by P. J. Night
And then at last she glimpsed a golden ray of warm light that lit her up inside, as well. The next thing she knew, the ferns and branches gave way and she was no longer in the woods. Instead she was at the edge of a sunny clearing on a lush carpet of emerald grass. Here and there the deep green was dotted with clusters of delicate blue flowers. The flowers were so blue, they seemed to glow. Dainty white butterflies flitted between them like sociable fairies with jobs to do. A scent like nothing she’d ever smelled before filled her nose. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment, then let out a soft contented sigh.
And there it was. The cozy cabin. It was just like in her dream! Sam felt like a little girl on Christmas morning who had just opened the greatest gift in the whole world. There was only one question now: Was there also a boy inside waiting for her?
What was she waiting for? Sam took off toward the cabin in a jog that soon turned into a full-out run. There was a thick patch of dry leaves between her and the cabin, but it never occurred to her to go around it, or even to clear it with a jump. Instead she charged straight through, and almost immediately she felt the spongy ground fall out from under her.
Instinctively Sam screamed as she plummeted straight down. She landed at last with a thud, on her back on a floor that was made of cold, hard dirt. She lay there in shock, unable to move or breathe. The wind had been completely knocked out of her. She couldn’t see either, she realized. Her eyes were open, but it was black. For a moment, all she could think was, Am I dead?
Then at last her lungs recovered. Desperately she gasped for air. Gradually, too, her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the hole. She wiggled her toes and fingers and gently turned her head. Nothing was broken. That was good, at least. But the place she was in was bad. Really bad.
It was a deep, dank pit that she realized wasn’t that much bigger than her cot back at Bunk 9. She barely had to move her hands to feel the damp walls of earth all around. She sensed a small tickle on the back of her hand and thought she could make out a gleaming black shell. It was some sort of beetle. Ew! She cringed and flicked it off, but it didn’t go far. Then something else slipped behind her ear—she could feel it crawling. It moved into her hair. She let out a whimper and frantically swiped at her head.
Miles above her, it seemed, a patch of dull sky shone through a web of roots and heavy leaves. She crawled to her knees, but she knew before she even stood up how hard climbing out of the hole would be. She felt all around, but there was nothing to grab and nowhere to brace her feet. She rose to her toes, stretched her arms up as high as she possibly could, and jumped. But no, the top edge of the hole was still out of reach. If I were only a little taller! she thought.
“Help!”
The word spilled out of her mouth in a single, desperate cry. She knew no one back at camp could ever hear her. She was much too far away. But maybe, just maybe, the boy from her dream was out there somewhere, and maybe he would hear her scream.
“Help!” she yelled again, this time even louder. “I’m down here!” she called. “I’m in a hole!”
Then she waited and tried to listen for a sound other than her thundering heart.
There was nothing at first. Only silence—as if the whole world had paused.
And then, like a summer shower, it started. One grain of dirt, and then another, and another, and another began to rain down.
Sam began to say hello, but before she could finish, she caught the word and sucked it back.
There was something up there, but the way it was pawing and scraping made her stomach suddenly twist in fear. Who could it be? What if it wasn’t even human, let alone the boy of her dreams? A boy, after all, would say something—like “Hang on! I’m coming!”—wouldn’t he? A boy wouldn’t be tearing away at the earth like a ravenous wild animal stalking helpless prey.
And there she was, like a fly in a web. Whatever was up there would get her. There was no way to escape.
CHAPTER 5
Sam squatted down and squeezed her eyes shut tight and covered her face with her trembling hands. Dirt was pouring down now in thick, gritty clumps, and suddenly she felt a whole new fear along with it.
I’m going to be buried alive! she thought hysterically.
Which was worse? Being eaten by some kind of wild animal? Or being swallowed by the earth?
Either thought made her eyes well up and overflow with salty tears.
She had to get out of the pit, and yet how could she? She was trapped.
But maybe, she told herself, just maybe, if I’m still and very quiet, whatever’s up there will go away.
