled and watched him open it.
“We voted you best fixer-upper,” Zoe said. She had her baseball cap on backward today and her jeans were torn and dirty as always. The other girls were all over by the picnic table, but Zoe and Chris had come to meet Martin halfway. “You don’t have to give a speech or anything,” Zoe said.
“Thank you,” Martin said. He couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not. He was never really sure with Zoe and her friends. Sometimes he got the feeling that they thought of him like an alien life form or an animal in a zoo. But mostly he felt like one of the crowd. He liked to be around them. They talked and laughed and hatched plots and he could just sit and listen. He could just be carried along without worrying about anything. And they seemed to like him, too. They liked that he occasionally went nuts and drew teachers with their eyeballs popping out. But more than that, they liked that he sat and listened.
“We’re going to egg Fowler’s car,” Chris said. “Zoe’s going to the store while everyone is at the assembly so you need to give her a dollar if you want your own egg.”
“I do!” Martin said. He found a dollar in his pocket and gave it to Zoe. Then he opened his chocolates and smiled. “Thank you for the chocolates,” he said.
“We’re gonna miss you this summer,” Chris said. “Bible Camp! That sounds terrible.”
“Tell Jesus we said hi,” Zoe said.
4.
The driveway to the Bible Camp was long and narrow. It wasn’t wide enough for two cars, though it was clearly meant to be both entrance and exit. It went past a small billboard with the camp’s name and down between two large fields. Badminton nets across the field on the left, and a line of archery targets on the right. The driveway continued on down into the trees.
Martin held his mother’s hand as they drove. The trees were so close that the branches closed above them, so that, after the brilliant sunlight, it felt as though they were driving into darkness. The path twisted and turned and Martin had no idea what they would do if they came across another car.
And then the trees to their right pulled back to reveal a small white chapel with a stained glass window above the front door and with a cluster of headstones beside it. Martin twisted in his seat as they passed, trying to see the headstones more clearly. Were they new or old? But then they were back in the trees and the shadow.
The camp was bright and open, though. There were a half-dozen cars parked in front of the big main building. Children and parents were standing around and smiling. The main building was white, too, like a farmhouse kind of white, all cracked paint and wooden siding. There were screens on the doors and windows.
“Last chance to change your mind,” Martin’s mother said.
* * *
Tony, the head counsellor, approached the microphone and tapped it a few times until everyone stopped talking. His uniform was dark brown and he looked friendly. Martin sat lower in his seat. This was going to be a long two weeks, but it was better than staying with his uncle. Tony tapped the microphone again. There were posters up on the wall here, inspirational things about Jesus and about the Holy Father and the Bible. “Have you read this year’s real best seller?” Things like that.
“First let me tell you a little bit about why we run this camp every year,” Tony said. “Every year we hike out here to the woods and we live in these little cabins with all you rowdy kids for one reason and one reason only. Because it’s fun. Running this camp for the past two years, I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun. We have swimming and archery and orienteering and arts and crafts and we have capture the flag and we have a bonfire every week where we sing and play guitar and I don’t know one camper who hasn’t had the time of his life.” He caught himself. “His or her life.
“Last year we had a girl who got stung by six jellyfish when she was out swimming. She was stung pretty badly and we had to call her parents and arrange to take her to the hospital. When she was getting into the car, she wouldn’t stop crying, and I told her that she was going to be okay. She was going to be fine. And do you know what she said to me? She said, ‘I’m not going to be fine, I’m going to miss the bonfire tonight!’” He laughed.
“Here I was, trying to console her because she had been stung so badly, and that wasn’t why she was upset at all! She just wanted to stay and have more fun!”
The other counsellors all laughed along with Tony. The campers did, too. Martin made himself laugh, no louder than anyone else, but no quieter, either. There was a girl with a single feather earring sitting two rows ahead. She wasn’t laughing. She leaned over to one of her friends and whispered something. Martin should have sat closer to them. They seemed more interesting than anyone else here.
“But I’ll stop talking about how fun it is, and I’ll let you go and figure it out for yourself,” Tony said. “Just let me ask one question and when you’ve answered it, just get up and head into the next room where we’ve got cake and juice and milk and plenty of other stuff they probably didn’t tell me about because they were afraid I’d eat it all before you got here!”
The counsellors and campers all laughed again.
“Have you accepted Jesus into your heart?” Tony was serious now. “That sounds like a simple question and maybe it is, but have you accepted Jesus into your heart? Don’t answer right away. Give it a minute. Look inside your heart and when you find Jesus there, just stand quietly and head into the next room. If you can’t find him, I just want to sit down and talk with you for a few minutes. Nobody’s in trouble, here, so let’s be honest.”
Two rows ahead, the girl and her two friends jumped to their feet and headed to the next room. There was no hesitation, no soul searching, no deep reflection on what it meant to accept Jesus into your heart. Martin followed them.
