Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lenore wasn’t exactly sure when Camp Ravenshead had become respectable. All she knew was that she didn’t like it.

She didn’t like the new camp owners-slash-directors, identical twins of indeterminate age who looked straight out of a horror movie. She didn’t like the new name they’d given it– Camp Nevermore? Who would go to a place like that? She definitely didn’t like the new rules, apparently designed for “safety.” Camp wasn’t supposed to be safe. It was supposed to be fun.

Still, she swallowed the changes dry like an oversized pill. Which was to say she choked and gagged her way through them even as she pretended she was grateful for all the things they’d done.

After all, they could do anything to the land that was once Ravenshead. It was still the same place she’d run around with Theo as a child. It was still wild as she was, all wind and woods and waves. The new directors couldn’t chase away the bears and coyotes, and they couldn’t chase away Lenore. 

“It’s your legacy that we’re hiring,” said one of them at the end of the summer staffing interview. “Not you, necessarily.”

She’d shrugged – that was enough for her – and put on her falsest interview smile. “Of course. You’ll understand that I’m working for the camp, then. Not for you.”

“Careful,” warned the other one. She didn’t bother to differentiate them. For all she knew, they were one organism. That was often how it worked in horror, wasn’t it? “Even a heritage such as your own will only get you so far.”

She shrugged again.

“Is your disability going to be an issue?” 

The eyes of the director on the left slipped towards her cane, the boring black one her father had provided for her. She’d tried to place it out of sight and out of mind, but it hadn’t seemed to succeed.  Luckily, she had her backup ready to go. “Legally, you can’t ask me that.”

The one on the right smiled. “We can if it means it hinders your ability to do the job. Does it?”

“No.” She kept it flat despite not knowing for sure. “I don’t use it every day. Only when it’s raining.”

“It rains a lot here.”

“The cane is for stability. It won’t slow me down.”

“If you’re sure,” said the left one. “We reserve the right to reevaluate if needed.”

“Does that mean I’m hired?”

The left one sighed and the right one smiled a less than genuine smile. “Regretfully so,” said the more honest looking of the two. “Welcome aboard, Miss Vandernacht.”

She had spent enough time with snooty, uptight people to know exactly what their demeanor meant. They didn’t like her. They’d take any excuse to get rid of her. Yet, they couldn’t do it outright. As planned, she hadn’t given them much reason, and the reasons to hire her were stronger than any mistakes that might have been made.

Yes, these creepy directors might have owned the land that was once Camp Ravenshead now, but her family had owned that land first. And like it or not, somehow that made her respectable, too.

She got in the day before precamp started, which was strange and felt somehow late. Back when she was a kid, she was one of the first ones there. She, her parents, and Theo had lived in The Townhouse, the owner’s cabin out on a small off road near the entrance to the camp. Her parents had spent most of their time in meetings, sometimes on camp and sometimes off property. When they weren’t doing that, it was managing hiring, checking on licensing and accreditation, staff management, food and necessity orders. This left Lenore and Theo on their own to run around the five hundred acre property, getting underfoot of everyone who wasn’t related to them, learning to be all the kinds of wild their parents had forgotten.

When she’d turned five, old enough to attend the camp as a regular camper, her parents had unceremoniously plopped her in a cabin for all eight weeks of summer programming. She’d graduated to a tent at age ten and never looked back (minus one weird year in the yurt unit). But no matter where she rested her head, she never left until the last heat of the summer had died and the school year loomed menacingly, only a couple of days in the future.

It had been five years since the last summer like that. She wanted to say it felt like no time had passed, but she could see signs of unwelcome change everywhere she looked. Even the cots seemed to have lost their rustic charm.

Still, she knew the routine. She threw her things down in the tent she always claimed for precamp, resolving to unpack them later. Then, hearing a distant bell, she checked to make sure her boots were tied, grabbed her cane, and started down the trail for dinner.

If nothing else, the dining hall was the same. It still had those ancient tables and rickety benches, the single coffee maker that staff would fight and die for, the piano that no one was allowed to touch and everyone touched anyway, and the ceremonially broken canoe paddles hanging on the wall. If anything, the few changes made the large room seem less put-together. The fireplace looked like it hadn't been touched, perhaps even for cleaning, in years. Maybe even since she’d last been here. And the built-in bookshelf on the far wall, which had been breaking since she was a child, finally had noticeable missing shelves, which meant the books that had been there were now in a pile on top. 

The worst difference of all was the people. As she grabbed her coffee, she scanned the hall and tried to discern the state of the year’s staff. There were some familiar faces—despite years apart, she could pick Ada out in the crowd, though that was more due to how her voice carried and echoed. Little Morella had become a full grown staff member in the time since Lenore had last been here, which was strange and somehow ached to know. And there was Monty, who had been a friend back when they were kids until his pranks turned a little too slimy and Lenore had gracelessly backed out of helping him with them.

But everyone else was new. Or perhaps not. It had been five years— once you hit your third, you were usually considered an old hand. Lenore smiled for a second to know she’d at least have the respect of the others before realizing that most had never seen her and chances were high that people would assume it was her first time here. Perhaps Morella would back her, but Ada and Monty certainly wouldn’t, and Lenore assumed they’d both find it absolutely hilarious.

She thought she could mitigate the damage by sliding into the dining room seat next to Ada. If she established early on that they’d known each other for years, perhaps that’d stick. She had even taken several steps before realizing that there was someone else there, someone who Ada was practically clinging to. A first year staff member, it had to be. Only a first year would have perfectly coiled hair, carefully done makeup, a nice summer dress, and spotless flats. She was beautiful. Beautiful enough to take Lenore’s breath away, in fact. Drop dead gorgeous.

She wouldn’t last three days.

Lenore tried to prove herself wrong. Tried to imagine the girl with muddy denim cutoffs, hairy legs, a stained tie-dye tee shirt, and an undercut done by a fellow counselor at midnight. It was like her brain kept giving her error messages. The idea didn’t compute. 

Ada had never cared for that. Ada had gone to Ravenshead as a child because it had been, once, the most prestigious and well-reviewed camp in the northeast. She’d spent nearly every summer day complaining about it, usually directly to Lenore. Perhaps she thought that Lenore had the power to change things, her father being the owner and all. Perhaps she just wanted to buddy up to someone who might someday have that influence. Lenore had tolerated her complaints fairly easily. Much harder had been her late night romanticization of every single member of the boys side of camp. Unfortunately including Theo. Even just thinking of it now made Lenore grimace.

She sat on the peripherals of the staff group, at the first empty table, and set her coffee down before leaning her cane against the bench where she sat. Quietly, she watched Ada and her new blonde friend and hoped that nobody would mistake her observations for loneliness or first year apprehension.

“Pardon me, is this seat taken?” said a smooth, beautiful voice in a direct rejection of Lenore’s prayers.

She didn’t even bother looking up. “Depends. Are you asking because I seem lonely? Or did the cane warrant a pity check?”

The voice made a mock-offended gasp, then laughed as its owner slid in next to her. He was built like a wooden pole, all tall and thin. Dark curls seemed to spill from the top of his head. The thing that stood out the most to Lenore, however, was his smile, which was deeply genuine and deeply charming. “I have met people with canes before, and those things hurt when they hit. I wouldn’t dare pity you.” He held out his hand. “I’m Duke.”

It took a second of hesitation, but Lenore slid her own hand into his and shook firmly, like her father had taught her. “Lenore,” she said. 

“Is it your first year here?”

She sighed. There it was. “No,” she said, withdrawing her head and turning back away.

“Ah, my senior then. Hopefully a more bearable one than some of them.” He motioned towards Ada and her table, now completely full. “You don’t happen to know how to put that one in her place, do you?”

“Believe me, I’ve been trying since I was five,” she said without thinking, then shook her head a little at herself. When did you get so guarded, Lenore? Give him a chance. He seems fine. Especially for a first year. She looked back up at Duke. He was good looking, for a boy, and had an easy smile that wasn’t hard to like. “So you’ve met Ada. Who else?”

He named a few more names, pointing to the people in turn. No one stuck out until he got back to Ada. “She’s been here for a few days as well, not that it took that long for her to realize I wasn’t the kind of person she would associate with,” he said with a roll of his eyes. 

“How long have you been here? ”

Duke counted on his fingers. “Almost a week now. Six days.”

That made sense. There were plenty of reasons people came early to camp. Extra trainings – archery instructor, belay and high ropes, lifeguard, teambuilding, support staff and leadership seminars. Or some people came from a great distance and their bus or plane schedule required an early pickup. And sometimes college students simply couldn’t stand going home for any part of the summer and would come directly as soon as the semester ended. Lenore knew she’d probably know which one Duke was by the end of the summer and decided to hold off on asking directly.

“It feels different tonight,” he continued. “Less orderly, but more…. ritualistic. Ordered chaos.”

“What do you think?” She smiled a little, trying to be friendly and encouraging.

“I must admit, it’s certainly something.”

“You get used to it. You might even grow to like it. Some people do. The rest either quit during the first summer or stick it out miserably and then never come back for a second one.”

“Do you think Mademoiselle Ada might be one of those?”

Lenore snorted. “One could only wish. I was serious when I said I’ve known her since we were five. She’s been coming here almost as long as me and hasn’t gotten tired yet. I’d pay money to know what her problem is, though. Even when we were ‘friends’ she was an absolute horror.”

“If it’s any consolation, it looks like she’s gotten a new friend.” He nodded at the lovely blonde next to Ada. As though he’d called out her name specifically, the girl looked up, right at the two of them. 

Lenore couldn’t see the color of her eyes, but they, like everything else about her, seemed pale. She had a delicate sort of strength in her gaze, like she was sizing everyone up not for the fight, but simply for the knowledge of it. Lenore could imagine her on the opposite end of a chessboard, not looking at the pieces, but instead analyzing her opponent like a puzzle. What was she finding here? What was she seeing? For a moment, Lenore thought she should put on some sort of game face, but the thought seemed silly. Let the girl see whatever she wanted to see. It wasn’t like she’d be here next week.

The blonde girl smiled, a little more than what politeness dictated she maybe should when getting caught staring. She waved one hand, a small but pointed motion. Lenore quickly looked away before she could see anything else… specifically, before Ada started paying attention and she had to deal with her as well.

“Who is that?” she asked Duke quietly, still looking at the table as though she was suddenly analyzing its old wood grain. “Have you met her?”

“Annabel Lee. Annabel. She’s fine with either, apparently. We met earlier today.”

“And?”

He didn’t get a chance to respond. The dinner bell rang above them without fanfare; a glance at her watch told Lenore it was, in fact, six in the evening. She waited for announcements, but it seemed there were none, save for a muffled “come and get it!” from someone in the kitchen. For the first time, she realized that if there was even anyone from the support staff team there to lead announcements, she had no clue who they would be. The directors weren’t in the dining hall, but that wasn’t uncommon; directors often ate in their cabin or skipped meals altogether, too busy for an hour long meal. Perhaps they’d be at one later in precamp, but it seemed for now that everyone was content to do things casually, or as casually as it got when the majority of tables still seemed to follow the normal meal rituals.

“You’ll need to grab the food,” she said to Duke, drumming on her cane with her fingers. “I could probably balance it, but I’d take the risk of dropping the food all over someone when I’m sitting next to Ada. Go into the kitchen, grab a tray, and–.”

“Yes, yes, put the food on the tray. I did mention I’ve been here a few days, non ?”

Lenore rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same. “Sure.”

He came back with the tray filled with heaping bowls of food, much more than enough for just the two of them– the kitchen must have assumed all tables were full. Sitting down the initial offerings, he returned for toppings and serving utensils before sliding in next to Lenore once more. “And we were saying?”

“You were telling me about Annabel Lee.”

“Right.” He tapped his chin. “There isn’t much to say. Kind of posh. Seems a bit uptight. Couldn’t keep up with us, at least from what I’ve seen.”

“That makes sense.” Lenore looked at her again, trying to be subtle in the light of her last look. It didn’t seem to matter— Annabel appeared to be laughing at something one of her tablemates had said. Even her laugh seemed elegant and mature. There, it seemed, was a Respectable Person Who Would Carefully Guide The Youth Into Tomorrow or whatever. The directors probably loved her. “She looks like the kind of person who would go on some expensive vacation to the middle of nowhere. Not decide to come work at some old summer camp.”

“I mean, she did pay to come here. Two thousand American dollars, all to receive an economy class ticket. Straight to the middle of nowhere.”

“She paid? Does she know the rest of us are getting paid to be here?”

Duke shrugged, then smiled slightly. “ We do get most of it back.”

“We? You—oh.”  That made sense. The early arrival, the knowledge of how everything worked. Hell, the accent should have given it away. “I didn’t mean–”

“Was my accent not obvious?"

"I kind of just assumed you were Canadian."

He put on a fake insulted face. "Never! Not even a French Canadian. And any part of Canada, for your information, would still be international to you."

"But it's different. The Canadians usually don't go through a company, so they’re basically American.”

“I’m sure they’d love to hear that,” he said, amused. Even so, she lifted her mug to take a sip, hopeful that it would conceal her blush. “Nevertheless. This is a good opportunity to travel, once the work is done. And a good opportunity to experience a different place. They sell it to you very well.” That smile grew almost conspiratorial. “It seemed, at the time, like a very appealing idea. Then I met the directors.”

Lenore choked on both her laughter and her coffee as Duke reached for the food. Lenore slammed her mug down and swatted his hand away. “No. Bad Duke. What happened to ‘oh, I’ve been here for a few days’ or whatever it was you said?”

“Pardon me?”

“We eat in a modified family style. Whoever sits at the head of the table serves everyone. You can’t just take food for yourself.”

“Even when it’s just two of us?” he asked. He was smiling slightly, but Lenore knew the look in his eyes well. She'd seen it on plenty of people plenty of times. It was the look of wow, this place is absolutely crazy. “We’ve been getting our own food just fine since I arrived.”

“Yes, well. Precamp starts tomorrow and I guarantee it’s going to change. You might as well get into the habit now. Tell me, how much do you want to eat?”

Camp food was at its best during precamp… the kitchen staff still made all the carby, protein-filled, loosest-definition-of-a-vegetable fare that they made during the regular season, but the smaller batches ensured that it tasted even better, and they almost never ran out. Lenore had never been close with the cooks and kitchen staff, but it seemed from the taste that they’d either survived the rebranding or their recipes had. Today the kitchen had served huge amounts of thick, delicious chili and giant bowls of rice. Duke asked for a little of both, blinking a little when Lenore scooped the chili directly over the rice as the camp gods intended. “You can get your own toppings,” she told him as she handed him his plate, motioning to the small bowls off to the side. 

He raised an eyebrow at the starchy shredded cheese, but ultimately put some onto his plate. A small dollop of sour cream was next, then… “You use adobo?”

Lenore finished serving herself. “Of course we do. It’s godly. Pass it over.” He did so and she sprinkled a perhaps-too-copious amount on her food before sliding it to him. “Try it.”

“On what? None of this looks like adobo food.”

“At camp, everything is adobo food. Unless you’re an Old Bay camp, I guess, but honestly I’d die before I go to an Old Bay camp. But seriously, try it. Chili night is great for it. Rice and bean night too, but people put it on everything. Grilled cheese and tomato soup. Spaghetti. Meatloaf. Pizza. Salad. Once my brother put it on his brownie, just to prove a point. Sprinkled it right on top of the icing and ate the entire thing. I don’t recommend that one, but he claimed he didn’t hate it.”

Reluctantly, Duke sprinkled the smallest amount onto his spoon, dipped it in the chili, and winced as he took a bite. Lenore laughed as the wrinkles in his expression smoothed out and he blinked in surprise. “I suppose this means I should trust your judgment more,” he said with a laugh after he swallowed, and grabbed the shaker again to add it to his main bowl. 

“I’m surprisingly trustworthy for someone who’s sure to be the black sheep of the year,” she grinned. 

“Fellow bad kid,” Duke said. There was a little bit of admiration in his tone. “Perhaps I’ll give you a run for your money.”

“You’d have to have been here fifteen years ago to even try. ” 

For a few moments, they ate in comfortable silence. Lenore could swear that even just being at camp, not even doing anything strenuous, was enough to make one’s appetite switch into overdrive. After a few minutes, Duke reached across the table to grab the serving bowl of chili; Lenore swatted his hand again and took his bowl instead to fill it up herself. He chuckled in response. “A bad kid who’s also a stickler for the rules?”

“It’s different.”

“I’m sure.” His tone was mocking, but not in a mean way. Lenore glared at him, but with about the same amount of menace, and he laughed again. “I think we’ll get along, mon amie. I like your sense of humor.”

As they cleared the table and prepared to leave the dining hall, the loud clang of a cowbell caught her ear. She paused, leaning all her weight on her cane, and looked behind her to see the camp directors standing on a bench and waiting for attention. The room quieted fairly quickly, and once it was silent, the more merry of the two began to speak.

“Welcome one and all to another season here at Camp Nevermore. As your directors—”

“—we would like to remind you of a few camp rules. These apply to staff both new and old.”

“Failure to follow instructions can result in dismissal.”

“Precamp training will begin promptly at nine in the morning tomorrow on the front lawn. You are not entitled to breaks, days off, or guaranteed sleep until its completion in nine days.”

“No food will be permitted in tents. Or anything that smells like food. Toothpaste, shampoo, perfume, gum…”

“Boys are not to go to the girls’ tents.”

“The same applies in reverse.”

“Curfew begins at midnight and lasts until an hour before the morning bell, which rings at seven in the morning.”

“Get your beauty rest.”

“You’ll need it.”

She hadn’t expected to have company in the tent she’d chosen for precamp when she returned from dinner. “Her” tent was the farthest one out, meaning late night latrine hikes were no fun and that anyone scared of the dark would find themself isolated from sundown to sunrise. Even so, it had the best view, and for whatever reason Lenore had found bugs tended to avoid it as well. She was perfectly happy to be on her own, so it was ideal. 

