by Beth Goobie
“As you can see,” said Aunt Erin, “my niece has developed her own fan club. Be good to her—she controls your daily sugar intake.”
Everyone chuckled agreeably. Aunt Erin listed off the skills instructors, Darcie beaming like a low-level sun, Jock-for-Brains lifting a casual hand as he was introduced as Connor Evans, waterfront coordinator. The rest of the afternoon was spent going over the training manual. No smoking, no alcohol, no drugs, no sex in front of the campers ... Aunt Erin presented an admirable combo act of wry humor and tough lady. Adrien got the feeling everyone knew it would be better not to break Camp Lakeshore’s morality code, or at least not get caught.
After supper, she hung around the evening campfire, but once again it was older staff and inside jokes. Even eighteen-year-old Darcie had better things to do than talk to a fifteen-year-old weenie. After a phone call home to let her parents know The Big One hadn’t hit yet, Adrien headed to bed early. She half-woke when Darcie stumbled in at eleven-thirty. A few hours later, she woke a second time to find a flashlight shining in her face.
“Is this your first year on staff?” asked a voice. The flashlight began clicking on and off repeatedly.
“Huh?” Adrien was in a sleep stupor, the harsh light pulling her in and out of consciousness.
“Is this your first year on staff?” the voice demanded again.
“What is this?” She pushed herself up onto her elbows, then realized the idiot with the flashlight was a guy and ducked back under the covers, but they were pulled off. Shrinking into herself, she wrapped her arms around her knees.
“Get her some sweats and take her outside,” said the guy, flashing the light at Darcie, who was sitting up in bed. The light returned to Adrien, resting full in her face. “Initiation night for new recruits. Be outside in five.” The flashlight went off and several figures left the room. Adrien could hear Darcie moving around in the dark.
“C’mon,” said her roommate. “I set these out for you. Put them on.”
“What’s going on?” Adrien didn’t move. She had recognized that voice—it belonged to Jock-for-Brains, officially Connor Evans.
“It’s just initiation. I went through it last year. No big deal.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be initiated.” Adrien waited but Darcie didn’t respond, so she asked hesitantly, “What do they do?”
“You’ll see. Put these on. No, don’t turn on the light.”
“Why not?”
“It’s part of the secrecy of the whole thing. The tradition.”
“I don’t like traditions.”
“Look, Grouch,” said Darcie. “Traditions are what make you part of a group. D’you want to be part of the group, or d’you want to be a reject?”
“I want,” grumbled Adrien, “to go back to sleep.”
But Darcie seemed to have survived her initiation. In fact, she had become quite a social success, so Adrien put on the sweatsuit and runners she was handed, then followed her roommate outside to where the rest of the cabin stood waiting. They set off without speaking into the woods, traveling away from the dining hall, the office and Aunt Erin’s master cabin, on past the boys’ cabins and the corrals, deep into a wooded area Adrien had never seen. The moon was clouded over, but the girl leading them had a small flashlight and was checking for strips of white cloth that had been tied to trees. Adrien thought they were moving in concentric circles, but when she pointed this out, she was immediately shushed.
After about twenty minutes, a light could be seen flickering through the trees. There were voices, the odd burst of laughter. Adrien smelled smoke. They emerged into a clearing and she saw a small fire in a ring of stones, a spot that had obviously been used many times. Why had she never seen this place? Off to one side was a stack of beer. Summer staff milled around drinking, laughing and talking in low voices. No one from the upper chain of command was present—not Gwen or Guy, the assistant director or the nurse. When the new arrivals were noticed, cans of beer were opened and handed to them. Remembering her experience at school, Adrien tried to hand hers back, but was refused.
“Free beer,” a guy told her enthusiastically. “Part of initiation. Chug-a-lug.”
Adrien pulled back into the crowd and set down her can. She felt safe enough—for once it was an advantage to be an unnoticed weenie—and the party’s purpose seemed to be nothing more than breaking the no-drinking and no-smoking rules. Then Connor Evans stepped onto a tree stump and gave a short whistle. His voice cut into a sudden silence. “All new recruits step forward.”
