Page 28 of The Last Time I Lied

Now all I need is to somehow find a way to forgive myself.

9

Apparently to Mindy,whenevermeanttonight, because after the campfire I find myself on cabin-check duty. While not thrilled, I’m at least pleased to have Casey as my co-checker. Together we go from cabin to cabin, peeking inside to do a head count and ask if any of the campers need anything.

It’s strange being on the other side of things. Especially with Casey in tow. When I was a camper here, she’d give a single rap on the door before throwing it open, trying to catch us in the act of some imagined misbehavior. We greeted her with wide-eyed innocence, lashes fluttering. Now I’m the one getting those looks—a surreal turn of events that makes me feel partly jealous of their mischievous youth, partly annoyed by it.

In two of the cabins, I find girls balled up in their bunks, crying from homesickness. While Vivian was wrong about all newbies crying their first night, a small few truly do. I spend a few minutes with each one, telling them that while camp may seem scary now, they’ll soon grow to love it and will never want to go back home.

I hope it’s the truth.

I never got the chance to find out.

After the cabins have all been checked, Casey and I walk to the patch of grass behind the latrine. It’s dark back here, made even more oppressive by the forest that begins a yard or so away. Shadows crowd the trees, broken only by fireflies dancing amongthe leaves. The utility light affixed to the latrine’s corner swarms with bugs.

Casey pulls a cigarette from a battered pack hidden in her cargo shorts and lights up. “I can’t believe I’m sneaking cigarettes. I feel like I’m fourteen again.”

“Better this than face the wrath of Mindy.”

“Want to know a secret?” Casey says. “Her real name is Melinda. She goes by Mindy to be more like Franny.”

“I get the feeling Franny doesn’t like her very much.”

“I can see why. She’s the kind of girl I went out of my way to avoid in high school.” Casey blows out a stream of smoke and watches it languidly float in the night air. “Honestly, though, it’s probably for the best that she’s here. Without her, it would be open season on poor Chet. These girls would eat him alive.”

“But they’re all so young.”

“I’m a teacher,” Casey says. “Trust me, girls that age are just as full of raging hormones as boys. Remember how you were back then. I saw the way you fawned over Theo. Not that I blamed you. He was a fine-looking young man.”

“Have you seen him now?”

Casey gives a slow, knowing nod. “Why is it that men only look better with age? It’s completely unfair.”

“But he’s still just as friendly,” I say. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Because of what you said last time you were here?”

“And because of what people are saying now. I saw some of the responses to your Facebook post. They were pretty brutal.”

“Ignore them.” Casey gives her hand a casual flip, as if brushing away the smoke still spouting from her cigarette. “Most of those women are just adult versions of the bitchy teenagers they were when they went here.”

“A few of them mentioned that this place gave them the creeps,” I say. “Something about a legend.”

“It’s just a silly campfire tale.”

“So you’ve heard it?”

“I’vetoldit,” Casey says. “That doesn’t mean I think the story is true. I can’t believe you never heard it.”

“I guess I wasn’t here long enough.”

Casey looks at me, the cigarette held between her lips, its trail of smoke making her squint.

“The story is that there was a village here,” she says. “Before the lake was made. Some will say it was full of deaf people. I heard it was a leper colony.”

“A leper colony? Was an ancient Indian burial ground too much of a cliché?”

“I didn’t make up the story,” Casey snaps. “Now, do you want to hear it or not?”

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