She crouched down as low as she possibly could and curled herself into a tight ball. She tried her best not to breathe or make the slightest movement or noise. But she couldn’t make herself stop shivering—either from fear, or cold, or both.
I never should have gone off by myself! she thought. What was I thinking, breaking the rules? If I get out of this, I’ll never, ever break another one!
Then gradually she realized something. The soil had stopped falling on her back. She listened. The pit was silent. There was no more scratching noise from up above.
Sam lifted her head slowly and ever so cautiously opened her eyes. Once again she looked up to see, high above, a shaft of pale light. She pulled herself to her feet, still shaking, and brushed the dirt out of her hair. She let out the breath that she’d been holding and replaced it with a gulp of cold, dank air.
It’s gone! she thought. Oh, please, please let it be true.
She listened again. There was nothing. It’s going to be okay, she told herself.
She was suddenly weak with relief. She still had to get out of the hole, of course, but she knew if she tried, she could figure it out. She just had to stay calm and try not to let her imagination get so carried away this time. She took a deep breath and lifted her arms up in preparation to jump. She would get out of this hole.
Then she blinked as a single grain of dirt dropped down onto her upturned cheek.
It’s just dirt, she told herself. No reason to freak out.
The reason came soon enough, though, when a clawlike hand plunged down in one swift motion through the earth. The fingers were spread wide open and headed straight for Sam. She screamed and tried to jerk away from it, but the hole was just too small. The hand found her in an instant and grabbed for her, as if it had eyes of its own. The dirt-caked digits clamped down around Sam’s raised hand, and in one swift, heart-stopping motion, they snatched her up, past the rim of crushed, bruised leaves, and out onto the ragged edge of the hole.
“No!!!”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Sam heard a soft and soothing voice. It was hard to make out what was being said, though, between Sam’s piercing screams.
She was bent over her knees, quaking, frantically clutching her tender fingers. She could hear the person speaking to her, but she couldn’t look up yet. Instead she looked down at two well-worn sneakers attached to two long, denim-covered legs.
“Are you okay? I’m glad I was able to get you out of there,” someone went on.
Slowly Sam’s eyes traveled up, past a thick red hooded sweatshirt, and into the smiling eyes of a boy her age.
Her shivering stopped and her mouth fell open. “It’s you!” she gasped, rearing back on her heels and nearly tumbling back into the hole.
Swiftly the boy moved to catch her, reaching out to take both her hands. This time his hands felt gentle, and a sharp tingle surged straight through Sam’s body, like a mild electric shock. She bit her lip and wondered if that’s just what happened when a dream turned out to be real.
“Be careful,” the boy said. “Here, let me help you.”
He pulled her to her feet, while she drank in each feature of his undeniably handsome face. He looked exactly as she remembered, right down to the cleft in his chin. His skin was warm and smooth and not at all freckled like hers was after a month of Minnehaha sun. His face was wide and friendly,
and his nose was perfectly straight, except for a tiny bend at the tip, which was really only noticeable when he turned to the left. Perfect, rich brown bangs brushed across his eyebrows. And beneath them, blue eyes, so pale they were almost silver, shone on Sam—and only on Sam it seemed, nothing else.
Instantly all the fear Sam felt a few moments before was replaced by sheer joy. She burst into a wide, toothy smile, and the boy’s smile grew brighter in return. Sam felt her tingles turn up from medium to high.
“You came!” he said. He seemed just as excited as she was, maybe even more. “Hi!” he went on. “I’m Dennis. Dennis Shaw.”
“Uh . . .” Sam swallowed once, then twice, until she finally found her voice. “Hi. I’m so sorry. I was scared. I thought . . . Oh, never mind.” She shook her head. “Hi,” she repeated. “I’m Samantha.” She breathed. “But everyone calls me Sam.”
“Sam.” He nodded, still grinning. “I like it. That’s a really nice name.” Then he paused as if he weren’t quite sure what to say next. “You seem really nice too, Sam. I’m so glad you found my special place.” He held out his arms wide. “What do you think? Isn’t it great?”
