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C
AMILLE SMOOTHED DOWN her top for the twentieth time and pulled her hair away from her face and up into a ponytail. Then she scrunched up her face at her reflection and pulled her hair out of the ponytail again. While Grace had been nothing but friendly, Camille felt anxious about meeting the whole group.
What if they don’t like me? They’ll probably make fun of me for being a LeRoux. Or end up thinking I’m just a weird city girl. And I have an accent... they’ll say I talk funny.
Forcing herself to stop thinking of every possible bad scenario, Camille took a deep breath and gave herself a final once-over. She boasted her standard look tonight—a dark-blue shirt dress over black leggings, an old leather jacket, and her favourite pair of boots. She shuffled her feet across the floor, making the charms hanging from the zippers of her boots jingle against each other. She looked at them in the mirror and found tears pricking her eyes in an unexpected spurt of homesickness. The two charms were of an emu and a kangaroo—the two animals featured on the Australian Coat of Arms. She wiped her eyes, reminding herself why she’d bought them in the first place. Emus and kangaroos can’t go backwards—and neither could she. Taking a deep breath, she gave herself another full glance in the mirror. This’ll have to do. She grabbed her bag and headed out the bedroom door. Of course, it completely startled her when she found Miss McAllister standing in the middle of the hallway just a few metres away, staring towards Camille’s room.
“What do you want?” Camille snapped, not caring if she sounded rude. Miss McAllister raised an eyebrow, looked Camille up and down, then turned on her heel and slowly walked away. Camille stared after her with a frown. She felt bad for snapping, but the woman gave her the creeps with all this lurking about. Even when she couldn’t see the woman, she always felt like Miss McAllister was somewhere nearby, watching her.
Once the woman was out of sight, Camille pulled her bedroom door closed behind her and dashed downstairs to the kitchen. Her mother stood at the bench, humming to herself as she prepared dinner. “I’m going to wait out the front for my lift,” Camille stated, approaching her mother to give her a kiss on the cheek.
“What? You’re not going to invite them in?” Allysha raised her eyebrows in mock surprise.
“You’re hilarious, Mum,” Camille replied. “I’ll text you the address. The place is called Rick’s, on Main Street. I’m pretty sure everything’s on Main Street.”
“Well, I won’t have any trouble finding it then, will I?” Her mother laughed.
Camille waved goodbye and headed toward the heavy, wooden front door. When she yanked it open, she saw headlights rising over the hill toward the house. The car pulled around the fountain to the front door, and Grace eagerly jumped out of the car. Her hair was wet under her black beret and hung around her face; her work uniform had been replaced by tight, dark jeans with tears slashed across the knees and a billowy white shirt underneath a red felt jacket hanging just above her knees. Camille tried not to be self-conscious, but she couldn’t help feeling like the gangly duckling next to the graceful swan.
“Hop on in. I’m so excited!” Grace exclaimed as she opened the back door for Camille. “I’ve told everyone you’re coming, and they can’t wait to meet you. That’s Jayne in the back and my mum Isabelle in the front.”
“Hello. Nice to meet you both,” Camille said; she thought she sounded far too awkward as she climbed into the back.
“Welcome to Woodville,” Isabelle said, turning to smile at her. “How are you liking it so far?”
“It’s lovely, from what little I’ve seen. We haven’t had much of a chance to explore just yet.”
“I can’t believe you actually live in there,” Jayne exclaimed as she tried to peer past Camille for a better look.
“Jayne,” Isabelle chastised. Grace laughed.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I just meant that place is huge. Is it just you and your family in there?”
“Jayne...” Isabelle cut in.
“It’s fine,” Camille reassured her. “It’s just me and my parents. I don’t have any siblings. Oh, and there’ s an elderly couple who are kind of like caretakers. They live here too.”
“Wow,” Jayne whispered, turning to look at the house through the rear window as the car turned back down the driveway. “Is it creepy inside?”
“Oh, my goodness, Jayne!” her mother barked from the front. Camille and Grace laughed together.
“Parts are a little creepy,” Camille confessed. “Mainly because everything’s old and not well looked after.” She didn’t want to give too much away, considering she didn’t know these people very well yet. “I think once my parents have finished with it, it’ll seem much more inviting.”
“I’m sure your parents will do the manor justice, Camille,” Isabelle stated, smiling at her through the rear-view mirror.
