Day 5—Wednesday Evening

Meadow Wood didn’t have signs or fences to show where their property ended and the neighbors’ began. The woods were the property line. Woods so thick you couldn’t see through them.

Brenda claimed the woods provided “the most natural and beautiful property line possible.”

And we were not permitted to step one foot over the line.

Aside from the parade of deer ticks the nurses promised would latch onto us if we stepped into the thick of trees, we would also get attacked by poison ivy, poison oak, poison sumac, or if we were really lucky, a combination of all three.

Plus, there were wild animals.

And maybe even Bigfoot.

Seriously, they warned us about Bigfoot so we wouldn’t stray off the property.

It didn’t work on me, though. Not even when I was nine. I strayed.

I had been straying every summer, always to the exact same spot. As a moody Violet who had learned to avoid her camp sister after the tooth incident, I found myself sneaking into the woods at the edge of junior camp one night after dinner to stew in my sadness. After a minute of weaving between tree trunks and stepping over fallen limbs, I reached a boulder the size of a small car. It stuck out of the ground all bulky and gray with a gritty texture that reminded me of elephant skin. It practically begged me to climb it. So I did. And sitting there, alone on my rock, I felt better.

I kept going back whenever I could sneak away. I never showed anyone my discovery, not even Carly, and I never told anyone about it, either, not even Jamie back home. That secret place was mine alone, and I needed it this summer more than ever.

The sky was just beginning to dim and the air was cool enough to raise bumps on my bare arms. I sat on the hard rock and felt a surge of anger flare up in me again at the big fat lie that poured out of my mom’s mouth—that sending me to camp would save me from the bad influence of Jamie.

Jamie never would have broken the rules and left camp property. That was all me.

One hundred percent Vic.

I could hear campers through the curtain of trees, yelling and waving the papers they were recording on. Evening activity was the same treasure hunt they made us do the first week of every summer. We had to run all over the grounds to find answers to questions like How many chairs are in the dining hall? and What color are the canoes docked on the beachfront? and What does the sign beside the clinic door say? As seniors, we were allowed to go without counselors, which made it easy for me to slip away to my rock.

It was my very first chance to be alone, and I needed to be alone.

I needed to think about what I saw.

I’ll tell him, I promise, once the kids are gone.

Those words played through my mind like a stuck song lyric. They showed up every time I closed my eyes against the rising sun at flag and every time I closed my eyes to fall asleep on my creaky cot at night.

We’ll be together, just wait.

At first I thought it was some romantic gesture between my mom and dad, which would have shocked me and also seriously grossed me out.

But it wasn’t.

I knew because my eyes moved up to the top of the screen and I saw that the email was addressed to Darrin. Which was a monumental problem, since my dad’s name was Ross.

That was why.

Darrin was why.

He was why my mom sent me away. And why she sent Freddy away, too, on a different bus, the one headed to Lake Forest. Freddy was only eight, but she pushed him onto that bus with a kiss so quick it half broke my heart to see it happen.

Because she’d rather be with Darrin.

When she put me on the bus that morning, she thought I didn’t know, but I did.

I just didn’t know what I was going to do about it.

The taps bugle for lights-out was about to sound, so we gathered in the counselor room for another round of “forced bunk bonding.”

“My rose”—Jordana went first, still twisting her hair into the style she always wore to sleep—“was kicking butt in the treasure hunt tonight. Simone and Bella and I came in first place.”

“Who are Simone and Bella?” Chieko asked. “Sounds like the name of a bad wedding band.”

“They’re both in Aster,” Jaida C said.

“They’re lifers, in the oldest bunk.” Jordana was in complete brag mode. “And my thorn was that we didn’t get a trophy for winning.”

“They never give trophies!” Carly sputtered at her.

“Well, they should,” Jordana countered.

“They should not. It’s just an evening activity,” Carly answered.

“You’re just jealous,” Jordana said.

“You’re just a butt-butt!” Carly said.

“Butt-butt?” Chieko repeated. “Well said.”

“Can someone sane go?” Jaida A asked. “Vic?”

“Sure. My thorn is getting stuck with farm for elective this week. Obviously,” I said.

“Obviously,” Carly echoed in support.

“And my rose is”—I had to think for a second—“my rose is having canteen tomorrow. I’m dying for a Kit Kat.”

And then everyone was talking at once about the junk food they couldn’t wait to get.

Once Chieko got us all quiet again, Carly spoke up.

“My rose was getting to canter on Rowdy today,” she said, gushing.

Not everyone at Meadow Wood did horseback riding. It was an activity you had to pay extra for, and then the riders all got their own separate schedules each week of when they could go to the stables for their lessons. Carly got to skip our bunk activity several times every week to practice riding instead.

“I was talking to Eliza,” Jaida C piped up. “She’s also in Aster and she’s a really good rider, and she said you did great today. And she said that horse really likes you.”

“Yes, it would be a horse that really likes Carly,” Jordana ribbed.

“Jordana, stop,” Jaida A and Jaida C said at the same time, then looked at each other and said, “Jinx.”

“I’m just kidding, gosh.” Jordana leaned back a bit out of the circle.

“My thorn is I don’t get to ride again until Friday,” Carly finished, then turned to Jaida A and said, “You’re up.”

“My rose is that I put six letters in the mail today to SeaWorld,” Jaida A reported, “and my thorn is that right now there are still people buying stupid tickets to go to stupid SeaWorld.”

Jaida C’s rose was getting a letter from her favorite cousin, and her thorn was swallowing a mouthful of lake water at swim when someone cannonballed right next to her.

“Your turn,” Carly said, nudging Chieko. “You never go.”

Chieko closed her eyes and said, with the seriousness of a heart surgeon, “My rose is that Eleanor Roosevelt recorded her wisdom in books so I can feed off her brilliance when there is nothing else to sustain me.”

“Who’s Eleanor Roosevelt again?” Jordana asked.

“Seriously?” Carly called out.

“Shut up, smarty-pants,” Jordana snapped. Then she put on her Annie face and recited, “I grew up a poor orphan, forced to skip school and clean all day.”

She sat up on her knees, straightened her posture, and started to belt out the song “Tomorrow,” adding hand gestures that had us all laughing by the third verse.

When she finished her performance and the room got quiet again, Chieko continued. “My thorn today is twofold. My thorn is one”—and she held up her pointer finger—“the individual who invented the bugle, and two”—she raised another finger—“the sinister individual who installed the god-awful loudspeaker system at this camp.”

Jordana sat up on her knees again and tried to imitate the screechy sound the loudspeaker made every time it was switched on.

“You sound like a dying dinosaur trying to sing opera,” Jaida A said.

And then we all cracked up again.

Every single one of us.