09 - Welcome to Camp Nightmare (8 page)

As I ran up the hill, the dark pay phone came into view on the white lodge
wall. I started to run at full speed. I wanted to
fly
to the phone.

I hope Mom and Dad are home,
I thought.

They’ve
got
to be home.

I was panting loudly as I reached the wall. I lowered my hands to my knees
and crouched there for a moment, waiting to catch my breath.

Then I reached up to take the receiver down.

And gasped.

The pay phone was plastic. Just a stage prop.

A phony.

It was a thin sheet of molded plastic held to the wall by a nail, made to
look just like a telephone.

It wasn’t real. It was a fake.

They don’t want us to call out,
I thought with a sudden chill.

My heart thudding, my head spinning in bitter disappointment, I turned away
from the wall—and bumped right into Uncle Al.

“Billy—what are you doing up here?” Uncle Al asked. He was wearing
baggy green camp shorts and a sleeveless white T-shirt that revealed his meaty
pink arms. He carried a brown clipboard filled with papers. “Where are you
supposed to be?”

“I… uh… wanted to make a phone call,” I stammered, taking a step back. “I
wanted to call my parents.”

He eyed me suspiciously and fingered his yellow mustache. “Really?”

“Yeah. Just to say hi,” I told him. “But the phone—”

Uncle Al followed my gaze to the plastic phone. He chuckled. “Someone put
that up as a joke,” he said, grinning at me. “Did it fool you?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, feeling my face grow hot. I raised my eyes to his. “Where
is the real phone?”

His grin faded. His expression turned serious. “No phone,” he replied
sharply. “Campers aren’t allowed to call out. It’s a rule, Billy.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say.

“Are you really homesick?” Uncle Al asked softly.

I nodded.

“Well, go write your mom and dad a long letter,” he said. “It’ll make you
feel a lot better.”

“Okay,” I said. I didn’t think it
would
make me feel better. But I
wanted to get away from Uncle Al.

He raised his clipboard and gazed at it. “Where are you supposed to be now?”
he asked.

“Scratchball, I think,” I replied. “I didn’t feel too well, see. So I—”

“And when is your canoe trip?” he asked, not listening to me. He flipped
through the sheets of paper on the clipboard, glancing over them quickly.

“Canoe trip?” I hadn’t heard about any canoe trip.

“Tomorrow,” he said, answering his own question. “Your group goes tomorrow.
Are you excited?” He lowered his eyes to mine.

“I—I didn’t really know about it,” I confessed.

“Lots of fun!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “The river doesn’t look like
much up here. But it gets pretty exciting a few miles down. You’ll find yourself
in some good rapids.”

He squeezed my shoulder briefly. “You’ll enjoy it,” he said, grinning.
“Everyone always enjoys the canoe trip.”

“Great,” I said. I tried to sound a little excited, but my voice came out
flat and uncertain.

Uncle Al gave me a wave with his clipboard and headed around toward the front
of the lodge, taking long strides. I stood watching him till he disappeared
around the corner of the building. Then I made my way down the hill to the bunk.

I found Colin and Jay on the grass at the side of the cabin. Colin had his
shirt off and was sprawled on his back, his hands behind his head. Jay sat
cross-legged beside him, nervously pulling up long, slender strands of grass,
then tossing them down.

“Come inside,” I told them, glancing around to make sure no one else could
hear.

They followed me into the cabin. I closed the door.

“What’s up?” Colin asked, dropping onto his bunk. He picked up his red
bandanna and twisted it in his hands.

I told them about Dawn and Dori and what they had reported about the girls’
camp.

Colin and Jay both reacted with shock.

“They really swam over here and waited for you?” Jay asked.

I nodded. “They think we have to get organized or escape or something,” I
said.

“They could get in big trouble if they get caught,” Jay said thoughtfully.

“We’re all in big trouble,” I told him. “We have to get
out!”

“Visitors Day is next week,” Colin muttered.

“I’m going to write my parents right now,” I said, pulling out the case from
under my bunk where I kept my paper and pens. “I’m going to tell them I
have
to come home on Visitors Day.”

