I don’t want to believe it could be her. But I need to look into this.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
True Confessions
“HEY, HARPER,” I SAID GENTLY after the hike, as we were all heading back to the cabin for a quick rest before a camp-wide sing-along. “Can we talk for a minute?”
A flash of fear crossed over Harper’s face, and I felt the heavy weight of disappointment. Did she really flood the cabin? If so . . . why?
“Okay,” she said hesitantly, looking from me to the cabin just a few yards away. “Um . . . where should we go?”
I nodded at Maya, to whom I’d given a heads-up that I needed a few minutes to talk to Harper. She was taking the other campers into the cabin to use the bathroom and get whatever they needed for the campfire. She gave me a thumbs-up and headed inside.
“Let’s go sit over here,” I said, leading Harper to a bench at the edge of the woods, a good distance from any of the cabins. I sat down and patted the bench beside me. It was clearing up after a cloudy morning, and I pointed at the puffy white clouds strewn around the sky. “Pretty, isn’t it?” I asked, pointing up.
“I guess.” Harper looked where I was pointing only for a moment. She sat down next to me, folded her hands in her lap, and stared at them.
“Harper,” I said after a few seconds of silence, “is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
She kept staring at her hands. She shook her head awkwardly but didn’t say a word. Still, her tense demeanor told me something was definitely up.
I tried to soften my voice. “The thing is, I know you went into the bathroom last night,” I said, “which would be totally normal, except this wasn’t too long before we discovered the flood.”
Harper still wouldn’t look at me. She unfolded her hands, though, and began picking at her cuticles. “Maybe I just had to go to the bathroom,” she said after a while, her voice breaking at the end.
“Maybe you did,” I said gently, “and I want to stress that either way, you’re not in trouble. I just want to talk to you about it.”
Harper looked up at me briefly. She looked very young all of a sudden, and very small.
Suddenly her face crinkled up and she started to cry. “I did it,” she whimpered, then broke into a sob. “I didn’t want to hurt anybody or damage anything. I just thought, if the cabin were flooded, maybe we’d all have to move out and I could go home.”
I reached over, gently pulling her closer and putting a comforting hand on her back. “Why do you want to go home?”
Harper leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder as she took off her glasses and swiped at her eyes with her fist. “Nobody likes me,” she cried, her voice full of pain. “My parents wanted me to come to camp to make new friends, and I haven’t made any new friends. The other girls are just kind of okay with me. I think they think I’m weird.” She paused, sniffling. “I’d rather be home with my books and my parents. At least I know what to do there.”
I pulled Harper closer, and she let out a fresh round of sobs. I felt terrible for her. My instinct was to try to defend the other girls, who I felt had tried to connect with Harper, but I didn’t want to deny what Harper was feeling. How can I fix this?
“Harper,” I said nervously, “is there . . . anything else you want to tell me?”
She looked up at me, confused.
“Is flooding the cabin the only thing you’ve done to try to go home?” I added.
Harper’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes!” she said. “I wouldn’t . . . I mean . . . you must think I’m a monster!”
I shook my head rapidly. “No, no, no, Harper,” I said. “I just wanted to be clear. And I think the other girls do like you. Maybe they just don’t know you that well? You spend a lot of free time reading, which I know you love, and that’s great. But it doesn’t give the other girls a lot of opportunity to get to know you.”
Harper sniffled again. “They’re always busy giving each other pedicures or playing that stupid MASH game,” she muttered. I couldn’t help smiling, remembering the “future-telling” game (Mansion, Apartment, Shack, House) that Bess had tortured George and me with when we were younger. I always kind of thought it was stupid too.
I patted her back. “Tell you what,” I said. “How about we skip the sing-along and have a little get-to-know-you bunk meeting instead?”
Harper drew back immediately, looking at me with concern. “I’m not playing Truth or Dare,” she insisted.
Oh, Harper. We have more in common than you know. I held up my hand. “No Truth or Dare. Scout’s honor.”
