I walked from the library to the dining hall, a strange sensation in the back of my head telling me someone, or something, was watching . . . and waiting. The creatures of Agartha dominated my mind; all those images of mythical creatures in Mrs. Chakoté’s Book of Stones formed what-ifs, ready to ensnare my courage. Overhead, the moon cast a silvery light on the landscape, creating shadows with monster-shaped arms and demon-like outlines. Goosebumps crept down my spine as my imagination brought the shadowy forms to life in my head.
While in the library, I researched Agartha. Multiple websites littered the Internet, all telling the same tale . . . an ancient, mysterious city called Agartha buried deep within the Earth’s core. But I knew the truth; Agartha did not lie underground. The doorways leading to the mythical world lay hidden in dark tunnels and caves, but Agartha was another world in a parallel universe.
Something moved at the edge of my vision . . . or did it? Stopping, I quickly turned but found nothing.
Are there gremlins here, or was it just my imagination?
The what-ifs surged through my thoughts, amplifying my fears. My Beast stirred. The buzzing had not pierced my ears, but I could feel it awakening. It was just a matter of time. The buzzing always came, no matter how much I wished it would disappear.
And the buzzing brought my Beast . . . every time.
I tried to resist the ANTs, using the strategies and breathing exercises Dr. Jen taught me over the years, but they never seemed to work. She frequently told me it was about positive and negative thoughts. If I expected the strategies to fail, then they would. I tried positive some self-talk.
The fear is only temporary, and I can endure it.
The sound of a mosquito buzzed in my ear. Was it a real insect, or was the Beast awakening?
I did a quick 4 – 7 – 8 breath and imagined my heartbeat slowing.
More positive self-talk went through my head, but the strategy failed; I had nothing positive within me . . . only hopeless negative thoughts. I had accepted, long ago, that my Beast would never let me do things the other kids could do.
I hate my anxiety and the fact that I’m a failure! The thought burned into me. The anger and frustration over being unable to deal with my fears made me feel like I was somehow broken. Dr. Jen told me it’s okay to be mad at my anxiety when it gets out of control, which seems to be always, but I need to tame my Beast, somehow. I’m not gonna give in . . . not this time.
I stepped into the dining hall, my stomach grumbling, and scanned the crowd, hoping the bullies had some other target to entertain themselves. At that moment, some wrestlers were making fun of the dancers, doing a ridiculous, uncoordinated dance to mock their recent performance. The camp counselors told the wrestlers to stop, ending the abuse, but the damage had been done. Many of the dancers held their heads down, humiliated.
“Hey, Cameron . . . over here,” Bobby shouted.
Some of the art students looked my way and glared. The Arties, as they were called, sat clustered together in a defensive formation near the door, their multicolored shirts marking the boundaries of their territory.
I took a plate, spooned macaroni and cheese onto it, and then headed for my friend. Bobby sat in the corner of the dining hall at the table the rest of the students called the Island of Misfit Toys, or just Island for short. It was our fortress of solitude, where the geeks, nerds, and weirdos sat together—safety in numbers. Strangely enough, no one sat there except for Bobby. Our robotics friends, the Techies, weren’t there, nor were the Number-heads (math kids) or Science-geeks. Bobby sat at the Island with his always-present grin, alone, the rest of the table empty.
“Where is everyone?” I scanned the dining hall and found the other Techies and Number-heads on the opposite side of the room. They looked away, pretending not to notice me. “Why are they over there?”
“Word must have gotten out about our detention with Leonard and Karl.” Bobby glanced around the room, smiling at all his observers. “I bet they’re waiting for the athletes to drop the hammer and punish us with a food attack . . . or worse.”
I nodded, then sat and ate a spoonful of mac and cheese. When I looked up, I found Elisa standing there, her tray filled with salad, fruit, and a carton of milk. She sat across from me and lowered her voice.
“The other archers wouldn’t let me sit with them. They heard about our detention and didn’t want to be seen with me. They’re afraid they’ll get caught in the crossfire of the food fight they’re certain will happen.” She popped a handful of grapes into her mouth.
