Before Wings

by Beth Goobie

  “So you disobey them.” Adrien climbed into bed. “What can they do about it? Their big punishment was to lock me in the Petting Zoo.”

  Darcie’s eyes turned vague. “Oh, they do things,” she said. “A lot of bullying. Hazing. Every night, there’s some victim. If you don’t join in, you become the victim. Everyone’s so eager not to be the next victim.”

  “I thought it was just good times,” Adrien said faintly.

  “It used to be,” said Darcie. “It wasn’t like this last year, when I worked on maintenance. A guy named Ernie led the campfires then. He kept it cool, just a place staff could go for a beer. You didn’t have to go every night and there wasn’t any hazing. I guess it depends on who leads it. Connor was here last year too, doing that grunt thing about your aunt, but it was a just a fun thing then. Not mean like now.”

  “It was always mean,” said Adrien. “He just wasn’t in charge.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Darcie said softly. “I guess we let him take over and change things.” She took a deep breath. “Well, I’m not going back. We’ll stick together, Grouch. What can they do to us if we stick together?”

  Adrien turned out the light. “Maybe they should start worrying about what we could do to them.”

  “What could we do?”

  “Ask the Wishing Tree in your dreams. Maybe we’ll know by morning.”

  ten

  She was floating just under the water’s surface, curled into herself. The rhythm of the water was the rhythm of breathing; she rose and fell on the water’s breathing as if it was forever, as if all things could be like this, at peace, waiting for the heart to speak. Slowly, Adrien’s eyes opened. Darcie’s bed was empty—she was probably getting rid of last night’s evidence at the Petting Zoo. Adrien rolled and stretched. In spite of missed sleep, she felt soft and warm, full of small yawns. She knew she had to decide what to do about Connor, but it was difficult to worry with all this gentleness in her body. The person she really wanted to think about was Paul—she had to talk to him this morning, find out what he had dreamed about, if he had lived or died, and how. And she had to make him tell his birth date, when it was coming, if it was today.

  It could be today. Heartbeat quickening, she showered, then headed to the dining hall. For once she was early. Maybe the hairnets would give her some toast and jam before everyone else came in. If she learned how to say please in their weird language, they might even cook her an ecstatic omelet. She was opening the door to the kitchen, about to go in and beg, when the sound of whispering caught her ear and she turned to find herself in sudden darkness.

  A crescent moon glimmered overhead, and five girls glided past the dining hall into the trees. They were obviously trying to keep quiet—Cath giggled and was immediately shushed—and they seemed intent on something just ahead of them.

  “Can you still see her?” Sherry whispered to Roberta, who led the way. The five were dressed in nighties and baby dolls. No one had bothered to pull on a sweatshirt.

  Roberta nodded. “This is the same way she came last night. I followed her about this far, and then I lost her.”

  “She sure ain’t going to the can,” observed Nat.

  They were headed toward the campfire. It was a different route and there were no white ribbons tied to the trees, but Adrien recognized the area.

  “Why would Erin come out here in the middle of the night?” whispered the girl with the long tumble of brown hair.

  “Shh,” hissed Sherry and Roberta.

  Fire flickered through the bush, and the sound of laughter drifted toward the girls. Ahead, the trees opened and a figure stepped from the path into the clearing, pausing so that her wheat-blond hair caught the firelight in a sudden halo. Friendly cries greeted the young Erin Wood, and a guy put his arm around her. Someone gave a soft whistle as they kissed.

  “Peter Pecker,” whispered Nat with satisfaction.

  Adrien had been so intent on watching her aunt that she had forgotten the girls. She seemed to have crept in among them, and was surrounded as they crouched together in the dark.

  “I told you she was meeting him!” Nat was triumphant. “Bet you they don’t stay here long.”

  Before Nat finished her sentence, Erin and the young man had turned and were walking into the trees. “C’mon,” hissed Roberta, and the girls crept after the pair. The couple didn’t go far. He spread a blanket and they lay down together. Hidden among the trees, the girls’ breathing took on a quick short rhythm, their eyes beady and shameless, watching in stunned amazement as clothing came loose, and bodies were naked and joined. The guy kept whispering Erin’s name, but she seemed to lose all words, the sounds she made, almost singing.

