45 - Ghost Camp (5 page)

Now we won’t stand out like sore thumbs, I thought happily.

Now we can really be part of Camp Spirit Moon.

I quickly forgot about my fears from the night before. I couldn’t wait for
the camp day to get started.

That afternoon, Alex tried out for the Camp Spirit Moon talent show.

I had to be at the soccer field. A bunch of us were supposed to practice
putting up tents. We were getting ready for an overnight in the woods.

But I stopped in front of the outdoor stage at the side of the lodge to
listen to Alex sing.

A counselor named Veronica, with long, copper-colored hair all the way down
her back, was in charge of the tryouts. I leaned against a tree and watched.

A lot of kids were trying out. I saw two guitar players, a boy with a
harmonica, a tap dancer, and two baton twirlers.

Veronica played a small upright piano at the front of the stage. She called
Alex up and asked him what song he wanted to sing.

He picked a Beatles song he likes. My brother doesn’t listen to any new
groups. He likes the Beatles and the Beach Boys—all the groups from the
sixties.

He’s the only eleven-year-old I know who listens to the oldies station. I feel kind of sorry for him. It’s like he was
born in the wrong time or something.

Veronica played a few notes on the piano, and Alex started to sing.

What a voice!

The other kids had all been laughing and talking and messing around. But
after Alex sang for a few seconds, they got real quiet. They huddled close to
the stage and listened.

He really sounded like a pro! I mean, he could probably sing with a band and
make a CD.

Even Veronica was amazed. I could see her lips form the word “Wow!” as she
played the piano for Alex.

When Alex finished singing, the kids all clapped and cheered. Elvis slapped
Alex a high five as he hopped off the small stage.

Veronica called Elvis up next. He told her he wanted to sing an Elvis song,
since he was named after Elvis Presley.

He cleared his throat and started to sing a song called “Heartbreak Hotel.”

Well… it really
was
a heartbreak—because Elvis couldn’t sing a
single note on key!

Veronica tried to play along with him. But I could see that she was having
trouble. I think she probably wanted to stop playing the piano and cover her
ears!

Elvis had a high, scratchy voice. And the notes came out really sour. Sour enough to make your whole face pucker up.

The kids around the stage started grumbling and walking away.

Elvis had his eyes shut. He was so wrapped up in his song, he didn’t even see
them!

Doesn’t he know how bad he is? I wondered. Why does he want to enter a talent
show when he sounds like a squealing dog?

Elvis started to repeat the chorus. I decided I had to get away from there
before my eardrums popped.

I flashed Alex a thumbs-up and hurried to the soccer field.

Sam, Joey, and a bunch of other kids were already unfolding tents, getting
ready for tent-raising practice. Chris, the counselor, was in charge.

He waved to me. “Harry—unroll that tent over there,” he instructed. “Let’s
see how fast you can put it up.”

I picked up the tent. It was bundled tightly, no bigger than a backpack. I
turned it over in my hands. I’d never set up a tent before. I wasn’t even sure
how to unwrap it.

Chris saw me puzzling over it and walked over. “It’s easy,” he said.

He pulled two straps, and the nylon tent started to unfold. “See? Here are
the poles. Just stretch it out and prop it up.”

He handed the bundle back to me.

“Yeah. Easy,” I repeated.

“What’s that noise?” Joey asked, looking up from his tent.

I listened hard. “It’s Elvis singing,” I told them.

The sour notes floated over the soccer field from the stage.

Sam shook his head. “It sounds like an animal caught in a trap,” he said.

We all laughed.

Joey and Sam took off their sneakers and went barefoot. I took mine off, too.
The warm grass felt good under my feet.

I unfolded the tent and spread it out on the grass. I piled the tent poles to
the side.

The sun felt hot on the back of my neck. I slapped a mosquito on my arm.

I heard a shout and glanced up to see Sam and Joey wrestling around. They
weren’t fighting. They were just goofing.

They both picked up tent poles and started dueling with them, having a wild
sword fight. They were laughing and having fun.

But then Sam tripped over a tent.

He lost his balance. Stumbled forward. Fell hard.

I let out a scream as the tent pole went right through his foot.