“Who do you think told everyone about the detention?” I took another bite of mac and cheese and saw something from the corner of my eye. I turned quickly, expecting to find a gremlin, but instead, I found Karl Macarthur standing up, wagging a finger in our direction. “Yeah, I know who . . . it was Karl.”
The baseball player waved, gave me a malicious grin, and then sat down again.
I glared at the baseball cabin leader and then spotted Leonard coming into the dining hall. The huge sixth-grader grabbed a plate of food and walked toward us. As he approached, the other athletes watched him, their expressions filled with confusion and curiosity. Their murmurs echoed through the hall and grew louder as he made his way to our table. Leonard set his tray down next to Elisa and sat, the dining hall buzzing with confused comments.
I leaned forward and spoke in a quiet voice. “What are you doing?”
“Eating dinner.” Leonard speared a cluster of carrots and stuffed them into his mouth.
“This is the Island. You don’t have to sit here. You can sit with the athletes. In fact, you can sit anywhere.” I glanced at Bobby and Elisa, confused.
“You don’t want me here?” Leonard asked.
“It’s not that.” Bobby took a bite of his burger. “It’s just . . . sitting with us isn’t gonna help your reputation. People will think you wanna be a geek, like us.”
“Who cares what people think.” Leonard took a bit of lasagna, some of the thick sauce dripping off his fork, and landed on the table, barely missing his shirt.
“Spoken like someone on the top of the food chain.” Bobby patted him on the back. “Welcome to the bottom run of the social ladder. I hope you enjoy your stay with us.”
“Whatever.” Leonard shook his head. “We need to talk.”
“I agree. Did all of you think about what Mrs. Chakoté told us?” Elisa finished her grapes and started on her salad.
“I don’t know . . . I find it all a bit far-fetched,” Leonard said. “Order of the Stones, her? Really?”
“I know what you mean,” Elisa added. “I find her story about Agartha and all the mythical creatures a little hard to believe. Maybe we didn’t really see anything near the Crypt. The heat might have been playing tricks on us or something.”
“I believe her.” Bobby glanced at me, then back to the other two. “We all know what we saw. We just don’t want to accept it. Did you see the claws on that imp? I have no desire to meet that little guy inside the Crypt. I’m a Techie, not a warrior.” He shook his head, then looked away.
“I did some research in the library,” I said. “That fire Mrs. Chakoté mentioned, it was totally real. It happened in 1788, and it burned down ninety percent of New Orleans. People lost everything; who knows how many died, but I bet it was a lot. Only six thousand people lived in New Orleans back then, but now, we have almost half a million. Many people will die if we let the Agarthans burn down the city again.”
Elisa reached out, put a hand on my arm, and shook her head. “We’re just four kids. We can’t do anything. Leonard is the only strong one here, and if he gets in trouble, he could get kicked out of the camp. That might affect him making it to the varsity football team when he gets to high school, and then he can kiss a college scholarship goodbye.” She took a sip of milk. “If I get expelled from here, my dad will stop paying for all these archery lessons and coaches. That’ll shatter his dream of me being in the Olympics. Archery is all I have.”
“You have us,” I mumbled.
She shrugged.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Ninety percent of New Orleans destroyed . . . do you want that on your conscience?”
Just then, a girl walked up to us and handed each a note, our names written in cursive across the front; it was Mrs. Chakoté’s handwriting.
“What’s this?” I asked.
The girl shrugged. “She said to give them to you, so I did.”
Without waiting for a response, she spun around and walked to Karl, handing him a note as well. Karl took the scrap of paper, then approached the Island. He unfolded the letter and read it, then clenched it in his fist.
“What did you say to her?” Karl scowled at me. “You guys are jerks. Did you get me in trouble? I told you earlier; I don’t want any part of your stupid little adventure.”
I stared down at my note, then unfolded and read it silently.
In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing.
-- Theodore Roosevelt
It was in Mrs. Chakoté’s handwriting, and the message wasn’t very subtle. She was telling me to do the right thing and help her stop the Agarthans.
“Read your notes,” I said.
Each of the others read their messages from the camp director.
“Well?” I asked, glancing at my friends.