Not that a roommate couldn’t be fun. Especially a pretty one. Even if it was her.

The blonde woman smiled up at her from the pile of belongings next to one of the front cots. “Oh, are those things yours?” she asked, with a slight motion towards Lenore’s own pile in the back. “I was wondering who I’d be staying with.” Her voice had a refined sort of English accent that Lenore couldn’t fully identify. It was made even more regal due to the gentleness of her tone, which was slightly lower than Lenore had expected just from looking at her.  “I’m Annabel Lee Whitlock.”

“I know,” said Lenore, before realizing that it probably came off as rude. “I mean, I asked about you.” That probably came off as creepy. “You look different than the other people here.” And that could be taken a million different ways, none of them good. Heat rushed to her cheeks. Sure, she wasn’t always the most eloquent, but she was usually more eloquent than this. She wasn’t sure what made this girl any different, but she didn’t like it.

Even so, Annabel didn’t seem to notice. She just smiled rather politely. “Well then! It seems we’re on even footing. Dear Ada told me that you were Lenore Vandernacht. Is that correct?”

Lenore nodded.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lenore. Is it your first time here?”

“No. It’s yours, right?”

“It is,” Annabel Lee confirmed. “I thought it would be a good opportunity to see a part of the world I usually don’t have an easy chance to. And what a beautiful place to start.” 

Her eyes didn’t leave Lenore. Something about her stare, both easy and intense, made Lenore want to blush. “Yeah. Um. Welcome to the Poconos, I guess. And to Camp Rav—Camp Nevermore. It’s one of my favorite places on Earth.”

“Then I’m sure it’s lovely.” She clapped her hands together, as though to say there, it’s settled, though Lenore wasn’t quite sure what was even being settled. “You will show me around, won’t you?”

“Ada didn’t already?”

“I find that people all have different strategies in regards to giving tours and advice and the like. Ada was lovely, as were many of the others, but I’m sure you have something to add all your own, pet.”

That was true. Lenore knew for a fact that she could run circles – figuratively speaking – around Ada as a tour guide. She doubted that since Theo’s death and her parents’ departure there was anyone who knew quite as much about the property as she did. She opened her mouth, only planning to brag a little, when something hit her. “Many others? How long have you been here?”

“Only a few days. Long enough to realize it truly is nothing like the brochures say, but barely enough to have learned much of anything else.”

Lenore cursed silently. There she went again, forgetting the ins and outs and details. Of course Annabel had already been there for a while. That was obvious, she was an international. She’d spent days here already. She would have had to have had a tent. She’d chosen to move to this one, done it only after Lenore had moved in. That meant that at best, she was trying to steal Lenore’s secret spot, and at worst, she was trying to save the poor disabled girl. Lenore’s mood immediately tanked. How stereotypically British, and how typical of one of Ada’s friends – be polite, seem kind, act pretty, never let anyone know how much you look down on people who aren’t you.

If Lenore’s thoughts and feelings about this showed, Annabel ignored them. “No one told me how cold it could get,” she continued. “I’ve been nearly freezing! It must have gotten down to one or two degrees.”

“Not that cold,” Lenore half-snapped. “We might be in the mountains, but June’s not going to drop to less than maybe thirty-two.”

Annabel’s face betrayed a brief moment of shock, then confusion, then utter mirth as she laughed, seemingly delighted by the misunderstanding and not at all aware of Lenore’s change. “Oh, not in Fahrenheit. I meant in Celsius. I believe it’d be about the same? However you measure it, it’s hardly comfortable when one isn’t prepared. I don’t suppose you have any ideas?” she asked, looking up at Lenore from under her platinum eyelashes. 

And now she wants me to help her? “They used to do a Walmart trip during the first weekend of precamp so the internationals could get anything they needed,” she said in as flat a voice as she could muster. “I don’t know if they still will. Management’s changed since I’ve been here last.”

“Mm. And if they don’t?”

“They won’t do inventory in the requisition sheds until at least next week. They’ll probably save that for when they run out of trainings for us to do and need to keep us busy and exhausted with admin stuff that they hate doing. Up until that happens, it’s pretty easy to creatively acquire anything you need. Blankets. Sleeping bags. Warm clothes. Extra pillows. Old camp merch if you’re lucky.”

“I’m not quite sure what you’re—”

Lenore looked Annabel dead in the eyes. “I’m saying it’s okay to steal it because no one will notice, it’s a longstanding tradition, and anyway, it’s probably just something someone left here last year and forgot about anyway. Even Ada would tell you to go ahead. She’s done more than her share of ‘shopping’ in the req sheds.”

For a moment, she thought that Annabel would protest. A lot of first years did. She looked like she was going to, all delicate, slightly shocked air. 

Then, Annabel simply smiled, and it was big and bright and oddly genuine. “My, this place is different, isn’t it? I’ll admit that shopping close to my temporary home sounds more appealing than a Walmart. Perhaps I’ll give it a go. Thank you very much, Lenore.”

“Oh. You’re welcome? Anyone would have told you the same.” Why did she feel a little heat in her cheeks despite the evening chill? “Let me know if you need to know where the req sheds are,” she said against her better judgment. It felt like the words were just falling out of her mouth now, but it was okay, she told herself. She was just being polite. No matter what she might have assumed about Annabel, no matter what Duke might have assumed, Annabel was still just another first year staff member. Clueless, almost certainly, and much too pretty to be here, but not so bad. 

The smile on Annabel’s face was soft. She sat down on the cot she’d chosen, perhaps finally allowing herself to get comfortable. “There’s a curfew, isn’t there? Would that be far off? I could get my torch and we could–”

“Anabeeeeeeeeeel?”

The two turned towards the sound, Annabel calm as anything and Lenore only slightly startled. Standing just outside of the tent, decked out in cutoffs and a tacky red blazer that was really too expensive to be here, was Ada. “Annabel, where’d you go?” she whined, as though the answer wasn’t clear.

Annabel smiled at Ada. “Oh, right here. I thought it might be nice to have a more secluded tent. I’ve heard of the pranks that some of the boys can get up to.”

“Oh, but those are the campers, not the counselors. They’re far too noble to do anything to us,” said Ada as she pushed her way past the canvas tent flaps into the tent and wrapped her arm around Annabel’s. “In fact, they’ll probably be the ones protecting us from all of the nasty little tricks that the little boys think up. Prospero – you’ll meet him – is so important here, and he’s been infatuated with me since the very day he met me! You’ll be so much safer in my tent.”

“Well, I–”

“So you’ll come be in my tent again, won’t you, Annabel Lee?” If it had been at all socially acceptable, Lenore thought Ada might have grabbed onto Annabel’s legs like a stubborn toddler. “Lenore snores, you know.”

“Does she?” The blonde looked slightly taken aback. Her eyes darted over to meet Lenore’s and Lenore began to raise her hands in innocence before stopping and blinking. Do I?

“Like a lion! Le-snore.”

I have never been called that in my life.

She opened her mouth to protest, but of course Ada didn’t let her. “She’ll keep you up all night long.” Ada’s eyes drifted to the cane, still in its place by Lenore’s bed. “And slow you down during the day.”

There wasn’t much of a way to protest peaceably, not with Annabel smiling slightly and just barely nodding at Lenore. “I’m so sorry. It’s nothing personal, pet,” she said. “I just can’t function without uninterrupted sleep.”

How very, very typical. The pity train always ended when the normal friends came to the rescue. Uninterrupted sleep– what a stupid excuse, too, especially at camp. Lenore picked up her cane, using it for a moment more as an emotional crutch than a literal one. She squeezed the handle until her knuckles turned white. She wished she could do just what Duke had suggested and knock the pretty smiles off of the faces of the two women, but the only thing worse than being here at this very second was being fired from camp and never being able to return due to assault charges. 

As the two left, Ada giggling as soon as they were on the trail back to the rest of the tents, Lenore hoped with all her heart that the directors would put all of the important drills in the middle of the night. And when Annabel looked back, eyes lingering – probably out of concern for the sad little disabled girl, the black sheep of the camp – Lenore looked away as quickly as she could so that Annabel Lee wouldn’t get any further ideas.

Chapter Text

Everything felt normal in the morning. Normal enough, in fact, that Lenore could almost pretend that the camp she was at was still called Ravenshead. 

She woke up into the almost uncomfortable crisp mountain air. Her face was cold as death, but the blankets and sleeping bag that she, at least, had thought to bring managed to protect her body from the chill. Getting out from the warmth and into the quivering cold was always a shock, but almost a welcome one. It reminded her of where she was. Even so, she kept as much of her body under the covers as she could as she grabbed some new underwear, her favorite tee shirt, a comfy pair of jeans, and the vintage Ravenshead sweatshirt she’d inherited from her mom and threw them all on. Grabbing her cane, she walked swiftly towards the dining hall for breakfast, mostly ignoring the slight, mistlike drizzle coming from the cloudy skies.

There was barely anyone there when she arrived. The first few days of precamp usually had more casual breakfast as people got used to waking up in the early mornings and following the routine, so she grabbed some coffee, a bowl of Captain Crunch, and a banana and sat alone at a table, looking around the dining hall to see who else was here on time. Of course not Ada or Monty—they knew how things worked and would take every opportunity given to sleep in. Morella was at the other side of the dining hall, sitting quietly but happily with a few others who Lenore didn’t recognize. Someone who Lenore could only think to describe as ‘so generic he stood out anyway’ sat in the back of the dining hall, scribbling a letter down. And at the table next to her—who was that? She seemed familiar, but Lenore couldn’t place her. As she looked at the girl, frowning and trying to wrack her memory, the girl looked up and met her eyes. Before Lenore could quickly look away and pretend that she wasn’t staring, the girl crossed over with her plate and plopped down across from Lenore. “You’re the girl whose family used to own this camp, right?” she said by way of greeting.

Caught off guard, Lenore nodded. “Yeah. That’s me. Do we know–”

“Eulalie. I came here when I was a kid and then stopped and then came back. I remember you, though. Your parents were the owners. And then your brother died and they sold the camp. Right?”

For a moment, Lenore wondered if she should be upset at how matter-of-factly this Eulalie was speaking, but there was something genuinely friendly and calm about her, none of the awkwardness or false sympathy. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad you came back. There aren’t many of us left. The ones from before, I mean.” Eulalie rocked back and forth in her chair a little as she looked off into the distance, seemingly deep in thought. “I like some of the changes, but I think the traditions are important too, don’t you?”

Only the most important. Tradition’s what makes or breaks a camp. Ravenshead’s been the same since my great-great-great-great aunt founded it, and that’s why it’s succeeded. She could remember all the things her father had said about it—the business side of the sentiment. Parents buy memories when they send their children off to camp. They remember the times they had at Ravenshead and want that for their children… or want to live vicariously through them. The more things change on the outside, the more things must stay the same here. That’s how we earn our livelihood in this business. We sell sentiment, memory, and the desire for simpler times. And one day, the children will grow up and the cycle will repeat. Lenore didn’t much care about the financial side of it, but she was beginning to understand. She was getting paid to be at Camp Nevermore, and it was hard even so. If Nevermore changed too much of what was once Ravenshead, who would bother paying to come?

People like Annabel Lee. And that was about it.

She swallowed a bite of cereal and nodded slowly. “I do.”

She ate the rest of her breakfast with Eulalie, most of it in silence as they were both lost in their respective thoughts. After clearing her place, she made her way to the front lawn where they were supposed to gather for their first staff trainings and began to people watch. There went Monty, entering the dining hall still in his pajamas. Then came Duke, who yelled over to her. “Lenore! Come get breakfast with me.”

“Already ate! Next time!” she called back at top volume, causing a lot of the groggier counselors to glare at her.

Ada was next, walking down the trail with a small group. Despite having not had any coffee yet, they were all talking and laughing together. Lenore was surprised to see that Annabel Lee was not among them. Perhaps she slept in. Or maybe she couldn’t sleep at all and left for good already.

Only minutes from the end of breakfast did Lenore finally see her.

Annabel Lee’s hair hung loose, wet, and fantastically curly under her aviators as she walked up from the shore of Lake Ravenshead (which, funny enough, was still called that despite the camp name change, something Lenore had a lot of feelings about). She was presentable, technically, but Lenore could see how her pale tee shirt clung to her body and wondered if Annabel even realized how she looked. Her leggings didn’t do any less clinging. With every step that Annabel took, Lenore could see all the curves of her body. In those curves, Lenore could see everything that she wasn’t, someone beautiful and hale and feminine. In the real world that might have been upsetting, and she might have felt a bit dejected, but it was easy enough not to do that here. Instead, she realized again the same thing she’d felt from the beginning. Annabel wouldn’t last. Or at least, she wouldn’t last in one piece.

As Annabel passed through the lawn and up to the dining hall porch, she finally seemed to see Lenore. Their eyes met, and against everything that Lenore would have expected, Annabel smiled. Seemingly genuinely. Without even thinking, Lenore brought her hand up and waved. 

Annabel waved back. With her body now turned towards Lenore, Lenore could see that she had on a Camp Nevermore tee shirt, the obnoxious new logo taking up much of the front. So she’d taken Lenore’s advice to heart. She probably went with Ada. Lenore thought of the two of them exclaiming over lost shirts, barely-used pairs of Chacos, fancy water bottles, and rare treasures like forgotten bluetooth speakers. For some reason, the mental image made Lenore sour, and she looked away from Annabel, pretending to be invested in fiddling with the carabiner on her backpack. When she looked back up, Annabel was gone, presumably in the dining hall and eating quickly.

There wasn’t long to wait after that. By eight fifty-nine, almost the entire camp had gathered on the front lawn. Camp Nevermore had a bigger staff than Camp Ravenswood ever had, probably due to the rapid expansion that research had shown the new directors were undertaking. It might have been Lenore’s first year on staff officially, but her summers on the property meant she knew the old staff structure like the back of her hand. Almost everyone was a counselor, except for a few kitchen staff members, a small admin team, and of course, her parents as the owners. Counselors had been the backbone even so. They doubled as lifeguards, arts and crafts instructors, belayers, low ropes facilitators, trail guides, and more. Under the new system, each job had specific staff hired for it. The job of counselor still existed—and Lenore was one—but they mainly seemed to cover the most basic parts of the job now. The lifeguards all handled swimming lessons and making sure people didn’t die in the water, and the adventure staff spent all day at the high ropes course, and so on.

Lenore had mixed feelings. On one hand, perhaps it was better to have people hired and trained for one job. Yet, she also had a deep worry that things would get very cliquey very fast, and resolved to use any influence she had left to stop that in its tracks.

At nine exactly, a white golf cart sped from the main road onto the lawn. It was the type of sparkling clean that told Lenore everything she needed to know—this vehicle wasn’t used for anything worthwhile, probably just for hauling the twin directors around. Indeed, it was those two who stepped off of it, but only after wheeling it around in a flourish-like circle. “Good morning, dear staff of Camp Nevermore!” said the one who seemed to have a perpetual smile on his face. He clapped twice, very elegantly, and slid off the vehicle’s seat to stand in front of the crowd.

The other followed and laid his head on his brother’s shoulder in a gesture that made “uncomfortable to look at” sound like a huge understatement. Even as he did, he spoke clearly, his voice both soft and powerful. “It’s good to see that each of you made it on time. However close it was.” His eyes flickered to the dining hall entrance, and Lenore’s eyes followed naturally. Right on the edge of the lawn where the porch stairs met the grass, Duke stood, looking only the slightest bit sheepish. “Do consider investing in a good watch if you haven’t already. Punctuality is key.”

“Oh, do excuse him. He’s right, of course, but today should be a celebration. Each of you, about to embark on a journey… the summer of a lifetime.”

“That isn’t to say it will be easy.”

“Now, Mourn, you know journeys rarely are!” The smiling director’s eyes closed briefly, as though he were taking in the atmosphere, then snapped open as he leaned in slightly. “But it can be very rewarding if you allow it to be. Now then. Much of what we have to say before you begin was said last night. Can you think of anything to add?” His eyes flicked towards his twin, who had straightened and was standing an inch or so apart, which may have been the farthest that Lenore had seen the two.

“Check for ticks before bed.”

“Oh, a very good idea! Yes, and poison ivy. Stick to the path and don’t go where you shouldn’t and you should avoid the worst of it, at least.”

“That seems to be all. Everything else they’ll learn during their trainings.” Lenore watched the frowning twin take out a pocket watch and look at it, seemingly bored. She wondered if Mourn was actually his name, or simply something that his twin called him for obvious reasons.

“Well then! Best of luck to you all!” said the smiler.

“Ms. Poppet, we’ll be in the Townhouse if you need us,” said the frowner. The two bowed, then stepped delicately back onto the golf cart, driving away before anyone could give a response.

Lenore wasn’t always an analytical person, but this was easy enough to pick apart. The two stylized themselves as the directors, owned the camp, and had all the admin power… but they wouldn’t stay for introductions, which meant they would have none of the social power among their staff. Judging from the vapid smile on Poppet’s face, she wasn’t one to interfere in the social pecking order either. That left only the cultural hierarchy to worry about. 

Then who’s really in charge here? With respect at camp earned based in large part on how many years one spent at camp… or on how many veterans to camp one could manage to befriend… Lenore realized with a start that Ada had a head start on being the natural leader.

Oh no.  It was like her brain tried to play home movies of every summer she’d spent with Ada, every incident she’d witnessed or been unwillingly dragged into. The time she’d shoved another five year old off the docks and right into the deep parts of Lake Ravenshead. The year she’d only brought dressy clothes and their counselor had forced Lenore to share her more camp-appropriate gear because she was the owner’s kid and it was only polite… and then Ada had spent the entire summer insulting Lenore’s style anyway. Ada deciding Lenore was a snob (had she looked in a mirror?) and rallying most of the boy’s side of the camp to pull a series of annoying pranks on her, beginning a war that had only been talked about in hushed tones ever since. The whole incident with the horse barn in the summer of 2010. 

