45 - Ghost Camp (3 page)

Everyone stood up. Uncle Marv started singing, and everyone joined in.

I tried to sing along. But of course I didn’t know the words. Or the tune.

The song kept repeating the line, “We have the spirit—and the spirit has
us.”

I didn’t really understand it. But I thought it was pretty cool.

It was a long song. It had a lot of verses. And it always came back to: “We
have the spirit—and the spirit has us.”

Alex was singing at the top of his lungs. What a show-off! He didn’t know the
words, either. But he was faking it. And singing as loud as he could.

Alex is so crazy about his beautiful singing voice and his perfect pitch. He
has to show it off whenever he can.

I gazed past my brother. His new friend, Elvis, had his head tossed back and his mouth wide open. He was singing at the top
of his lungs, too.

I think Alex and Elvis were having some kind of contest. Seeing who could
sing the leaves off the trees!

The only problem? Elvis was a
terrible
singer!

He had a high, whiny voice. And his notes were all coming out sour.

As my dad would say, “He couldn’t carry a tune in a wheelbarrow!”

I wanted to cover my ears. But I was trying to sing along, too.

It wasn’t easy with the two of them beside me. Alex sang so loud, I could see
the veins in his neck pulsing. Elvis tried to drown him out with his sour,
off-key wails.

My face felt hot.

At first, I thought it was the heat from the blazing campfire. But then I
realized I was blushing.

I felt so embarrassed by Alex. Showing off like that on his first night at
camp.

Uncle Marv wasn’t watching. He had wandered over to the girls’ side of the
fire, singing as he walked.

I slipped back, away from the fire.

I felt too embarrassed to stay there. I’ll sneak back into place as soon as
the song is over, I decided.

I just couldn’t sit there and watch my brother act like a total jerk.

The camp song continued. “We have the spirit—and the spirit has us,”
everyone sang.

Doesn’t the song ever end? I wondered. I backed away, into the trees. It felt
a lot cooler as soon as I moved away from the fire.

Even back here, I could hear Alex singing his heart out.

I’ve got to talk to him, I told myself. I’ve got to tell him it isn’t cool to
show off like that.

“Ohh!” I let out a sharp cry as I felt a tap on my shoulder.

Someone grabbed me from behind.

“Hey—!” I spun around to face the trees. Squinted into the darkness.

“Lucy! What are
you
doing back here?” I gasped.

“Help me, Harry,” she pleaded in a whisper. “You’ve got to help me.”

A chill ran down my back. “Lucy—what’s wrong?” I whispered.

She opened her mouth to reply. But Uncle Marv’s booming voice interrupted.

“Hey, you two!” the camp director shouted. “Harry! Lucy! No sneaking off into
the woods!”

The campers all burst out laughing. I could feel my face turning hot again.
I’m one of those kids who blushes very easily. I hate it—but what can I do?

Everyone stared at Lucy and me as we made our way back to the fire. Alex and
Elvis were slapping high fives and laughing at us.

Uncle Marv kept his eyes on me as I trudged back. “I’m glad you make friends
so easily, Harry,” he boomed. And all the campers started laughing at Lucy and
me again.

I felt so embarrassed, I wanted to shrivel up and disappear.

But I was also worried about Lucy.

Had she followed me to the woods? Why?

Why did she ask me to help her?

I sat down between Lucy and Elvis. “Lucy—what’s wrong?” I whispered.

She just shook her head. She didn’t look at me.

“Now I’m going to tell the two ghost stories,” Uncle Marv announced.

To my surprise, some kids gasped. Everyone suddenly became silent.

The crackling of the fire seemed to get louder. Behind the pop and crack of
the darting flames, I heard the steady whisper of wind through the pine trees.

I felt a chill on the back of my neck.

Just a cool breeze, I told myself.

Why did everyone suddenly look so solemn? So frightened?

“The two ghost stories of Camp Spirit Moon have been told from generation to
generation,” Uncle Marv began. “They are tales that will be told for all time,
for as long as dark legends are told.”

Across the fire, I saw a couple of kids shiver.