His platinum hair glowed eerily in the firelight. Adrien resented his tone of command, but joined the new staff standing close to the fire. There were sixteen of them, mostly guys, and they made up approximately one-third of the number present. Why don’t we just say no? Adrien wondered. There are too many of us to force into anything. But the guy next to her was unsteady on his feet, and the smell of alcohol hung like a thick fog over everything. She was probably the only one who hadn’t drunk at least one beer. This might have been a mistake.
“Welcome to your first summer at Camp Lakeshore.”
A burst of guffaws greeted this announcement, followed by a wave of over-emphatic shushing.
“A long time ago,” Connor began, “when you were all eensy-weensy little buggers in your beds, a tradition was started at Camp Lakeshore. This tradition has been honored by every staff who’s worked here, and it’s been passed down through the years without ever being broken. Even camp administration doesn’t interfere.” He cracked a grin. “Though they know they couldn’t if they wanted to, eh? They’d have a revolt on their hands!”
A few staff did a quick jig, but grew quiet as Connor raised his hand.
“These are the rules,” he said grandly. “There are very few, so even your basic minds should get it. Rule number one: During the day, obey the training manual at all times. Follow the orders of Erin Wood, our great and fearless leader.”
His tone of contempt was obvious, and it was enhanced by further guffaws.
“Rule number two: After beddy-bye, when all the little kiddies are asleep in their beds, slip quietly into the woods to this midnight fire where the wild ones party.” Cheers erupted. Connor waited for silence. “If you’re on skills or maintenance, we’ll expect you here every night. If you’re a counselor, wait for the week you rotate onto maintenance or skills. If you’ve got campers who are reeeeeally sound sleepers, chance it. Rule number three: What goes on here is kept absolutely secret. There’s nothing to be afraid of—just good times—but you will never speak of this place, not even among yourselves. Decade after decade, Camp Lakeshore staff have kept this pact. During the day, we are so pure. During the day, we act as if nothing is going on. But after beddy-bye, when the stars come out, the training manual is trash.” Connor spat. “Here, Erin Wood has nothing to say and she knows it.” His voice deepened. “Erin Wood,” he said, then stomped his foot and grunted.
There were a few soft cheers. Connor raised a flashlight and played it over the faces of the new staff. “We have someone special with us tonight. A new recruit who happens to be the niece of our beloved leader, Erin Wood.” Again, he did the stomp-grunt combo. “A sweet young thing by the name of Adrien.” The flashlight found her face. “The Tuck’n Tack girl. Answer me, honey—are you the niece of Erin Wood?”
Adrien hesitated as several staff stomped and grunted. She might not be her aunt’s biggest fan, but she knew Aunt Erin didn’t deserve to have her head repeatedly stomped on by assholes, even as a metaphor. It was difficult to think with a flashlight square in her face and everyone watching, all of them older and well on their way to drunk.
Don’t get smart, she thought to herself. No one will protect you from your mouth.
What for? she argued back savagely. I could be dead tomorrow. I’m supposed to spend my last few hours kissing this guy’s ass?
“Yeah, Aunt Erin’s in my family tree.” Her voice wobbled, then came out clear. “So what?”
&n
bsp; Connor’s eyebrows lifted. “So you’re going to be our special envoy, kiddo. You’ve got an in with the boss, and you’re working in the office. When we need something, you’ll get it for us. Gopher.”
There were guffaws and cheers. Connor raised a pinkie and the noise subsided.
“No.” Adrien’s heart was pounding so hard, she thought The Big One was starting its final bright explosion. Then, suddenly, she was calm. The difficult part was over, the enormous choice had been made, and she knew who she was again: Grouch from the swamp. Social reject. The One Preparing For Death.
