Chapter 1
There’s nothing I hate more than liars. Unfortunately, my parents are in this category. No matter, if they want to play their little games then I’ll play mine. Fleets of cars glide by, displaying flashes of silver, black, white, and even the occasional blue and green. House after house blips by in an instant.
The summer sun is a hot blanket wrapping its warmth around the car, making it unbearably humid, despite the air conditioning. Regardless of the heat though, the smooth glass on the car window feels cool somehow as it makes contact with my nails. Tap. My mother twitches in annoyance. I tap again enjoying her reaction. Tap. Twitch. Tap. Twitch. Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Alright stop, you win. Take your goddamn hands off the window.” My mother flaps her hands in exasperation.
More cars blip by as we pass billboards on the highway. It’s been about an hour and forty minutes. Each minute we get closer to what I imagine will be a prison – a place I'll be stuck doing nothing productive for the whole summer.
“What? You're the one that said I need to focus on entertaining myself this summer, are you not?” I scoff. A stream of sunlight illuminates the window, creating a reflective illusion that displays my expression. It’s not a happy one. Even I shiver at the icy blue stare it reveals. “I’m enjoying myself quite a bit.”
“Don’t be a smartass, this is for you.” She glares at me through the rearview mirror. I can’t help but roll my eyes when she looks away. What kind of parents keep their fifteen-year-old son from working all summer? What makes me even angrier is that instead of telling me the real reason they don't want me working, they make up bullshit excuses about wanting me to have fun at summer camp like a “normal kid”. I can see through all of it. They don't want me working because they must know I’ve been saving up. It's too late now though. I only have a couple hundred more to go.
“Besides, if you’re this focused on earning money, your father and I would be happy to give-”
“No thanks.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll work for the money myself.”
My dad makes eye contact with me through the rearview mirror, giving me the I-don’t-like-your-tone look.
“Well, If you want to earn money the hard way, you're going to like this. Every year for the final-year campers, they award a one-hundred fifty dollar prize to a camper that beats an old camp record. You may get your money after all.” My mother sighs.
Just like that, I’m no longer tapping on the window like a prisoner. I listen intrigued as my mother goes into detail about the prize. When she’s done explaining, I spend the rest of the ride contemplating the best way to achieve the money. Maybe this summer won't be as bleak as I'd anticipated.
***
The first sight of Karakoram is like witnessing a beautiful wildlife preserve. Even the flakes of grass painting the ground look pure and untouched. From the car window, I witness a glistening lake with boats and canoes resting along the water. Tall modern cabins within a forested area freckle the fields, and I spot a sandy path that leads to what I assume is a sports center. I hear fragments of families' cheerful shouts almost drowned out by the sounds of suitcase wheels rolling and animals singing summer songs.
As my father drives down the pebbled path, I make out the different activity centers. A tall wooden building with a pointed roof. The Mess Hall. A large field with grass no longer than a paperclip. Soccer field. A small clearing in a forested area with targets on the trees. Archery. There seemed to be everything at Karakoram. A pool, a riflery center, an obstacle course, horseback riding, and even a theater.
We pull into a large parking lot with several different cars. My mother has a clipboard of all the information I need and starts spouting instructions to my father and I. It doesn't take long for them to start arguing. I take this argument as a chance to escape and silently read the information on my mother's clipboard. Boys cabin number three. Blue. I grab my trunk and head over to the blue-bannered cabin, leaving my parents to bicker amongst themselves.
I’m pleasantly surprised to find that the boys' cabins are clean and don’t smell like sweat and musk. No cobwebs in the corners either. There are several bunks organized weirdly around the room. Some on the perimeter of the room make a square-like shape and the rest are in little groups around the cabin. The bunks have pillows but no sheets or pillowcases. Campers are required to bring their own for sanitation purposes. There’s a ceiling fan cooling the room and windows with blue checkered curtains shielding the cabin from today’s impossible heat. For a cabin, it’s pretty spacious. I overhear a few male counselors outside talking with parents. They say bunks aren’t assigned and it’s basically first come first serve. I store this information and take the bottom bunk closest to the door. I’ve never liked sleeping on the top bunk. I like a quick, efficient way of getting out of bed if there's ever an emergency. I have no reason to believe such events will occur, but I like to be prepared.
I see a shadowy figure stand over my bed as I neatly organize my possessions. I almost do a double-take when I see the shadow multiply into two figures.
“What’s that?” I turn around and see two copies of the same human pointing at my emergency poison ivy kit. I cringe. I know I shouldn’t have brought it.
“Who are you?” I counter.
