Camp Pleasant (12 page)

“Come on, Matt,” Bob said. “Upsy daisy.”

“Uzzy daizy,” I muttered, groggily, pushing to one knee.
“Oh!”
I doubled over sharply, hands clutched over my stomach as pain exploded therein. I opened my mouth, gagging. Then, after a few seconds, I closed it and gasped for breath as I realized I wasn’t going to lose my supper after all. I felt cold night wind on my sweat-dewed forehead as Bob helped me to straighten up on wobbly legs. I blinked and shook my head a little, clearing things up in time to see the other two counselors leaving.

“Bring him inside, Bob,” I heard Ellen say then and I looked over to where she wavered in the kitchen doorway.

“I’m all right,” I said.

“Come on, Matt.”

I walked unsteadily through the kitchen and into the living room with Bob’s hand under my elbow. Ellen disappeared into the hall and I heard the light flick on as Bob put me down on the couch.

“Oh,” I said and grimaced at the stomach pain. “Oh.”

Bob looked worried. “You all right, Matt?” he asked.

I shook my head dizzily. “Sure,” I said. “Sure. For a guy that got killed.”

“You didn’t get killed,” he said. “You put him in his place.”

“Huh,” I grunted. “He killed me.”

“No, he didn’t,” he said and, by God, if he didn’t sound as proud as if we’d both been fighting Mack. “He’ll never bother you again.”

Ellen came in then with a first-aid box, looking very pale and drawn. She sat down beside me on the couch.

“How do you feel, Matt?” she asked gently, looking at me concernedly.

“How do I look?” I asked, smiling weakly.

“Wonderful
.” It came out before she could stop it and, even though it was barely a whisper, I knew Bob had heard it.

“Am I cut?” I asked as she opened the first-aid box.

She swallowed, then forced a smile. “A little,” she said. “On your forehead.”

“What happened to Mack?”

She shook her head.

“I think he broke his wrist,” I heard Bob say.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Ellen started dabbing at my forehead with alcohol-soaked cotton and I winced as a thin streak of fire ignited there. Her face twitched and she bit her lower lip.

“It’s all right,” I said. “Burn away, doctor.”

I looked into her eyes but she averted them.

“That’s a nice dress,” I said. She smiled faintly, her eyes starting to glisten.

I couldn’t help it. I put my hand out and closed the fingers spasmodically over her left arm. I felt how her flesh trembled under my touch.

“Ellen,” I said.

She looked as if she were about to cry.

“Bob,” I said quickly, not looking at him, “would you check my cabin and see if Sammy’s all right?” Sammy Wrazolowsky was subbing for me until eleven.

“But—”

I looked up quickly at him and he swallowed, glancing at Ellen. “All right,” he said quietly. “All right, Matt. You … want me to come back and help you to—”

“No, I’ll be all right,” I told him.

My heartbeat was a slow timpani as he turned and headed across the room. When the screen door slapped shut, I turned back to her. She was staring at her hands.

“Ellen,” I said.

She bit her lips and tears started to her eyes. “No, Matt,” she said. “No. You’re wrong. I’m only concerned with your—health.”

“That’s not true,” I said.

She raised her eyes to me, shimmering with tears.

“Don’t,” she said. “Oh,
please
don’t, Matt.”

“Are you so afraid of it?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “More than you can ever know.”

I looked at her in silence a moment. Then I said, “I love you, Ellen.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She stared at me blankly for a long while. For a moment, I thought she was going to throw herself against me, then she shuddered and drew back.

“No,” she said. “You don’t really, Matt. You’re just trying to be sweet. You haven’t thought it out at all. I know you don’t—love me.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

She only shook her head.

“Ellen, how do you know?”

“Because, we haven’t known each other long enough,” she said. “Because you don’t know anything about me. Because—you just can’t.”

I wanted so desperately to pull her against me and tell her she was wrong. But something in me kept me from it; something in me that knew she was speaking the truth. She must have seen it on my face for it seemed to provide her with the withdrawal she needed. Her hand reached out and stroked my cheek.

“You’re very sweet, Matt,” she said. “And I appreciate your—your flattery.”

“Is that all?” I said.

“That’s all there can be,” she said, but that look was in her eyes again, even worse. “No matter what I—what you think you feel,” she amended hastily. “Believe me, it’s—”

She tried to throw it off. She dabbed at my forehead again, a smile faltering on her lips.