“We’re not scouts,” Harper muttered, shooting me a puzzled look.
“Sorry,” I said, putting the hand over my heart instead. “I promise. You have my word. Now, will you dry your eyes and come back to the bunk with me?”
Harper looked at me for a moment. She pulled off her glasses again and wiped her eyes, which were still pink and wet. “Okay,” she said, putting the glasses back on. “But if I’d still rather be home, can I leave early?”
I tried to stifle my sigh of disappointment. What to say? “If you really feel like you can’t stay, we’ll talk to Deborah and Miles and figure something out,” I promised.
Harper nodded and stood up from the bench. “Deal,” she said, holding out her hand to shake.
“. . . we all have something that makes us special,” I said to the whole bunk a few minutes later. We were all sitting in a circle on the cabin floor, sweating in the stagnant air. Maya had run to Deborah to explain that our bunk was going to skip the sing-along, and Deborah had said it was okay. “And I think we all have more in common than we might realize at first. For example, Harper and I realized that we both hate the game Truth or Dare!”
There were squeals of surprise, and a few nods of agreement.
“Oh my gosh, I hate that game too,” said Nina in a rush. “It’s like, want to do something really embarrassing or tell everyone something you never planned on telling anyone? It’s the worst!”
Kiki pushed her playfully. “Are you kidding? It’s so much fun!”
Nina shook her head, turning away. “I clearly have nothing in common with you,” she sniffed.
Everyone laughed, but Kiki held up her hand. “Not true! We both love to watch Degrassi on Netflix.”
Nina grinned. “I will grant you that,” she said.
“Anyway, guys,” I said. “My point is that we should all make a real effort to get to know everyone here—even the people you don’t think you have anything in common with. Because chances are, you have quite a lot in common.”
Cece frowned and looked at Harper. “Harper, why do you read all the time?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Winnie agreed. “It’s kind of like you don’t want to talk to us.”
Harper blushed and looked down at her lap. “It’s not that at all,” she said. “It’s just . . . I don’t know. I’m a quiet person. Sometimes when it gets really loud and crazy in here, I just need some time to be in my own head.”
Katie raised her chin. “That’s called being an introvert,” she said. “I’m one too! I totally get it, Harper.”
Harper looked surprised. “You do?”
Katie nodded. “That’s why I like to put on my headphones sometimes,” she said, and when Harper looked stunned, she added, “You probably don’t notice. But a lot of times when everyone’s talking, I’ll put on my headphones and just focus on the music and think about whatever. It helps me relax.”
I raised a hand. “I feel like that too sometimes,” I said. “Like, sometimes? If I’m trying to solve a really complex . . . um, problem . . . I’ll try to spend some time alone so I can really think. Sometimes I find that hard to do with people around.”
Everyone nodded.
“Hey, Harper?” Cece asked after a few seconds. “Would you maybe read us some pages from your books? I’ve been really interested in learning more since you first told us about them,” she said, “but I haven’t had a lot of time to read here. Maybe if
you read to all of us, we could enjoy them with you?”
Harper looked at me, her cheeks flushed with, I thought, pleasure. “Would that be okay?” she asked.
“Oh gosh, yes!” I said. “In fact, I think that’s a great idea. Let’s all relax on our bunks and you can read us a story, Harper!”
Everyone jumped up and ran over to their bunks. A couple of girls went to use the bathroom, and Harper ran to grab the first book in the series and open it up to the first page.
As we waited for everyone to come back, Maya sidled up to me. “That was awesome,” she whispered. “It went just like we hoped it would!”
After I’d had my private talk with Harper, I’d pulled Maya aside to ask how she thought we should handle talking to the whole bunk. It was she who suggested bringing up the things we have in common that we don’t even realize. “Look at you and me!” she’d said excitedly. “We’re totally different people, but we both care about these girls like crazy, and we make this amazing team.”