My stomach lurched. I felt sick.

The pointed pole had pierced the top of Sam’s foot, nailing his foot to the
ground.

Joey gaped, openmouthed, his eyes wide with surprise.

With a gasp, I searched for Chris. I knew Sam needed help.

Where had Chris wandered off to?

“Sam—” I choked out. “I’ll get help. I’ll—”

But Sam didn’t cry out. He didn’t react at all. Didn’t even grimace.

He calmly reached down with both hands—and pulled the pole from his foot.

I let out a groan.
My
foot ached! In sympathy, I guess.

Sam tossed the pole aside.

I stared down at his foot. No cut. No blood.

It wasn’t bleeding!

“Sam!” I cried. “Your foot. It’s not bleeding!”

He turned and shrugged. “It missed my toes,” he explained.

He dropped onto his knees and started propping up the tent.

I swallowed hard, waiting for my stomach to stop churning.

Missed his toes? I thought. Missed his
toes
?

I saw the pole sink right into his foot!

Or was I seeing things again?

For the rest of the afternoon, I tried not to think about it. I worked on the
tent. Once I got it spread out, it was easy to set up.

Chris had us fold and unfold them a few times. Then we had a race to see who
could set up a tent the fastest.

I won easily.

Sam said it was beginner’s luck.

Chris said I was definitely ready for the overnight.

“Where do we go for the overnight?” I asked.

“Deep, deep into the woods,” Chris replied. He winked at Sam and Joey.

I felt a chill, thinking about Uncle Marv’s ghost story.

I shook the chill away.
No way
I was going to let myself get scared by
a silly camp story.

We had instructional swim at the waterfront. The lake was clear and cold. I’m
up to Junior Lifesaver. Joey and I took turns rescuing each other.

I didn’t think about Sam driving the pole through his foot. I forced it from
my mind.

After the swim, I returned to the bunk to get changed for dinner. There were
fresh puddles of blue goo on the cabin floor.

Nobody made a big deal about them. I didn’t want to, either. So I tried hard
not to think about them.

Alex came in, very excited. “I’m going to be the first act in the talent
show!” he announced. “And Veronica liked my singing so much, she wants me to
star in the camp musical.”

“Way to go!” I cried. I slapped him a high five. Then I asked, “What about
Elvis?”

“He’s going to be in the show, too,” Alex replied. “He’s going to be stage
manager.”

I pulled on my white Camp Spirit Moon shorts and T-shirt and headed to the
mess hall for dinner.

I saw a group of girls come out of the cabins on the other side. I searched
for Lucy, but didn’t see her.

I was feeling pretty good.

Not thinking about the strange things I’d seen.

Not thinking about the blue puddles of slime. The mysterious black fog.

Not thinking about the ghost story that Elvis said was true.

Not thinking about Lucy sticking her hand into the fire and pulling out my
flaming hot dog.

Not thinking about Joey floating above his bed. Or Sam jamming a thick pole
through his foot.

And not bleeding. Not crying out.

So totally calm about it. As if he couldn’t feel it, couldn’t feel any pain.

I was starving. Looking forward to dinner. Not thinking about any of these
puzzling things.

Feeling really good.

But then Joey ruined my good mood at dinner. And forced all the scary
thoughts back into my mind.

The food had just been served. Chicken in some kind of creamy sauce, spinach,
and lumpy mashed potatoes.

I didn’t care
what
it was. I was so hungry, I could eat anything!

But before I had a chance to eat, Joey called out to me from across the
table. “Hey, Harry—look!”

I glanced up from my plate.

He picked up his fork—and jammed it deep into his neck!

“Ohhh.” I let out a groan. My fork fell from my hand and clattered to the
floor.

Joey grinned at me. The fork bobbed up and down, stuck in his neck.

I felt sick. My heart started to pound.

He pulled the fork out with a hard tug. His grin didn’t fade.
“You
try
it!” he called.

“Joey—stop it!” Elvis cried from across the table.

“Yeah. Give us a break,” Sam agreed.

I stared at Joey’s neck. No cut. No fork marks. No blood.

“How—how did you
do
that?” I finally stammered.

