“Yeah, exactly,” says Tom. “That’s a good way of putting it.”
I finish up the dishes and start drying bowls and spoons for cereal in the morning. And then Tom asks Candy for her “misbehavior narrative,” as Scott calls it.
Candy shrugs. “Scott caught me trying to call my dad.”
Tom looks confused. “Your dad? You mean Rick?”
“No, my real dad.” She sounds a little annoyed, like everyone should already know. “He lives in Boston.”
“Okay,” says Tom. “So what happened?”
“I was trying to use the phone in the office, but . . . I don’t know, it wouldn’t work. I got a message about long-distance service or something. And so I was going to try to find out how to have my dad pay for it? I think there’s a way to do that, but before I could figure it out, Scott came in and he went ballistic.”
“Hmm,” says Tom. “That’s rough.” He doesn’t say anything else for a while, just takes a clean rag and starts drying all of the tables that Ryan has left wet. I’m looking down at a spoon I’m drying, and suddenly something clicks in my head. The scrap of paper in the trash in the office: it means that letter never got mailed.
“So why can’t she call her dad?” I ask. “Is it just because we’re not supposed to use the phone or something? Because it’s technology, or because it would cost money?”
Tom’s quiet for a minute longer. “I’m not really sure,” he says. “I think that Scott wants to keep our group separate from the outside world for now. Just for a little while, until we’re completely settled in.”
“But we are settled in,” says Candy. “And we’re not separate from the outside world, because we just had this whole new group of people show up. I saw one of the kids with an iPhone, for goodness’ sake.”
Just as a side note, I smile a little when she says “for goodness’ sake.” When we first got here, she was saying “for God’s sake” all the time, and Scott kept bugging her about it. Now it seems like her brain’s all trained, and she just uses the appropriate version without even thinking about it.
“Yes, and you probably saw Scott take it away about two minutes later,” says Tom. “Look, I don’t have an answer for you, Candy. I really don’t. But Scott’s kind of our visionary here, and he’s got his own ideas about things. And even if I don’t always agree with him, I respect him and trust him completely. So for now, I think you’re going to have to do the same.”
Candy still looks mad, and I don’t blame her. It would suck not to be able to see or talk to my dad. I have this sudden memory of what it was like every night at home, when my dad got home from work. We were always so happy to see him, and it was like a turning point for the day. Everything felt more cozy or something, once all four of us were there together.
It makes me feel sort of lonely and nostalgic, which is weird, because now I can see my dad any time of the day. But it’s not the same, because we’re both always busy with chores or listening to Scott or something. It doesn’t feel cozy here very much at all.
We finish up in the kitchen, and Tom turns off the lights and leads us outside. We all head toward the lake, where I can see there’s still a campfire going on, even if the singing’s over. Candy and Ryan run ahead, so I’m left walking next to Tom. It’s kind of good, because maybe it’s better to talk about this to a grown-up who’s not my parents.
“Tom?” I say. My voice sounds high, like I’m nervous. “You know what Scott said to me this afternoon, after he found out about the story I told the other kids? He said that I was supposed to be the good kid.”
He doesn’t get it. “Well, you are a good kid, Iris. Absolutely.”
“No, that’s not it. He said it like I’m supposed to be the best kid here. Or maybe the only good kid.” I hope it doesn’t sound like bragging for me to repeat that.
I can’t see Tom’s face very well in the dark, but he actually stops and turns to look at me.
“Really?” he says. “Scott said that?”
“Uh-huh.” Now I’m a little bit nervous, like maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.
Tom nods slowly and then starts walking again. “Well,” he says, finally. “In spite of what I just said about how we all have to trust and respect Scott’s decisions, I’m going to come right out and say that I don’t think he should have said that to you. And it’s not because I don’t think you’re a good kid.”
“Okay,” I say. “Um, thanks.”
