Gretchen never thought it would come to this.
Sure, there was tension on the bus that brought them to this campgrounds in the woods. More than tension. A long argument between Devra and Sid that soon became a screaming fight.
Coach Walker had to go to the back of the bus and break it up. She demanded to know what the problem was. But, of course, neither of them would speak up. Devra just stared back at Coach Walker, her face tight with disgust.
Sid sat beside Devra, his cheeks bright red and glistening with sweat. He kept his eyes lowered and wouldn’t say a word.
Shaking her head, hands clenched into tight fists, Coach Walker returned to her seat at the front of the bus.
The tension between Sid and Devra simmered, but the shouting had stopped.
Gretchen kept twisting in her seat, taking peeks at them. What did Devra do to get Sid steamed like that? She wondered. He looks ready to explode.
Sid had slid across the seat, away from Devra. He had his arms crossed tightly in front of him, his face still red. He stared out the window at the passing farm fields.
Devra pushed her earphones into her ears and fiddled with her phone. She blew a strand of red hair off her face and settled back in the seat. She appeared a lot calmer than Sid. And now they both ignored one another as if nothing had happened.
Shannon leaned across the bus aisle and said something to Gretchen. But Gretchen didn’t hear her. She was thinking hard about the argument—the fight—in the back of the bus, struggling to guess what could have sparked it.
Was it about me?
And then the bus had come to a stop outside the rustic camp mess hall that looked like a big log cabin. Their bags were being unloaded, and Coach Walker, clipboard in hand, was assigning them to their cabins. One for Walker. One for Sid. Three girls each in the two small cabins on the other side of the mess hall.
Gretchen was put in a cabin with Shannon and Becka.
Did Coach Walker deliberately separate me from Devra?
Not enough time to unpack. They had to rush to their first squad meeting in the mess hall. Coach Walker always insisted on promptness.
The girls wore black tights or jeans and sweatshirts and still hugged themselves for warmth. There was no heat in the big hall, and no one had started a fire yet in the enormous fireplace against the back wall.
And then the trouble ignited again. The screams and accusations.
And this time it got really bad.
Really bad.
Gretchen covered her ears and ran screaming from the mess hall. The afternoon sun sent shifting patterns on the grass, filtering through the tall trees. Shadows moved at her feet as she ran.
Ran breathlessly to her cabin. Her bag still propped on her bed, only half-unpacked.
Gretchen knew what she had to do.
Yes, her mind was spinning, flying, pictures danced and disappeared, the cabin now a dark swirl of grays and blacks.
But she knew what she had to do.
She had to put an end to it.
She could hear the cries from the mess hall.
She had to hurry.
With a choked cry, Gretchen dug her hand deep into her travel bag … slid it under the clothes … under her cosmetics bag.
She wrapped her fingers around the knife she had hidden there, lifted it out, the long blade dull in the dim cabin light.
I’m ready.