by BETH KERY
Still, her impulsive confession to Thad made her feel uncomfortably exposed.
“Won’t that commonality in your background make it easier for them to relate to you?” Thad continued. He stared at the still empty road ahead of them. “If I were those kids, I’d resent someone like me.”
“Someone like you?” Alice wondered.
He shrugged, as if trying to minimize what he was saying. “Someone who doesn’t know crap about what they have to go through every day of their life. Why should they listen to some privileged white guy from Greenwich, Connecticut?” he joked, but she heard the hint of worry in his tone.
A minor shock went through her. Gorgeous, utterly confident, natural born leader Thad Schaefer was worried about failing? At this, an outdoor leadership retreat, the likes of which he’d probably attend and excel at no matter what type of executive position he ended up taking?
She suddenly saw Dylan’s gleaming eyes and heard his quiet voice echoing in her head as he described why Durand utilized the camp to select its executives every year. Then the kids arrive, and the challenge really begins … It’s not enough for counselors to brag about qualities of leadership, planning, intelligence, innovation, salesmanship, compassion, determination, hard work, and courage: they have to demonstrate those skills daily with a group of children, some of whom have been labeled as criminal, uncooperative, manipulative, lazy, or unreachable. It’s a lot harder than it sounds at first blush.
Of course Dylan had been one hundred percent right. Thad recognized that, just like Alice did now, even if she hadn’t at the time Dylan said it. Compassion went through her as she studied Thad’s profile.
“I think they’ll listen to you,” she said quietly. “Because you’ll listen to them. It might take a bit for them to warm up to you, but when they do, they’re going to understand how lucky they are to have gotten you as a counselor.”
Thad gave her a surprised glance. He looked pleased. Out of the corner of her eye, Alice saw movement and a yellow school bus entered her vision.
“They’re here,” she said, her heartbeat giving a flutter.
“Do you really think that? About the kids being lucky?” Thad asked her as the crowd around them started to whoop and clap in excitement.
“Sure I do,” she told him as they began to walk up en masse to greet the kids. A sideways glance told her Thad was still watching her. “You managed to make a fan out of me, didn’t you?” she laughed. “And trust me … that’s no easy feat,” she added, rolling her eyes.
“Alice Reed is a believer?” he murmured. “Okay. Then bring ’em on. I can take anything now,” he said, his gaze beyond warm on Alice’s face.
Alice experienced a sinking feeling. Was she leading Thad on? She genuinely did like him, so maybe not? What sane woman wouldn’t be euphoric over the idea of someone like Thad favoring her?
So why did she feel like something was missing when it came to Thad?
The bizarre, compelling experience at the stable was eclipsing everything, confusing her.
Dylan Fall was.
His very presence was like some kind of powerful magnet on her awareness. On her body.
Something told her that the pull would only grow stronger as the hours of the day passed. By the time their proposed meeting approached, Alice worried she’d be unable to resist him.
SIX
Sebastian Kehoe wanted them to launch into their regular schedule immediately upon the first day in order to get the kids accustomed to it as quickly as possible. Since their mandatory planned activities and workshops all took place in the morning, however, that left lunch and then free time in the afternoon. Free time wasn’t necessarily a free-for-all, though. Every day of the week had several scheduled activities, such as football, baseball, competitive swimming, kayaking, horseback riding, archery, sailboating, gardening, hiking, woodcraft, or an art class. The camp counselors led these activities. The kids could choose to do one activity or several, or just swim and socialize with friends, although they were required to do at least four free time activities every week in order to prevent too much languishing and goofing off on the lovely white shore beach.
Alice learned quickly, however, after spending time with her new charges, that languishing wasn’t much of a threat at Camp Durand. The kids looked forward to the afternoon activities because they were loosely structured and fun. Plus, there was the added benefit of an opportunity to gain points for one’s team by an athletic win, artistic expression, or individual skill in the gardens, in art class, or on horseback. The rumor of the reputation of the team trophy had apparently already spread on the first day. The kids liked the idea of racking up points for their team.