Everyone stared into the fire. Their faces were set. Grim. Frightened.

It’s only a ghost story, I told myself. Why is everyone acting so weird?

The campers must have heard these ghost stories already this summer. So why
do they look so terrified?

I snickered.

How can
anyone
be afraid of a silly camp ghost story?

I turned to Lucy. “What’s up with these kids?” I asked.

She narrowed her dark eyes at me. “Aren’t you afraid of ghosts?” she
whispered.

“Ghosts?” I snickered again. “Alex and I don’t believe in ghosts,” I told
her. “And ghost stories never scare us. Never!”

She leaned close to me. And whispered in my ear: “You might change your mind—after tonight.”

The flames flickered, crackling up to the dark, starry sky. Uncle Marv leaned
into the orange firelight. His tiny, round eyes sparkled.

The woods suddenly became quiet. Even the wind stopped whispering.

The air felt cold on my back. I scooted closer to the campfire. I saw others
move closer, too. No one talked. All eyes were on Uncle Marv’s smiling face.

Then, in a low voice, he told the first ghost story….

A group of campers went into the woods for an overnight. They carried tents
and sleeping bags. They walked single file along a narrow dirt path that twisted
through the trees.

Their counselor’s name was John. He led them deeper and deeper into the
woods.

Dark clouds floated overhead. When the clouds covered the full moon, the
darkness swept over the campers. They walked close together, trying to see the curving path.

Sometimes the clouds moved away, and the moonlight poured down on them. The
trees glowed, silvery and cold, like ghosts standing in the forest.

They sang songs at first. But as they moved deeper into the woods, their
voices became tiny and shrill, muffled by the trees.

They stopped singing and listened to the scrape of their footsteps and the
soft rustlings of night animals scampering through the weeds.

“When are we going to stop and set up camp?” a girl asked John.

“We have to go deeper into the woods,” John replied.

They kept walking. The air became colder. The trees bent and shivered around
them in a swirling breeze.

“Can we set up camp now, John?” a boy asked.

“No. Deeper,” John replied. “Deeper into the forest.”

The path ended. The campers had to make their way through the trees, around
thorny bushes, over a deep carpet of crackling dead leaves.

Owls hooted overhead. The campers heard the flutter of bat wings. Creatures
scratched and slithered around their feet.

“We’re really tired, John,” a boy complained. “Can we stop and set up the
tents?”

“Deeper into the woods,” John insisted. “An overnight is no fun unless you
are deep, deep in the woods.”

So they kept walking. Listening to the low hoots and moans of the night
animals. Watching the old trees bend and sway all around them.

Finally they stepped out into a smooth, wide clearing.

“Can we set up camp now, John?” the campers begged.

“Yes,” John agreed. “We are deep in the woods now. This is the perfect
place.”

The campers dropped all the bags and supplies in the middle of the clearing.
Silvery moonlight spilled all around them, making the smooth ground shimmer.

They pulled out the tents and started to unfold them.

But a strange sound made them all stop their work.

Ka-thump ka-thump.

“What was that?” a camper cried.

John shook his head. “Probably just the wind.”

They went back to the tents. They pushed tent poles into the soft, smooth
ground. They started to unfold the tents.

But the strange sound made them stop again.

Ka-thump ka-thump.

A chill of fear swept over the campers.

“What
is
that sound?” they asked.

“Maybe it’s some kind of animal,” John replied.

Ka-thump ka-thump.

“But it sounds so close!” a boy cried.

“It’s coming from right above us,” another boy said. “Or maybe beneath us!”

“It’s just a noise,” John told them. “Don’t worry about it.”

So they set up the tents. And they spread sleeping bags inside the tents.

Ka-thump ka-thump.

They tried to ignore the sound. But it was so close. So close.

And such a strange—but familiar—sound.

What could it be? the campers wondered. What on earth makes a sound like
that?

Ka-thump ka-thump.

The campers couldn’t sleep. The noise was too loud, too frightening—too
near.

Ka-thump ka-thump.

They burrowed deep into their sleeping bags. They zipped themselves in tight.
They covered their ears.

Ka-thump ka-thump.