“I guess I will, too,” Jay said, tapping his fingers nervously against the
bunk frame.

“Me, too,” Colin agreed. “It’s just too… weird here!”

I pulled out a couple of sheets of paper and sat down on the bed to write.
“Dawn and Dori were really scared,” I told them.

“So am I,” Jay admitted.

I started to write my letter. I wrote
Dear Mom and Dad, HELP!
then
stopped. I raised my eyes across the cabin to Jay and Colin. “Do you guys know
about the canoe trip tomorrow?” I asked.

They stared back at me, their expressions surprised.

“Whoa!” Colin declared. “A three-mile hike this afternoon, and a canoe trip
tomorrow?”

It was my turn to be surprised. “Hike? What hike?”

“Aren’t you coming on it?” Jay asked.

“You know that really tall counselor? Frank? The one who wears the yellow
cap?” Colin asked. “He told Jay and me we’re going on a three-mile hike after
lunch.”

“No one told me,” I replied, chewing on the end of my pen.

“Maybe you’re not in the hike group,” Jay said.

“You’d better ask Frank at lunch,” Colin suggested. “Maybe he couldn’t find
you. Maybe you’re supposed to come, too.”

I groaned. “Who wants to go on a three-mile hike in this heat?”

Colin and Jay both shrugged.

“Frank said we’d really like it,” Colin told me, knotting and unknotting the
red bandanna.

“I just want to get out of here,” I said, returning to my letter.

I wrote quickly, intensely. I wanted to tell my parents all the frightening,
strange things that had happened. I wanted to make them see why I couldn’t stay
at Camp Nightmoon.

I had written nearly a page and a half, and I was up to the part where Jay
and Roger went out to explore the Forbidden Bunk, when Larry burst in. “You guys
taking the day off?” he asked, his eyes going from one of us to the other. “You
on vacation or something?”

“Just hanging out,” Jay replied.

I folded up my letter and started to tuck it under my pillow. I didn’t want
Larry to see it. I realized I didn’t trust Larry at all. I had no reason to.

“What are
you
doing, Billy?” he asked suspiciously, his eyes stopping
on the letter I was shoving under the pillow.

“Just writing home,” I replied softly.

“You homesick or something?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

“Maybe,” I muttered.

“Well, it’s lunchtime, guys,” he announced. “Let’s hustle, okay?”

We all climbed out of our bunks.

“Jay and Colin are going on a hike with Frank this afternoon, I heard,” Larry
said. “Lucky guys.” He turned and started out the door.

“Larry!” I called to him. “Hey, Larry—what about me? Am I supposed to go on
the hike too?”

“Not today,” he called back.

“But why not?” I said.

But Larry disappeared out the door.

I turned back to my two bunk mates. “Lucky guys!” I teased them.

They both growled back at me in reply. Then we headed up the hill to lunch.

They served pizza for lunch, which is usually my favorite. But
today, the pizza was cold and tasted like cardboard, and the cheese stuck to the
roof of my mouth.

I wasn’t really hungry.

I kept thinking about Dawn and Dori, how frightened they were, how desperate.
I wondered when I’d see them again. I wondered if they would swim over and hide
at the boys’ camp again before Visitors Day.

After lunch, Frank came by our table to pick up Jay and Colin. I asked him if
I was supposed to come, too.

“You weren’t on the list, Billy,” he said, scratching at a mosquito bite on
his neck. “I can only take two at a time, you know? The trail gets a little
dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Jay asked, climbing up from the table.

Frank grinned at him. “You’re a big strong guy,” he told Jay. “You’ll do
okay.”

I watched Frank lead Colin and Jay out of the mess hall. Our table was empty
now, except for a couple of blond-haired guys I didn’t know who were arm
wrestling down at the end near the wall.

I pushed my tray away and stood up. I wanted to go back to the bunk and
finish the letter to my parents. But as I took a few steps toward the door, I
felt a hand on my shoulder.

I turned to see Larry grinning down at me. “Tennis tournament,” he said.

“Huh?” I reacted with surprise.

“Billy, you’re representing Bunk Four in the tennis tournament,” Larry said.
“Didn’t you see the lineup? It was posted on the announcements board.”