* * *
Tony came down from the podium and smiled at his counsellors. They were all wearing their uniforms, except for Angela. Angela was wearing jeans and a camp t-shirt. There was no reason not to wear the uniforms. It wasn’t more difficult to put on uniform pants instead of jeans. And uniforms served a functional purpose, instilling trust in the campers and providing a clear visual marker of authority. It wasn’t going to spoil Tony’s day, though. Look at all those campers, smiling and fresh faced. Plump and ready for a summer of fun!
“How’d I do?” Tony said. He knew how he did, though. He gave the same speech every year. “They seemed to like it.”
“Good,” Chip said, “That was smart, going with the jellyfish story instead of mentioning the kid who got his hand cut off. Good call.” He laughed, and a couple of the other counsellors laughed with him. Chip had blonde streaks in his hair. Were those called highlights? Tony didn’t know for sure.
Tony sighed.
“Try to be respectful, Chip,” he said.
* * *
The girl with the single earring was named Melissa. Her friends were Courtney and Joan. Martin sat down at the table with them and listened as a counsellor introduced herself. The counsellor was wearing an all brown uniform, too. Her name was Cindy, she said.
“So what do you girls like to do for fun?” Cindy said. “There’s no TV or internet out here, but we’ve got girls’ softball and soccer!”
“You name the sport, we love it,” Courtney said. “Soccer, football, rugby!”
“Rugby!” Cindy laughed. “Well, that’s a bit intense for me. I’m more of a volleyball girl.”
“I like volleyball,” Melissa said. Cindy smiled, and adjusted her counsellor uniform.
“What about you?” Cindy said to Joan. Joan just looked down at her hands.
“She likes volleyball, too,” Melissa said.
“This is going to be fun. I’m glad I got you girls, this year. Some years I get stuck with real weirdos, you know? And before lights out tonight, we’ll turn that room upside down until we find your other earring, Melissa.”
“And you can tell us everything you know about that counsellor Chip!” Courtney said. “We saw you talking to him!”
“Well, I don’t know if it’d be right to tell you girls everything,” Cindy laughed and then she was off, introducing herself to another table.
“God, I thought she was going to bother us all night,” Courtney said.
“Tell us everything you know!” Melissa said, holding her hands together up by her head and batting her eyelashes. “Oh, he’s so dreamy.” She made a horking sound. “What did she mean about my other earring?”
“What do you mean, what did she mean?” Courtney said. “You’re only wearing one.”
“So? I only have one.”
“Well, usually people wear two earrings, one in each ear, Melissa.”
“Are you taking her side now? Maybe tonight you can curl up in bed beside her, talking about boys while Joan and I go watch for the comet alone. You don’t mind if I borrow your telescope?”
“You wouldn’t know what to do with it,” Courtney said. “You’d just get all confused by a piece of equipment that powerful. You’re better off staying with that kid’s toy of yours.” Melissa wasn’t listening. She was looking at Martin. Courtney just kept talking. “It’s always something, isn’t it? In the city there’s too much ambient light to get a clear look at the sky. And out here in the woods there are idiots. I guess there are idiots in the city, too, but we don’t have to share a cabin with them.” Then she noticed Martin, too. She stopped talking, and the three girls sat staring, waiting for Martin to say something. He didn’t.
“What’s your name?” Melissa said.
“Martin.”
“Well, Martin, can we help you? Is there some reason you’re eavesdropping on our conversation?”
Martin thought about it for a second before answering. “Will you show me your telescope?” he said.
5.
Martin was assigned to Cabin Seven. Chip showed him the way.
“You’re going to be in one of the old cabins,” Chip said. “The girls all live in the new cabins.” He pointed to the ridge that overlooked the ocean. The cabins didn’t look like cabins at all. They looked like regular buildings, all made out of cement, bright lights inside.
“Air conditioning, plumbing, the works,” Chip said, still pointing to the girl cabins. “We just built them this year. There are plans to build more after the season’s over, but for now the boys have got the same cabins as always.” He winked at Martin and said, “That’s what camp is all about, if you ask me. Haunted cabins and having to run through the woods in the middle of the night to pee.”
Martin could see the old cabins now, wooden and broken-down looking, set back in the woods. They blended in with the trees around them.
“You aren’t afraid of ghosts, are you?” Chip said, winking again. People look so stupid when they wink.
There was a boy in the cabin already. Brown hair. Skinny. Weird teeth.
“Hey,” he said, sticking his hand out for Martin. “I’m Ricky.”
“My name’s Martin,” Martin said. The two boys shook hands and Chip grinned.
“You can have any bunk you want,” Ricky said. “Except this one’s Adrian’s, and that one in the corner on the bottom is mine. You should take that other corner bunk so I don’t have to sleep near a weirdo. You get some weirdo kids at summer camp,” he said. “They let anyone in.” Chip laughed at that.
Martin walked to the other corner bunk and set his suitcase on the bed.
“Already settled right in,” Chip said. “Look at him. He’s not afraid to live in the haunted cabin.”