Sam looked behind her at the treacherous pit and made a doubtful, if you say so face.
“Oh well.” He shrugged apologetically. “I guess you’re right,” he said. He peered down into the hole. “How’d that get there, do you think?” Then he chuckled and reached a hand out to stroke the back of Sam’s head. “Here. Let me help you get some of these leaves out of your hair.”
She stood there, still, and let him. “Better?” she asked. She could feel his eyes studying her, then at last they met her own.
“Perfect.” He grinned and nodded.
Sam caught her breath and tried to look down. She was blushing, she knew. And her insides felt all fizzy—like a soda that someone had shaken up. But her eyes stayed locked on his. She couldn’t look away. Selfconsciously she stood there, not sure what to do or what to say. Part of her wished that he’d stop staring, but part of her thought that it was great.
She waited for him to say something else, but all he did was smile.
Eager to break the tension, Sam pointed to the boy’s red sweatshirt with the bold white letters across the front. “I see you’re from Camp Hiawatha. I’m from Minnehaha,” she proudly said.
“I know,” he nodded, still smiling.
“You do?” she asked, surprised. She looked down at her own chest. There wasn’t any writing on her T-shirt. Hmm? How did he know that?
“Well, yeah,” he went on quickly. “I mean, there’s not much else around here. Where else would you be from?”
“Oh, right.” She giggled, feeling silly. Relax, don’t spoil it, she told herself. You don’t get a second chance to make a first impression. Isn’t that what her mom told her and Ali all the time?
“So, is this your first summer at camp too?” she asked.
“Well, yes and no.”
She felt a little silly, but she had to ask, “What does that mean?”
He smiled away the question. “So how do you like camp?”
“Oh, I love it!” she instantly gushed. “These four weeks went by so fast. I don’t want to go home.”
The boy’s eyes grew a little wider. “Really?” He took her hand again. His grip was light and cool, but startlingly firm. “Hey, who knows?” he said somewhat breathlessly. “Maybe you won’t!”
“Yeah, right.” She felt her cheeks flush even redder. Every time he touched her, she felt a new shock. One thing was for certain, she knew: He wasn’t like any boy she’d ever met.
“Come.” He pulled her toward him. “Huh?”
“Let me show you around.”
“Okay.” Sam nodded, still grinning.
She let him lead her across the grass to the little log cabin that, just like Dennis, was even cuter than in her dream. It was smaller than the bunks at camp—about half the size, in fact. And instead of thin flat boards, it was built entirely out of logs. Through the nearest window she could see two chairs and a table, also made of sturdy logs, and on the floor a sweet old-fashioned braided rug.
“So is this part of Camp Hiawatha?” she asked Dennis. How cool for them, she thought.
“Oh no.” He shook his head. “It’s kind of a secret. Most people don’t even know it exists.”
“Really?” She was surprised. “And they let you come here?” she asked.
“Uh . . .” He bit his lip. “No, not exactly.” He shrugged and tilted his head to one side. “Did they let you come here?”
“Well . . . no, not exactly.” She couldn’t help but grin a little wider. At the same time, though, she shivered as a chill ran up her spine. She rubbed her arms. They were covered with goose bumps. She guessed the sun was starting to go down. Then she realized with a panic that it was—and no, she wasn’t supposed to be there at all. She didn’t have time to stand there flirting. She really should be getting back!
“Oh, wow,” she said. “You know, it’s late. I really have to go.”
“No, wait!” The smile drained instantly from Dennis’s face. “Here! If you’re cold, take this!” he said, and before she knew it he had his sweatshirt off and was holding it out. “Here! Hurry! Put it on!”
“Thank you.” Surprised but grateful, Sam slipped her arms through the sleeves, then she zipped it up.
His smile was back, bright and eager. “Now you can stay here with me forever, if you want,” he said.