Lenore didn’t care about popularity contests or social hierarchies. Perhaps her family had made some participation in those games inevitable, but she’d known from a young age that they weren’t for her. Even so, as she imagined Ada at the top of the ladder, she knew it wasn’t about popularity anymore. It was about protecting her camp. 

She looked across the lawn at Ada, surrounding herself with all the people she could. Annabel Lee was right there next to her, of course, looking politely interested at whatever Ada was saying.

“Found it!” said Ms. Poppet, and she pulled out a sheet of slightly wrinkled paper. “Now, then. Let’s begin. Who’s played The Great Wind Blows?”

A little over half the staff put hands in the air, Lenore included. She could feel herself brightening a bit, despite her horrifying revelations. Here was the time that precamp—that the camp season—truly started. And anyway, it was a little embarrassing to admit, but Lenore truly liked name games. Sure, she never actually seemed to learn anyone’s names from then (how could you, when there were dozens of people?), and sure, they could be a little weird, but wasn’t that the point when all was said and done? 

She hadn’t considered, however, that most of them seemed to involve running. 

When the great wind first blew for anyone who was a veteran to camp, she found herself in the center of the great circle of staff members. This repeated a few times—when the wind blew for people with blue eyes, and for those who liked the outdoors, and for musicians. Eventually, as a courtesy, she quietly stopped playing, standing dormant amongst the others in the circle as the game continued around her.

That could have been it, but they switched over to Fat Pony, which was somehow even more run-intensive. One by one, each person in the circle was selected to run, dance, and be the center of attention before tapping someone else to take over, always someone they didn’t yet know. Despite most of the names eluding her, some of the staff members stood out. A dark haired boy slumped as he walked around the circle, apparently not caring to show off. Ada almost skipped, prim and put together as she went around the circle. Lenore noticed how she tried to meet the eyes of almost every boy there. They lingered on one in particular, a tall man who was handsome in the way that Lenore almost wished she could pull off. He didn’t seem to shy away from her eyes, but neither did he look thrilled at the attention.

Duke was a natural born performer. He hammed it up and even came right up to Lenore to do  a little shimmy inches away, which made her crack a smile. “You’ll sit with me at lunch?” he asked quickly while the rest of the group continued to sing the Fat Pony song, and Lenore shot a thumbs up before he ran off to go dance in front of Eulalie. She seemed comfortable enough in front of the crowd, but not in the same way—where Duke had been hyper-aware of the people around them and trying to show off, Eulalie seemed to barely notice they were there. She swayed a little to the music as she walked around, only stopping when the song dictated she pass her turn onto someone else, a girl who looked sharp everywhere except for her soft curls and cute round nose.

Annabel was almost the last one. She walked, but not like the first boy did. She walked like she expected the attention. She walked like she had nothing to prove. Lenore kept waiting for Annabel’s eyes to land on her, but they never did. With the slightest smile and most passing glances to those around her, Annabel walked the circle and did the expected motions to pass off the song to the next person. On anyone else it would have looked ridiculous—and not in the good, camp kind of way—but in the way of someone refusing to indulge in goofiness despite everyone else embracing it. Somehow, Annabel had managed to pull it off.

She passed it off to a kid named Arthur, and Lenore mentally psyched herself up for her turn. She hadn’t expected to be the last one, and knew she had to make it count. She could see people getting antsy and felt a strange sort of sense of responsibility. She wanted to grab their attention and —

Poppet clapped. “Well!” she said, “That’s done, then! Let’s all head inside and we’ll start our precamp training overview.”

What?

Arthur stopped his run and slipped into the circle next to a blonde girl with glasses. For a moment, Lenore thought that it was an accident and started to take a step forward, but then she noticed Arthur’s eyes on her. No, on her cane.

He knew.

She looked around the circle. Anyone whose eyes weren’t on Lenore’s cane seemed to be looking in an entirely different direction. They all knew. Probably Poppet too. 

What could she say? What could she do? She felt frozen. Was she really just going to let Poppet skip her? Was it okay? Did she even want to run now? It wouldn’t be part of the game anymore. It’d be the camp watching her, the girl with a cane.

She’ll slow you down, Ada had said. She’d meant it for Annabel, but it may as well have applied to the entire camp.

“Pardon me, madame ?”

Poppet turned to face Duke, who was standing there with one hand raised, the other shoved in his pocket. His face was serious and unamused, his eyes almost dark as he looked Poppet dead in the eye. “Yes?”

“Aren’t we forgetting Lenore?” he asked. 

Lenore almost wanted to vanish. Not that she could show it, not with the entire camp looking at her. She straightened her posture and gripped her cane tighter, training her eyes forward to meet those who would look at her. 

“Oh!” said Poppet, covering her mouth in a gesture of surprise. “A good observation! We certainly did forget about her, but unfortunately we don’t have time for a—for someone else to run the circle. We’re behind schedule and really do have to get inside to start the proper training. I’m sure we all understand.”

Lenore understood. All too well, in fact. She could feel her eye twitch with irritation, but she swallowed it back. They’re just looking for reasons to call you crazy, she reminded herself. Looking for reasons to kick you out of camp and back home so your father can tell you that he told you you’d fail. Don’t give them reasons. 

The continued feelings of eyes watching her every move somehow both help and hurt her intentions. She didn’t flinch, but she did bow deeply as she turned to Poppet. “Of course,” she said in a half sing-song tone. “Shall I lead the way for everyone, then? I promise to be expedient.”

Poppet looked not ashamed, but more surprised. “Well, I wouldn’t say we need someone to lead the way, but I do have to give you props on initiative. Though your tone does leave something to be desired, hmm? Let’s try to be a little more genuine next time, Lenore. Nobody forgot you on purpose,” she said, like a liar. And like nothing had been brought up at all, she clapped her hands together as though she were directing preschoolers and not college students and beckoned the group to follow.

She couldn’t think of what to do or how to follow up, so Lenore simply watched as much of the staff passed her by. There were a few sad, pitying looks passed her way by other staff members. None was as infuriating as Annabel Lee’s. Her look was one of genuine concern, and Lenore might have felt almost touched by it were it not there for all the wrong reasons. For a second, Lenore felt the heat rise to her face and opened her mouth, not even sure herself what was going to come out. She fell silent, however, when Annabel closed her eyes for a long second, then opened them, gave one last beautiful, infuriating glance, then turned back to talk with Ada and the others she was with.

As they filed into the dining hall, they were ushered towards the front and forced to fill in every table. Lenore managed to scoot in next to Duke, and Eulalie too found her way over. As other tables filled, a few other people came to join, and finally Morella slipped into the last seat with a shy smile. “Hi, Lenore,” she said. “I don’t know if you remember me, but…”

“Of course I remember you, Morella,” said Lenore, flashing a smile of her own. “We’ve only gone to the same camp for seven years.” 

Morella’s cheeks were almost as red as her hair. “Well… I only mean that you’re a few years older, and you’ve been away. Anyone could have forgotten.”

Half-shoving the person between them out of the way, Lenore reached for Morella’s hands, squeezing them in a strong, friendly grip. “Well,” she said. “I haven’t. It’s good to see you again.”

Duke watched the exchange with some obvious interest. As Morella smiled, this time brightly and boldly, he turned to Lenore. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” he asked.

“Oh, right. Morella, this is Duke, he’s a first year counselor here. International. From France.”

As though “France” was a sleeper agent activation phrase, Duke too leaned across the poor girl sitting between them all and took the same hand that Lenore had only just dropped. He didn’t quite bring it to his lips, but moved it slightly upwards all the same. “A pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle.”

Morella flushed even more.

“Duke, this sweet girl is Morella. She’s—”

Actually, what is she? Not a kid anymore, at least not technically. Would it be embarrassing to her if I introduced her as kinda like a little sister? Or—

“I’m a lifeguard,” Morella supplied, which was about the most surprising thing she could have said.

Lenore opened her mouth, not sure if she meant to exclaim or argue it wasn’t possible or share all the details of their two or three summers in the same general age group, but she was cut off by a very stern look from Poppet. Falling silent, Lenore leaned back to her own seat, finally giving the girl in between herself and Morella a chance to breathe.

“Right!” said Poppet after a couple of beats. Her frown turned back into a smile. “Now that we have everyone’s attention, we can get started! As the directors said last night, precamp can be a very intense experience! Of course we’ll have lots of fun—that is, after all, what camp is about- but to survive these next nine days, you’ll need to work very hard, take good care of yourself, and make sure you’re following safety instructions. And, of course, listening when a member of the admin staff is talking to you!”

Lenore worried that perhaps she made a bit too much of an impression. She had the distinct feeling that it was going to follow her for the rest of the season.

“Now, please know that we will be busy most hours of the day. As you’re technically in a special training period, we’re not required by law to give you breaks outside of meals, so please enjoy resting as you eat. You may sometimes get a break as a special treat if we’re ahead of schedule, but this depends on how well training progresses and the mood of the directors.”

Great. Technically, this was all true. Lenore knew the laws. Even so, she’d been raised on the idea that it was only polite to give staff members at least an hour or so to themselves daily during precamp. The more she learned about the new directors, the more she disliked them.

“Today, we’ll start with something easy. This morning, we’ll be working on behavioral management techniques, leading developmental milestones for various age groups, and ending the morning session with the roles and responsibilities of staff members. After lunch, we’ll divide into groups and go over water safety, unit chores, mandated reporting, and fire-starting. Then those who are signed up for archery instructor certification will go with Nurse Dolly to the archery range, while all others will join me for a deep clean of the cabin units before dinner.”

“We’ll try our best to have you in bed by midnight,” she continued. “After all, you’ll all be waking up at five-thirty so that you can learn all about our early morning activities, such as early bird swimming and sunrise runs!” There were a few groans from various people scattered around the dining hall, and Lenore prepared for Poppet to give them the same verbal lashing she’d given to Lenore. Instead, Poppet only laughed a bit. “Now, now, don’t worry, such activities are usually optional. But really, how will you know if you like them if you don’t try?”

The crowd seemed unconvinced, which was fair as it wasn’t a very convincing reassurance, especially not after the announcement of the schedule it was to follow. Poppet tried a different angle. “Well, at the very least, you can look forward to our next big event. After tonight’s dinner, we’ll go straight to the amphitheater for a fun, informal yet informative campfire night.”

It was the world’s stiffest, most awkward campfire.

The mosquitoes were out in droves, and if Lenore wasn’t swatting, she was scratching. Seats were assigned, and Duke was halfway across the circular theater, leaving Lenore sitting awkwardly on the end of her row of benches next to some girl named Madeline who kept glancing at Lenore or at her cane. Half the songs Lenore tried to start were now banned. One had to wonder what the world had come to when you couldn’t even sing about crawfish turning you on, or pushing grannies off of buses. Theo would have hated it—the knowledge haunted her through the rest of the night. To distract herself she looked directly into the flame, and not into the face of the woman who represented everything that her home had become.

She held back too much. Even her posture was too correct… everyone else slumped and leaned, trying to get closer to the fire. The night temperature was already well into the mid-forties and threatened to sink lower. Sweatshirts and pullovers abounded, as did sweatpants, hats, scarves, and even a pair of gloves here or there. It made it easy to know for sure who wasn’t first year staff, as many of them had their names and the camp logo embroidered somewhere or another. Lenore looked back to Annabel to see if she’d managed to snag a sweatshirt when she req shopped, but she just continued to look out of place with her baby blue wool sweater and jeans.

Poppet strummed the guitar again. “Well!” she said cheerfully, “I think this has been a wonderful night so far. You’ll have the opportunity to do campfires like this one with your campers almost any night you choose, provided that there isn’t a special event! Please do refrain from singing any banned songs with your campers, however.” Her eyes met Lenore’s. Lenore refused to flinch, meeting Poppet’s until finally the assistant director looked away. She smiled brightly, then took a picnic basket from beside her and opened it up. “S’mores, anyone?”

Everyone rushed from their seats and crowded around the fire, jostling for marshmallows and chocolate. Lenore looked up at the sky, where the first of the stars were beginning to come out. Five years ago, she could have slipped out unseen and made it to her tent. They wouldn’t have even realized she was gone, or perhaps they simply would have pretended they didn’t, pleased to finally have some peace and quiet. Now, she felt too obvious.

Maybe being the last one sitting on the amphitheater benches wasn’t any less conspicuous, though, because she felt someone’s presence behind her. Twisting in her seat, she found herself staring once more at the faintly-smiling Annabel Lee. “Good evening, pet,” she said in that stereotypically elegant voice. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Huh?” said Lenore, feeling slightly stupid as she did. 

Annabel gestured with a willowy hand. To Lenore, to the fire, to the amphitheater as a whole. “Why, all I’ve gotten from you is mystery and enigma. You stare at me all through dinner the first night you’re here—”

Lenore blushed. She hadn’t known it was so obvious.

“—and then you try to act cold at our first proper meeting, only to burn with some fire I’ve never seen before. You tell me to steal camp property, but then stand mostly quiet while you face injustice, only to bear your sword after the fact. You seem to be either friends or enemies with everyone who knows you.”

“What?”

“Or maybe both,” said Annabel as though Lenore hadn’t said anything, “considering what Ada has told me. And now, here you are. Hanging back, forgoing sugar when I’m certain I saw you chowing down on the cobbler at lunch.”

“Dump cake,” Lenore corrected automatically before she could comprehend any of what Annabel was saying. 

Annabel leaned close slightly, expression serious but not horribly so. She smelled like smoke from the fire, but underneath Lenore wondered if there was some floral perfume there too. “Yes,” said Annabel. “That. Listen. I won’t mince words. People talk about you, Lenore. Ever since you’ve arrived, you’ve been quite good at stirring up gossip simply by existing. So, I suppose it comes to reason that I’d like to be your friend.”

Lenore blinked. “That makes… no sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” said Annabel, her eyes suddenly wide and surprised. “You obviously have quite a lot of influence, and you seem the straightforward sort, which I find quite refreshing. I think we can help each other.”

She stiffened immediately, as though her body reacted to the comment even before her mind had processed it. “I don’t need help,” she said, her hand reaching towards her cane as though it would disprove Annabel’s point, not make it stronger.

“Not that sort of help,” Annabel nearly scoffed, then smiled in a way that was confusingly genuine. “We have so much more to give to each other. You’re quite charismatic, first of all.”

“Am I?” She’d never thought of herself as charismatic before. If it had been anyone else telling her that, she would have quickly retorted that they meant her family name was charismatic, but she wasn’t sure that Annabel even knew that part yet… though if she had been listening to the gossip, it seemed unlikely that she wouldn’t.

“Oh, terribly.” And then, Annabel— did she just wink at me?

The heat in her cheeks had to be born from confusion, perhaps some outrage at the blonde woman’s sheer audacity. Didn’t it?

“Annabeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeellllll!”

Lenore covered her ears at the shrill screech and glanced around for the source. She already knew exactly who it was, and the trail of staff members who were also covering their ears served as well as a compass.

“That would be my cue,” Annabel sighed as she, too, looked down at Ada, who was waving frantically from Poppet’s side. “She won’t wait long, and it’s best for me to keep up the appearance anyway.”

“The appearance of what?”

“The time for questions has unfortunately passed for tonight, pet. We’ll speak again soon. I hope you’ll have an answer for me then. Take care, won’t you?” Without waiting for a response—probably good, as Lenore didn’t think she had one—Annabel turned and walked down towards the group. Lenore clutched her cane tighter, like a lifeline, and watched her go.

Chapter Text

The days passed in a blur, as precamp days tended to. Though she knew a schedule existed, normal counselors didn’t need to see it, and she was too tired to find time, energy, or reason to sneak one away from a member of the admin team. Instead she simply rolled with the punches. A morning spent in first aid training, then thrust into dismantling the beaver dam for the afternoon. One day where every hour was something different—cleaning dutch ovens, organizing and inventorying the req sheds, hiking to any camp landmark a child might ask to go to, taking the initial swimming test, learning how to be a spotter on the low ropes. Campfire cooking day started as a dream and turned into a nightmare. The entire day was learning different methods to cook food with a campfire, but all meals in the dining hall were canceled and they were fed only what they could make for themselves out of the provided ingredients. Only a few of these exhausting days in, Lenore had completely stopped trying to find Annabel. There wasn’t the time, and even if there was, she simply didn’t have the energy.

The closest that she got was having Ada as an assigned partner for litter hunting duty. Ada was annoying at best and more than useless — Lenore ended up doing the entire job herself as well as attempting to stop Ada from forcing them to follow after the camp finance director and his group, all the way hearing “but I know that he’d want me to! He must have asked for us to be assigned to a different trail out of responsibility for his job!” and “it’s such a shame we can’t go to the boys’ tents, but at least that means we can have a romantic rendezvous by the willow tree at midnight,” and “I don’t know why I’m even telling you all this! You wouldn’t understand what it means for a man and a woman to be caught in forbidden love.”

Lenore, who had heard variations of this for years and was starting to think that the love was simply unrequited, said “What makes you think your love’s so forbidden anyway?”

“Oh, please!” said Ada with a little ojou-sama laugh, “He’s a member of support staff, a manager, and I’m not. Yet. No one can know that he loves me, and he’s just so dutiful about his job that he wouldn’t dream of telling. Not until next year, when I’m the barn director. For one more year, it simply must be a secret from everyone.”

“And yet, you’re telling me?”

“You’re not anyone important anymore,” she said flippantly. 

At first, Lenore was insulted, as Ada had clearly intended. Only after a second did she realize how freeing it felt. Her family was gone from camp, and none but her ever planned to return. Apart from some graciously given respect, she wasn’t anyone special anymore. She’d defied her father’s wishes by applying to work at Camp Nevermore, and though she may not have been hired by her own merits, the directors had told her themselves that her family status wouldn’t keep her here if she messed up. She wasn’t anyone important anymore, not without her family.