Now, slapping Maya five, I couldn’t agree more. But as I settled onto my bunk, though I tried every position to get comfortable, I couldn’t quite relax.
One mystery solved, a little voice in the back of my head said. But the bigger culprit is still out there. . . .
After our meeting, I reported the incident with Harper to Deborah. Deborah gave Harper a stern lecture before dinner, but she was going to let her stay.
“So I guess . . . that mystery is solved?” I told Deborah at dinner. “We know she was behind the flooding.”
Deborah nodded slowly, looking around the mess hall. I’d cornered her by the doorway while the runners from each table went to get trays of food for their bunkmates. “And she does seem sorry,” she said.
“Yes,” I said. She seemed a lot happier after she read to the bunk. And I noticed she was chatting a lot with Cece and Katie on the way over here. Maybe she’s finally made the friends her parents wanted her to make.”
Deborah glanced over at my table. “Okay. I would like to meet with her privately tomorrow as well to just make sure this doesn’t happen again. But it sounds like you’re right, Nancy. . . . Small mystery solved, larger mystery still . . . lingering.” She frowned.
“At least you don’t have to call off the campout,” I said.
Deborah nodded again. “That’s good,” she said, but she sounded a little uncertain.
I felt a little uneasy too, as I settled down to eat dinner. But over pizza and lively conversation with my campers, my worries dissipated. Everyone was in such a good mood! And talk soon turned to the campout itself, which everyone was super excited about.
“Will we all be in a tent together?” Nina asked, looking around the table. “It won’t be as much fun if we have to split up!”
“I think everyone’s together,” Maya said.
“Yup,” I confirmed. “Each tent sleeps eight—so it’ll be just like our cabin, but smaller and outside.”
The girls chuckled.
“Can we go swimming after everyone goes to sleep?” Kiki asked eagerly. “One of my friends said she swam at night at her camp. It sounds so fun!”
As several girls chimed in with enthusiasm, I shook my head. “It’s really dangerous and against the rules to go swimming without a lifeguard present,” I said seriously. “So unless you guys can work on Sandy . . .” I glanced across the mess hall to where Sandy was eating with Sam and Taylor. She sensed us staring at her, and when she shot me a questioning look, I just smiled and waved. All my campers started cracking up.
“We’ll start working on her tonight,” Winnie announced. “During Night Frisbee.”
Night Frisbee was one of the more popular nighttime sports at Camp Cedarbark, and the camp-wide play-offs were tonight. It was basically just Frisbee golf with glow-in-the-dark Frisbees, but somehow the darkness made it a million times more fun.
We finished up our pizza and topped it off with lime Jell-O for dessert. As Cece went up to get our desserts, I noticed Bella slipping out the front door of the mess hall. Where’s she going? I wondered. I figured she must have left something in her bunk. Harper, Kiki, and Nina got into a debate about which was the best Jell-O flavor, and while it got a little heated, I was just thrilled to see Harper getting so engaged in a conversation with her bunkmates. I found myself wondering whether she would come back to camp next year. And will I be here? Well. That was something I hadn’t considered up until that point . . . but I was really enjoying my week as counselor.
When dinner wrapped up and the campers began slowly making their way out the front door, my campers were laying out a plan for convincing Sandy to take them night swimming during the campout. Part of me was wondering whether I’d created monsters by giving them the idea . . . but the other part was really enjoying their ridiculous plans and hoping that Sandy would say yes! Swimming under a starry sky sounded like the ultimate camp experience. And didn’t I deserve to get to try it too—especially if this would be my only camp experience?
Well. It will be fun . . . if no one gets pulled under.
The thought sent a shiver down my spine. With the cheerful conversation, it was easy to pretend like all the scary things that had happened this week were over. But were they over?
Just then a scream came from just outside the mess hall. “Oh my gosh! FIRE!”