The sweatshirt had instantly warmed her. She felt cozy and content. I could stay here forever, she thought. It would be just like in her dream, except she wouldn’t have to wake up.
She could feel herself starting to nod.
But wait. No. She suddenly stopped.
What was she thinking? She shook the thought away. She couldn’t stay. She had to go!
“I’m sorry, but I’ll be in huge trouble if I don’t get back soon. And hey, what about you?” she asked him. “Won’t they be looking for you, too? I mean, you weren’t planning to stay here all night by yourself, were you?”
He opened his mouth to reply, but then instead he took her hands. This time she actually jumped. The shock was double, at least, than the last time.
“Wow!” she said. “Sorry. I guess there’s a lot of static electricity in the air.”
“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t go, Sam,” he said solemnly.
She smiled as she disengaged her hands and begin to back away from the clearing. “I do too. But hey! There’s a dance tonight, remember? I’ll see you there in a few hours!”
CHAPTER 6
Letting go of Dennis Shaw’s hands had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but as Sam made her return trip down the trail, she knew that she was right to head back to camp when she did and not stay a minute longer. In fact she probably should have gone back sooner, she realized, before the forest started getting so dark. The sun was still out, but now that it was setting in the late-August sky, the dapples of bright sunlight that had helped guide her before had all but disappeared. The woods were full of shadows now, and the path was harder to make out. She should have left a trail of crumbs like Hansel and Gretel, or she could have used friendship bracelet string. She had a whole trunkful, practically, back at camp.
This time through the woods, unfortunately, there was definitely no invisible force to help lead her along. Twice she was sure that she’d lost her way and would never get back. But then both times she stopped and took a deep breath and carefully retraced a few steps. And both times she looked down, relieved, to discover the ragged ribbon of path again.
At least she didn’t feel cold, thanks to the thick red sweatshirt she’d forgotten to give back to Dennis. She’d been in such a hurry to go. She hoped he wasn’t freezing, as she pulled the hood around her head. As soon as she did, its scent enveloped her and she had to close her eyes. It wasn’t a strong smell exactly—just incredibly sharp and clear. There was the sweet perfume of the wildflowers and the tang of the
cabin’s pine walls. There is even, Sam thought with a shudder, the dank, earthy odor of that dark hole. And there was something else, something beneath all the other more familiar notes. She sniffed again, trying to place it. Was it Dennis himself? She wasn’t sure. And that’s when it suddenly hit her that she couldn’t remember how he smelled. While all her other senses had been overloaded in his presence, that one alone had somehow been missed.
Well, I’ll fix that problem tonight! Sam thought as she sighed dreamily and walked on.
At last she elbowed her way through a spindly thicket and found herself back on the Old Stump Trail. She broke into a trot and was back at camp, thankfully, just seconds before Kay rang the dinner bell.
Perfect, thought Sam. I didn’t miss anything!
Her worries disappeared and were quickly replaced by happy relief. She still had ten whole minutes to get to the mess hall—just enough time, if she hurried, to get herself cleaned up and changed. The knees on her jeans were caked with dirt, and she had a feeling her face was too. She could feel where her needless tears had left stiff streaks along her cheeks. I must look like such a mess, she thought. Then she thought of Dennis—again—and smiled. She remembered how he’d said that she looked “perfect” when it couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Well, if he didn’t mind how I look now, she thought, just wait till he sees me dressed up tonight!
She couldn’t think about Dennis without sighing and replaying every second with him in her head.
Sam. I like it. That’s a really nice name . . .
You seem really nice too . . .
You can stay here with me forever . . .
Oh, I wish you wouldn’t go . . .
She grinned, looking down at her hands and remembering how Dennis’s had felt. She’d held a few boys’ hands before, but they had never felt like his. Did our hands really make sparks, she wondered, or did I just imagine it? She rubbed them together and thought of how nice it would be to hold his hands again—and how she would in just a few hours. She could hardly wait to see him again—and introduce him to her friends! Can I call him my boyfriend? she wondered. She bit her lip and told herself yes.