She flashed once again back to the thought of Ada being the unofficial lead of the staff members, Ada being the most important. God, she’d be awful to be within fifty feet of.

It was then that Lenore made her resolution. She no longer was trapped into a role of importance. No, she was choosing one for herself. If Ada wanted to run Camp Nevermore, she was going to have to fight Lenore for the right to do it.

“They’re working us like dogs,” said Duke during one of their rare breaks.

He and Lenore had stretched out on the lawn first thing. For a while, it’d been quiet as everyone had rushed to the admin office to leech off the wifi, or to the highest point on the trail to try to get a mobile signal. Duke had wanted to do the same, but Lenore knew from experience what would happen. “It’s a bloodbath,” she’d warned. “Shoving, smothering, the whole nine yards. There’s at least one wifi related injury every year. Take it from the expert. Rest and relax now, then when they dismiss us for bed, sneak off to use your phone then. Or get up early in the morning.”

“I think you misunderstand me, Lenore. Neither I, nor my family, is getting up at five in the morning for a phone call, and time zones mean that with that schedule, someone has to.”

Lenore had shrugged. “Then suffer,” she’d said, but Duke had simply laid his hand dramatically on his forehead and sat down beside her. 

For a while they’d just talked, mostly about who they were outside of camp. Duke, Lenore learned, was a fairly popular Twitch streamer and YouTuber whose combination of magic tricks and video game mastery had amassed him a following. He’d been a little nervous to take a hiatus to come work at a camp, but he’d wanted to visit America and this was the most economical option. “Theoretically, anyway,” he noted. “You pay the initial amount and the company sets up your travel to and from the camp, finds a camp you’d fit well at, does most of the paperwork, and even gives you a tee shirt. We also get permission to stay in the country for a month or two after camp ends. And we still get paid for working here, so we get most of it back and can use that for the post-camp traveling, food, souvenirs, all of that.”

Then the conversation shifted to her. It was easy enough at first. Lenore told him she was taking a gap year before college. “How old are you?” he’d asked, and she hesitated slightly before admitting that this was, in fact, her third gap year. She’d told him about playing piano. She told him about physical therapy.

She steered clear of previous summers of camp, or her family, or much of the real things about her at all. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, she told herself. It was more that she wasn’t quite ready to tell anyone.

If Duke noticed she was a little more laconic than he was, he let it pass. By the time she ran out of things to say, she had an easy out anyway. “It’s getting crowded. Think they realized that the wifi isn’t worth the pain?”

“I would definitely say they got that message, yes.” He looked around at the groups forming on the lawn. They were pressing in together, closer and closer. “I’d ask if we should go somewhere else, but is there anywhere else to go?”

“If you weren’t a guy I’d say we could hang out in my tent, but…” She thought. The dining hall was hot and stuffy, the kitchen staff already probably working furiously on the night’s dinner. Even with a huge amount of people finished with it, the admin office and Signal Hill would still be packed. There was a staff house, but it was on the other side of camp and had too little space and too many mice. Plenty of small out-buildings, kitchen shelters, existed but weren’t great for hanging out. Where else did that leave? “Arts and crafts?” she pitched tentatively.

He shrugged, but pulled himself up to a standing position. “Lead the way.”

The trails weren’t packed by any definition, but they seemed more lively as the pair headed to Edgar Lodge, the arts and crafts building. By now, five days into precamp, friendships had been forged that would last the entire summer, if not necessarily the “forever” that so many campfire songs seemed to promise. People chatted and laughed as they walked, often hanging onto each other as they did. Camp had a way, somehow, of making people a little more okay with physical contact. Even Lenore and Duke bumped each other playfully a couple times as they continued their conversation. “Perhaps we need to think long term, mon amie, ” he said. “I assume places won’t get any less crowded. Somewhere away from the prying eyes of the rest of the staff could be useful.”

“It really is. I love camp, but I won’t deny being stuck in the woods for months with some of these people has its drawbacks.”

He laughed at that. “I hope I’m not one of those people.”

“Not so far,” she joked.

They finally arrived at the arts and crafts building. Amidst the birdsongs and the whisper of wind whistling through the trees, Lenore could make out the sounds of upbeat music. “Sounds like someone’s in there,” she said to Duke. “Want to risk it anyway?”

“Well, we did come all this way.”

“My thoughts exactly. What’s the worst that could happen? We leave?”

He elbowed her, which she took as permission. With her free hand, she opened the door.

Sitting at an old wooden table, sorting a huge box of pony beads, was Eulalie. A CD player on top of the old, eternally unused fireplace played J-pop music, and she bobbed her head in time with the beat as she sorted. As Duke and Lenore stepped in, she glanced at them and smiled slightly. “You’re here!” she said, almost as though she expected them. “Hello!”

“Yes, we’re here,” said Lenore. “Do you mind if we come in? Are you working?”

She nodded. “I’m the arts and crafts director. I don’t really have time for a break right now. The last person here left it in a mess. The beads are just all over. Not even sorted by color, let alone size, sparkle factor, letter of the alphabet…”

“Do you want help?” Lenore ventured, hoping she’d say no.

Eulalie, thank god, shook her head. “I’m enjoying myself. What brings you two here?”

“We’re looking for a place away from everyone else,” said Lenore. She walked further into the room, taking it in. Like the dining hall, Edgar Lodge had experienced minimal changes, which made sense. Arts and crafts had never been the focus of the camp, and it seemed that much had stayed the same even through the rebranding. Even so, Lenore found it a peaceful place. She’d never made it a point to spend a lot of time in Edgar Lodge, but fifteen years had a way of making you memorize something anyway. There were still just the three wooden tables with mismatched chairs and benches, the legendary and unbroken knot of dozens of skeins of embroidery floss hanging in a frame on the wall, and the paint-splattered sink in the corner. She elbowed Duke, half revenge and half to get his attention. “Did you know the word ‘gullible’ is painted on the ceiling?” she asked.

“Ha ha,” he said, looking unamused.

“No, really. Look up.”

“I’m an international, not a laughingstock, Mademoiselle Vandernacht.”

She laughed. “Suit yourself,” she said, and glanced up to where the word “gullible” really was painted on the ceiling in pink and gold acrylic.

Duke sprawled out on one of the benches, closing his eyes in relaxation as he did. “Actually, this is surprisingly comfortable. Do people come here often, Eulalie?”

“Yes? All the campers have at least an hour of arts and crafts a week,” she said, nodding.

“Of their own free will, I meant, during breaks,” he clarified with a small laugh, his eyes flickering open. He paused and frowned. “Oh shit, you weren’t joking.”

“Huh?”

“It’s actually there on the ceiling.”

Lenore burst out into laughter herself, Eulalie following suit. After a few beats, Duke joined in. After a moment, the three sobered, and Duke let out a sigh. “Anyway, to be honest, I forgot that there will be children here next week. That does put a bit of a wrinkle in the plan.”

Lenore nodded. “All the places people go to avoid kids are usually swamped. Even more than today.”

“Plan?” Eulalie asked.

“Oh, yeah… Duke thought it might be nice to have some sort of place where no one else came.” She glanced at him to make sure it was okay that she was sharing this, and felt heartened when his expression was unchanged. “Only for people who are cool, I suppose.”

“ Oui. I’m not so greedy as to ask for it all to ourselves. Just limiting it to the best of us. But maybe it was a bad idea. The camp doesn’t seem set up for hideouts.”

“It was a good idea!” Eulalie said encouragingly. “A hideout would definitely be useful if you could find one, it gets so crowded here and there’s not much privacy. You can always go into the woods, but then you might end up sharing your hiding place with a bear. Cute, but not for everyone.”

Duke snorted. “It was worth a try, I suppose.” He pointed lazily at a door in front of them, almost hidden behind a coat rack and a large box of molding clay. “Well, if we get desperate, we could always just use your closet.”

“Oh, that’s not a closet.” Eulalie’s voice was matter of fact. She didn’t look at anyone or pause as she organized the beads.

Lenore frowned curiously. “It’s not?”

“It’s just the darkroom.”

Duke lit up like a Christmas tree and leaned forward on the bench. “ Fantastique! Eulalie, you didn’t think to mention this before? Is it being used?”

“Almost nothing’s being used right now. It’s precamp.”

“Can we see it?”

Eulalie nodded, put her beads down, and crossed over to the door. It took a moment for her to move the coat rack and fiddle with the knob before the door managed to pop open. By the time it did, Duke and Lenore were both right behind her. They craned their necks around each other to see into the room.

It didn’t look very dark, but Lenore was a musician, not any sort of visual artist. Maybe she was missing something. They stepped in hesitantly, more so once Lenore caught a glimpse of what looked like a pool of Something by the door. Once that was delicately avoided, the room was a pleasant sort of small. It looked like as many as four people could stand there comfortably, six if you were willing to be a little cramped, maybe even eight if you wanted to pack in like sardines. It was set up almost like a galley kitchen, with tablespace on one side and sinks lining the others. There were no windows, and Lenore immediately worried it felt very slightly claustrophobic, but she relaxed once she found that it felt even roomier than it looked. The view from the doorway had almost seemed to shrink the space.

“This is used to develop film, non? ”

“Mmmhmm. But it hasn’t been used properly in years. I really like old film photography. It’s fun and very useful if you’re trying to catch ghosts in a picture or something. I just don’t trust digital to do the same job. But the directors say film’s too expensive, so all of our working cameras here are digital and the room’s unused. I’ve never gotten any orders to do anything about it, so I think everyone just forgot. But not me! I think about it pretty much every day.”

“We do need a good hideout,” Lenore said. “But are you sure it’s okay if we use this? It’s a lot of space that you could probably do something with…”

Duke raised his eyebrows and cast a glance at Lenore as he wiggled one of the sinks. Apparently, they were on wheels. “Like what? Develop film? She said it herself, all the cameras are digital. No one else is going to need this room, and we need a place to rest, away from the directors and from Annabel’s group.”

“Annabel’s group?”

“Ada may be the face, but you’ve seen how she hangs on to the darling Annabel Lee. Annabel’s the one pulling the strings, that’s clear as day.”

With a shrug, Lenore turned back to the table in front of her and its scattered mess of photography paraphernalia, trying not to think too hard about the implications of that. She forced herself to focus on the matter at hand. “Well, if you’re sure Eulalie… yes. I think this will be a good place.”

“Then it’s settled!” He clapped his hands. “Let’s see, what needs to happen…” He whipped out his phone and once again lit up. “We have signal here,” he said almost reverently. “ Incroyable! It truly is perfect. Thank you, Eulalie, truly.” He set his phone down and took Eulalie’s hand, spinning her around in a quick, excited dance. 

“Wow,” Lenore drawled. “The discovery’s really moved you.”

Duke put a hand to his heart, letting Eulalie’s drop. “ Mon amie , you wound me. My family’s barely heard from me in over a week. I’ve been slaving in this American camp with barely any way to contact them. They must think me dead. Yet you bully and tease when this is clearly my one lifeline to a proper society that speaks a civilized language.”

“You want to say something to your stream viewers, don’t you?”

“Actually, to my static party in Final Fantasy 14. I’m curious how the sub is doing.”

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes with a smile. “Well, nothing’s stopping you. I’m going to go find chairs. Eulalie, want to come?”

Eulalie shook her head. “I need to finish the beads. I don’t get the same time off as you, remember?”

Already scrunched over and looking at his phone, Duke waved a relaxed hand. “Well then. Once I check in, I’ll begin cleaning the mess off the floor. Eulalie, is there a place where we could move these sinks so we have more room?”

“Oh, anywhere no one will think to look,” said Eulalie. Lenore smiled at her as she walked out of the darkroom. 

She left the arts and crafts building and started towards the req shed. Though it had been inventoried already, she thought she could probably get away with the creative acquisition of some comfortable folding chairs—after all, who was going to requisition those, anyway? Even if they did, by the time it became relevant nobody would even remember seeing her there. That just made it a logistics thing. How many could she carry with her cane taking up one hand? Was there a wagon she could also use for now and bring back later? Would a wagon be too conspicuous for a secret hideout? 

Maybe Morella wasn’t busy. She’d squirm a bit to take things from the req shed at this time of year, but Lenore was confident she could ultimately convince her to play along, especially if it meant entry into the secret hi—

A loud, distant sound broke her train of thought. A siren, one note playing at top volume for as long as it could sustain before repeating. A drill, right in the middle of their break. 

Lenore didn’t need a moment to pause. She just clutched her cane close and ran, not thinking of anything other than what was happening as she flew down the trail.

Siren means lake drill. Just a drill, since it’s precamp. 

Lifeguards to the shore to begin searching the shallows, always. At precamp, everyone goes to the lake so they can see and understand what’s happening. In a real situation, non-lifeguard counselors stay behind and watch the kids and pick up any—

There. On the path in front of her. A pink and black crop top. Lenore skid to a halt and grabbed it, shoving it under her free arm and continuing to race to the next clothing item, a pair of sweatpants. That too got shoved under her arm.

She followed the trail of clothes as quickly as she could. She expected Eulalie and Duke to catch up to her, but she didn’t see them. Perhaps they’d taken a different route, she decided, ignoring the idea that Duke was absolutely the type of person to skip a drill just because it happened during a rare break time. She certainly didn’t see them when she arrived at the beach, not one of the first counselors to get there but hardly one of the last. It was silent except for the continuing alarm, now loud enough to almost hurt. All eyes were trained on the line of people in the lake. There were about a dozen of them, their arms locked together as they slowly shuffled through the shallows, eyes on the water, concentrating hard.

Lenore didn’t have time to see who was in the line this year before Dolly, the nurse, clapped her hands briskly. “Shallows done! Goggles and flippers, now!”

It was like a whirlwind. The guards ran from the water towards the equipment shed. Dolly, Poppet, and a couple of other admin staff members were handing out the goggles and flippers in a rush. Once the lifeguards got them, they raced back to the water and across the swimming dock, slipping the equipment on before diving in. In less than two minutes, they were all submerged and “searching,” coming up only to breathe.

Tweet!

At the sound of the whistle, the lifeguards emerged. Lenore still couldn’t pick them out as they treaded, trying to crane her neck to see amongst the crowd of people. Everyone in camp was here now, it seemed. It made sense. Now that the drill was over, the real show could begin.

The post-lake drill “event,” colloquially called the Runway, was as much of a tradition amongst the staff as making s’mores, singing songs, or going on hikes. It was the result of a drill that required lifeguards to jump into the water at a moment’s notice, mixed with the libido of a bunch of horny young adults who were trapped in the woods with each other for three months straight. Lenore wasn’t sure when the tradition had gotten started. Though she’d spent every summer she could remember running around camp freely, she’d only seen the drill itself a few years, and for several of those she’d been too young to pay attention.

She remembered being in her last year, old enough to pay attention and to listen to and learn the history behind it. The lake drill was a safety thing first and foremost, and like fire drills, missing persons drills, and wild animal drills, had to be a surprise to be most effective. Lifeguards were advised to wear their swimwear under their clothes every day in case it were to happen, but it was unrealistic, unhygienic, and uncomfortable. Though some made the attempt, it seemed that early on in the history of the lake drill most of the lifeguards had simply elected not to do this, and to simply jump into the lake in their underwear if it came down to it. Legend went that when the admin staff had issues, the lifeguards had noted that this was precisely what they would have to do in a real lake situation, and the matter had been dropped.

Once everyone knew that lake drills meant the lifeguards were stripping down to their underclothes, the stakes became higher. The lifeguards began to use any means necessary to figure out when the lake drill would be each year. Methods changed. Sometimes it was simple deduction—in a particularly thundery June, of course it had to be the one day where clear skies were predicted and safety was guaranteed. Sometimes it meant stealing a schedule from an admin member and passing it around until everyone knew. One year a lifeguard simply seduced the assistant director and asked her directly, or so the story went. 

But no matter how it went, the result was the same. The entire waterfront staff knew exactly when to wear their best, sexiest underclothes. 

Most of the counselors went wild for this, and it was almost always the start of one or two serious couples and quite a few casual ones. Even so, in her last year at camp, nobody had caught Lenore’s eye in the way that the event seemed to warrant. She attributed it to three things: a genuine lack of interest in the lifeguards, the fact that her own brother was on the waterfront staff, and her father tearing through the crowd of counselors to give them all the worst dressing down of their lives.

“Do you understand what this is supposed to be? If we have to call every lifeguard at Camp Ravenswood to the water, the chances are that it’s already too late. We’re looking for a corpse and hoping we don’t find one. This drill is solemn and grim. It is not meant to be a mating ritual!  He’d paused and looked around. Lenore clearly remembered that most of the staff looked humbled, if nothing else. Understand this. As long as I am owner of this camp, we will have no more of this unprofessional, inappropriate ogling. 

In retrospect, it’d been a poor choice of words that resulted in a fulfilled prophecy.

The counselors on the sideline were all but whooping and whistling as the lifeguards emerged from the water. Lenore wondered if it was going to be another repeat of her first year. Shirtless men (no doubt eye candy to some people, but not to her) grabbed the towels handed to them by Poppet and Dolly. Then there was Morella, who was too much of a little sister to be at all attractive, and who had seemed to have missed the memo as she’d worn her modest blue one-piece suit. Even being the most covered of the group she seemed uncomfortable from all the attention and looked around quickly, trying to find her clothes, perhaps, or somewhere to hide. Lenore chuckled.

There were a few girls who were pretty enough, but not in the way that made Lenore do anything more than glance, then respectfully look away. There was the sharp-yet-round girl from the name games back in the beginning—Lenore now knew that she was the adventure director. She moved through the water like a shark, and from her smile at Eulalie seemed to have the teeth to match. There was even one pre-established couple, hanging onto each other as they found places to sit and take long sips from their water bottles.