CAMILLE WAS THE LAST to step out of the car, suddenly anxious with a ferocious cluster of butterflies hurtling around in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t had to make new friends in a long time—nor had she ever worried that people wouldn’t like her. Such a foreign feeling definitely pushed her beyond her comfort zone. She quickened her pace as the girls stopped and waited for her at the entrance. “You’ll be fine,” Grace whispered in her ear, giving her arm a squeeze as she led them inside. Camille smiled at her in gratitude before taking in the restaurant. It was set up like a 1950’s diner, with booths and a jukebox, the staff in white uniforms with little peaked caps on their heads.
“This is awesome,” Camille stated.
“Not too old-fashioned for a city girl?” Grace asked.
“No way. I love it.”
“Then just wait till you try the food,” Jayne announced. “It’s brilliant.”
Camille grinned and followed the girls to a booth in the back corner. Then her self-confidence faltered again when she saw two boys sitting in the booth, and she quickly looked around, hoping she’d find herself at another booth instead.
“Ladies, about time you rocked up. We were going to order without you,” one of the boys said as he slid out of the booth and threw his arm across Grace’s shoulders. He planted a kiss on her cheek.
“I told you we were picking Camille up first,” Grace replied.
“I know. I’m just stirring.” The boy winked at Camille and held out his hand. “Hi. I’m Jonathan Glasser, dutiful boyfriend and comic relief.” He grinned and flicked his blond hair out of his face. “This dude is Lachlan Rivers. Ledge of a point guard and Woodville Academy’s pride and joy.”
Lachlan also slid out from the booth and extended his hand. He seemed the opposite of Jonathan, with dark, short-cropped hair and piercing blue eyes. Camille was a little taken aback by the intensity of his gaze when she shook his hand and was mortified to feel the heat of a blush move up her neck and into her cheeks. “Uh, point guard... Basketball, right?” she asked, unsure of what else to say, her mouth suddenly feeling dry and she hoped the others couldn’t see her instant crush. Lachlan nodded but didn’t say anything at all.
“Righto, Camille from Australia,” Jonathan declared. “Let’s sit, and you can tell us all about yourself over some food.” He pulled Grace into the booth beside him. Lachlan slid in opposite Jonathan, nodding his head in Camille’s direction. But before she could follow, Jayne dove in beside him, casting an irritated look at Camille who was left hovering at the end of the table. She felt ridiculous, and with Jayne’s unmistakable ‘back off’ vibes, Camille slid into the booth alongside Grace.
“Pretty much everything we do revolves around these blokes’ stomachs,” Grace told her with a laugh. Seemingly oblivious to Camille’s embarrassment, or the territorial glances Jane was flicking in her direction, despite the friendly smile on her face.
“I don’t know if the girls told you, Camille, but the food here’s brilliant,” Jonathan stated.
“So I’ve heard,” Camille replied and picked up the menu, partly to actually read it, and partly to avoid meeting his gaze. Still at the mercy of the butterflies in her stomach—now aggravated by her growing attraction, she found she had no appetite, yet she didn’t want to offend her new friends by not taking part in their tradition. “So, what’s good here? Or is that a stupid question?” Camille asked, smiling when they laughed.
“It’s kind of a stupid question,” Jonathan said, “but as you’re new, we’ll let it slide. I think we should start you off slow. Ease you into the Rick’s experience. Try the classic cheeseburger and chips. And a vanilla milkshake. You won’t regret it.”
“Sold,” Camille replied, lowering the menu. She was grateful for not having to decide on her own.
A woman approached them on roller skates and pulled a notepad and pen from the front pocket of her apron. “Hey, guys,” she said before looking down at Camille. “Welcome to Rick’s. I’m Amy. You’re new here, yeah?” Camille just nodded. “And you’ve just moved here?”
“Yeah, they’ve moved into LeRoux Manor,” Jayne added.
Amy’s eyes widened in awe. “Wow. Creepy. I’d heard the rumour but didn’t know if it was true. That’s cool.”
“Uh, yeah. Something like that.”
“How come we don’t get the friendly ‘Welcome to Rick’s’ bit, Amy?” Lachlan asked, and Camille smiled at him, grateful for the deflection. He glanced at her and offered a small nod.