  Something rose in Adrien then, too huge to be understood, though she felt it—emotions that swirled like a storm. She was lost in it, turned from what she had seen, what her aunt kept hidden and never let show. Running, she felt like she was running through trees in the dark, stumbling over roots, branches whipping her face, but when she could think again, she found herself still standing beside the west kitchen entrance, as if she had never moved. The early morning sun slanted down to touch and warm her, the trees heaved in a slow breeze. She couldn’t get the young Erin Wood’s small joyous cries out of her head.

  She continued to hear them through flag-raising and her aunt’s Canada Day speech. She joined the staff breakfast line still trying to shake the wildness that echoed through her. The assistant director was up front, organizing the entry into the dining hall. Fortunately, Aunt Erin had disappeared—Adrien was sure her constant stare would have bored away sections of her aunt’s head.

  Darcie stepped out of her position further up the line and walked back to her. “What’s wrong, Grouch?”

  Adrien shrugged. Other staff were watching them closely. Darcie hadn’t been seen talking to her since early last week. “Did you clean up the Petting Zoo?”

  Darcie nodded. “Should we tell your aunt?”

  Adrien shot Connor a glance. He was at the front of the line, joking with other staff. Last night seemed to be forgotten, a trivial event. She thought of what it had meant to her. She had won, really. She had opened cages Connor knew nothing about. “Y’know,” she said slowly, “the whole thing was just so stupid.”

  “Yeah?” Darcie asked dubiously.

  “So act like it,” Adrien shrugged. “If Aunt Erin asks, I was running and I fell on my hand. You bandaged it, right?”

  The two girls looked at each other, understanding creeping across Darcie’s face. She glanced at Connor. “He isn’t worth it, is he, Grouch?”

  “He ain’t worth half a sneeze.”

  Her roommate nodded again. “For the first time this summer, I didn’t crawl out of bed like a slug. And I’m going to sleep all night tonight. Just think of how tomorrow’s going to be.”

  “Maybe you’ll even have time to curl that Spartan hair of yours.”

  Darcie gave a small shriek and covered her hair with her hands. “I forgot!”

  “You missed your face too.”

  “My makeup,” whispered Darcie.

  Adrien grinned. “Robin Hood would be proud.”

  The maintenance crew held a daily 8:30 meeting at the east kitchen entrance. Adrien sat on the steps, watching for Paul’s bike. She was the only staff who didn’t have to be at her post until 9 AM. Maybe her aunt was going easy on her. Maybe she did give a thought to stressed-out blood vessels. Most of the maintenance crew had assembled and were listening to Guy’s instructions. Paul didn’t actually clean toilets—he was usually repairing something—but he met with the rest of them, and he was usually early. Adrien stood and walked over to the group. “Guy, d’you know where Paul is?”

  He gave her a knowing grin. “Miss him already, eh?”

  She took a quick breath, trying to beat the flush rising in her face. “I just have to talk to him.”

  “Probably on his way,” said Guy. “But get your smooching in quick. We’re driving up to Ranch Camp to stoc
k up supplies.”

  Ranch Camp was a program for advanced horseback riders that was located at a separate campsite, a two-hour drive from Camp Lakeshore. Adrien headed for the office and caught the screen door just as it was swinging into place behind her aunt. “When is Paul’s birthday?” she demanded. “Today?”

  Aunt Erin gave her a very blue glance. “He’ll tell you if he wants to.”

  “You don’t understand.” Adrien’s voice rose in frustration. “I have to know.”

  “Boy has a right to keep personal information to himself.” Her aunt picked up the phone.

  “I hate you!” Adrien stomped her foot.

  “Mentioned that already.” Aunt Erin began dialing. It was an old phone, had probably been sitting on the desk since the ‘70s—a relic from the past, just like her aunt. That cold distant woman sitting in front of her couldn’t possibly connect to the teenager Adrien had just heard, giving those uncontrolled cries of wonder in the woods.