He’s quiet for a minute. “Here’s the thing: One, I don’t think you should make anyone feel like they have to be good all the time, because that’s just not possible, especially for a kid. And two, I think you must’ve caught Scott at a bad moment, because I am certain that deep down he believes that all our kids are good. Look at it this way: if you’re the ‘best’ kid here, then by that scale, Hayden’s gotta be the worst, don’t you think?”
I nod and shake my head all at the same time, because I see what he’s saying, but I don’t want to look like I agree with that.
“Yeah, and you know that’s not true, right?” he asks.
“Right.” I wonder suddenly if it’s hard for him and Janelle, seeing all these other kids all the time who can do things that Hayden can’t. I mean, I don’t know what everyone thinks is going to happen from being here, all the grown-ups, that is. But I think they must be hoping that this whole experience is going to help their kids be more . . . I don’t know, normal, I guess. But no matter how hard Hayden’s parents work at it, there are just some things that he’s never going to be able to do.
“I really like Hayden,” I say. “He’s so sweet, almost like a baby.” Then I wonder if that’s the wrong thing to say, like I’m putting him down for not being mature enough or something.
But Tom smiles and looks down where we’re walking. “Yeah,” he says. “He is. And you know what? There are worse ways to be.”
“Yeah,” I say. “There are.”
chapter 25
Tilly
Date and Location Unknown
Imagine a world in which people disappear from photos when they die. Like in Back to the Future when Marty McFly is almost missing his chance to get his parents together, except that there’s no blurring, no gradual fading. They’re there, and then they’re not. A million widows crying over pictures of themselves. A million mothers, smiling at a crook in their elbow. A million babies, floating in midair.
School photos empty themselves, one by one. First the teachers, probably, leaving behind a crowd of unsupervised kids wearing old-fashioned clothes. Then the group winnows slowly, until nothing remains but the faded rug, the outdated maps on the walls. (Check out the names: Czechoslovakia. Rhodesia. Zaire.)
At senior mixers, potential lovers show each other photos of their young selves in wedding finery. Look at that lace. My mother sewed it by hand. A bittersweet game, layering the photos together, so that those young strangers appear to be standing side by side. Here’s how we would have looked. What a handsome couple!
On Facebook, deaths are announced through blank bathroom mirrors, cameras holding themselves. Old Playboys show empty staircases, classic cars with no one posed on the hood. Lists of turn-ons next to rumpled, unmade beds.
Posters of people gone missing hold new measures of hope, right up until the moment when they don’t. The FBI knows exactly when to remove a fugitive from their list.
Families gather together to pose and smile, knowing that sooner or later, the only thing anybody will see will be an empty room.
chapter 26
Iris
June 22, 2012: New Hampshire
When Friday comes, and Scott announces Mother’s Day again, I wonder if we’re going to play Werewolf at all, after the whole problem with Kylie and Jason. But Scott takes us out into the woods, back to the campfire site, just like last week. This time, there’s a table set up that Scott must have had some of t
he other grown-ups bring out, because he’s still got his arm in a sling. I don’t know what’s on the table because it’s covered with a sheet, but it’s all lumpy, so I know there’s something under there.
“Before we begin,” Scott says. “We all know there’s no such thing as monsters, right?”
We do.
“And we all know that there’s nothing scary or dangerous out here in the woods, right?”
We do again. “Good. So remember that. Whatever happens out here, it’s all made up, and it’s all a game.”
And then he starts it up, the same way he did last week: “We’re going to play a game called Werewolf. And the best thing about Werewolf is that it’s a different game each time you play, but it always starts the very same way.” Last week, I wasn’t sure if he was rhyming intentionally or just by accident. But now I know it’s on purpose.
“Okay, those of you who were here last week, help me out.” His voice gets quiet. “The Werewolf says you have to hide . . .”
And me and Candy, Ryan, and Tilly all chant, “Are you on the Werewolf’s side?”