“I’m Ace and this is Cyst.'' Cyst? Well, that's different. I try my best to immediately remember their names and analyze their differences. Twins are always big on individuality, and I need as many friends as I can get if this summer is to go smoothly. It's hard at first glance but getting a better look at the two there are some obvious contrasts. Ace has apple-red hair that is so red it looks unnatural. Cyst’s hair has more of a lighter orange look. Both sets of hazel eyes gaze at me, seeming to expect something. I clear my throat realizing I didn’t reciprocate their greeting.
I shake Cyst–no Ace’s-hand. "Spencer Fells. Hi.”
“Dude, sick eyes.” I raise my brow as Cyst speaks for the first time. “I’ve never seen that combination before.” Ace elbows him. I think he mouths the word rude but I can’t tell.
“Not in a bad way, but black hair and blue eyes are sick,” Cyst retorts, defending himself. Brown, I have brown hair. It’s not black, it’s just a really dark brown. In my head I debate replying. The amount of people who insist I have black hair is just too much, so when people say black hair I find it’s easier just not to argue.
“Uh-huh,” I nod, trying to think of what to say next. “Thanks, I mean red hair is pretty cool too. Is this your first time here?”
They nod. I can tell Ace is really outgoing, calm, and laid back, whereas Cyst takes a while to warm up to others. Just from talking with him for a few minutes, I can tell Cyst deeply admires his brother. He has a lighthearted, energetic aura that would instantly attract anyone. Cyst brags about Ace’s accomplishments while Ace just shrugs.
“He’s captain of the swim team. That's no small feat.” He slaps his brother on the back and chuckles. His hazel irises flare the tiniest bit. It's so quick I wonder if I made it up. Huh, what’s that about? I don’t have time to think about it because my father finally comes into the cabin red-faced. He reports that he’s checked me in and that he and mother will be leaving soon. His voice trails off when he sees the two twins in front of my bed.
“Friends already? You’ll do just fine here.” He chuckles.
“I wasn't worried.” I frown. My dad volunteers me to walk him and mother out, so I say goodbye to the twins. My dad waits until we're close enough to the parking lot but far enough away from the cabins to lecture me.
“I know you don’t want to be here, and I know what a pain in the ass you can be when you don’t get your way. If you pull any tricks to get kicked out of camp we’re going to have a serious problem. I hope I've made myself clear, son.”
I look him straight in the eyes. “Crystal.”
My dad seems pleased with this answer and goes on about all the activities while I tune him out. I need a plan to break a camp record. I better get started and choose which camp record today. How long do I have to achieve this new record? July through August. So a month of stupid camp. A month is too long. I'm wasting my summer and there's nothing I can do about it.
“You should be grateful. We spent a pretty penny on this.” I sigh. There's nothing I can do but make the best of this. I’ve caused my parents enough grief about forcing me to go to camp. Besides, some of the activities did peak my interest.
“Archery looks fun.”
“Fake optimism doesn't suit you. I appreciate the gesture though.” My dad’s strong cheekbones look extra defined in the shadow of the camp trees and his playful gaze leaks through. I can’t help but wonder how two humans can look so similar yet be so different. I get my sky blue eyes from my mother, but the rest of my features mirror my father's. He runs his fingers through a straight, fluffy, coal-black mane that would be identical to mine if it didn’t have streaks of gray. He looked pretty good for a man in his fifties. We have the same fair skin that's a shade too white to be normal and the same deviated-shaped nose. My father and I walk in silence the rest of the way to the car. We find my mother there talking to a counselor whose red name tag reads “Emily”. Emily says something and my mother laughs.
My father interrupts, “ Alrighty, everything is set on our side. We’ll head out as soon as I run to the bathroom.”
My mother utters a goodbye to Emily, who's already jogging off. She tries to lecture me, telling me how I’ll make so many memories here I'll never forget. Lies. The food will be good. More lies. There won't be many bugs. Lies on top of lies on top of lies. How many will she tell today? My father puts me out of my misery by returning and starting the car. My parents wave a few goodbyes and tell me to get along and have fun for the millionth time. I smile and tell them I will. Besides, I could have done worse. I would never admit to them that this camp didn't look too bad.
***
The sounds of conversation and laughter get louder as I get closer to the sports area’s basketball court. There's a big concrete area with two basketball hoops on either side, red and yellow markings on the tan concrete floor, and a big plastic bin on the grass a couple of feet to the right. Behind the court are little tetherball sand patches where sets of kids spike the ball back and forth in a tangly roped mess. A few feet left of the court is a gaga pit where kids scream and laugh. I decide to check it out since it looks the most intriguing and the majority of campers are already hanging around it and laughing. As I near the court, a ball comes flying toward my face at full speed. I catch it just seconds before it would have hit me squarely in the jaw. I turn to see the offender and Cyst is laughing awkwardly.