  “Your clock stopped again,” Adrien said. “1:37, just like last time.”

  Aunt Erin seemed to stop breathing. “First cabin comes by Tuck’n Tack at 9:30,” she said, fixing the clock. “Best be ready.”

  Adrien heard the faint whir of a ten-speed. She whirled and ran out, letting the screen door slam. “Paul!” she yelled. He braked, then turned and coasted to a stop in front of her. Beneath the tan, his face was pale. Dark smudges shadowed his eyes.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Why’re you late?”

  He slumped forward, resting his forehead on the handlebars. “Michelle had to go visit some puppies down the road. I biked her there first.”

  She felt stupid with relief and stared at the curl of hair at the nape of his neck. She wanted to touch it, curl it around her finger ... and then she was. Her hand floated strangely through the air, hovered above his neck, then picked up the dark curl and played with it. Sweet heat rushed her face—she heard soft cries coming from the woods. She let go of Paul’s hair and stood looking at her hand as if it belonged to someone else, someone who could touch those kinds of feelings and hold them close.

  He turned his head and rested it on his arms, smiling up at her. She took a deep breath and smiled back. “What’d you dream about?”

  His smile vanished. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “But you have to tell me,” she said. “They’re my dreams too.”

  “No, they’re not.” Paul started to turn his bike, but she stepped in front of him, trapping the wheel between her legs.

  “If I’m in them,” she said, “they’re mine.”

  Reluctantly, he laughed. “You’re as bad as I am.”

  She gripped the handlebars with both hands. “I’m not moving until you tell me.”

  His eyes were heavy with fatigue. “It was both of us this time.”

  “How?”

  “It doesn’t matter. The method’s always changing.”

  “I want to know.”

  Paul’s eyes flinched, then held steady. “We were in a boat with Connor. He tipped it and we were both going down when I woke up.”

  “Did Connor?”

  “I didn’t notice.”

  The office door opened and Aunt Erin stepped out. “Morning, Paul.”

  “Sorry I’m late. I had to double-ride Michelle to the neighbor’s.”

  Aunt Erin nodded. Paul gave a gentle tug at his bike but Adrien hung on, resisting her aunt’s unspoken order. “Where’s your dirt bike?”

  “I don’t take it to work,” he said. “Could get ripped off.” Adrien watched as he rode toward the kitchen, ignoring her aunt’s pointed silence. Finally she turned to see the screen door being held wide open. “Put out extra T-shirts,” said her aunt. “Kids always go for T-shirts on their second day at camp.”

  Adrien passed under her aunt’s arm and through the doorway. “It’s a tradition, right?”

  “Took the words right out of my mouth,” said her aunt, coming in behind her.

  All morning long, children filed past, pointing to Big Turks or Coffee Crisps, ordering the occasional T-shirt. Cards had been filled out for each camper, listing their spending money. Adrien was kept busy calculating the amount spent, then deducting it from the card. Two or three cabins were scheduled per half hour, so it was steady but not frenetic. Tamai came through at 10:30, a row of seven-year-olds following her like ducklings. The first child was shyly requesting a package of Reese’s Pieces when Connor jogged up and threw out an order for Smarties. The row of ducklings twisted to look at him, wide-eyed.

  “Smarties,” Connor said again, stepping forward.

  Adrien remembered the little girls touching the Wishing Tree, telling it their secrets. She leaned over the counter and gently tapped the first girl on the top of her head. “I think you were interrupted,” she said. “Here at Tuck’n Tack, everyone waits their turn. Now, what did you wish to order?”

  “Reese’s Pieces,” the girl whispered.

  “Reese’s Pieces. My favorite,” said Adrien. “Here you are, one package of Reese’s Pieces.” She looked at the next girl. “And what would you like?”

  The girl thought fiercely. “I want an Oh Henry! No, a Smarties, no, a, um, I don’t know what I want. I think maybe a Smar—Ni—Mr.— Oh, I know, a root beer.”

  “Thirsty, eh?” said Adrien. She handed the child a root beer.

  “I’m in a hurry,” snapped Connor.