Leonard folded his note and stuffed it in a pocket. “Obviously, Mrs. Chakoté is trying to manipulate us into doing what she wants.”
I read my note aloud, “In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing.” I glanced at Leonard. “A quote from Theodore Roosevelt.”
“Of course. Teddy Roosevelt was the twenty-sixth President of the United States, and . . .” Leonard’s eyes seemed to brighten for just a moment, then he stopped speaking and lowered his gaze as if embarrassed.
“My, my, aren’t you a little talking encyclopedia.” Karl stared at Leonard and chuckled as he stepped closer, his note still in his fist.
Leonard didn’t reply, keeping his eyes on the ground.
I folded my note and put it back into a pocket. “What did your notes say?”
Bobby pulled his out. “Mine said: ‘You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take,’ by someone named Wayne Gretzky, whoever that is.”
“He’s only the greatest ice hockey player of all time,” Elisa said.
I looked at her, surprised.
She shrugged. “My dad loves ice hockey.”
“What did yours say, Elisa?” I asked.
She sighed. “It’s a Zen saying, ‘Leap and a net will appear.’ I think Mrs. Chakoté is telling me it’s okay to take a risk.” She turned to Leonard. “And yours?”
“It says, ‘Service to others is the rent you pay for your room here on Earth.’ It’s from a famous boxer named Mohammed Ali. He was a great boxer, probably one of the best.” Leonard lowered his hands to his side.
“Karl, what does your note say?” Elisa asked.
Karl uncrumpled the paper, glanced down at it, then folded it and shoved it into a pocket. “It says none of your business. I don’t know what Chakoté said to you in her office, but you can count me out.”
“But we have to—” Before I could continue, Karl turned his back on us and stormed away.
“We need to decide what we’re gonna do.” I glanced over my shoulder at Karl, then turned back to my friends. A buzzing sound flickered to life in the back of my head. “I’m going to the Crypt. I can’t just stand by and let those creatures destroy everything again, including this camp. Pontchartrain is a second home for me; I know it’s like that for all of you, too.” I lowered my voice and turned to Bobby and Elisa. “You two are my oldest friends . . . no, my only friends. If the Agarthans destroy this place, I’ll never see you. Besides, all we gotta do it find those Skull Key things and keep them safe; that shouldn’t be a big deal . . . right?”
No one spoke, the silence amplifying my anxiety a little. My heart pounded, heavy and tense, in my chest. I ran my fingers through my curly hair as the buzzing grew louder. Images of gremlins and imps popped into my head, followed by mythical monsters of every shape and size; the ANTs trying to feed my Beast.
I took a deep breath and tried to push the thoughts aside. I know those fears are a lie, but they feel so real. What if the things I’m imagining really exist? What if they’re out there, waiting for me?
I sighed.
I hate this. I hate being afraid all the time. Moving a hand under the table, I clenched my fist, squeezing my hand tight until the knuckles popped. It surprised me, breaking the cycle of frightening images feeding my anxiety which, in turn, created more images.
I looked up at my friends. “Even though I’m scared, I’m not gonna let them take this place away from me, let them take all of you from me.” I swallowed nervously. “I doubt I can do this on my own.” Turning, I glanced at Bobby, then Elisa and Leonard. “Are any of you coming?”
They all lowered their gaze to the ground, each staying quiet.
I sighed again. “Okay, I get it. But if you change your mind and decide to help. I suggest you gather whatever you think will help fight against the imps and gremlins. I’ll be at the barn, waiting, but not for long.”
Before any of them could give me another excuse, I left the dining hall and headed for the Robotics class. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get into the room and grab some of my electronic gadgets there that might help against the monsters. Without my tech, I knew I wouldn’t stand a chance against the monsters of Agartha.
As I walked across the school grounds, moonlight cut across the camp, creating sharp shadows. The dark outlines invaded my imagination, creating horrific creatures that stalked my courage like a lion after a gazelle. The what-ifs attacked, trying to awaken the terrible monster that hid in the dark recesses of my soul . . . my Beast. I had no doubt I’d be seeing him soon.