Thankfully, five of her ten charges were “experts,” meaning they were returning to Camp Durand—some of them for third or fourth times. This meant that they usually were more on top of things than Alice. Her experts relished guiding the less experienced kids—and Alice especially. She didn’t mind their eager instruction. She was thankful for their knowledge, because that first day was pretty hectic.
The range of sizes, strengths, and vulnerabilities on the Red Team was huge. The first to diligently seek her out upon arrival was a clean-cut sixteen-year-old boy named Noble Darian, who went by Noble D or “D.” Noble D was as serious as a minister. Later, he solemnly told Alice a minister is exactly what he planned to become following his education at a Baptist college, where he’d already received a basketball scholarship. Alice already knew from reading Noble D’s history that he’d grown up in a Detroit war zone and had responded to the stress of the shooting death of his oldest brother by becoming the male figure of the family at age ten. No psychologist needed to tell Alice what the challenge was with D. It was to give him permission to let go of the responsibility and burden of watching out for everyone else for a short period of time and just be a kid.
Terrance Brown was on a different end of the spectrum, every bit as physically imposing as Noble D, not only in the vertical direction but the horizontal one as well. He wore a perennial grin, because he was always trying to make someone laugh with his bag full of off-color jokes or, even more often, because he’d just pulled a fast one and was waiting for you to find out about it the hard way. Alice knew from his records that the fun-loving fifteen-year-old was dangerously overweight and diabetic. With little parental supervision and a troubled home life, Terrance self-soothed with a diet of fast food, chips, and candy. He observed everything about people and was smart as a whip when it came to social interactions and body language. He possessed a silver tongue and was, at times, as sweet and generous a kid as Alice had ever met. Alice thought that if Terrance could harness some of his charm and social acumen, he would make a fine lawyer, salesman, or politician. She couldn’t help but like Terrance almost immediately, even if she wasn’t fooled for a second by his innocent faces and everready jokester act.
There was Jill Sanchez, a withdrawn, painfully thin thirteen-year-old who reminded Alice of a lost baby deer in headlights when she got off the bus, standing in the parking lot alone and dazed-looking. Jill had hardly spoken since witnessing the shooting of her mother last winter, although she’d previously been a bright and outgoing student at Grover Cleveland Middle School.
And then there was Judith Arnold, a pretty, athletic, but angry seventeen-year-old who was reportedly quite brilliant when she put her mind to things, but was too busy snarling and being uncooperative with the world to ever show it. Unlike many of her fellow campers, Judith came from a comfortable middle-class home—or at least that’s how things stood presently. It hadn’t always been so rosy for Judith. Apparently, Judith’s mother had determinedly struggled against poverty and single-handedly fought to make a better world for her daughter and herself. Mrs. Arnold, who raised Judith alone, had been dead set against her daughter attending Camp Durand. Somehow, Judith had successfully convinced her mother otherwise.
The interesting question for Alice was why Judith had been so determined to come,
given her obvious condescending attitude about the camp. Judith possessed the air of being above her peers … above everyone at Camp Durand, for that matter. The fact that she was pretty, smart, and confident only added to the impression of her loftiness and disdain toward the rest of them. Alice thought Judith might be her biggest personal challenge at Camp Durand. The girl could be a straight-up bitch when she put her mind to it, easily pricking Alice’s own defensiveness, uncertainties, and temper. Unfortunately, Judith seemed to take an instant strong dislike to Alice, which meant that she was doing her sneering-bitch act way too much for Alice’s comfort.
The Red Team was on the roster that first night for dinner duty along with the Blue Team, which meant that Alice and her ten kids helped Mira, the camp cook, prepare and serve all one hundred and fifty-three campers and the Camp Durand staff. It was their first real team effort, because the kids had chosen to do various things that afternoon after lunch as well as settle in at their team cabin.