“I don’t know how I missed that. Pass it back," he says with his hands up. I pass the ball and he keeps going. “This game is full but you can practice on the other side. We're only using half-court.”
He points me in the direction of the big plastic equipment bin. The top of the bin is hot from being baked by the sun. I’m deciding which ball to pick by squeezing them and testing out each one. I finally decide on a neon green one that doesn't feel too deflated. The ends of the bin dig into my waist as I reach in, and I lose my balance and almost fall in.
WHAM! I almost jump out of my skin at the sound of a car door slamming aggressively. Spinning around to find the noise, I realize everyone is too busy to notice. None of the laughing campers even seem to blink an eye. The culprit seems to be a black SUV in the drop-off lot. It speeds away so fast, I can almost feel the gust of wind and dirt it creates. Once the car is gone, it reveals the figure of a girl holding a small blue trunk. She stands there looking like a numb statue, staring where the vehicle took off.
I'm certain that was the car that made the loud sound, so I continue to watch the girl, who doesn't move. She just stands there. Suddenly, her pale green eyes widen and she turns her head abruptly toward me, realizing she’s being watched. Instead of immediately shifting her gaze away, she holds eye contact with strange lifeless eyes. Something flashes in them, and then her expression goes back to normal. She brushes a strand of platinum blonde hair from her face and then turns away, disappearing behind the girls' purple cabin. She's no longer in sight, but I still feel uneasy. There's something off about that girl, and I need to find out what.
Lines of kids wait outside the doors of the Mess Hall, barely visible in the darkness. Before anyone is let in, the head counselor, Beth, announces that our camp group assignments will come out tomorrow morning. She opens the door and I take in the inside of the massive building. Rows of tables with plastic checkered tablecloths paint the room. The floors shine like pennies, having not been tainted by muddy footprints, tiny puddles of spilled drinks, or pieces of food splattered on the ground. I look up at the wooden vaulted ceiling. There are ceiling fans, and the draft from the air conditioning makes the hairs on my arm stand up. Dinner's almost finished and I’m sitting at a table with Ace, Cyst, and a couple of other boys we were playing basketball with earlier. I get up to get more bug juice and find that my place has been taken by a blonde girl with pretty blue eyes.
“I’m Lily.” She leaves one hand out for me to shake while using the other to move her ponytail to the side.
“I’m Spencer,” I reply while awkwardly standing with the juice. She looks down at my full glass and smiles, scooching over to make room for me.
“Sorry, did I take your spot?”
“Yeah,” I reply honestly. Lily raises an eyebrow and I look anywhere but at her. Why would you say that, don’t be awkward.
“There’s room for the both of us,” she counters.
“Alright then.” I sip my juice as she scooches over to let me sit. Cyst and Lily start chatting about basketball. I count the tiles on the back wall of the Mess Hall. I’ve never been so bored in my life.
On my twenty-seventh tile, I get the feeling someone’s watching me. Looking down from the wall tiles, I lock eyes with the same pale green irises I had seen earlier. Her. I don’t break eye contact, seeing if she’ll look away. She doesn't, continuing to stare at me. I raise my brows and that’s when she finally looks down at her dinner. Her long hair floods the table like spilled sand, not once touching her food.
“Spenc-” Cyst begins, but I interrupt.
“Who’s that?”
They all turn their heads to see who I’m looking at. Lily makes a face and Cyst just stares curiously. The girl is sitting alone in the corner of the Mess Hall, isolated from the rest of a group of girls who are laughing and spitting out their food.
“Her. Oh, she’s weird. Her name’s Dionne. She doesn't talk at all. It's like she’s mute. Like why would you go to camp and just not say anything?” Lily scoffs and continues on. But I don’t listen to her gossip. Dionne. I make a mental note and get up to clear my plate.
Later, as I'm exiting the Mess Hall and tuning out the noisy conversations, I hear the faintest whisper. I almost think I’m hallucinating. I’m about to head toward the night activities center when I hear the whispering again coming louder from behind a bush on the side of the Mess Hall. As I slowly walk toward the bush, masked by darkness, I don’t know what I’ll find. I peek over the small bush and am stunned to see Dionne hunched behind the bushes. She’s shaking, indicating that she’s sobbing. I want to tell her to get up, get a counselor to help her, or do something, but my legs won't move. I just watch her, stunned, until I’m jerked away by Cyst who hasn’t yet seen her. He grabs onto my shoulder while he runs and I’m forced to run along, away from the bush. I notice the same boys from dinner all running behind him in the distance. Cyst shouts excitedly about how there is a nighttime soccer game and how he wants me to play. I smile, trying to get the crying girl out of my head.