And then there was Annabel.

She’d noticed that they were constantly put into different groups, but she hadn’t put together that Annabel was always going off with the lifeguards and waterfront staff. Realizing she was a lifeguard made everything make so much sense. The lifeguards probably didn’t often have to get dirty hiking through the woods, or deal with kids doing their hair in weird ways, or any of the things that could make a counselor stop caring about their appearance. Designated lifeguards probably had the luxury of looking good, and they most likely knew it. 

Annabel Lee stepped out of the water as gracefully as could be. If she noticed anyone looking at her it was impossible to tell. Her eyes were trained out somewhere in the distance, and she made no effort to cover herself. Every inch of lace on her matching bra and panties was on display. That was the only thing on display, for a blessing… though the set looked beautiful and expensive, it was surprisingly modest for something that seemed to fall just short of lingerie. Maybe that was the point. Maybe it was supposed to be a sexy thing, to leave everything to the imagination. 

Though really, Lenore found that she didn’t need that imagination. There was plenty there in view. Collarbone. Thighs. Soft, full lips…

Snap out of it! This is supposed to be serious! Even if it wasn’t, it’s Annabel Lee . In no world is that happening.

In the corner of Lenore’s eyes, she could see that Eulalie had kindly gathered much of the lifeguards’ discarded clothes from the pile. She was now handing it out, and Annabel took her tank top and fancy distressed shorts and put them on all too slowly, like some kind of reverse striptease. As the shorts slid up her leg, they highlighted every inch of length. And as Annabel raised her arms above her head, it showed off the subtle but noticeable muscles in her arms. Lenore might have thought something snide about lifeguards if she hadn’t been too busy looking quickly away, her face hot. Why am I acting like this? she thought, silently scolding. Sure, she’s pretty, but I’ve never acted like this around pretty girls before. Besides, it’s rude to stare.

She took a deep breath and examined the sand underneath her until Poppet’s voice rang out among the murmurs of the staff. “Well! Good work, all lifeguards! What a wonderful demonstration. To everyone else, thank you for the attention. We’ll continue our break for about thirty minutes more to give our waterfront staff the chance to shower and change, then we’ll reconvene at the main pavilion for some brief instructional videos. Enjoy your last few moments of free time, and don’t be late!”

Immediately upon hearing of the half hour time limit, people began to rush off the lakeshore beach, pushing to get to one of the two main exits so they could enjoy either a well-deserved shower or a last glimpse at their cell phones. Maybe both. Lenore waited patiently. The chairs for the hideout could wait after that whole show, and she knew that attempting to press through would likely end in someone bumping into her side and aggravating her injury, or her cane knocking into way too many ankles and giving her a worse reputation than she was already getting. She held back, pressed against one of the tall lifeguard chairs, simply watching everyone go by. At one point, she saw Duke. He waved at her to come join him, but she shook her head with an apologetic smile.

The lifeguards, ironically, were the last to leave, and they did so almost entirely as a singular pack. With goggles and flippers returned to the shed, they held onto the towels that had been draped over them and talked amongst themselves as they started towards the showerhouse. Lenore was happy to see that Morella seemed to be fitting in fine, even despite her choice of swimwear. She was smiling as she walked in the large group.

One particular person looked like she intended to hang back, before being waved forward by her fellow lifeguards. She pulled at a curl as she briskly walked forward to catch up, seeming ever so slightly dejected—perhaps disappointed that its perfect shaping was at risk. Lenore tried not to watch, but it seemed less natural not to. After all, she was waiting for them to leave so that she could go freely. Looking away would only show her complicated feelings. Or worse, it’d be an answer that Lenore wasn’t yet completely ready to give.

She wondered, even so, if perhaps her nonanswer was enough for Annabel Lee Whitlock. For as Annabel passed Lenore, she smiled knowingly, as if the two shared some great secret .

Chapter Text

There were only a couple of days of precamp left after that, and they seemed even busier than the ones before them as the admin staff tried to cram in every single thing they hadn’t yet covered. Lenore felt she barely even got a chance to breathe without it being in the middle of some training or another. Worst of all, the toll that precamp took on her body was beginning to show. She wasn’t alone, in that at least. By the last day, nearly everyone seemed zombified, running on some form of caffeine to survive. Lenore had personally watched the adventure director down four cups of coffee before eating a single bite at breakfast that very morning, something even she balked at.

An hour away from the usual dinner time, Poppet clapped her hands and declared precamp officially complete, and the staff members free until Sunday at noon. The collective cry of delight was eclipsed only by the nearly immediate roar of sixty young adults as friends found each other and tried to determine what to do with their first day off in over a week. Lenore readied herself to push through the crowd and find Duke and Eulalie, but they found her first, dragging along the overly-caffeinated adventure director and the shy boy that Lenore had noticed during the name games. “ Mon amie !” Duke sang as he shoved a brown haired boy out of the way and into another staff member. “Do you hear that? Freedom!”

“For less than forty-eight hours,” she reminded him, though it hardly mattered. Freedom was freedom, and as much as she loved camp, she also loved the rare days during the camp season when she could be Anywhere Else. “Then we get the kids.”

“It can’t be as hard as what we just endured.”

She shrugged. He was right. Unless you really, really hated children, precamp always seemed to be the worst of it. At the very least, once the actual work began you were legally entitled to at least two hours of break time every day.

“Look,” said the adventure director, “we could stand around and talk, or we could go get something to eat before it gets crowded.” 

“I don’t know who this person is but she has a point,” Duke said.

“She’s the adventure director,” Lenore said. 

“I have a name, you know. I introduced myself maybe a dozen times on the first day? With all of those games?”

Elegantly, politely, Duke smiled. “And I am sure it was a wonderful introduction! However, the entire camp was introducing themselves, and I have only so much capacity for memory. Please humor me and just… introduce yourself one more time.”

The director looked to Lenore, as though she expected Lenore to immediately know and to chide Duke for not knowing, but when Lenore only shrugged, she sighed and obliged. “I’m Berenice, and I’m this little biscuit’s tentmate,” she said, half shoving Eulalie forward. Other than adjusting her balance, Eulalie seemed to barely notice. “She said you were her friends and you had plans for the weekend, so I thought I’d drop in and join.”

We have plans? Lenore mouthed at Duke, who shrugged, and mouthed back, We had plans to make plans? “Sure,” she said to Berenice. “I guess we should start by getting food. I don’t know about any of you, but I’m hungry.”

The shy boy mumbled something, inaudible until Duke elbowed him. He pulled the collar of his tee shirt up, as though trying to hide, but did adjust his voice. “What sort of food are we getting?” he said, still quiet. Despite the volume, Lenore could hear that he had some sort of accent too, probably English in origin but significantly different from Annabel’s. 

Duke nudged the boy again, but he didn’t seem to understand why. His eyes flicked to Duke, questioning, and he didn’t add a single word. After a few seconds, Duke sighed. “This is Pluto,” he said. “He’s in another tent in my unit. I’d like to think we’ve struck up a friendship.”

He looked at Pluto again, for confirmation. Pluto shrugged, then nodded slightly.

“Nice to meet you, Pluto,” Lenore said politely, then thought about his question. There were a couple Wawas around, gas stations with a pretty good selection of fast food that hit the perfect combination of junky and meal-worthy that days off were for. Going there would either mean eating in the car or bringing it back to camp, though. Neither option sounded appealing. There was Tamerlane’s, a local restaurant that had food all day but was mostly known for its time-sensitive brunch menu and didn’t seem like an ideal dinner choice. If they were willing to drive an hour or more to one of the proper cities, it opened up a lot of options, but for now, the best choice seemed to be…

“Alessandra’s?” she asked. Eulalie, Berenice, and—to her surprise—Pluto seemed immediately happy with the choice. To a more confused looking Duke, she clarified. “A local Italian restaurant. Mostly known for pizza, but they have a few other options if that’s not your thing.”

Duke snorted. “Who doesn’t like pizza? It seems, anyway, like it’s already been decided.”

Lenore shrugged sheepishly. “If it helps, there aren’t very many options besides that. Which, on that note, does everyone have their wallet on them?” To her surprise, everyone in the group nodded. She knew that Eulalie was a returning staff member, and if her suspicions were anything to go by, so were Pluto and Berenice. If so, then that made sense; they knew the drill. Duke didn't, but he also constantly kept his wallet on hand due to his love of coin tricks. “Perfect. We’ll stow backpacks in my trunk. Walk quickly to the parking lot, but not too quickly or else people will think we’re trying to beat them out the camp gate.”

“Are we?”

“Yes, but if they know that, they’ll try to leave quickly too, and we’ll never get a table. Act casual.”

Telling people to ‘act casual’ never produced the most casual results, but Lenore was pleased to see that the others were mostly passable. Duke put on only the smallest bit of a show, rolling a coin up and down his hand as they slipped off the lawn and towards the staff parking. Pluto’s idea of “casual” seemed to be trying to disappear as conspicuously as possible. Berenice and Eulalie had it down the best, chatting and laughing not quite loud enough to draw any attention to them. Even as the five arrived at Lenore’s vehicle, there was no one else in sight, which was all that she could have hoped for.

Especially as the results of seeing her minivan for the first time were about what she had expected. “This is what you drive?” said Duke, pointing at the tan monstrosity. “I don’t know what I thought you drove, but this isn’t it, mon amie.”

She didn't dignify him with an answer, but instead clicked her keys to unlock the vehicle. “Pile in,” she said. 

Duke opened the backseat door and seemed immediately caught off guard by the empty space where the middle seats usually went. “Where are we supposed to sit?” he asked.

“Look to your right and left,” said Lenore dryly.

Berenice was next. She pressed in against Duke before he could climb into the minivan. “What’s the point of such a big thing if you’re just going to have the normal amount of seats?” she asked.

“I want you to think about what might have fit there, once,” said Lenore, looking pointedly at her cane, and at the ramp near the opposite door.

They all followed her gaze. She knew when it hit them because the tone of the group abruptly changed. “Oh, shit!” said Berenice. “Uh, guess I should apologize! Not really my most sensitive moment, is it?” 

Lenore blew out a quick puff of air. That reaction hadn’t been her intention. 

She didn’t often mourn her own losses in the tragedy; she was too busy mourning Theo, who had always been the favorite of the siblings, even to Lenore herself. Even so, she had, in a way, lost her own life too. The camp had been sold as soon as it was possible to sell it, and a permanently changed Lenore had found herself shipped off to a distant cousin living in upstate New York. She barely saw him—actually, she barely saw anyone, apart from the live-in caretakers—but she heard all manner of things, often filtered through others instead of heard directly from the sources. 

When she’d been sent away, her father had apparently paid quite a sum of money to take care of her medical expenses. One of these expenses had been an accessible minivan to take her to her myriad appointments and therapies. It was a good investment, given that the Vandernachts could more than afford it. Lenore had been fifteen when the accident happened; she was nearly eighteen before her physical therapy had progressed enough that she hadn’t always needed a wheelchair. Given that she was staying out in the middle of nowhere, that van was sometimes all that prevented her from being all but locked in some dreary room. It represented her freedom, or at least what was left of it.

That was how she tried to spin it when she realized exactly how much her family had come crashing down. When she’d asked for driving lessons and some inexpensive car for her eighteenth birthday, the response had been that her family had already spent more than enough on a vehicle for her. She could take full ownership of the ugly tan minivan if she really wanted, but that was all she would get. And like she tended to do, she said Fine. That’s what will happen, then, and she was determined to drive the thing until she ran it straight into the ground.

Not that she could explain all of this to her friends. At least not without sounding like a sob story. She forced a smile on her face, and only felt it waver a little. “It’s definitely something special, isn’t it? Now get in, I’m hungry.”

“Uh oh,” said Lenore as she parked. Already, she could see people waiting outside of the small storefront. There were at least three different groups there, possibly more. None looked to be camp people, which made the situation almost worse. “Well, guys…”

As she turned off the van, the group piled out. They watched the crowd for a moment before turning back to each other.

“Well, we couldn’t have gotten here any sooner,” Eulalie pointed out, tilting her head as she watched the crowd.

Lenore had to admit that was true. At least there was a sense of schadenfreude-laden glee in knowing that everyone else from camp would be waiting just as long or longer. “Well, someone should go check the wait time before we assume,” she said. “Any volunteers?”

Duke raised his hand lazily, not waiting for a response before starting off into the restaurant and towards the hostess stand. The others huddled near the door, waiting in almost awkward quiet for the verdict. After a few minutes more, they saw him approach once again. “An hour’s wait,” he announced. “Even with the charm turned all the way up.”

Lenore sighed. It wasn’t ideal but…“Well, it’s either that wait, Wawa, or we go back to camp and hope there’s leftovers. It’s Friday night in a resort town, every real restaurant is going to be this busy.” The five looked at each other, brains too fried for decision making, waiting for someone else to step up and make the choice for them. Finally, Lenore sighed and said, “Okay, we’re waiting then. I don’t want to drive anywhere until I have some actual real world food inside me.”

“Perfect,” said Duke. He produced a small black object from his pocket. “I had them add us to the list just in case. I figured in the worst case scenario I had a neat American souveni—what? I’m only joking!” he defended once he saw Eulalie’s chiding look. 

They found places on a bench nearby, underneath the trees and with the mountainous vista around them. The hour’s wait went by surprisingly fast. Duke kept everyone entertained with a mix of sleight of hand tricks and his impeccable wit, matched only by Berenice’s surprisingly feral humor. Lenore managed to slip in a few tales of the wilder moments from her years growing up at camp, which seemed to bring Pluto a little out of his shell as he smiled and laughed along with the others. Eulalie offered up some friendship bracelet string, pulling some skeins of it and some safety pins out of her pocket like a magician. Everyone took a few strands—even Duke, once Lenore convinced him to try it out. She was showing him how to make a candy stripe bracelet when the pager buzzed. 

Perhaps the restaurant had cleared out some, as they saw a couple of empty tables as they were being led to their seats by the hostess, including the table next to theirs. The group sat down at the round table and began perusing the menus. “We could all order a pizza together and split the cost?” Lenore suggested. She remembered that being the norm for a lot of the staff groups when she’d seen them while eating here with family as a child. 

“It’d take at least two pizzas to feed us all if you’re all as hungry as I am. Do you think making us wait so long is a business technique?” asked Duke.

“No, Alessandra’s is just popular, given that it’s the only real dinner option if you don’t want to drive or eat expensive resort food. Or I guess there’s the bar in the next town over, but they don’t let anyone under twenty-one inside, even just to eat food.”

Duke muttered something about the drinking age in America before perking up and pointing at a pizza option on the menu. He looked like he was about to say something, but loud laughter from behind him made him pause and made the rest of the group look up in the direction of the sound. Lenore immediately felt like a truck had hit her upon seeing who the hostess was now leading their way; Annabel and all of her friends were there, and dressed to the nines. The girls had all obviously done up their hair and makeup, and maybe some of the boys had as well. At the very least, it was clear that every single one of them had showered. They still stood out among the locals—maybe they didn’t have mud stains on their shorts, but most people weren’t putting on their best to go to Alessandra’s Pizzeria. 

The group was not quite a surprising one. Of course there was Ada, who had clearly appointed herself Annabel’s best friend whether she liked it or not. She clung to Annabel’s arm even now, though her gaze was pointed at the men around them. There was Monty, who Lenore could imagine had buddied up with Ada mostly due to anticipating her social power. Next to him was camp accountant Prospero, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else, and was probably slightly bitter he hadn’t been invited into whatever weekend plans the directors had and instead had to socialize with the rest of the staff. The ridiculously generic looking boy that Lenore had made note of a few times was half-hidden behind them; Lenore couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not. And then, towards the end of the group, was Morella. She looked as shy as ever, but she was at least smiling. Lenore only hoped that meant that she was having a good time. 

Annabel’s group saw Lenore’s before the hostess even managed to fully lead them to the open table. Ada was the first. Immediately, her grip on Annabel seemed to grow tighter, and one hand snaked up to cover her mouth as she whispered something to Annabel. That caused Annabel to look towards the group—no. Not the group. Straight at Lenore. And she smiled. Slightly, serenely, the kind of neutral smile that could have meant anything, just like any conversations that the two of them had ever had. 

By the time she’d torn her own gaze away from Annabel, the rest of Annabel’s group wasn’t just looking at the scattered misfits, they were all but standing over them. They hovered between Lenore’s table and the one that the hostess was setting up for them. “Well, well, well,” said Ada. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Oh, I’m looking,” said Lenore, making eye contact meaningfully.

“Ha!” said Ada. “You’d have to get a mirror to see it!” 

Duke snorted, barely even attempting to cover the motion. “Someone missed the point, didn’t they?” he quipped as he adjusted in his chair. Ada’s face went blank, then went red, and she sputtered a bit as the others took their seats at their table. 

Annabel seemed to be paying no attention to the plight of her friend. She sat down elegantly at the circular table, Prospero beside her on one side and Morella on her other, and immediately elegantly unfolded the cloth napkin around her silverware and set it politely on her lap. Ada looked back to her for help, but seeing what Annabel was doing instead, seemed to change her tactics. She sat next to Prospero and attempted the same act as Annabel, but immediately fumbled the napkin, which fell sloppily onto her thighs. 

Perhaps that could have been the signal for letting the moment pass, but if Lenore knew one thing about her new friends and enemies, she knew that few of them would let that happen. “Hey, how did you even just go up and get seated immediately?” Berenice demanded as soon as the hostess had left, standing from her own seat and leering at the other table. “We’ve been waiting here for over an hour!”

Ada’s smile was haughty, almost mean. “Why, it’s the simplest little thing! Annabel thought to get us a reservation. You mean you didn’t think of that yourself?”

“From the sounds of it, you didn’t either,” Eulalie pointed out.