All in all, Alice thought they’d pulled things off pretty well. There was one anxious moment. Jill Sanchez was scared to tears while serving hamburgers and grilled chicken to a group of boisterous teenagers from the Purple Team who were shouting rude questions at her and then not giving her the time or patience necessary to reply. Before Alice could get on-site to interfere, Judith leapt into the fray, soundly putting the lead instigator in his place. Judith led away a cowering Jill. As a consequence, the older girl acquired a small silent shadow that trailed her everywhere.
Alice was glad she’d observed the episode from a distance. The counselors were expected to choose a student leader for their team after five days of observation, utilizing their best judgment not just for the individual leader but the entire team. Noble D was the obvious choice, and had been the Red Team student leader for the past two years. Alice was taking a wait-and-see attitude, however, to watch how things unfolded. She was hesitant to heap more responsibility on D than was required, no matter how much the kid deserved the position.
By that evening, Alice was exhausted but very satisfied with how her first day with the kids had gone. A few of the kids had warmed up to her. Most were polite but cautious. Alice understood and respected that, though.
She would have been the same way.
The campers had their own team cabin. It was large, with one side housing the girls’ bedrooms, the other with the boys’. In the middle was a large common room, where they’d hold several small group sessions throughout camp and the kids could relax, play games, and watch television after the evening activity. The cabin and individual suites were as large and every bit as luxurious and well-appointed as Alice and Kuvi’s. Alice was a little envious of the campers, to be able to spend a teenage summer in such an idyllic place.
Alice entered the common room at around eight thirty that evening, finding most of her kids lounging around and talking, many of the younger ones looking tired after a long day of travel, sunshine, swimming, and the waning excitement of their first day. Crystal Dean, a Morgantown resident and junior high school teacher who had worked as a night cabin supervisor at Camp Durand for six years, was there a little early for her shift.
“You’re welcome to go if you like,” Crystal told Alice brightly, looking up from the game of crazy eights she was playing with Matt Dinorio and Rochelle Phelps. “I’ve got everything under control here. These kids won’t have any problem settling in to sleep tonight,” she added with a grin as Rochelle gave a wide yawn.
“No, Alice!” Terrance Brown called out from the sofa where he was watching television. He picked up the remote and shut it off. “You’ve got to stay for some ghost stories,” he said, grinning excitedly.
Alice gave him a droll look. Matt Dinorio and Justin Arun, two Red Team experts, had been explaining at dinner how they made a bonfire sometimes and told ghost stories while at camp. Terrance, who had never been to a camp, had acted like the whole idea was hilarious. He was obviously secretly interested, though.
“We can’t light a campfire in here,” Alice said.
“Why not?” he joked. Matt shot him a dirty look and told Terrance to shut up.
“No, seriously, I want to!” Terrance insisted, unswayed. He pointed at the modern gas fireplace that was safely behind a pane of glass. “We’ll dim the lights and turn that on.”
“Yeah,” several of the kids enthused, some of the older kids acting like it was beneath them, but they’d endure it because it’d be worth a laugh.
Alice checked her watch. She’d been highly aware of the clock ticking away the minutes until she was supposed to meet Dylan all day. Now that the time was drawing near, and her anxiety and uncertainty were growing, she thought it might be helpful to have a distraction at the present moment.
“Okay,” she conceded. “But nothing too scary. We don’t want any nightmares,” she warned, as Terrance moved faster than she would have thought was possible given his size, standing and starting to turn down the lamps.
“No offensive language or gore, that’s the rule,” Crystal called out as the other drowsy kids seemed to reanimate, laughing and helping Terrance turn down the lights. Terrance flipped on the switch for the fireplace, and the common room was bathed in shadow and the glow from the fire. “And if anyone has any nightmares, no more ghost stories,” Crystal warned.
“Don’t any of you midgets mention it if you have a nightmare,” Terrance warned a couple of the middle school kids before he bounced back on the couch.
“That’s not the point, Terrance,” Noble D remonstrated before Alice could.