“You are very brave,” she said. “Mack is very strong.” She swallowed. “And … I liked what you said,” she went on. “I was very—”

I leaned over and kissed her warm mouth. She remained motionless, neither resisting nor accepting. As I drew back my head, she smiled at me and kept it all hidden except for her eyes.

“If things were otherwise,” she said quietly, “I might love you but—” The smile faded. “Well,” she said, “You need someone better.” It hurt her but she said it.

“Oh, stop it,” I said, not knowing whether I felt sympathy or anger. “There’s nothing wrong with you but unhappiness.”

All she did was shake her head slowly. I put my hands on her shoulders and tried to draw her to me but she held back.

“No, please,” she asked. “That just makes us forget the truth.” She looked at me pleadingly. “No more, Matt.
Please
. If it will make you happy—yes, I love you. But—” Her small hands held me away. “That’s not enough, Matt; you know it isn’t enough. There are too many things against us. You know it as well as I.”

The rest was leftovers—her bandaging my forehead, getting me a drink of water. It was as if everything had been said and we were strangers again. Love? It was out of the question even though I sensed that she wanted me to tell her otherwise. But I couldn’t tell her. I wasn’t sure enough.

On the way back to the cabin, I saw a light in the dispensary and saw Miss Leiber washing up inside.

“Miss Leiber?”

She started and whirled. “Who’s that?” she asked in a frightened voice.

“Matt Harper,” I said.

“You scared me half to death,” she said, irritably.

“I’m sorry. Where’s MacNeil?”

“Being driven to a hospital.”

“Oh. Broken wrist?”

“At least,” she said. She squinted suspiciously at the screen door. “Were you the one he was fighting?”

I swallowed. “Yes,” I said.

She shook her head in disgust. “Fighting, fighting, fighting,” she said. “Is that all you young men do?”

“No,” I said. “Sometimes we love.” She looked at me with eyes that did not understand.

The argument between Ed and Doc Rainey came three days latter.

Lights were out, the kids were, presumably, out and I was in the dining hall getting some music I’d left on the piano earlier that day. I was on my way out with the music when the outside office door banged shut and a bar of light threw itself through the inner doorway that led to the dining hall.

“No use talkin’ about it, Doc,” I heard Ed Nolan say. “We’re gonna do it and that’s all there is to it.”

“Ed, for God’s sake, use your head,” Doc said in a voice that was, for him, agitated. “You’ll be cutting your own throat, can’t you see that? Don’t you think the boys will tell their parents about it?”

“So what if they do?” Ed asked stubbornly.

“Ed, you know good and well what happened last time.”

I moved across the floor quietly.

“At least eliminate the Junior Division,” Doc said. “For God’s sake, you can’t expose a seven-year-old boy to things like that.”

“Never too young,” said Ed, still obdurant. “Christ, you’d think it was somethin’ awful. It’s fun, Doc,
fun
.”

A tense silence, then Doc saying, “All right, Ed, but just remember this’ll have to be your responsibility. I can’t back you on this one. If there’s any—”

“Nobody’s askin’ you to back me,” Ed told him. “It’s my show.”

I heard a drawer opening and shutting, then the squeak of a heavy body sinking into a chair.

“You’re making a mistake, Ed,” Doc said.

“Then I’ll make it, goddam it!” Ed said angrily. “It’s my camp and I’ll do what I please with it!”

“You’re not going to have it long doing things like this,” said Doc.

“I guess that’ll really break your heart, won’t it, Doc?” Ed said contemptuously. “If I get the bounce, that’ll really disturb ya.” His voice stiffened. “You’ve had your eye on Pleasant since I
been
here. Ya never
did
get over them puttin’ me over you—even though ya been here two years more than me. Have ya?”

“You’re just trying to start an argument, Ed,” Doc told him. “I’m not going to—”

“Ya
can’t
argue with me, that’s why!” Ed interrupted, lashing out angrily. “Ya know damn well ya been doin’ a slow burn ever since they give me the camp over your head. Ya been just waitin’ t’see me get the boot,” Ed said. “Just
waitin’.”

“Is that why I’m trying to talk you out of this Madame La Toure business?” Doc asked.

“Never mind,” Ed said.