Ada almost froze for a moment before laughing it off weakly. “I would have, but Annabel came up with the idea first. But just you wait for next time!” Seeming slightly recovered, she looked the group up and down. “I’ll reserve something fancier. A place where they don’t let just anyone in, wearing any ratty old thing.”

It would have been easy to note that Ada had been wearing ‘any ratty old thing’ only three hours before. Even so, Lenore grudgingly admitted that Ada had a point. Camp was a bubble where lots of things were acceptable, like eating food that had fallen on the floor, or scream-singing at someone to wake them up, or wearing a seven year old stained tee shirt and a tutu. The real world had higher standards. “You do that,” she said to Ada, then turned back to the menu, discreetly trying to motion to the others to follow her lead.

Though they did, it felt begrudging, but that was a small price to pay for peace. By the time the waiter had come to take drink and appetizer orders, Lenore felt optimistic that perhaps the evening could be fairly quiet and civil. 

That was disproven as soon as the waiter left. 

Monty, seated nearest to their table and within spitting distance of Berenice, leaned over to her, balancing his seat on two legs. For a second, he just hovered there, chewing on something. Probably gum. Berenice already looked annoyed and had opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off quite expertly. “Hey, sugar, what’s a beauty like you doing with a group of misfits like this?”

“Fuck off,” said Berenice, and gave him the finger for good measure.

“Come on, sweetheart, you don’t even know me. You don’t know what you’re missing,” he said with a smile that he probably thought was charming. 

“And I can’t think of a reason I’d want to.” She smiled too. Her smile was sharp, almost dangerous, with no charm to it at all. Lenore made a mental note not to piss Berenice off.

But Monty seemed undeterred. He just laughed, throwing his head back and letting his long hair fall over the chair back and onto an obviously annoyed Prospero. “Oooh, she’s got a real bite to her, don’t she? Good thing I always like the ones with a little kick.”

“Die in a fire,” said Berenice with put-upon cheer. And before Monty—or anyone—could react, she reached over with her leg and kicked one of the floorbound chair legs, knocking the chair off balance and almost knocking Monty himself onto the table. Morella gasped and Prospero rolled his eyes at the sight, which Lenore barely noticed through her sudden burst of laughter… a burst shared by nearly everyone at her table.

As soon as he recovered, Monty narrowed his eyes at Berenice. “Not your smartest move, sweetheart. You may be adventure director, but don’t think that gives you power around here. This peach and me—” He walked over to Ada and swung her arm around her, causing her to make a face. “We’ve got more power than you’ll ever have. It’s all about seniority and legacies, you know. There’s barely anything else to it. All this to say, I’m certain you’ll live to regret not being smart there.”

His grip on Ada seemed to tighten at the last sentence; to her credit, Ada shrugged him off. “Get off me, you hick.”

Duke pretended to stifle a laugh. “Oh, mon dieu , you know it’s bad when Mademoiselle Ada rejects you.”

And like a switch was flipped, Ada looked back up with vitriol in her gaze. “What are you saying?” she demanded.

“Oh, nothing much,” said Duke, his tone suddenly calmer, cooler, the laughter all gone. “Simply that—”

“Hi, everyone! Thanks so much for your patience. Can I get you all started with something to drink tonight?”

Everyone stopped and stared at the waiter. She was blonde, bespectacled, and totally clueless to the animosity at the table. “Are you all one party?” she asked cheerfully. “I know we’ve been short on larger tables tonight, I’m sure you’ve been waiting for a while, thanks for your patience…”

“We’re separate, thank you,” said Annabel Lee politely. She seemed completely unphased by the verbal scuffle before. She probably was. Lenore had no idea how she was always so put together and unperturbed, but it was beginning to be something expected. “The other table was seated first; I’m sure they’d appreciate it if you'd begin with them.”

The waiter turned to the table, and of course to Lenore first. “Um, I’ll just take a Coke,” she said. 

As the waiter went around their table, then Annabel’s, the conversation stalled politely. Lenore knew better than to think that this meant anything—as soon as the waiter left, things were bound to pick right back up. She was grateful that the waiter asked if they knew what they wanted to eat as soon as she was done with drink orders. She was even more grateful that they’d more or less agreed to split a couple of pizzas, and that her table quickly decided that a cheese and a supreme would cover everyone’s needs. Lenore ordered a basket of very soft American breadsticks as an appetizer as well, purely because she felt she could make a hobby out of seeing the faces of international staff members when they were presented with any amount of culture shock. 

By the time all of the orders had been collected, Duke was off on a full rant about the various sorts of European bread and how they were so much better than anything made here in America … a debate that Eulalie, Berenice, and Pluto were very eager to chime in on. Lenore opened her mouth to add to the Soft Breadstick Defense Party and-

“Oh, truly, Annabel, it’s so good that we met!”

Lenore thought perhaps Ada’s shrill voice could be heard halfway across the restaurant. If nothing else, it was enough to make her want to cover her ears, though she did abstain purely to avoid further drama. Even so, she turned to her friends to see if they felt the same, only to find that they were still deep in breadstick hell. Perhaps they were able to tune Ada out; that was lucky for them, Lenore supposed. She was still too tuned in to their conversation when Annabel responded “What makes you think of that at this moment?”

“Why, I know you know exactly how lucky you are that I brought you into the fold!” said Ada. “If you want to last, you simply have to get in with those who have been here the longest. New blood doesn’t know anything at all, really.” With a pitying glance at the generic boy, Ada continued. “We’re a camp of legacies, after all. Time is power.”

“Oh?” said Annabel. There was a tone to her voice that was barely distinguishable, mostly disguised in polite interest. She sounded like she knew all this already, but for whatever reason, was humoring Ada. “Do tell more.”

“I, for one, have been here fifteen years now.” Ada was practically glowing, gloating. “Longer than anyone, I think.”

“Hey,” warned Monty. “You and I, we started here in the same year.”

“And then you got kicked out and couldn’t come back until ownership changed,” Ada retorted. “I still have more years than you. Even Morella has more years than you.”

Twelve, by Lenore’s count. She wasn’t sure about Monty, not sure when he came back after getting asked not to return when he was thirteen. 

“For a first year like you, anyone with at least a few years on them is going to be worth getting to know, though of course the more years they’ve spent here the better. The longer you spend at Nevermore, the more you learn the secrets, make the right connections, gain respect. Time is power, and power makes you nobility here. And who wouldn’t want to be nobility?”

Annabel tapped a finger to her chin. “I see. I do believe you would know what makes people important, as you’ve been here so long. If that’s the case… Lenore?”

Lenore felt the heat rise to her face. Oh shit. She knows I’m eavesdropping. It’s their fault for being loud, I suppose, but—

“Would you like to sit with us?” 

Lenore blinked. It wasn’t a condemnation, but an invitation. And Annabel asked it so easily, with a smile on her face. If only Lenore could have told what kind of smile it was—genuine, or the smile of a grandmaster. 

“Not a chance in hell,” said Duke flatly before Lenore could figure out an answer. Perhaps Lenore’s name had triggered him to tune into the conversation; perhaps it had been that Lenore had clearly been surprised. “What makes you think that our Lenore would want to sit with you? ”

From the looks on their faces, Ada, Prospero, Montresor, and Will were wondering the same. Only Morella seemed to be fine with the idea, even excited for it. Annabel, however, looked absolutely unphased by the wave of Looks she was getting. She took another sip of her drink. “Her family used to own Camp Nevermore, didn’t they? She would have been here longer than anyone, and know the camp better. A status like that deserves more than a band of misfits for company. If, of course, she chooses wisely.”

Lenore looked down before she could feel eyes on her. She didn’t know if they were the eyes of her friends, or Annabel’s. Damn her, she thought. It hadn’t been like she was hiding it, but neither had she been entirely open, and for a reason.

“Really, Lenore?” said Berenice. 

“I don’t imagine Annabel would lie,” Prospero said coldly. 

“I certainly would not. Ada told me herself. I thought it was fascinating.”

Then Duke’s voice. Aimed at Lenore. “And you didn’t mention that little fact?”

“She knew it would change things!” said Ada. “You don’t know her like I do. She’s been an absolute terror! She ran off one year, and almost set fire to the dining hall another, and all sorts of horrible things. I bet she only got the job because of her family.”

It’s your legacy that we’re hiring. Not you, necessarily.

“Who cares about all that?” 

Lenore blinked down at the table before looking up. As she did, she heard the scuffle and shuffle of a chair being quickly moved, then a bang on the table as Eulalie threw down her hands. “Who cares?” she repeated emphatically. “It’s not like she’s some kind of spy or something. She isn’t any different than any of us now. And if she was, we’d probably know it. And Poppet and the directors would probably treat her a whole lot better than they do.”

She smiled gratefully at Eulalie before nodding, looking towards all the others… especially Duke. “It’s true. All of it. I didn’t tell you because it’s really not relevant anymore.”

“Not because of your brother?” Ada asked snidely. “Because you didn’t want to talk about—”

“Um, I don’t. I don’t think we should talk about Theo.” Morella’s voice was quiet, but firm. “That’s more than crossing a line. So we’re going to stop.” There was a beat, a pause, and then Ada opened her mouth again. Morella looked at her, as strict and solemn as anyone had ever been. “Now,” she said.

Ada made a sound vaguely like a “harrumph,” but turned her head, nose pointed at the stained glass skylight above them. Even Montresor and Prospero looked away, the former seeming amused and the latter perhaps ever-so-slightly ashamed. Lenore felt a surge of gratitude and pride for Morella, followed by fear that perhaps the younger woman would catch an earful from her new friends. It wouldn’t be unlike Ada to seemingly give up on something, only to change her tune later. 

It was Annabel, strangely enough, that gave her some piece of mind. “I agree with Morella,” she said, taking a delicate sip of her drink before continuing. “I’d much rather discuss other topics. For example, I would like to know if Lenore would like to accept my invitation.”

“Of course she wouldn’t,” Duke said again.

“I think that’s up to her.”

Lenore felt all the eyes on her as much as she saw them. She opened her mouth—she knew exactly what she was supposed to say. But it was hard to push back the strange bit of hesitation, the emotions she couldn’t quite explain. What would happen if she said “sure?” Would her friends be that angry?

At the very least, they’d be annoyed, and they wouldn’t have a ride back to camp. So yes, probably. What was worth going over to Annabel’s table for anyway, besides Annabel herself? There was Morella, and Morella was great, of course. Other than that, it would simply be a hellscape of Prospero treating her as though she was beneath him. Monty hitting on her, god forbid. Ada acting like Lenore was a small, disgusting bug that nobody had bothered to step on yet.

“Thanks,” said Lenore, and on some level she meant it. “But no thanks,” and she meant that even more.

And Annabel sighed deeply, though her smile still remained in place. From the not-very-troubled look on her face, Lenore got the feeling that she had expected that answer. “Very well then, pet. Enjoy your meal.”

“It’s for the better,” said Ada.

“Yeah,” said the generic boy who Lenore kept forgetting about. “We don’t really have any more room at our table anywa—” He was cut off by a nudge from Monty and fell silent again.

And that was it.

It was too easy.

She waited for the ball to drop, but it didn’t. The two tables talked to the others in their group and ignored the people next to them. Lenore thought she was the only one still casting glances in the direction of Annabel and her friends, and once Duke roped her into a conversation about bad anime dubs, even she stopped. 

The waiter arrived with drinks about three minutes into a debate on localization versus pure translation and distributed the beverages before setting a large basket of breadsticks on the table (which Pluto and Duke regarded with confusion and some amount of initial disgust). Lenore was just managing to convince Duke to at least give it a try when the waiter began passing off drinks to the other table, and Annabel spoke up clearly and firmly. “Excuse me.”

Lenore looked up as the waiter did. “Oh! Yes?” said the waiter, a water glass in her hand, her attention turned completely towards the blonde Brit.

“You’ve been wonderful,” said Annabel Lee with a flash of a smile. “Although, I’m so sorry to ask this, but is there a way we could be moved to another table? I know you’re busy, but we’d be happy to move everything ourselves if you could simply point us in the right direction. The atmosphere here simply isn’t working.”

Wait, what?

“Oh. Um, of course! Give me just a moment to see if I can find something…” The waiter scanned the restaurant for an empty table. It was quicker than Lenore would have expected; despite all odds, the restaurant seemed to be emptying out, as several parties were packing up to leave. “Okay,” said the waiter, “I think I have another table. If you’ll give me a moment to clean it off…?”

“Please take your time,” said Annabel sweetly, and the waiter scurried off.

“ Incroyable,” said Duke dryly. “You couldn’t have asked for different seating from the beginning?”

With one eyebrow raised, Prospero said “I see no reason for you to complain. The restaurant was packed to the brim until seconds ago anyway. We were in no place to ask for special treatment.”

Lenore watched dumbfounded as the bickering started again. She half wanted to butt in, to ask is this because of me? Is this because I said no to you, Annabel? Is it supposed to be some kind of punishment or something? If it was, it was hardly effective. Everyone else at the tables seemed to be completely on board for this change. Even Lenore was glad, despite her strangely complex feelings. Anything had to be better than fighting like children from two different tables.

The waiter returned. “If you’ll bring everything with you, I have something at the other end of this section. I hope a large booth is okay?”

“Of course, whatever you have,” Annabel said. She and her friends began to gather everything as the waiter walked slightly ahead, ready to lead them to the new table.

At the very last moment, Annabel turned back to Lenore and her friends. “Lenore, I’ll ask once more. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come and sit with us?” she asked, and the look in her eyes said I want you to say yes. I want you to leave your friends and come join mine. 

And maybe a weaker Lenore would. It was easy to want to give Annabel Lee what she wanted, when her eyes were as eager as they were and she was asking so prettily. It only took one glance towards her own friends and one glance at Annabel’s to know that saying ‘yes’ was going to be the decidedly wrong option, though. She wouldn’t abandon the people she’d made friends with for a pretty girl. Especially not when the pretty girl’s friends mostly wanted to make Lenore the subject of rumors or worse.  “I’m sure,” she said. 

“And thus, were the lines drawn,” said Annabel Lee thoughtfully.

“Huh?”

“Oh, nothing. Well, it can’t be helped. Do enjoy your meal, pet.” 

As Lenore puzzled over Annabel’s words, Annabel smiled that gorgeous, golden smile, then turned and walked towards the waiting server. Her friends followed, though not before casting some disdaining looks on Lenore and her group; Ada, ever refined and mature, even stuck her tongue out.

“I’m glad they’re gone,” Duke said the moment they were out of earshot, leaning back so that the two front legs of his chair hovered over the floor briefly. “ Mon dieu , those people get on my nerves. Did you hear the way she was manipulating the situation?”

“Who?” said Lenore, frowning.

“Annabel Lee, of course. She asked you to sit with her just to bring up whatever happened in your past. I can’t think of that being anything but pure cruelty.”

Lenore shrugged. “It’s not a secret.”

“And yet, you never told us?”

“Duke, it never came up with you, Eulalie and Morella already knew, and I’ve known these two for a grand total of a couple of hours,” she said as she gestured at Pluto and Berenice. 

“For what it’s worth, I already knew too,” Pluto said quietly, raising his hand as though he were in school. 

“Yeah, same,” said Berenice. “People aren’t exactly quiet about it.”

Duke looked something between crestfallen and appalled. “Am I really the only one who didn’t know about—well, whatever happened?”

Staring down at the red checkered tablecloth, Lenore took in the new information. No, not new. Of course people talked. Why wouldn’t they? A bunch of young adults, all trapped in the woods together with no outside connections and only the camp itself to unite them… what would interest them more than the gossip of the past, especially when one of the key players returned like the prodigal son? It wasn’t surprising that the others knew what happened. It was surprising that Duke didn’t. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but Duke laid one of his hands on hers before she could say a word. “You don’t have to talk about it, if Morella was right. I don’t want to cross a line, as she said.”

“It’s fine,” she lied. She swallowed hard and looked up, right into his face. She steadied her gaze as best as she could, tried to show that she wasn’t someone who was made insane by grief, not some weak girl who didn’t belong, who couldn’t confront the past. She tried to be as brave as her brother ever had been. She tried to make it look easy, like he would have. “There was an accident. A weather emergency. My brother and I were out in the woods when the storm started. We couldn’t get back to shelter in time and a tree—”

“Lenore, you don’t have to—” Berenice started.

“I’m fine. I mean, I’m not. My hip and leg…” She gestured, unsure how to even say the words in a way that didn’t sound like self-pity or worse, and electing instead to simply not say anything at all. “And the—”

“I’m so sorry,” said a voice from behind, and it took Lenore’s water glass being filled before Lenore even registered it as the waiter. “I don’t know what that was about,” she continued as she moved on to Duke’s glass, “but from the way the brunette girl talked, I’m getting the feeling the move was just as good for you five as it was for them?”

Duke snorted. “Very much so. No need to apologize here.”

As the waiter moved over to Pluto and began to fill his glass, Lenore could see her grateful smile. “Well, I appreciate your understanding all the same. I’ll finish here and then your pizzas should be ready soon.” 

The five smiled politely and quietly sipped on their refilled waters until she left. Lenore secretly felt grateful for the quiet moment. She could breathe. She could compose herself. She could push all the grief back down where it belonged and figure out what to say. As the reprieve came to an end and she felt everyone’s eyes back on her, she asked the question that had remained in the back of her mind since Annabel and her friends had walked away towards their new table. “Duke, do you really believe that Annabel Lee set the conversation to go like that on purpose?”

“Oh absolutely. I may not know what happened to your brother—”

“He died,” supplied Eulalie helpfully.

Duke sighed and smiled weakly before continuing. ‘—but I know a bitch when I see one.”

Leaning back and kicking her feet up and onto Eulalie’s lap, Berenice nodded. “Puppetmasters like that are nothing but trouble. Believe me, I have my stories from home, not to mention other summers here. At least those sorts of girls don’t tend to last the season.”