My bunk and I were waiting for the crowd to make its way outside, so we couldn’t see what was going on. But looking toward the front door, I could see the campers reacting with horror to something they were seeing on the lawn, and I could see the reflection of something bright and orange in the mess hall windows.
I ran to the doors, pushing my way through campers and counselors to make my way outside. “Excuse me. I’m sorry. Excuse me!”
Outside the mess hall, I found Deborah, standing and staring at whatever was on the lawn with her hand pressed to her mouth. “Oh no,” she murmured. The campers around her were standing back, pressing against the exterior walls of the mess hall, as though they wanted to be absorbed back in.
I looked where Deborah was looking, and my heart squeezed in my chest.
Flames erupted from the ground. It took me a minute to realize that the flames were coming up in the shape of words. Yes, someone had spelled out something in some kind of accelerant—gasoline?—on the grass, and then lit the letters on fire.
GO HOME!
And the flames were licking toward the wooden mess hall. . . .
CHAPTER TWELVE
Up in Flames
“MILES, GET THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER!” Deborah shouted. I turned and saw the camp co-owner stumbling out of the mess hall. He scrambled back inside, and I felt a little rush of relief.
So Miles was inside the mess hall. Good. Good. If he was at dinner with the rest of us, that meant he couldn’t have lit the fire. Or at least . . . it made it less likely.
A hand suddenly shot out and shook my shoulder. “Nancy!” Deborah cried. “Get the campers back inside the mess hall. We can’t have them running around an open flame. And with them inside, it will be easier to put this out.”
Right. “GUYS!” I screamed, wrapping my hands around my mouth and turning toward the campers. “Everyone back in the mess hall! Come on! Let’s stay safe while the fire is put out!”
The campers began slowly making their way back inside—no one seemed eager to give up their prime viewing spot—as Miles came running out, a huge fire extinguisher in his arms. He pulled the key out and aimed the nozzle at the fire as I waved the campers back into the mess hall. “Come on, guys. Come on. Let’s let the grown-ups handle this.”
Once everyone was back inside the mess hall, the volume soared as everyone began discussing the action outside.
“Who would set that?”
“What did it say?”
“It said ‘Go home!’ ”
“OMG, why?”
A small part of me felt like I should be discouraging this kind of conversation, but I didn’t know how. I mean, there were
huge flames licking across the camp clearing. Everyone had seen them. There was no denying that something big was going on.
The feeling I’d had at dinner—that maybe all the weird happenings were over, for now—completely disappeared. I felt like I’d been plunged into freezing-cold water after a soothing massage.
Bess began leading her campers over to where Maya and I stood with our bunk. “You saw it?” she whisper-hissed to me. Across the hall, I could see that George and Janie were struggling to comfort several of the younger campers, who’d started crying.
I turned back to Bess and nodded. “Go home,” I whispered back. “That isn’t good.”
I’d filled Bess and George in on my discovery about Harper that morning. “So someone more dangerous than Harper is definitely at work here,” she whispered, too low for any of the campers to make out.
“Yes,” I agreed. “And whoever it is just changed elements—from water to fire.”
Deborah or Miles must have called the fire department, because within a few minutes of all the campers being sent back inside, we heard sirens, and a huge red fire truck could be seen parking in the camp driveway. Most of the fire was out at that point, but firefighters still poured out and began dousing the remaining flickers. Desperate to keep the campers from panicking, the other counselors and I organized a mammoth game of one of the campers’ favorites, Fruit Basket Upset.
It felt like hours before Deborah came back in and announced the fire was out, but it was probably only thirty minutes or so. Her face looked drawn, and she didn’t make eye contact with anyone as she stared straight ahead and announced, “I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to call off the Night Frisbee play-offs tonight. All campers will go back to their bunks and have ninety minutes of free time before lights-out.”
The mess hall erupted in whines and complaints. George’s seven-year-olds all began crying louder—even the ones who’d pulled themselves together in the thirty minutes or so we’d been back inside.