EEEEEEEE …
The door hinges needed oil. I thought they’d wake up the whole cabin.
Nope.
Everyone was fast asleep.
They sleep hard on Onieron. Sleep hard, play hard.
It had to be the wee hours of the morning, but still a few die-hard campers were running around, laughing.
Vanessa. Randy. Tim. Jennifer. Barbara.
I knew more names now.
They were all so cool. Even Carbo.
And they were going to stay up as late as they pleased.
The way they always did.
Every single night.
I giggled.
I never giggle. Well, not since I was about ten.
What was happening to me?
It was just a late night. Some dumb games. No big deal.
Fun.
That’s what it’s called, Rachel.
I was wide-awake.
But I knew I should at least try to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.
Back to Mom and Dad. And Seth. And Mr. Havershaw. And prep school.
My mood plummeted.
I stepped inside the dark, silent room. I was thirsty, so I headed for the bathroom. Squinting. Hoping my eyes would adjust to the darkness soon —
CLUNK.
My foot clipped a metal bucket.
“Sorryyyy …” I murmured.
No response.
No one cares.
Cool.
Totally cool.
At home, I’d be in the doghouse.
Sit, Rachel. Fetch, Rachel. Beg, Rachel. Good girl.
“Ruff, ruff!”
I couldn’t believe it. I was barking.
Rachel, you are too weird.
No. Not weird.
Happy.
I picked up the bucket. It was empty. I lifted it onto a table, pushing aside a pile of clothes.
THUD.
Oops. It wasn’t just clothes. A book had been under the pile. Now it was on the floor, where the bucket had been.
Klutz.
I stooped and grabbed it.
In the dim firelight that trickled through the window, I could see what it was. A photo album. The one I’d seen in the bathroom. The one that Mary Elizabeth had taken away.
It’s not yours.
You didn’t ask permission.
Now, would I look at someone else’s pictures without asking? Moi?
Into the bathroom I went.
(Okay, I love looking at other people’s pictures. Always have. It’s a weakness.)
I saw two candles on the wall. Below them, a funny little flint striker. Carefully, quietly, I lit the candles and shut the door.
The letters NJHS stood out on the cover. Just as I’d seen them before.
But now I noticed the scrawl underneath.
A date.
A very old date.
Sixty years ago.
Weird.
I opened the book.
Each page was filled with vintage black-and-white photos, curled at the edges, pasted to the page with funny little corners.
Guys with weird clothes and haircuts. Girls in prim, formal poses.
I was about to close it, when I saw a familiar face grinning up at me.
Wes.
No. Someone who looks like him. His grandfather, maybe.
I brought the book closer to the light.
The guy was a dead ringer.
I flipped ahead, page by page. The images were small. Many were out of focus. I thought I saw a Carbo lookalike, but I couldn’t be sure.
Then I stopped. At a picture of a party in the school gym.
In the background. Against the wall. Trying to hide his face.
It was Colin.
Can’t be.
Keep looking.
One more page … another …
THERE.
I stopped.
This time I recognized three faces.
Mary Elizabeth was on the left. Wes was on the right.
But I was staring at a third kid, standing between them.
Dark hair, a little overweight. No one I’d met on Onieron, I was sure of that.
But I knew him.
Something about the smile. And the eyes. A suggestion of someone else …
Then I read a faded note, scribbled onto the page under the photo:
The book. I should have destroyed the book.