Page 132 of Until Next Summer

She doesn’t say anything, but judging by the focused way she listens, I get the distinct feeling she’s rooting for us.

Several more construction workers show up, as well as areporter and photographer from a newspaper in the largest nearby town. If all goes as planned, they’ll be here to witness the downfall of the man whose ego they were summoned to boost. Irony at its finest.

Only there’s still no sign of Jessie and Luke, and now I have no way of reaching them. The first thing the contractor did in preparation for demolition was to turn off the electricity to Jessie’s cabin and the dining hall, which means we have no Internet service. He has a satellite phone on his belt, but I doubt he—or Jack Valentine—will let me use it.

At ten thirty, I start pacing on the porch.

“Where are they?” I whisper to Cooper. Our eyes are fixed on the road that leads to camp, desperate for the sight of the Camp Chickawah pickup barreling down the road.

He’s sitting on top of a picnic table, his knees bouncing with nerves. “I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”

“They better be,” I say.

Then something catches my eye and my heart freezes to ice. “Oh my god. They’re heading for the bulldozer!”

Behind me, Mary sits up straight. “Oh dear,” she whispers.

“Fuck,” Cooper says. “We need to stop them. Hold them off long enough for Jessie and Luke to get here.”

“How do we even know they’re on their way?” I say, trying to keep my voice quiet enough that Mary doesn’t hear. “What if something went wrong?”

“They’ll be here,” he says, though he sounds less certain now. “Come on, let’s go.”

We take off together, marching hand in hand toward the bulldozer. Everyone has gathered nearby—they’re all wearing yellow hard hats, mugging for the camera, posingwith their arms around each other. Jack and the buyer each pull out a folder of papers and make a show of signing them with a flourish.

“Hang on!” I say, walking up. “What happened to waiting until eleven o’clock?”

Jack glances at his phone. “It’s ten forty-five and there’s no sign of her. Even if there was, what’s she going to do about it?”

Behind him, a man in a hard hat climbs into the cab of the bulldozer.

“You’re going to tell him to wait, right?” Cooper asks the contractor, his eyes flashing with anger.

The contractor shrugs and looks at the buyer. “Up to you, boss,” he says.

The buyer gives him a nod. “Go ahead.”

The bulldozer lurches toward the cabin, and I take off running after it, not sure what I’m going to do when I get there, but certain I can’t just sit by and let this happen.

“Stop!” I yell, darting in front of the bulldozer.

“Get out of the way,” Jack snaps.

“Ma’am, you can’t be here,” the contractor warns. “This is an active construction zone.”

“This is anillegalconstruction zone,” Cooper says, coming up next to me. Now we’re standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the wide yellow teeth of the bulldozer, both breathing hard. My legs are shaking with fear, but we stand firm.

And I think about my mom as a scared camper, running miles back to camp in the darkness all by herself. I’m channeling her. I’m channeling Jessie, and Dot, andNathaniel and Lola, too—every counselor and camper from all the years past.

“You don’t want to do this,” I plead with the buyer. “Just a few more minutes.”

He glances nervously at Jack. “You’re sure this is all on the up and up?”

“Absolutely,” Jack says, his voice full of venom.

“I don’t have time for this,” the contractor says, and my heart plummets. He gives a nod to the driver of the bulldozer. “Get moving. They’ll get out of the way.”

The driver gives a nod in return and slowly eases the bulldozer in our direction.

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