“Who’s going first?” Terrance asked, ignoring D.
“I’ll go,” Justin Arun said. Alice sat down on the sectional couch, interested and warmed by the fact that Justin had volunteered first. Justin had a speech impediment due to a cleft palette. Even though he’d had a surgical repair, he still had residual problems with speech. She knew from his history that when he’d first come to Camp Durand two years ago, he’d hardly spoken at all, far too used to bullying and beatings to put himself at risk. Currently, Justin spoke loudly and without any evidence of shyness despite a slight lingering lisp and a nasal quality to his speech. Justin had blossomed at Camp Durand during the past two summers. His mother and teachers attributed his improvement to the weeks spent here at camp.
Alice was impressed.
Justin told Resurrection Mary highlights, the urban legend about the pale teenage girl who hitched rides with unsuspecting males requesting they take her “home,” only to have them drop her off at Resurrection Cemetery and then disappear.
“That one is real,” Terrance said with a dramatic, somber glance at fourteen-year-old Angela Knox, who sat next to him. The girl’s eyes widened.
“Really?” Angela squeaked.
“No. Terrance, give it a rest,” Judith said scornfully, gliding into the room. Alice had noticed she’d kept separate from the others ever since they arrived at the cabin. “You guys are telling ghost stories? Lame,” she muttered under her breath, sitting and hoisting long legs onto the arm of the upholstered chair.
“I don’t know if there’s any truth to Resurrection Mary,” Matt Dinorio piped up. “But I can tell you one ghost story about Camp Durand that’s real.”
“Not that one about the mother who haunts the woods and the castle because her baby was killed in there, and she wanders around looking for her,” Justin Arun said disgustedly, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, that’s just a story Jackson Jones made up two years ago because he said something white was chasing him in the woods,” Noble D said.
“Chasing him in the woods?” Alice asked with an amused tone, despite the goose bumps that popped up along her arms.
“Jackson Jones is full of it,” Noble D said, shaking his head dismissively. “He was a camper here for three years. He went to Ohio State to learn how to be a writer like Stephen King or something, but Jones doesn’t need classes to know how to spin some …”
“Bullshit,” Judith said succinct
ly when Noble D faded off. She rolled her eyes. “Can’t you even say the word, preacher boy?” she asked Noble pointedly. Alice noticed that D’s eyes flashed with anger at the girl, and then quickly turned warm as his stare fixed on her face.
“No, I’m telling you, it’s true,” Matt insisted excitedly. “I told one of my teachers about it after I heard the story last year, and Mr. Glyer said he did remember something about that happening years ago, right here at Camp Durand. It was all over the news. Mr. Glyer wasn’t talking about a ghost, he just meant a kid really was snatched and killed here.”
“A kid was killed at Camp Durand?” Rochelle repeated shakily.
“No camper has ever been killed or died at Camp Durand! That’s ridiculous,” Crystal said suddenly with an air of sharp finality. “The worst thing that’s ever happened to a kid here is a bad case of poison ivy.”
“Isn’t anyone going to tell Hook Man?” Alice asked, referring to the classic scary campfire story. Something about Crystal’s tone of voice had warned her it was definitely time to change the subject.
SHE left the Red Team cabin at around five after nine, stepping into a warm night. The wind off the lake gently rustled in the surrounding trees, making a sighing sound. Otherwise, everything was hushed. Kuvi’s and her cabin was only fifty feet or so down the path. She could see the light on inside through the screen door. Kuvi was back already. In the distance, she noticed Dave Epstein walking out of the Gold Team cabin. He started in the direction of his cabin, glanced around, saw Alice, and waved. He paused, like he was considering coming in her direction. Before he could, Alice waved back and immediately headed in the opposite direction from him, toward her cabin. Her heart started to race in her chest.
You’re going to meet Dylan, aren’t you? You’re going to meet him at nine thirty. That’s why you didn’t want to delay by talking to Dave.