“But I’m a terrible tennis player!” I protested.

“We’re counting on you,” Larry replied. “Get a racket and get your bod to the
courts!”

I spent the afternoon playing tennis. I beat a little kid in straight sets. I
had the feeling he had never held a tennis racket before. Then I lost a long,
hard-fought match to one of the blond-haired boys who’d been arm wrestling at
lunch.

I was drowning in sweat, and every muscle in my body ached when the match was
over. I headed to the waterfront for a refreshing swim.

Then I returned to the bunk, changed into jeans and a green-and-white Camp
Nightmoon T-shirt, and finished my letter to my parents.

It was nearly dinnertime. Jay and Colin weren’t back from their hike yet. I
decided to go up to the lodge and mail my letter. As I headed up the hill, I saw
clusters of kids hurrying to their bunks to change for dinner. But no sign of my
two bunk mates.

Holding the letter tightly, I headed around to the back of the lodge
building, where the camp office was located. The door was wide open, so I walked
in. A young woman was usually behind the counter to answer questions and to take
the letters to be mailed.

“Anyone here?” I called, leaning over the counter and peering into the tiny
back room, which was dark.

No reply.

“Hi. Anyone here?” I repeated, clutching the envelope.

No. The office was empty.

Disappointed, I started to leave. Then I glimpsed the large burlap bag on the
floor just inside the tiny back room.

The mailbag!

I decided to put my letter in the bag with the others to be mailed. I slipped
around the counter and into the back room and crouched down to put my envelope
into the bag.

To my surprise, the mailbag was stuffed full with letters. As I pulled the
bag open and started to shove my letter inside, a bunch of letters fell out onto
the floor.

I started to scoop them up when a letter caught my eye.

It was one of mine. Addressed to my parents.

One I had written yesterday.

“Weird,” I muttered aloud.

Bending over the bag, I reached in and pulled out a big handful of letters. I
sifted through them quickly. I found a letter Colin had written.

I pulled out another pile.

And my eyes fell upon two other letters I had written nearly a week ago when
I first arrived at camp.

I stared at them, feeling a cold chill run down my back.

All of our letters, all of the letters we had written since the first day of
camp, were here. In this mailbag.

None of them had been mailed.

We couldn’t call home.

And we couldn’t
write
home.

Frantically, my hands trembling, I began shoving the envelopes back into the
mailbag.

What is going on here?
I wondered.
What is going on?

By the time I got into the mess hall, Uncle Al was finishing the
evening announcements. I slid into my seat, hoping I hadn’t missed anything
important.

I expected to see Jay and Colin across the table from me. But their places on
the bench were empty.

That’s strange,
I thought, still shaken from my discovery about the
mailbag.
They should be back by now.

I wanted to tell them about the mail. I wanted to share the news that our
parents weren’t getting any of the letters we wrote.

And we weren’t getting any of theirs.

The camp had to be keeping our mail from us, I suddenly realized.

Colin and Jay—where are you?

The fried chicken was greasy, and the mashed potatoes were lumpy and tasted
like paste. As I forced the food down, I kept turning to glance at the mess hall
door, expecting to see my two bunk mates.

But they didn’t show up.

A heavy feeling of dread formed in my stomach. Through the mess hall window,
I could see that it was already dark outside.

Where could they be?

A three-mile hike and back shouldn’t take this many hours.

I pulled myself up and made my way to the counselors’ table in the corner.
Larry was having a loud argument about sports with two of the other counselors.
They were shouting and gesturing with their hands.

Frank’s chair was empty.

“Larry, did Frank get back?” I interrupted their discussion.

Larry turned, a startled expression on his face. “Frank?” He motioned to the
empty chair at the table. “Guess not.”

“He took Jay and Colin on the hike,” I said. “Shouldn’t they be back by now?”

Larry shrugged. “Beats me.” He returned to his argument, leaving me standing
there staring at Frank’s empty chair.

After the trays had been cleared, we pushed the tables and benches against
the wall and had indoor relay races. Everyone seemed to be having a great time.
The shouts and cheers echoed off the high-raftered ceiling.