“This is shit.” She turned from the line of new recruits and pushed through the others, who shifted to make room as she passed. At the edge of the group, she realized she wouldn’t be able to find her way back in the dark. “I need a flashlight,” she said, and to her surprise, she was handed one. She found the first white ribbon, then the next. Behind her, the revelry picked up as initiation rites continued. From a distance, it sounded like fun, and here she was, alone with her choice, stumbling through dark trees and cursing herself for shutting herself out. Why had she decided to work at Camp Lakeshore if she wasn’t going to get along with anyone? Would it have been such a big deal to drink a beer and kiss someone’s cowboy boot, or whatever stupid ritual they wanted her to perform?
But the stomp-grunt gesture still riled her. Why did they have to attack Aunt Erin behind her back? They acted like her biggest fans to her face. As she reached the cabin, Adrien shut off the flashlight, then turned and headed further through the woods to the clearing where the Wishing Tree stood. The moon had come out and the trunk was two beams of silvery light, one rising, one fallen. The leaves on both halves were still green. Surely it would live. More children than ever would leave their wishes here—every child knew what it meant to have a heart broken. Adrien placed both hands on the standing trunk and wished. Then she knelt and placed her hands on the fallen part and wished again—the same wish.
Something came back to her. Each time, she was washed by a cool green gentleness—both halves of the tree sent it into her, the standing and the fallen. So this part of Camp Lakeshore wasn’t a scam. She wanted to weep, hug the tree and beg it to live for all the children who would come to it with open hands and broken hearts, looking for someone to bless and understand them.
“Geezzzus, Adrien, it’s just a tree.” She sat on the fallen half, head leaned against the standing trunk, feeling its strength. Before and after, she thought. They were still connected, weren’t they? Still one and the same hope?
On her way to the cabin, she could see the spirits’ dim glow on the lake. Even from a distance, she felt their writhing as if they were part of her—part of the way she breathed and knew things. It was the stamp of finality pulling her away from everyone normal, their good times. She just didn’t belong in the land of the living.
Adrien turned and went alone into the empty cabin. When the other girls returned, she pretended to be dead. Darcie pretended right along with her.
five
The next morning, everyone acted as if nothing had happened.
“Morning, Grouch,” Darcie said as Adrien opened her eyes.
“Morning, Spart,” muttered Adrien, watching her roommate blow-dry her hair. Darcie had, of course, already showered. It looked like she would have her hair curled before Adrien managed to drag herself out of bed.
“So, what did you guys do after I left?” Adrien asked casually. Her roommate continued to dry her hair as if she hadn’t spoken. Unsure if Darcie had heard the question, Adrien waited until the dryer went off, then said, “You guys talk about me after I left?”
Darcie angled the curling iron carefully over her left eye and rolled up a strand of hair. “What d’you figure we’ll be doing today, Grouch? More of the training manual, I bet. God, it’s boring. I memorized the whole thing last year.”
Adrien jerked angrily into a sitting position. “I asked you about last night. What happened after I left?”
“Left where?” Well-defined curls were springing up all over Darcie’s head.
Fear beat a soft drum in Adrien’s mouth. “Why’re you doing this?” she whispered. “What did I ever do to you?”
For a second, Darcie froze. Then a bright, chipper look appeared on her face. “It’s going to be a nice day,” she said, stressing the last word. “I hope you have a great day today, Grouch.” She brushed out her curls, gave herself a satisfied glance in the mirror and pulled on a sweater. “Breakfast in five. Gotta go.”
“Sure thing, Spart,” Adrien muttered as her roommate went out the door. “Don’t shoot any broken arrows.”
“Hey, Mira!” Darcie sent her voice loudly down the hall. “Coming for breakfast?”
There was a sudden bout of whispering, then Darcie’s cheerful, reproving voice. “It’s going to be a nice day, don’t you think, Mira? I hope I can get some practice in at the archery range.”
“Oh yeah,” said Mira loudly, catching on. “Oh yeah, it’s a real nice day. I can see it’s very sunny and bright out there.”