I check out the GC kids. Some of them seem like they’re into it, but Kylie clearly thinks it’s stupid, and Jason looks scared, even though not a single scary thing has happened.
“Now the thing about the Werewolf,” Scott says, “is that he doesn’t like kids who know how to survive in the wilderness. Because those are the kids he can’t catch. So each of you has to be as smart and wilderness-savvy as you can be, and build yourself a house where the Werewolf can’t find you.”
I think that’s supposed to be the educational/good-for-you aspect of the game, that we’re learning things about staying safe in the woods. Whatever. That’s not really the main part.
“Here are some building materials to help you out,” Scott says. He goes over to the table and starts to pull off the sheet with his good hand. He’s having trouble with it, though, because the fabric keeps snagging on the things underneath.
“I can help,” I say. I go over and pull the sheet off with him. Underneath, there’s all kinds of things: ropes and pointy metal posts, some random pieces of fabric, old couch cushions and pillows, even one of those dog-crate travel carriers, which is like a whole shelter in itself. This is awesome, and I can tell the other CF kids get it right away; Ryan says, “Whoa,” and Tilly yells out, “Yeah, that’s the stuff.” We are definitely going to be able to build better forts this week than we did last week, when we could only use what we found on the ground.
“Welcome to the Building Store,” says Scott. “The trick is that the store is owned by the Werewolf. And if you want to buy any of these materials for use in your structure, you have to gain the Werewolf’s trust.”
“Can I be the Werewolf?” asks Ryan.
“The Werewolf doesn’t like people talking out of turn, Ryan,” says Scott. He’s smiling, so it doesn’t sound mean or anything. “Just FYI. And no, I’m afraid not. I’m the Werewolf today.”
“Are you always going to be the Werewolf?” asks Tilly. “Oops, sorry, Mr. Werewolf. I didn’t mean to talk out of turn.”
“Nice save,” says Scott. “And the answer is: that’s for me to know and you to find out.”
A bunch of kids say, “Aww” and “That’s not fair” and whatever. I’m not really disappointed, though. Being the Werewolf looks fun, but it’s also complicated and kind of a lot of responsibility.
“Speaking out of turn puts you at the back of the line for the Building Store,” Scott says. Everyone quiets down.
“Now you have your goal, which is to build an awesome hideaway and stay safe. But the Werewolf has plans of his own: he wants to gain power. He wants to take over the town and turn it into a vast werewolf empire. So when he sells materials from his Building Store, he doesn’t deal in money. He deals in secrets.”
“What do you . . .” says Tilly, then shuts up really quickly. She raises her hand and waits for Scott to call on her. Then she asks, “What do you mean by secrets?”
“Let’s just start playing,” Scott says. “It’ll all become clear. Okay . . .” He claps his hands twice and raises his voice. “Werewolf shop unlocks its doors—who’s got a secret for the Building Store?”
Everyone runs over to the table to get in line. I end up fourth, right behind Tilly. Now that I’m closer to the table, I can see that all the items have numbers taped to them, like prices at a yard sale. All the numbers are between one and three.
Tilly turns around to talk to me. “What secrets are you going to use?”
I don’t have anything in mind, but I decide it’s a good strategy to pretend that I do. “I’m not telling you!” I say.
“Fine,” she says. “I’m not telling you mine, either.”
Candy’s first in line, and Scott leads her over to a tree stump about ten feet away, where we can’t hear them talking. I watch as she gets up on the stump and he leans closer so she can whisper in his ear. He nods and says something to her, then she whispers to him again. “Yes!” he yells. He gives her a high-five, and she runs over to the table and grabs the dog carrier.
“Aww,” Tilly says. “I wanted that.”
Next is a GC boy named Joey. He and Scott have their little tree stump conference, and he goes and picks out a sheet and a roll of duct tape.
“How come he got two?” Tilly asks.
“I think it has to do with the numbers on them,” I say. “I think they’re prices.”
“Tilly and Iris,” Scott calls out. “Family discount. Come on over together.”