“Because you lot are part of the furniture. Now, what can I get you?” They put in their orders as Amy frantically jotted it all down before flashing them a smile and gliding away.
“You can’t just announce to everyone that Camille’s moved into LeRoux Manor,” Grace said to Jayne, who looked up in surprise.
“Why? It’s not like it’s some kind of secret. I’m sure the whole town knows by now anyway.” Jayne folded her arms.
“It’s fine, really,” Camille added, not wanting any friction on her behalf.
“In this town, everyone knows everything,” Jonathan said. “Though obviously, being your new friends, we’re allowed to ask you questions about it, aren’t we?”
Camille smiled, more focused on the fact that he’d referred to them as her friends. “Sure. I don’t know if I can answer too much, but go ahead.”
“Is it creepy?” he asked.
“I already asked that!” Jayne announced.
“Well, I wasn’t there, was I?” Jonathan retorted.
“It’s a little creepy sometimes, but I think it’s just because it’s so big and old. I’m still getting used to it,” Camille lied with a half-smile. This was starting to sound like her go to soundbite.
“So, no cool ghost stories or anything?” he asked, sounding quite disappointed.
“Nope,” Camille said. “Not one.” She toyed with the edge of her napkin, then looked up. Lachlan stared at her intently, and she quickly returned her gaze to the table, fearing he’d see the lie in her eyes.
“You know, there was a murder there,” Lachlan stated.
Grace scoffed. “You can be so morbid sometimes.”
Camille smiled nervously again, unsure whether Lachlan was trying to unnerve her or just knew his history. “It’s okay,” she said. “I know all about it. The murder of Caleb LeRoux and the disappearance of his daughter on the day of the manor’s grand opening.”
“Doesn’t that creep you out?” Jayne asked, hugging herself against an imaginary shiver and shifting closer to Lachlan, glancing up at him as though hoping he might put a reassuring arm around her.
Camille watched them for a moment, feeling a pang at the thought that the two of them might be an item. Lachlan, though, seemed oblivious to Jayne’s attention.
“Not really. I mean, it was so long ago, and it didn’t happen in the actual house.” Camille shrugged. Grace saved her from any further investigation and skilfully deflected the conversation toward filling Claire in on their holiday shenanigans and local gossip.
Before long, Amy returned with their food. Camille marvelled at how the woman balanced all that food on the trays while skating around. If it was Camille doing it, she wouldn’t last two minutes. When everyone tucked into their burgers, the comfortable silence made Camille even more grateful to be here. The boys grunted and groaned in appreciation as they ate. Camille savoured each bite, conceding that this was the best burger she’d ever tasted.
For the rest of the evening, LeRoux Manor thankfully wasn’t mentioned again. Camille had more than enough time to think about it once she returned home. For now, she was grateful for the change in conversation. The group filled her in on all the best places in town, where all the kids hung out beyond school hours, and what the teachers were like.
“Just a heads up,” Jonathan said. “Mr Ostervic will likely corner you the first chance he gets, regardless of whether you’re in his class or not. He’s a bit... eccentric. Especially when it comes to LeRoux Manor.”
“He’s not that eccentric,” Lachlan added.
“Of course you would defend him. You’re the teacher’s pet.” Jonathan threw a chip at his mate.
Lachlan picked it up and ate it. “What can I say? I’m good at everything.” He spoke so dryly; Camille couldn’t tell if he was boasting or joking. The others laughed, and she couldn’t help sneaking a glance at him, only to find him already looking at her again. She felt herself blushing again and futilely tried to push him from her mind.
Both a jock and good at school? This guy can’t be for real.
ON THE DRIVE HOME, Camille was surprised to find herself yawning.
“Looks like you had a good time,” her mother said.
“Yeah, I did. It was nice to meet some people before school tomorrow.”
“Your new friends seem nice.”
“I think so. They’re all so different. Like, it’s hard to see what they have in common. I mean, Lachlan and Jonathan have basketball, but aside from that, the only common ground might be that they’ve known each other all their lives.”
“That’s how it works sometimes, sweetheart. Those can be some of the strongest friendships, I think.” Camille yawned again. “Straight to bed for you,” her mother stated as they pulled up into the driveway.
“No arguments here,” Camille replied. She leaned over and kissed her mother on the cheek before getting out of the car.
