I spin around. Andy and Olly are already facing the door.
Oh crap, she’s out there!
“Was that someone?” I ask.
Olly takes off running.
“Olly, no!”
Andy catches me as I make a run for it too.
“Stop, stop, stop. Esme, you can’t go out there,” he says, wrapping both arms around me.
I wriggle in his firm hold. He does not look this strong. “Let go! Olly could get hurt!”
This is all my fault. It should be me chasing her.
“Stay here. I’ll go.” Andy twists us around and pushes me deeper into the room. “I’ll go, Esme.”
Pressing one hand to my chest, I pant and my eyes sting with the threat of tears.
Do not cry.
Andy dashes from the cabin.
Walking backward, I let my legs hit a bench and then I sit.
I take a long breath and release it slowly as my head swims. This is all getting to be too much.
If Olly gets hurt because I wouldn’t let go of my secret, I’ll never forgive myself. Kayla and I need to have a chat, because we can’t keep this up. We can’t let someone else get hurt because of what we did.
I watch the door, willing Olly and Andy to come back. Maybe I should follow them? My getting lost in the woods isn’t going to help anything, though. I’ve done that already.
What if Lillian’s leading them away so she can get to me?
Calm down. Breathe.
With my heart racing a million miles an hour, I get up and walk into the kitchen. The cupboard with cleaning supplies is padlocked for safety. I twist the numbers to 9-4-5 and the lock springs open.
I grab two buckets, new sponges, rubber gloves and strong chemical cleaners. I’ve noticed the products used on the tables are much more eco-friendly. They won’t cut it for this job, though.
I fill one of the buckets with hot soapy water and chuck the sponges into the empty one. Then I carry them both into the room, ready to clean when Olly and Andy get back.
I can’t believe I’m having to do this.
Now there is nothing I can do until they return.
Unless…
No, there is no way I can roll that deer onto the blanket and wrap it up myself.
No. Way.
My eyes slide to the deer. It stinks like death, all musty and gross.
I can’t sit and do nothing. I think about the last time I was this close to a dead deer and steel myself.
Taking shallow breaths, I pull on the black latex gloves, pick up the blanket and press my lips together. I wish I didn’t need to breathe during this. The closer I step, the stronger the smell.
Laying the blanket out, I shake my head.
What the hell am I doing?
I walk around to the deer and reach down. My hands circle a front and a back leg.
The stench hits the back of my throat, and I swallow a gag.
Why would Lillian do this?
Leaning back, I pull the deer and it rolls effortlessly onto its other side.
Stepping to the side, I turn my head away and try to breathe some fresh air.
“Right, I need to wrap you now,” I mutter, walking around to the deer’s back. I can’t get too close—I don’t want to step in the pool of blood. But I manage to lean over and grip the edge of the blanket and then tug it up.
Gritting my teeth, I lift with every ounce of strength I have and push. The deer rolls again, and I cover it with the blanket. Now it can’t be seen.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as if it can hear.
I pull the bucket of water close and get on my knees. Gripping the big yellow sponge tight, I wipe the blood with it. The sponge glides gracefully, picking up a line of gloopy blood as it goes.
So, so nasty.
The water turns pink as I dip the sponge into the bucket and squeeze it out.
Oh God.
“Esme?”
I drop the sponge and stand up as Olly and Andy come back into the room.
“You’re okay,” I say.
She didn’t get them.
“We couldn’t find whoever it was. No one else is awake,” Andy says.
“You wrapped it?” Olly asks, smiling with pride.
“Yes. It was awful. You might want to roll it a couple more times before you take it out.”
Andy clears his throat. “Thank you, Esme. Good job.” He turns to Olly, who nods at his unspoken question. Yes, he is ready for them to dump the deer in the woods. I want to ask them to bury it, but that seems ridiculous and time consuming.
I get back to the cleaning and sneak a glance at Olly as he and Andy make light work of rolling the deer further into the blanket.
By the time they have the thing all rolled up and ready to go, I’ve got most of the blood up.
“I’d like to come,” I say, taking the gloves off and putting them in the other bucket full of blood-soaked sponges.
Olly looks up through dark lashes.
“I’ll bleach the floor after,” I say.
“Of course, Esme,” Andy says. “We’ll all help with the floor once we get this little girl to the woods.”
My heart pinches. I wish he wouldn’t refer to the deer as “little girl.” It’s sad enough that Lillian did this to her. We don’t need to make her sound like a pet.
Andy and Olly lift the deer and walk slowly outside.
I follow close behind. It’s so dark out; the only light is the reflection of the moon on the lake. I squint to see. As it creeps closer to five a.m., we’ll have some light.
Andy and Olly walk down the steps and we go around the food hall and into the forest.
“How far are we going?” I whisper, treading carefully.
“Only a couple of minutes,” Andy replies, his voice strained due to the deer’s weight.
We dodge smaller trees and bushes as we walk through the forest rather than on a trail.
“All right, about here, between those heavy bushes,” Andy tells Olly.
They lay the deer down and gently pull the blanket, rolling her onto the ground. Andy gathers the blanket in a ball and sighs. “How has it come to this?”
I dip my head, guilt stabbing me in the chest, feeling Olly’s intense gaze on me. Does he want me to fess up right now? Spill everything about that night to Andy? He must suspect there’s more to it.
“Let’s get back,” Olly says. “We can discuss who, what and why later.”
He says it to both of us, but I know it’s for me.
We head back to camp in the dark. I breathe easier the more distance we put between us and the deer.
“Are you two okay?” Andy asks. “You should never have had to do that.”
I nod and Olly tells him he’s fine.
“If you need to talk, my door is always open. As CITs none of what happened tonight is your responsibility. I appreciate you helping me take care of it.”
“No problem,” I tell him.
“I don’t really feel like a CIT anymore,” Olly says.
“Yeah, me neither.”
“I’ve got to say, you don’t seem like it either. There has been so much more you’ve had to deal with than any other CIT any other year. All of you have taken on every challenge with grace and maturity. You’re a credit to this camp,” Andy says.
I’m a curse to this camp.
Olly and I glance at each other, then I look away. We’re both thinking the same thing. It’s my fault this is happening in the first place.
We get back to the food hall and put on rubber gloves. We need this place clean and sterile so that everyone can eat in here in four hours and thirty minutes.
I get onto my knees with tears in my eyes, while Olly gets a new bucket of water and Andy chucks the blanket in the trash. There’s still a wet sponge on the floor near the trash bucket. I pick it up and freeze.
Written in blood are the initials LC.