It didn’t help. They couldn’t escape the sound.

“John, we can’t sleep,” they complained.

“I can’t sleep, either,” John replied.

Ka-thump ka-thump.

“What should we do?” the campers asked the counselor.

John didn’t get a chance to answer.

They heard another
Ka-thump ka-thump.

And then a deep voice growled:
“WHY ARE YOU STANDING ON MY HEART?”

The ground shook.

The campers suddenly realized what the frightening sound was. And as the
ground rose up, they realized—too late—they had camped on the smooth skin of
a hideous monster.

“I guess we went
too deep
into the woods!” John cried.

His last words.

Ka-thump ka-thump.

The monster’s heartbeat.

And then its huge, hairy head lifted up. Its mouth pulled open. And it
swallowed John and the campers without even chewing.

And as they slid down the monster’s throat, the sound of the heartbeat grew
louder and louder.

Ka-thump ka-thump. Ka-thump ka-thump. Ka-THUMP!

Uncle Marv shouted the last
Ka-thump
at the top of his lungs.

Some campers screamed. Some gazed at Uncle Marv in silence, their faces tight
with fear. Beside me, Lucy hugged herself, biting her bottom lip.

Uncle Marv smiled, his face flickering in the dancing orange flames.

Laughing, I turned to Elvis. “That’s a funny story!” I exclaimed.

Elvis narrowed his eyes at me. “Huh? Funny?”

“Yeah. It’s a very funny story,” I repeated.

Elvis stared hard at me. “But it’s
true
!” he said softly.

I laughed. “Yeah. For sure,” I said, rolling my eyes.

I expected Elvis to laugh. But he didn’t. The firelight flickered in his pale
blue eyes as he stared at me. Then he turned to talk to my brother.

A chill ran down my back. Why was he acting so weird?

Did he really think I’d believe a crazy story like that was true?

I’m twelve years old. I stopped believing in things like the Easter Bunny and
the Tooth Fairy a long time ago.

I turned to Lucy. She was still hugging herself, staring intently into the
fire.

“Do you believe him?” I asked, motioning to Elvis. “Is he weird or what?”

Lucy stared straight ahead. She seemed so deep in thought, I don’t think she
heard me.

Finally she raised her head. She blinked. “What?”

“My brother’s new friend,” I said, pointing to Elvis again. “He said that
Uncle Marv’s story was true.”

Lucy nodded, but didn’t reply.

“I thought it was a funny story,” I said.

She picked up a twig and tossed it on the fire. I waited for her to say
something. But she seemed lost in thought again.

The flames of the campfire had died down. Sparkling red embers and chunks of
burning wood spread over the ground. Chris and another counselor carried fresh
logs into the meeting circle.

I watched them rebuild the fire. They piled armfuls of twigs and sticks onto
the burning embers. When the sticks burst into flames, the two counselors
lowered logs over them.

Then they stepped back, and Uncle Marv took his place in front of the fire.
He stood with his hands in the pockets of his white shorts. The full moon
floated behind his head, making his long black hair shine.

He smiled. “And now I will tell the second traditional story of Camp Spirit
Moon,” he announced.

Once again, the circle of campers grew silent. I leaned back, trying to get
my brother’s attention. But Alex was staring across the fire at Uncle Marv.

Alex probably thought the first ghost story was kind of dumb, I knew. He hates ghost stories even more than I do. He thinks
they’re silly baby stuff. And so do I.

So what was Elvis’ problem?

Was he goofing? Just teasing me? Or was he trying to scare me?

Uncle Marv’s booming voice interrupted my thoughts. “This is a story we tell
every year at Camp Spirit Moon,” he said. “It’s the story of the Ghost Camp.”

He lowered his deep voice nearly to a whisper, so that we all had to lean
closer to hear him. And in hushed tones, he told us the story of the Ghost
Camp.

The story takes place at a camp very much like Camp Spirit Moon. On a warm
summer night, the campers and counselors met around a blazing council fire.

They roasted hot dogs and toasted marshmallows. They sang the camp songs.
One of the counselors played a guitar, and he led them in singing song after
song.