The outer door slammed and Adrien sat up grouchily. So, it looked as if rule number three was going to be strictly obeyed ... by the obedient. If what Connor had said was true, she was the only disobedient staff in decades, which left no one else to disobey rule number three with, not even administration—not that she wanted to run to her aunt and tattle. Well, she could live with ignoring the whole thing as long as they left her alone. All they really wanted was her mouth shut so they could party. They sure weren’t interested in her witty companionship or sparkling personality—probably the entire group was vastly relieved that the Doomsday Girl had rejected them.
The morning went by, absolutely normal. Everyone was friendly, just a little friendlier than yesterday. Even Connor made a point of saying good morning without evil undertones. He was in charge of the morning session by the beach, and began with a careful explanation of the waterfront safety regulations. The sunlight enhanced his hair dye, the wind ruffled his golden locks, and his biceps rippled. He was wearing his designer Camp Lakeshore T-shirt and he was gorgeous.
Adrien didn’t see why she had to stand around listening to a hypocrite discuss the rules for sailboating, so early into Connor’s spiel, she began edging into the trees, then turned and walked past the girls’ cabins and the fenced-off septic pond. She veered left, avoiding the archery range, which was never to be approached from the south, and came out onto the road that led to the corrals. She had and hadn’t been thinking about Paul, so when she caught sight of him working on another section of fencing, she was caught in a rush of confusion, wanting and not wanting the feelings that flew through her on raw wings. She was used to the guys at school, but not like this. Not with a slow wind riding the trees, not with the rich deep smell of earth so strong she could feel it in her skin. He wasn’t even close and she felt like they were touching.
“Hey, Angel.”
“I’m not Angel.” Overdoing her anger made it easier to face him. He was smiling. So much happened in his face when he smiled. Whole stories told themselves.
“All right, Adrien. What’re you doing up here?”
“Nothing. Much. Really.” Words weren’t doing the sentence thing. She stared intensely at the toe of his boot.
“So help me with this fence. Here, grab this.” He handed her a rail and she held it as he hammered it into place.
“I’m supposed to be at Connor’s sailboat session,” she said, as if she owed Paul an explanation. “But ...”
“But what?” He straightened and looked at her. He was about an inch taller, his eyes were brownish-green, his lips a soft flush of red.
“Uh.” She couldn’t speak. “Last night ...”
“Initiation?” He turned back to the fence. “So, how’d it go?”
He was breaking rule number three! Finally, a partner in sanity. Her shyness vanished. “Did you have to do it?”
“They tried to make me last summer, but I’m never here at nigh
t. Wild man capers with city-slicker tough guys,” he said softly. “What a blast.”
She hesitated, unsure if he was including her. “They said Aunt Erin knows about it. I doubt it. She’d never let them get away with breaking all those rules.”
“She knows,” Paul said quietly. “She used to be summer staff. She went to deep-woods parties twenty years ago.”
Adrien gaped. She could not imagine her aunt doing anything that ... social.
Paul grinned at her expression. “Who cares what they do, as long as they don’t tear down any buildings or raise the dead.”
“But the training manual says—”
“They show up for their jobs in the morning and treat the kids okay. It’s their business what they do in the middle of the night.”
“Then why don’t you go?” demanded Adrien.
“I don’t like the company,” he shrugged, then paused. “What exactly do they do out there, frolicking in the woods?”
“It’s not Lord of the Flies,” she said. “There aren’t any sticks sharpened at both ends. It’s mostly drinking. They make the new staff do something stupid, so I left.”
“You don’t like parties?”
“I didn’t like the way they were talking about Aunt Erin,” she burst out. “They suck up to her all day, then talk her down when they get out there at night. If they don’t like her, they should act like it to her face.”
“Like you do?”
“Yeah.” She looked at him breathlessly, challenging him to tell her she was wrong. His eyes moved slowly over her face.
“You want a cigarette?” he asked. “I get a mid-morning break. C’mon, we’ll go into the trees so no one sees us.” He touched her bare arm and she almost cried out at the sudden heat.
“Um, here’s fine,” she said. “I, uh, like the horses.”