I’m not expecting that, and I’m not sure I like it—I just want to do my own thing, I don’t want to be put on a team with Tilly or anyone else—but I walk over with her to where Scott is standing.
“You guys are lucky,” he tells us when we get there. “Werewolf special, today only. Most customers are exchanging three secrets for three merchandise points. But in the unlikely event that there are two sisters, standing next to each other in line, and one of them is wearing . . .” He pauses to look us over. “A green flowered top, they each get a chance to earn an extra point.”
“That’s pretty specific,” Tilly says.
Scott shrugs. “The Werewolf wants what the Werewolf wants. So here’s how this is going to work. You two are going to take turns whispering secrets in the Werewolf’s ear. Neither of you gets to know what the other one is saying. But think hard about your secrets, because whoever tells the best one gets four points instead of three, and that can make a big difference at the Building Store.”
“But I don’t really get it,” I say. “What kind . . .”
“Uh uh uh,” says Scott, holding up a finger. “Gotta be fast; go with your gut. We’re going to have three rounds. Round One: a secret about yourself. Make it true and make it good. Tilly first.” He points to the tree stump and she climbs up to whisper in his ear.
I don’t know what she tells him, but he laughs out loud. “Good one,” he says. “Iris! You’re up.”
Tilly and I switch places. Even on the tree stump, I’m not tall enough, so I stand on tiptoes. I lean right up to his ear and whisper, “Sometimes in the shower, I sing songs from High School Musical and pretend I’m one of the characters.”
Scott laughs, just like he did after Tilly’s secret. “Awesome,” he says. “The Werewolf loves it. Round Two: a secret about each other. Tilly?”
This makes me nervous, but actually I don’t think Tilly knows any of my secrets. Not that I have any major secrets, but you know. The ones I have I’ve never told her.
Still, she doesn’t even take a minute to think about it. Just climbs up and whispers something right away.
“Really?” says Scott, looking at me. “I never would have guessed.” He and Tilly laugh.
“What did you say?” I ask.
“Can’t tell you,” says Tilly.
Fine. My tu
rn. The first one I think of seems too mean—it’s about how Tilly told a boy in her class she had a crush on him, and he laughed at her—but then I think of a good one. “Okay,” I whisper. “One time, Tilly went to get her ears pierced, but after the first one, she was too afraid to go through with the second. So she just had one pierced ear until it finally closed up by itself.”
“You’re kidding!” says Scott. “Wow!” He looks over at Tilly and then back at me. “Okay, so far it’s neck and neck, so make this last one good. Round Three: a secret about somebody else in your family.”
Tilly has to think about this one, but after she finally tells Scott, he says, “Wow. I think we may have a winner.” So I know I’d better come up with something big.
I climb up on the tree stump, then hesitate. “Nobody’s going to get in trouble, are they?” I ask Scott, talking in a regular voice. “Because of the secrets?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “Nope. It’s just a game. All in good fun.”
“Okay,” I say, and rise up on my toes. When I’m finished, Scott lifts my arm up above my head like I’m a boxer or wrestler or something. “Sorry, Tilly,” he says. “Our extra point goes to Iris.”
I walk away smiling. And the shelter I make, using a rope, a blanket, and a two-point laundry basket, turns out to be the best of anybody’s.
• • •
The GCs leave on Saturday, and I don’t think anyone’s sad to see Kylie and Jason’s family go. I’m hoping the next group will be better. We spend the afternoon cleaning up the guest cabins, and we have dinner, and then it’s time for Saturday Campfire. We go out to the Harmony Circle with our flashlights, and the adults get the fire going. Scott gets up to talk; he looks tired, and his hair’s all messy, which is really weird for him.
“So it’s been a tough week,” he says. “We knew we’d have them, right? Nothing huge, just a few little things here and there, but it did make me stop and wonder why the heck we’re doing all this.”
Harmony Page 17