There was nowhere for Martin to unpack his clothes. His shirts were going to have to stay folded in the suitcase, which was unacceptable. There were no closets here, no drawers. Nowhere to hang a hanger. The glass in the window was broken. Martin took a deep breath and let it go. This was where he was now. In a cabin, in the woods.
There weren’t supposed to be drawers in a cabin. The windows were meant to be broken and ragged. Get in the spirit, Martin told himself. Think of it like a horror movie. A haunted cabin, like Chip said. Don’t worry about your clothes. Worry about who’s going to die first. Who will find the body? Will it have all its limbs? Think about an axe cutting through the air. This was an adventure.
His shirts were going to get creases.
* * *
Outside, Ricky showed Martin the Flying Fox. It was a wire tied to two poles. One of the poles was short so the wire was just above their heads, and the other pole was five feet higher and twenty feet away.
You climbed up a ladder to the higher pole and took hold of this metal bar. Then you jumped and held on like your life depended on it and you went flying along the wire toward the shorter pole. At Martin’s school they just called this a zip line. Here it was the Flying Fox.
“There was a kid, like, five years ago,” Ricky said, “who didn’t let go in time, and he bounced right off that short pole and landed on his head. Everyone could hear his neck snap. I know a kid who was here that year and he said he was over by the canteen and he still heard the kid’s neck snap. Everyone watching heard the weird grinding sound when the kid tried to get up again. Every single person said they couldn’t forget that sound even if they wanted to.”
You could tell Ricky had told the story before. He made little hand gestures the whole time. Every time he said “snap” he pretended to break a stick with his hands. Snap. Snap. After he said “grinding” he made a sound in his throat that was not right.
“I’ll be back in a couple minutes,” Chip said. “I have to go collect our other campers” He waved and headed back toward the main building, leaving Martin alone with Ricky.
“He didn’t die, either,” Ricky said. “That’s the sick part. He’s still alive out west somewhere. Somewhere where there’s no hills, because he pushes around a wheelchair that he controls with his tongue. I heard that every once in a while his head comes loose, and it rolls around on his neck because the bones aren’t connected. Someone has to come and help him put it back in his plastic brace. Otherwise it just swings down and he has to look at his chest all day.”
Another pair of boys was coming toward the cabin. The kid on the right had long hair down to his shoulders and he had the bluest eyes Martin had ever seen. The kid on the left was fat and he was wearing all black even though it was hot out. Ricky saw where Martin was looking and he nodded.
“What did I tell you?” he said. “Dressing all in black on a day like this. Man. Weirdo kids.”
* * *
Martin woke in the dark, terrified that there was a man in the room with him. It was too dark. The blankets felt wrong. It took him a minute to remember he was at camp. It was darker here than his room at home. He breathed in and out and counted to ten as quietly as he could. He felt certain that there was a man in the dark there, about to whisper his name. Already smiling. Martin counted to ten again and then backwards from ten. He wasn’t going to scream. He could control himself. He pulled the blanket tighter and listened.
Nothing. There was nothing. Nobody there in the dark.
Would Ricky be able to help him if something happened? Or Chip? Chip was right in the next room. Would Chip be able to help? But what could they do? Nobody would help him. He was certain. He might as well be alone. Martin squeezed his eyes closed and it didn’t make any difference. The dark was there, too. And in the dark, th
e man. He tried to breathe in and out calmly. When he was almost asleep again, he thought he heard a man’s voice whisper a name, but it wasn’t his name, and it didn’t wake him up.
6.
Franklin stood at bat, his hands gripping the wooden baseball bat tightly. Twisting on the tape wrapped around the handle. The pitcher pitched and the ball went right past. Again. All day the ball had been speeding right past. How many times was he going to have to stand here? Behind Franklin, Jim was the catcher, twelve years old with a high pitched voice.
“Strike two!” Jim yelled.
A trickle of sweat came down from Franklin’s brow. He gripped the bat tighter and waited for the next pitch. The pitcher lifted his foot, tilted back and threw the ball and Franklin swung hard. He swung hard, the bat missing the ball entirely and whipping back toward the catcher. It hit Jim’s leg below the knee with a crack. The bone snapped, cutting out through the skin of the leg.
Jim screamed.
The coach was there in a second, kneeling down beside Jim while Franklin dropped the bat and backed away.
“It was an accident,” Franklin said.
“Don’t look,” the coach said. The shard of bone stuck up through Jim’s skin. Jim cried and looked away. “It doesn’t look bad,” the coach said. He lifted the leg a little and lowered his face so that he could see better. There was blood pouring out from around the shard of bone now, dark and thick. “In fact,” he said, “it looks good.” With that the coach gripped the leg tight and ran his tongue along the white bone, licking up the blood, sucking on the marrow.
“What the hell,” a man yelled from behind him. “Goddamnit, turn so that the camera can see what you’re doing. And can we get some more blood on that bone? It looks like a candy cigarette.” The coach stood up and went over to talk to the director. Martin’s mother came over and knelt down next to Jim, holding the tube of darker blood.
“You’re doing good,” she said to Jim, but the kid just shrugged his shoulders.