Joey’s grin grew wider. “It’s just a trick,” he replied.

I glimpsed Alex at the end of the table. Had he seen Joey’s “trick”?

Yes. Alex looked green. His mouth had dropped open in horror.

“Here. I’ll show you how to do it,” Joey offered.

He raised the fork again—but stopped when he saw Uncle Marv leaning over
his shoulder.

“What’s going on, Joey?” Uncle Marv demanded sharply.

Joey lowered the fork to the table. “Just kidding around,” he replied,
avoiding the camp director’s hard stare.

“Well, let’s eat our dinner, guys,” Uncle Marv said sternly. “Without kidding
around.” His stubby fingers tightened over Joey’s shoulders. “We have a night
soccer game, you know. Boys against the girls.”

Uncle Marv loosened his grip on Joey’s shoulders and moved on to the next
table. A food fight had broken out there. And the mashed potatoes were flying.

Joey mumbled something under his breath. I couldn’t hear him over all the
noise.

I turned to see how Alex was doing at the end of the table. He had his fork
in his hand, but he wasn’t eating. He was staring hard at Joey. My brother had a
very thoughtful expression on his face.

I knew he was wondering exactly the same thing I was.

What is going on here?

Joey said the fork-stabbing was just a trick. But how did he do it? Why
didn’t it hurt? Why didn’t he bleed?

“Night soccer games are cool!” Elvis declared. He was stuffing chicken into
his mouth. The cream sauce ran down his chin.

“Especially boys against the girls,” Sam agreed. “We’ll
kill
them!
They’re pitiful.”

I glanced at the girls’ table across the room. They were chattering noisily.
Probably about the soccer game.

I saw Lucy in the shadows near the wall. She didn’t seem to be talking to
anyone. She had a solemn expression on her face.

Did she keep looking over at me?

I couldn’t really tell.

I ate my dinner. But my appetite had disappeared.

“How did you do that fork thing?” I asked Joey.

“I told you. It’s just a trick,” he replied. He turned away from me to talk
to Sam.

Dessert was little squares of red, yellow, and green Jell-O. It was okay. But
it needed some whipped cream.

As I was finishing my dessert, I heard some squeals from the front of the big
room. I turned toward the cries—and saw a bat swooping wildly back and forth
over the mess hall.

Some of the younger kids were screaming. But everyone stayed calm at my
table.

The bat fluttered noisily, swooping and diving, darting from one end of the
hall to the other.

Uncle Marv followed it with a broom. And after only a minute or two, he gently pinned the bat to the wall with the straw
broom head.

Then he lifted the bat off the wall, carrying it in one hand.

It was so tiny! No bigger than a mouse.

He carried it out the door and let it go.

Everyone cheered.

“That happens all the time,” Sam said to me. “It’s because there aren’t any
screens on the mess hall doors.”

“And the woods are full of bats,” Joey added. “Killer bats that land in your
hair and suck the blood out of your head.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah. Right.” He grinned at me. “That’s what happened to Joey.
That’s why he acts so weird now.”

I laughed along with everyone else.

But I wondered if Sam was really joking.

I mean, Joey
did
act weird.

“Soccer field, everyone!” Uncle Marv boomed from the mess hall door. “Check
with the sports counselors. Alissa and Mark will set up the teams.”

Chairs scraped over the stone floor as everyone jumped up.

I saw Lucy waving to me. But Sam and Joey pulled me away.

Into a cool, cloudy night. The full moon hidden behind low clouds. The grass
already wet with a heavy dew.

The counselors divided up the teams. Alex and I were on the second team. That
meant we didn’t play the first period. Our job was to stand on the sidelines and
cheer on the boys’ first team.

Two floodlights on tall poles sent down wide triangles of white light over
the field. It wasn’t really enough light. Long shadows spread over the field.

But that was part of the fun.

Alex stood close beside me as the game began. The girls’ team scored a goal
in less than a minute.

Girls on the sidelines went wild.

The players on the boys’ team stood around, scratching their heads and
muttering unhappily.

“Lucky break! Lucky break!” yelled Mark, a tall, lanky boys’ counselor. “Go
get them, guys!”