“I thought that too,” said Lenore. “But I don’t know anymore. Maybe she’s different.”

“She is different,” said Pluto, and Lenore was glad for the backup until he added, “She’s worse.”

“Oof. Coming from the sole survivor of the bloodbath last year?” Berenice sucked in a breath and made a face.

“The what?” Lenore asked.

“Oh, Pluto here’s the only second year staff member left. Every single other first year from last year either quit or didn’t return for this season. They all gave different reasons, but we all know it’s because of Ada and some of her other friends. And now there’s this pill.” Berenice picked up her fork and jammed it in Duke’s direction. “Don’t you even think of bailing on us, newbie, we’re already running out of new fuel.”

Duke’s face grew confused. “Fuel?”

“New fuel’s sometimes slang for newer staff. First or second year, maybe third,” Lenore explained. “Remember how we talked about the metaphor during fire building lessons?”

“My apologies if you thought I was paying attention, I was too busy being dead on my feet.”

Lenore laughed, and the others joined in. As the conversation began meandering in the direction of training, their much needed relaxation, and the adventures to come, she was glad to find the topic of Annabel Lee being lost. She didn’t know quite why, but insulting Annabel felt wrong… an opinion her friends did not seem to share. 

She had almost forgotten that the other staff group was at Alessandra’s too by the time she and her friends had finished eating. While the last few bites were being taken, Lenore slipped off to the restroom to freshen up before heading back to camp. As she found a place at the sink, she looked into the mirror and smiled. Despite the weird, awful directors and the way that some of the other staff members treated her, she felt good. She was back at the closest thing she had to a home, and for all its changes, it was still the same old place. She had ten more weeks in the woods, away from real life troubles and family pressure. And she had friends. More than just Duke and Eulalie… it was strange how quickly she felt comfortable with Berenice and Pluto, but their presence just felt right. We’ll have to show them the hideout, she decided, hoping that Duke would agree.

Behind her, the bathroom door opened. She instinctively changed her gaze in the mirror to see who was coming in, and met Morella’s eyes in the glass. The younger woman almost squeaked, then curled her arms around her chest. “Lenore! I’m so sorry, I’ll-”

“It’s a public restroom,” said Lenore, turning to face her friend. They were still friends, right? “Don’t be so tense, it’s fine.”

“Okay!” Morella said and slipped into a stall without another word.

Lenore looked back into the mirror. She could leave as well—maybe it’d be for the better. Yet, it somehow felt like giving up a friendship. Morella wasn’t like the others in Annabel’s group, and she knew it. She had a feeling Duke and Eulalie knew it too, or at least would agree if confronted with the question. Duke would probably insist that Morella renounce them and bail, though. Maybe Lenore could demand that of her too—force Morella to pick a side—but it felt cruel. She thought back to all the times she’d seen little Morella when they were kids, always so eager to please but genuinely kind and caring. All she ever wanted was friends. Punishing her for something so simple and sweet made Lenore’s gut twist in preemptive guilt.

Before she could decide how to approach the situation, she heard the toilet flush. Morella walked out and over to the other sink, right next to Lenore. Both women turned on the water at the same time—Lenore more doing it out of habit than anything—and began to scrub their hands. Silently. Not awkwardly, not yet, but the promise of awkward hovered around the room like a bunch of balloons.

Lenore finished washing first, but lingered for a moment, trying to figure out how to say what she wanted. “Morella,” she started before she even quite knew, prompting the redheaded girl to look up from her own sink. “I know tonight hasn’t exactly been… kind… but I do want to say that I hope you know none of it was ever directed at you. Everyone at my table thinks you’re wonderful, and… it looks like Annabel and the others with you think so too. I’m glad you were able to make some friends.”

Morella smiled. It wasn’t entirely confident, Lenore noted. “Thank you. Do you really mean that?”

“Yeah. I just hope it doesn’t mean that you’re only going to spend time with them. What are you doing tomorrow?”

It was cute, the way that Morella seemed to perk up just a bit, her smile brightening. “Um, nothing that I know of.”

“Do you want to come along with us? We’re going shopping, getting some food, maybe some other things. I’m sure that everyone would want you to come, and we haven’t really gotten a chance to spend time together in years now…”

It was as though a switch had been flipped. She was shining, her smile big and her eyes full of sparkles. “Can I?”

“Yeah. I mean, I owe you for stopping Ada from talking about Theo. Not that you wouldn’t be welcome even if you hadn’t, but that really cinched it. Thanks, by the way.”

“It was nothing! I mean, it was only the right thing to do. I mean, of course. Thank you. I mean, you’re welcome.”

Lenore grinned. “So, meet us in the pavilion near the parking lot around ten AM?”

“Yes! Absolutely! Is there anything that I need to bring? Or do?”

“Just yourself and your wallet.”

“Got it.” Morella was still beaming even as she turned to leave. “See you tomorrow!”

“Sure,” said Lenore. Any unease she’d felt before had slipped away—Morella’s attitude was more than contagious.

As Morella walked—no, nearly skipped away, Lenore watched her. She watched until Morella was gone, the restroom door swung closed behind her. Then, she looked in the mirror once more as though it would give her answers. Did she do the right thing? Would Duke and the others be okay with Morella tagging along? They’d have to be, Lenore decided. She wasn’t going to walk that invitation back. Besides, Lenore was the one with the car, so it went hand in hand that she got the final say on who got to come on their off-camp adventures.

And anyway, they’d chosen to keep Lenore around even after they heard all the things she’d been omitting. New friends they might have been, but that didn’t make them any less true. Confidently, she straightened up. Yes, they’d accept it. Because they trusted her. They liked her.

It was going to be a great season.

At the end of the night, back at camp, they said their goodnights in the parking lot before splitting up to go to their separate units. Berenice and Eulalie shared a tent in a completely different part of the camp than Lenore, so she ended up walking the last stretch of trail alone. She was just about to turn the corner when she heard Ada’s giggles ahead. How did they even get back faster than me? Lenore wondered before remembering there were two different routes to this group of tents, and Ada and her friends all walked without assistance. They had probably only just arrived. Lenore leaned against a tree, letting herself fall into the nighttime shadows and hoping that she could wait there unseen until she could make a quick escape to her tent.

“It’s basically a tradition,” Ada was saying. As usual, her voice had the slightest edge of a whine to it. “There’s no campers, and it’s a night off. Nobody’s going to be paying attention, so why not?”

It was, of course, Annabel who responded. Her voice was somewhat cold; she spoke with a confident finality. “You’re free to do whatever you would like, but I just find it unseemly. Why would we chase after the boys? So they could call us desperate, or worse? Let them do the leg work.”

“Like playing hard to get? Oh, you’re so smart , I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. I’m certain my Prospero won’t be able to go more than a day without seeing me— he’ll feel like he has to come serenade me outside the tent…”

“If he shows interest in that, please ask him to do it at a decent hour,” Annabel said. “I despise waking up in the middle of the night if I don’t have to.”

Lenore craned her neck across the tree and turned, hoping she could see without being seen. She was met with a view that was only obscured by a few stray leaves and the branch they hung from. Ada was squeeing, clutching Annabel in a tight hug. “Of course!” she said. “Oh, if only I could tell him this—but that would just defeat the purpose. Maybe you can put the idea in his head?”

Annabel’s smile was hard to decipher. In some ways, it was the same smile that she flashed Lenore. Soft, elegant, polite. But there was something more there… no, something was missing. Even from her spot in the shadows, Lenore could see that her eyes didn’t go alight with some cold fire, didn’t flit over Ada like they were playing with her. Her body language wasn’t quite stiff, but was still somehow flinching away. It wouldn’t have been noticeable in normal circumstances. Maybe it was simply that Annabel was being looser while Ada’s eyes were buried in Annabel’s jacket, unable to see what was right before her.  “Well, love,” Annabel said, stepping back slightly. Ada took the hint and released her. “That would just be seen as chasing, wouldn’t it? I’m sure he’ll come to the idea all on his own.”

“Ooh, right! I just have to trust him, then. One of the trials of true love.” Ada sighed, dusting herself off before nearly swooning right into a tree. “Love, love, love, love, love…”

Standing back up and taking Annabel’s hand, Ada looked like she wanted to tug Annabel off to their tent, but Annabel slipped out of the grip with ease. “Go on ahead,” she said. “I’d like to enjoy the night some more on my own.”

“Are you sure? Okay. I’ll see you back at the tent. Don’t be too long, now!” And with a waggle of her fingers, Ada was off and back towards her tent.

Lenore thought about trying to sneak by as soon as Ada was out of sight. It would have been easy enough, once upon a time, back when she was faster and sneakier. There was once a time where she probably could have climbed one of the many trees around the campsite without anyone even realizing. Those days were gone though, and it wouldn’t be so easy. Even with Annabel looking somewhat distracted as she wrapped her own arms around her chest and gazed into the sea of stars above them. She seemed to be speaking up to those stars—her lips were moving, but she spoke too quietly for Lenore to hear.

So Lenore came closer. Obscured by shadows, she moved in the trees until she was at the very edge of the clearing made for the tents. Until she could almost hear Annabel breathing.

“Hi,” she said, her mouth moving before her brain could stop it.

And Annabel screamed.

Lenore couldn’t help it. She burst into laughter, almost falling before she clutched onto the bark of the nearest tree. It was a solid thirty seconds or longer before she was even able to look back at Annabel.

The blonde woman’s eyes were wide with surprise still, and she had a hand pressed to her heart. “You scared me,” she accused.

“Really?” said Lenore. “Hadn’t noticed. I’m almost surprised, though. You seem to be the kind of person who’s unshakable.”

“For most people, perhaps.”

“But not me?”

“Well,” said Annabel with a shaky little smile. She cleared her throat, steadying herself visibly even as she continued the conversation. “Most people aren’t trying to frighten me half to death.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” said Annabel. “I suppose… you don’t seem like most people, even at the most normal of times. You feel…”

“More real?”

Her eyes went big for a second, then narrowed slightly. “How did you know what I was going to say?”

Lenore shrugged and sat down on the ground. “Everything’s more real here. You get used to it. My father used to say that a day at camp is worth a week in the real world. Things move fast. So do friendships. You don’t have time to be fake, or put together.”

“A day is worth a week? So you’ve been avoiding me for months now, pet,” said Annabel with a mischievous smile. “I wasn’t being facetious; I do want to be your friend.”

“Because my father was the owner of the camp? That doesn’t give me any power anymore, you know. It didn’t really give me much power to begin with.”

“I won’t deny it; that was part of it,” said Annabel. She was smiling, but there was something serious within her as well. “There’s still… hmm, how do I put it? There’s still some currency in your former status, and I’d be a fool not to try and utilize it. But there is more than that, I suppose. You have power in your own right, too. Do you see how the others follow you? Even our dear Morella was excited to spend time with you and your friends tomorrow. She came back to the table absolutely buzzing.”

That didn’t feel like power to Lenore, at least not necessarily. That was just what friendship was, after all. She frowned, wondering for a second what exactly Annabel thought of the people who hung around her. 

“I suppose that ship has sailed, however,” mused Annabel as she continued. “Your friends have made their opinions on me quite clear.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“I can guess. I like to think that I’m particularly good at figuring people out,” she said with a conspiratorial wink.

“Then tell me your take on me.”

For the first time, Annabel frowned. Her smile faded; she drew back slightly, leaning away as though a change of angle would help her see Lenore for who she was. When she spoke, it was slow at first. Thoughtful. Methodical. Like she was taking apart a clock with every intention of putting it back together. “Like I implied, you’re different from most people. It’s harder to get a read on you—not that I’m complaining,” she hastened to add. “All I have is conjecture, but—”

“That’s what I’m asking for. The conjecture. You barely know me, so I knew from the first that was all it would be.” Lenore was almost surprised by herself. By how much she wanted to know what Annabel Lee thought of her. Knowing suddenly felt very important. Of course it does, she said to herself. She’s been weird around you for over a week now. Hearing what she thinks she knows might tell you why. 

Something glimmered in Annabel’s eyes, something almost competitive, almost hungry. “I see,” she said, putting a finger to her chin. “Then I’ll chance to say that you’re someone who is emotional, but doesn’t let emotion rule them. You’re quite smart, but not one to let people know it. You stand up for your friends easily, but yourself not quite as easily. You’re a leader. Terribly charismatic, as I said before. And I believe you’re somewhat like me in that you enjoy a good game.”

Why did she feel… well, what was it that she was feeling? Embarrassment? Not quite. Annoyance? No more than a touch, and purely at herself. Annabel had said only seconds ago that she was good at figuring people out, and Lenore had challenged that. Why was she feeling so weird about Annabel getting so much of it right? Lenore leaned grumpily against a tree. “I’m not sure about the last one,” she said, and ignored all of the things that Annabel got spot on.

“Come now, I have eyes,” Annabel giggled. “You used to be an athlete before whatever happened, didn’t you?”

“Not really. Just stuff here at camp, during the summers and the special camp weekends and winter camp and all of that. You know, rock climbing, gaga ball, hiking… not any real sports.”

“It truly is remarkable how blind to your own charm you are,” said Annabel, shaking her head.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m enjoying myself too much to clarify,” she said. It almost felt teasing, and Lenore wasn’t sure how she felt about that. They weren’t on good enough terms for that sort of good natured ribbing. Were they? She wanted to protest and opened her mouth to do just that, but found herself quieted by Annabel’s finger, pressed gently against her lip in a universal ‘quiet’ signal. “Now, pet, don’t you think we’d best be getting to our tents before anyone sees us?”

“Huh?” said Lenore rather stupidly, then the irritation replaced it. “Wait, are you ashamed to be talking to me?”

“Oh, the opposite,” Annabel assured. She winked before adding “I’m mostly worried about what your friends would think if they saw you willingly talking to me. Especially after such a rejection earlier.”

“Look, I—”

“You don’t need to explain it. As I said—I read people well. I can hardly criticize, can I?” Lenore was growing more confused with every sentence that came out of Annabel’s mouth. “Perhaps we’ll find time for another rendezvous later, something a little bit more private.”

Huh? What? Lenore felt her cheeks grow hot. What is she—

“But for now, I’ll simply say my goodnights,” said Annabel with a little smile. Her hand brushed Lenore’s as she walked past, towards her tent. Lenore watched Annabel go, saw her little wave as she added “Until our next stolen moment.”

As Annabel lifted the flap of her tent and disappeared within it, Lenore stared, almost blankly. Her mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle Annabel Lee was. And like a puzzle, a few things clicked together. Annabel wasn’t lying; she certainly did like Lenore. She certainly did want to be friends, in whatever weird way she might be showing it.

The question, then, was if Lenore felt the same.

She wasn’t sure. Not yet. Not with the voices of the other “misfits” haunting her somewhere in her conscience. Not with the feeling of Annabel’s hand on hers still lingering.

Looking up at the stars, Lenore realized this wouldn’t be untangled in one night. With a deep breath of the crisp night air, she started towards her own tent on the opposite side of the unit.

Chapter Text

“Cabin Seven, line up!” called Lenore, popping her gum as she twirled her cane in one hand like a color guard baton.

It was the perfect first day of camp. The ground was dry for a change, and sunbeams shone through the gaps in the leaves of the trees surrounding the camp. Normally, she wouldn’t have even bothered with her cane but she’d learned the hard way that mobility devices always had to be a first day sort of thing. If you had one on the first day, nobody ever asked about it. If you didn’t and then came with one later, well, that was when the questions started, and didn’t stop. Even so, she couldn’t stop herself from enjoying the day without having to rely on its use. She fiddled with it and fidgeted as she waited for her campers to follow directions, noting that even without it serving its intended purpose, it just felt right in her hand.

The children around her, mere wisps of people, chattered excitedly to themselves as they lined up. Lenore watched them with a small smile on her face. They were just like she’d been once. The main difference was that the oversized sweatshirts they wore had the Camp Nevermore logo—a small, winged heart—instead of the dignified silhouette of a bird that Camp Ravenshead has boasted. Two weeks ago, the sight would have annoyed Lenore. Maybe even turned her stomach a little. But now, it seemed almost pathetic. The rebranding was a cheap joke. So they’d changed the name, the logo, some of the staff, a lot of the songs. At the end of the day, Lenore was still at her favorite place in the world, getting paid to raise chaos with a group of small children.

Just maybe not these small children.

Cabin Seven was twelve girls between the ages of eight and eleven, and they might as well have been selected especially to give Lenore Vandernacht a taste of her own medicine—or, well, the metaphorical medicine she had been dealing out at that age. In the two and a half hours since they’d started arriving she’d already had to field about ten dozen questions, break up an argument about K-Pop groups, confiscate three “hidden” cell phones, and talk a girl down from the ceiling beams where she’d managed to climb despite being afraid of heights. 

The worst part was that she’d had to do it alone. Back in her day, every cabin had at least two staff members attached to it. This was still technically the case, but the change of job titles and responsibilities meant only one of those had to be a counselor. The good news was that this meant she was assigned to the same cabin as Morella, something that Lenore was more than pleased with. The bad news was that Morella couldn’t help during the day, spending most of her time at the waterfront, busy with swim tests, lessons, and saving lives. She would only return soon after dinner each night, provided there wasn’t a special event like an evening swim that she needed to be present for.

She was also supposed to be able to rely on her sister cabin for help. Cabin Eight was located about a meter away from Cabin Seven. It was even more useless though, considering Ada was its head counselor for this two-week camp session. Lenore already had a sinking feeling that she was going to end up in charge of the cabin group’s weekly paperwork, and not by choice. She sighed. Hopefully Ada was having as much trouble with her girls as Lenore was having with hers.

She looked at the stragglers who were still not in line and tried again, trying to channel all the counselors she’d once had. “If you’re not in line for dinner, you don’t go to dinner. And if you die of starvation, I’m not going to be the one trying to keep the coyotes away from your corpse.”

