Before Wings (6 page)

Her group came in last, having missed half their clues. Adrien ignored Aunt Erin’s penetrating look. Everyone had gathered in the dining hall for an information session. Gwen and Guy were handing out booklets as Aunt Erin introduced the chain of command—the assistant director Maurice Turcotte and his wife, the nurse, and the hairnets, who smiled and bobbed through a standing ovation. When the applause quieted, Guy was introduced as coordinator of skills and maintenance staff, and Gwen as leader of the
female counselors. Adrien stood dutifully to be introduced as Tuck’n Tack staff, but wasn’t surprised at the dull looks she received. Then a series of shrill whistles pierced the air. She turned to see Paul, Gwen and Guy at the back of the room, the three of them leaning forward, their fingers between their lips. Adrien flushed and sat down quickly, but cheers of “Adri
en
, Adri
en
” began, Guy waving his hat, Paul and Gwen stomping and clapping. Another whistle blasted and Darcie waved at her from across the room.

“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?”

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
to
day
, 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.”