  “I’m not,” said Adrien. She took extreme care listening to each child’s request, then looked at Tamai. “And what would you like?” The ducklings clustered around their counselor, leaning against her as they carefully unwrapped their treats. Tamai ruffled their hair, one after the other, making sure she touched each one.

  “I said I’m in a hurry,” Connor blustered.

  “I didn’t hear you, Tamai,” said Adrien.

  “I’ve got a class waiting!” said Connor.

  “I think,” said Tamai, thinking aloud slowly...very slowly, Adrien noted. “I’ll have a Caramilk. No wait—Nibs.”

  “Sure about that?” asked Adrien.

  “Yeah, today it’ll be the Nibs.” They gave each other wide-open smiles.

  “Now where did those Nibs get to?” Adrien puttered around the display case.

  “Here.” Connor stabbed the counter top with his finger.

  “What d’you know?” said Adrien. “Right in their cage where they belong.” She handed the package to Tamai, who gave one last satisfied smile and herded her ducklings away.

  “Why is he so mad?” a small voice demanded loudly.

  “Oh, he’s just grumpy,” said Tamai. “We’re not grumpy, are we?”

  “No,” chorused the ducklings.

  Adrien couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. “What can I do for you, Grouch?”

  Connor’s face burned a slow red. “Smarties, smart ass.”

  “Here you are,” she said brightly. “Have a nice day.” He stepped closer and spoke quickly. “I saw Darcie let you out. You think I really would’ve left you there all night? I was just about to let you out myself when she showed up.”

  She watched him fidget nervously with the Smarties package. “You didn’t have the key,” she said. “Darcie had it.”

  His eyes flickered. “I would’ve gone and gotten her. That’s just what I was going to do when she showed up and got you out.”

  A cabin of boys rounded the corner. Eight-year-olds crowded in around Connor and plastered their faces to the display case. Their counselor paused behind them, glancing from Connor to Adrien.

  “Who’s first?” Adrien asked. There was a chorus of “Me, me, me!” Abruptly, Connor jogged off. Adrien felt as if she had been unplugged from an electrical circuit. The relief that flooded her almost dropped her to the floor.

  “You all right?” The counselor pushed through the boys and leaned over the counter. “You’re awfully pale.”

  She laid her face on the counter and let the dizziness pass. “Yeah, sure. I’m okay.”<
br />
  The counselor ordered his shoving, yapping group into a line and turned back to her. “I heard about what happened last night. I wasn’t there because I’m a counselor, but I can tell you—most of us don’t like it.”

  “You don’t?” Adrien stared.

  “No.” The counselor looked around uneasily, as if expecting Connor or Bunter to leap out at him. He wore glasses and looked like the studious type. “Staff are talking. They’re pissed off. The whole thing’s getting out of hand.”

  The boy waiting at the head of the line gave the counselor a shove. The counselor shoved him back. “Wait your turn. I’m first. I’ll take an Oh Henry! and a Coke.”

  “Stop going to the campfire,” Adrien said as she handed him the candy. “Let Connor sit there by himself.”

  “I don’t have to go while I’ve got this rat pack,” said the counselor, “but I rotate to maintenance next week.” He turned and glared at the squirming line of boys. “Would you rodents keep quiet for one second?” The boys made terrified faces and froze, staring at him. The counselor gave a heavy sigh and turned back to her. “I’ll think about it,” he said. “Everyone’s thinking about it, actually.”

  It was as if the day changed colors. It had never occurred to Adrien that everyone might secretly be on her side. Slightly stunned, she watched the weary counselor lead his yapping pack toward the mini-golf course. Somehow she had forgotten the most important thing. Staff weren’t robots. Each one had a free-thinking mind, and it looked as if some of them might start using it.

  On her fifteen-minute break, she used the office phone to call home and wish her parents a happy Canada Day. Her mother answered. For some inexplicable reason, Adrien felt as if they hadn’t spoken in years. They talked in rushes, their voices weaving in and out of each other. “I’m okay,” Adrien kept saying. “Everything’s fine, I’m not over-exerting myself. Aunt Erin has me on the easiest schedule of anyone.”