She inspected her reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to see herself through Lachlan’s eyes, wondering if he liked her too. Quickly feeling ridiculous, she pulled a face at herself and left the bathroom, flicking off the light on her way out. A strange hum wafted down the hall toward her, and she paused to listen. Then, smirking at her own paranoia, Camille realised it was her mobile vibrating against her bedside table, and she hurried back to her room to pick it up. Grace had sent her a facetime request, so she accepted it before remembering she still stood there in her pyjamas.
“Hey,” Grace whispered, though it sounded forced and fairly loud. “Sorry to call so late. I just wanted to check in with you and see how you found tonight.”
“No worries. I was just getting ready for bed,” Camille whispered back, wondering why, as there was no way her parents would hear her talking from their bedroom. “I had a really good time. Everyone was really nice.”
“Are you sure? You seemed a little unnerved by Lachlan.”
Camille smiled. “He’s fine. I just wasn’t sure how to take him. I mean, he doesn’t say a lot.”
Grace nodded. “At least not compared to the rest of us. He’s just super intense with everything he does. He takes overachiever to the next level. But he’s also a really great bloke, once you get to know him.”
“Jayne seems keen on him...”
Grace laughed. “Yeah, you picked up on that, did you? She’s not exactly the subtle type, our Jayne. She’s been in love with him for so long, we tend to not even notice anymore.”
“What about Lachlan? Does he notice?”
Grace scrunched up her face. “He doesn’t seem to be interested, but that could just be because he’s so focused on his schoolwork and his basketball. Who would know? Lachlan keeps most things pretty close to his chest. Why? Are you keen on him?” She shot Camille an exaggerated wink.
“Hardly!” Camille felt herself flush at the thought. “I only met the guy tonight.”
“If you say so,” Grace replied, clearly not prepared to let the idea go. “I’ll drop it if you show me what your room looks like. I imagine it’s brilliant.”
“Well, not quite yet. There’s still a lot to do.” Camille turned the phone around and slowly scanned the room—starting with the four-poster bed, now with a black and silver bedspread and black crepe drapes covered in tiny, starlike specs of silver. Moving the phone toward the windows, she heard Grace gasp. “Holy crap. Those windows are epic!”
Camille smiled and recalled her own reaction to seeing them for the first time, though now the moonlight flowed freely through the clean glass instead of so much dust and dirt.
Camille smiled and recalled her own reaction to seeing them for the first time, though now the moonlight flowed freely through the clean glass instead of so much dust and dirt. She moved the phone around the room—over the deep-green wallpaper with the shimmering silver detail that, in its cleaner state, made Camille think of tiny snail-trails across the grass. Next, she moved quickly past the wardrobe and the doorway, then spun the phone around toward herself.
Grace screeched, and Camille fumbled to keep from dropping the phone. “What?” she asked, panicking. “What is it?”
“The door!” Grace demanded. “Go back to the doorway!”
Camille turned toward the doorway and peered into the dark hall, her heart pounding in her chest. She overheard Grace’s father telling her to get off the phone and get to bed. The call terminated, Camille closed the door, and she Camille stared down at the phone in her hand, wondering what the hell had happened. Calling Grace back to clarify might get her new friend in trouble, so Camille plugged in her phone and set it on the bedside table before climbing into bed. As she reached over to turn off the light, her vibrating phone made her jump. Then she read the text from Grace.
‘Sorry, can’t talk. Got in trouble for making too much noise.’
‘What happened?’ Camille quickly texted back.
‘Some woman was standing right there in the hallway. Scared the piss out of me.’
Camille lowered the phone and looked at her closed bedroom door.
‘Was probably Miss McAllister lurking again,’ she sent. ‘She does that a lot.’
Still, Camille put her phone on the bedside table again and slowly swung her feet off the bed and onto the floor. Determined to catch Miss McAllister in the act, she tiptoed toward the door, careful to avoid the squeaking floorboards. When she reached the door, she grabbed the handle and yanked it open. There was no one there. Her phone vibrated again, and Camille closed the door, walked back to her bed, and read Grace’s next message.
‘Does Miss McAllister have white hair pulled back into a bun and wear a high, white-lace collar?’
Camille froze, her eyes flying back to the door before flicking towards the closed wardrobe and back to her phone.
‘No. No, she doesn’t.’ Camille couldn’t write anything more.