“Your logic is bad, Ed,” Doc said. “If I’d wanted to see you ‘get the boot’ as you put it, all I’d have had to do was sit back and let you cut your own throat. I didn’t have to keep pleading with you year after year to keep you from doing a hundred and one things that would have ended your directorship. All I’d have had to do was sit back and watch you make a noose and hang yourself with it.”

“You through?” Ed said.

“Just about,” Doc said. “Just about. I’m through trying. After tonight you can do as you damn well please.”

“I always have done as I damn well please!” Ed stormed. “You tryin’ t’tell me that—”

“No point in trying to tell you anything, Ed!” Doc shouted back. “That’s futile business. You get what you want. You wanted Loomis out so you saw to it that he
got
out.”

I felt myself stiffen.

“Loomis got
himself
out!” Ed yelled. “I didn’t do a thing! I s’pose you’d’ve told me t’keep ‘im in camp until he raped some kid!”

“Loomis was a perfectly honorable young—”

“Honorable, crap!” Ed said loudly. “He was a
queer!”

“All right, Ed,” Doc said, his voice suddenly tired. “All right. I wash my hands of it. Have your fool show. I won’t say another word.”

“Wouldn’t matter if ya
did
!
“

Doc’s laugh was brief; a sort of tragically accepting laugh.

“You always have to have the last word, don’t you?” he said. Then, for a moment, his voice grew hard. “Want the camp? Yes, I want it, I’ve always wanted it! And with the damn fool way you’re running it—I’ll have it too!”

After that, Doc left. I did too; returning to my cabin where I undressed, got into pajamas and bathrobe and went up to Paradise. Then I started back.

I was just going by Mack’s cabin when I heard the door open halfway and saw one of the kids standing there.

“Psst,” he said.
“Hey,”
his voice hushed and timorous.

I stopped and went over, shining my light on his face a second to see who it was. It was one of the boys I didn’t know.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Mack’s sick,” he said. “He’s makin’ funny noises.”

I went up the warped steps and into the darkened cabin. “What’s up?” I heard a voice ask from one of the dark bunks. “Go to sleep,” I said and went over to Mack’s bunk.

He was writhing on the mattress, his face rolling from side to side on the pillow. I put my hand on his forehead and felt how hot it was before he twitched away from under my fingers.

“How long has he been like this?” I asked the boy quietly.

“I dunno,” he said, sounding scared. “A while I guess.”

Mack groaned in pain, his head raising up a little, then thudding back on the pillow. I shone the light on his right hand and saw that his arm, above the bandage, was red and swollen.

“Get in your bed,” I said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay,” he said, relieved, and I heard his bare feet pat across the floor boards, then the slight rustle of him climbing between his bedclothes.

I looked at Mack again. His teeth were clenched together tightly and he kept grimacing and making little noises in his throat which, every few moments, became pitiful, drawn-out moans.

“What’sa matter with ‘im?” I heard a voice and, shining my light up to the bunk above, I saw Tony raised on one elbow. He blinked and turned his face to the side until I lowered the beam a little.

“Go to sleep, Tony,” I said.

“What’sa matter?” he asked. “He sick?”

“Yes,” I said. “Now—”

“Good
,” said Tony.

“Tony, that isn’t nice,” I said firmly.

“I hope he
dies,”
said Tony.

“All right, that’s enough,” I said. “Go to sleep.”

I didn’t have the time to worry about Tony, so I lowered my flash beam to Mack again. I stood there about a minute, looking down at his slightly thrashing body, the increasing sounds of pain he made. Then I leaned over and put my hand on his shoulder.

“Mack,” I said, shaking him a little. “Mack, wake up.”

He reared up a little, gasping convulsively, then fell back, eyes wide open and staring at me. I could tell he didn’t know who I was. He didn’t even seem to know
where
he was.

“Mack, we’d better go down to the dispensary,” I said.

He breathed raggedly through an open mouth, staring up at me, his chest rising and falling in quick, shallow movements.

“Mack, you’ve got a fever. You’d better—”

“What d’ya want?” he asked gutterally.

“You’d better go to the dispensary. Come on, I’ll help you.”

He knocked my hand off his shoulder as if it were a spider. “Get outta here,” he said breathlessly. I noticed how swollen-pupiled his eyes were.

“Mack, get up,” I said. “You’ve got a fever.”