Lenore worried that maybe that had been too much. Some of the girls who were already in front of her went a little pale. But it worked. The last few quickly lined up, some nicely at the back, some budging their way to the front.

When something less reminiscent of a blob and more passable for a line had been made, Lenore looked the girls up and down. They were so small. Not all had hit any kind of growth spurt, and it was obvious they were closer to being kids than teenagers. That hadn’t necessarily been the age group she’d wanted, but at least she wasn’t with the bed-wetting littles. That was victory enough. “Okay!” she said, projecting her voice loud and clear. “We’re running short on time for dinner. We need to hike down with purpose, join the group for the flag ceremony. And then you’re all going to eat. Virginia, I don’t know who told you about dieting, but there’s no dieting at camp,” she said, looking to an eleven year old who was clearly one of the more popular girls at her middle school, something she had yet to learn had no status here. “You need your carbs. Same for everyone. Carbs. Protein. Veg at least once a week so we all avoid scurvy.”

“What’s scurvy?” asked one of the campers.

“Uh—”

“Why do we have to eat vegetables to avoid it?” asked another.

“Do we have to go to the flag ceremony? It’s boring.”

“Can you help me tie my shoes?”

“Why are you wearing a shirt from a different camp?”

“Are there any diets that have carbs in them?”

“Can’t we have a cookout instead of going to dinner at the dining hall? Their food is gross.”

“ No ,” said Lenore. “Any more questions? No?” she said before they could answer. “Good. Let’s get walking.”

“What’s that?” said one of the wisps anyway, pointing to the cane.

If it had been an adult asking, Lenore would have probably avoided the question, or glared, or asked “what do you think it is?” But it was a child, so she simply said, “This is my ankle-whacking stick for when kids don’t start moving fast enough.”

The girl’s eyes went wide. For a moment, Lenore thought that she was going to cry. She cursed silently—would this be enough to get her in trouble? Fired? But instead, the little girl just said, “Cool! Can I have one, too?”

“If you can find a decently sized stick, sure, why not?”

She didn’t realize her mistake until the line began to dissolve, the girls’ eyes all big and excited as they sped for the woods. “Whoa!” she called out, and to their credit, most of them stopped. “You can find a stick later. You’ve got at least a couple weeks for it, and some of you have all summer. We’ve got to get to the dining hall now. If we miss the evening flag ceremony, it’s my butt on the block.”

“Why would they put your butt on a block?” asked another wisp, and a few more snickered like the little kids they were at the idea.

“It means that I’ll get in trouble. And anyone who’s been here before knows that when the counselor gets in trouble, the kids don’t have a great time either. So look. Like it or not, we’re in this together. And the deal I’m offering you is that if we can get to the front lawn on time, you can all pick out ankle-whacking sticks between activities tomorrow.”

It was like a switch had been flipped. The line formed quickly, each of the twelve campers in Lenore’s group looking almost angelic as they began the hike down the lakeside trail and towards the front lawn, crossing it just in time to join the flag ceremony. Lenore breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the two directors leading the proceedings. They both looked at her—almost into her—but she only grinned. What fault could they find? She and all of her campers were on time and well behaved. It wasn’t like they knew that it took a little bribe.

As the flag was taken down and the color guard retreated, the campers headed to the main entrance to be seated for dinner while the staff used the much quicker side entrance so they could be ready for the campers. Lenore was pleased to see that Duke had an empty staff seat at his table; she slipped into it, noting only after she did that he was at the head of the table and she was at the foot. “How the tables have turned,” she said with a grin. “Looks like you’re the one serving us tonight. Think you can handle the responsibility?”

He grabbed a serving spoon from the table and flipped it up. It spun in midair as he caught it with one hand, the other behind his back. “I was born ready, mon amie. ”

“Good. Here they come.”

Lenore raised both hands in the air, all fingers up except for her thumbs. Eight fingers, eight seats remaining. Before long, kids began filling in the table. A couple she recognized as her own girls, and a few seemed to be Duke’s kids, but the remaining few were just random kids who probably found their favorite counselor’s table full. As a wisp slid into the single remaining space next to Duke, Lenore put her last finger down. The dining hall was beginning to quiet in anticipation of the pre-meal announcements, which began with the ring of the six o’clock dinner bell. 

With some irritation, Lenore noted that the directors hadn’t made it to dinner, and it was Ms. Poppet who stood at the front of the hall, ready to lead the pre-meal routine. How did they expect to have the respect of any of the staff or campers if they couldn’t even be bothered to show up, she wondered as they stood and sang through the Lollipop Grace. As one of the kids went to get the food, Lenore, Duke, and the other wisps sat down. After a moment, the food was delivered, ready to be served.

Duke did in fact run the meal like he had been at camp all his life and then some. He piled the plates high with overcooked goulash and slightly-charred garlic bread, doing all kinds of tricks as he did. He was about to make one of the wisp’s garlic bread disappear entirely when Lenore gave him her singular scold of the evening—“Don’t touch the kids’ food with your bare hands. It’s gross.”

“Next time, ma petite ,” Duke said to the camper with a wink.

For a moment after everyone received their food, the table was silent except for the sounds of chewing, the pushing of benches, the clattering of silverware. Once the immediate need for food had been fed, the conversation began. “So Duke,” asked Lenore between bites. “How’s the first day treating you? Is it better than precamp?”

“Much. My small friends are a little… how do you say… rambunctious? But then again, so am I. I believe we are all going to get along fine. And your girls?”

“Much the same,” Lenore said, reaching over to one of her wisps and ruffling her hair enough that the girl in question exclaimed in wordless protest. “I got a good group. Once you get past the thousand different questions.”

“Do you not like our questions?” asked the girl she was ruffling.

“Do you not like us?” asked the girl next to her.

“Why don’t you like questions?” asked one of Duke’s boys from across the table. “Don’t you want us to learn anything?”

Lenore looked at Duke, and sighed, and shrugged. But she smiled anyway as the two both opened their mouths to counter the kids’ fears.

Monday morning passed in a whirl, almost a blur. The wisps of Cabin Seven went for a hike, learned to make campfires, and boated across the lake in little canoes. After that, another counselor stepped in, combining her cabin with Lenore’s so that Lenore could take her daily two-hour break. She was a little bit annoyed that it was so early in the day. That was always less than ideal, but at least it gave her a chance to stop by the dining hall and fill her water bottle with Mountain Dew before she headed to the hideout.

Rain on Saturday night had forced them to return to camp early, and it might have been a blessing in disguise. Duke, Lenore, and Eulalie had happily led the way to the hideout, allowing the others in once they’d all sworn absolute secrecy. Lenore was glad that Morella had seemed to take her vow extremely seriously, despite the ridiculousness of it all, and vouched for the others that Morella could keep a secret. They’d crammed in and inaugurated the new friendship and the hideout with a two-liter of Diet Coke that Eulalie had found buried in the back of the art refrigerator. Nobody asked how long it had been there, which was good because nobody particularly wanted to know.

That was the reason Lenore found Pluto in the hideout over that first break of the official summer season. She almost didn’t see him at first—he blended into the dark room in his black hoodie, and to make matters worse, he’d shoved himself into a corner. If Lenore listened closely, she could hear faint music from his earbuds and determined he probably wouldn’t hear her if she tried to say anything. Instead, she only waved, pulled up a chair, and began to scroll through her phone. 

About a half hour into her break, Duke walked in, also apparently a victim of an early break. “Was I like that as a little boy?” he complained loudly.

“First of all, neither of us would know, we’ve only met you in the last few weeks. Second, what exactly do you mean?” Lenore asked, not looking up.

“Pranksters. Terrible pranksters, all of them. We’ve been with them for less than a day and I’m already going crazy. I reached into my backpack to get my water bottle this morning, and do you know what I pulled out?”

“Your raincoat?” said Pluto, who apparently could hear despite his mind-shatteringly loud music.

“A frog?” asked Lenore.

“Cooked spaghetti! Where did they even get that?” Duke fumed. Then, he paused, his face contorting. “A frog? In my backpack? Is that even an option?”

“It’s more likely than you think,” said Lenore. 

Duke laid his head down on the counter. “I am going to scream,” he said. 

“Well, if you have to do it, do it in the giant freezer.”

“The what?”

“The giant freezer in the kitchen is completely soundproof. Great place for screaming. Just make sure you tell someone on the kitchen staff that you’re going to do it, and let them know again when you come back out. The doors sometimes won’t open the way they’re supposed to and you’ll get locked in, so if they know you go in but don’t know you came back out, they go and check to make sure you aren’t stuck.”

“Duly noted. Hopefully I’ll never need that.”

“You will. But don’t worry. Everyone does.” She grinned, trying to lighten Duke up a little. “Look, here’s what I’ve learned from being a camper and from a day with the girls. You have to achieve their level of chaos. It’s the only way they’ll respect you—they have to see you as a friend and a leader worth following. Because god knows, we’re not going to be able to earn respect through meritorious behavior or anything.”

Raising his head and finding a seat like a normal person, Duke thought. “Are you saying I should put spaghetti into their backpacks? I must admit, the idea sounds tempting.”

“No revenge. That’ll just lock you in a prank war against your own campers, and you’ll lose. Help them prank another cabin instead. It directs their adolescent rage to a different target.”

“So you’re saying that I should help them put spaghetti into Montresor’s backpack.”

“Precisely.”

“ Fantastique . You have my gratitude for your wonderful advice, Lenore,” said Duke with a grin and a bow.

All too late, Lenore realized what she had just condoned… and remembered, suddenly, why Monty had been kicked out of camp years ago. It was probably fine, though. He must have learned his lesson about prank wars from that, if he was now a staff member.

Monty? she scoffed at herself. You think Monty learned a lesson?

Well, better not to worry Duke. She kept her mouth shut.

“Walk with a purpose!” Lenore yelled on Tuesday morning. The same thing she’d been told countless times before by the counselors that came before her. Then, a little wickedly, she added, “If you’re walking slower than the girl with a cane, you’re doing something wrong!” That got a little bit of a reaction; most of the girls began to shuffle down the trail at a more acceptable speed. “And if you speed up, you’ll get out of the rain quicker too!” she tacked on, and that got the few remaining stragglers.

It wasn’t really raining. It was more of a mist, but it was enough that everyone had their raincoats and boots on, and enough that there was a dull pain spreading through Lenore’s hip and leg. She leaned on her cane a little more than usual, trying not to show reliance on it as she dutifully trudged down the trail.

Finally, they reached the clearing that Lenore had been guiding them to. The trail opened up into it, a huge expanse of space surrounded by the tallest trees. Some were the Eastern Hemlock trees the camp was famous for, and others were… other kinds of trees. Lenore was the first to admit she’d never been much for paying attention during science and nature sessions as a kid. 

“Okay, kiddos, go pick out a big ankle whacking stick,” she said with a well-intentioned roll of her eyes. After they hadn’t had time for stick choosing on Monday, the girls had given her no end of hell. As much as Lenore had then had time to ponder and wonder about the wisdom of encouraging young children to pick up large items that could be used for bludgeoning, the threat of the kids not getting what they were promised was too much. She’d rescheduled their swim time so the girls could find the perfect stick first thing in the morning, and she was prepared for the consequences.

What she wasn’t prepared for was Cabin Eight, walking primly into the clearing only a few minutes later. 

“Do you often lead your girls into the muddy, disgusting woods?” Ada asked with a huff as she stormed up to Lenore as though Lenore had done something terribly rude.

“Yes,” said Lenore. “It’s summer camp.” She adjusted her cane slightly, leaning on it in a way that looked casual and cool, hoping Ada would take the hint: You have no power over me.

“But now you’ve made me hike all the way out here, and in the rain, ” Ada complained. She shivered, not at all genuinely. “I need to talk to you.”

“Then talk.”

Ada turned to Cabin Eight. “Go play with Cabin Seven,” she said. “The grownups are going to have a conversation.” And as they scurried off, Ada turned back to Lenore, facing away from the campers.

Lenore frowned. “Shouldn’t we be keeping an eye on the wisps?”

“They’ll be fine for a moment,” Ada said, irritation apparent. “Look, I’ve been thinking about things.”

“Impressive,” said Lenore. She angled her body so that she could see both Ada, standing a hand on one hip and a haughty expression, and the two dozen pre-adolescent girls mingling in the background. 

“We’re supposed to be sister cabins. But truly you don’t act like it, what with running off into the woods or what have you. Really, what has Cabin Seven ever done for us?” The irritation vanished, replaced with false and over-dramatic shock.

“Your Sunday night paperwork, for one. And your Monday night paperwork.”

Ada laughed lightly. “Oh, those are just little trifles, you don’t get in trouble if you don’t turn them in, really. Anyway, what about something for the girls? You’re like their god-counselor or something! And do you even know the name of any of the Cabin Eight girls?”

Lenore watched one of her wisps pick up a large stick. “No,” she said, omitting the little fact that she didn’t know the names of many of the Cabin Seven girls either.

With a tutting sound, Ada sighed. “What a pity! Well, lucky that I’m here to carry you, I suppose. I’ve had the greatest idea. A throwback to the old days, not that you remember them.”

I bet I remember them a lot more clearly than you. I wonder how you explain away the Horse Barn Incident of 2010? thought Lenore as she watched more of her girls pick up large sticks, then show them to Ada’s campers. 

Ada was still not paying attention to any of it, instead smugly gloating. “We need to do a group activity.”

“A group activity?” Lenore repeated, just as one of her campers took her large stick and lightly hit one of Ada’s campers on the side with it. Lenore wondered if she should say something to Ada about it, but the victim of the “attack” grinned nastily, and Lenore decided to stay silent. 

“Yes! A party, or a game, or some kind of event. It’s all but expected, isn’t it? When have you ever seen sister cabins do nothing at all together?” Ada asked, still oblivious to what was going on behind her.

“Sure, I guess that makes sense,” said Lenore.

“So you’ll let me take care of all the arrangements, won’t you? We’ll do something this Friday, then. Perhaps extra swim time, a beach party? If we both have lifeguards as the other half of our cabin staff, it should be easy to coordinate.”

“That sounds fine.” Her eyes scanned over her campers, who were now hitting the ankles of Ada’s campers with their sticks. Ada’s girls were either crying or laughing about it. Lenore wasn’t sure which from this distance, but didn’t think she could escape Ada and go find out without risking retaliation later. “I’ll leave it to you, then.”

“Of course. I’ll make sure everything is perfect, as it should be. And if I need anything from you, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“Hmmph!” said Ada, if it could be considered something that one said . She finally turned around, just in time to see one of her wisps get a stick jammed at their leg. “Hey!” she shrieked. “Lenore! Stop them! They’re acting like… like barbarians! Can’t you control them?”

She almost wanted to say no. Just to see how Ada would react. But the threat of not working at camp loomed heavy in her mind, so instead she simply whistled. “Cabin Seven, gather up at the big tree over there!” she shouted, pointing to the tree in question, which was the farthest one from Ada. “See you later, Ada,” she said as she began walking towards her campers. Ada didn’t say anything, or at least not anything that was part of a known language, simply making a frustrated sound before rushing towards her own campers to tend to their “wounds.”

As Cabin Seven gathered up, Lenore addressed their violence in the best way she could think of. “Protip,” she said, hands on her hips. “If you’re going to do anything to Cabin Seven, make sure you do it when Ada’s not paying attention.”

“But she wasn’t paying attention,” said a particularly backtalk-y wisp.

“Then carry on.” Lenore grinned. “Just don’t let Ada know I said that, then.”

Wednesday was another unusually sunny day at the rainy camp. Though the ground was wet from rainfall over the course of the night, none of the camp groups seemed deterred from spending as much time as they could on the giant clearing of the front lawn, basking in the warmth rather than contending with the remaining water droplets falling from tree leaves in the wooded areas of the camp. Lenore was glad that she had predicted just this. As soon as breakfast had ended, she’d ushered her camp out towards the front porch of the dining hall, where they could enjoy the nice day and still have mostly dry-steps to sit on instead of damp grass. Like all the counselors around her, Lenore ran the gamut of every activity that she could think of that could be done on the grass in the space they’d claimed. The campers had struggled through lateral thinking puzzles, raced through group games, and quietly worked on their friendship bracelets and letters home before declaring their boredom for the hundredth time.

So Lenore pulled out her secret talent, the thing she’d spent years of musical training perfecting. She sang and danced to some extremely silly camp songs.

At first she tried to get her wisps to join in. Repeat songs, call and responses, rounds… camp songs were made for participation, but the tired, bored girls seemed like they preferred to watch their counselor make a fool out of herself rather than do it themselves. So Lenore tried every soloable silly song she knew, starting with all of the gory favorites that they were still allowed to sing at Camp Nevermore, and going down her mental list without a break of any sort. Peanut Butter and Jelly, Little Canoe, Elephant in the Attic, Rocks, Bug Juice, all the way down to Your Mama Don’t Wear No Socks.

“Your mama don’t wear no socks, a-ding-dong! I saw her when she took ‘em off, a-ding-dong! She threw them in the sky, a-ding-dong! And now Superman refuses to fly! ” She grinned, striking her funniest “dead Superman” pose that she could think of, and looked around to see what the campers’ reactions were.

Instead, she caught Annabel Lee staring. Smiling. Laughing .

At Lenore. Who had one foot in the air, an uneven summer camp tan, and her tongue lolling out of her mouth like some sort of strange animal. Lenore could feel her cheeks heat up. So what? At least I’m participating. What do you do at the waterfront, stand around and look pretty? I mean, best case scenario, that’s more or less all lifeguards should have to do.

Even so, she was glad the song was pretty much over. She put her tongue back in her mouth as she stood normally, blushing slightly. “Alright, Cabin Seven, let’s do something else. Why don’t we go on a hike?”

The wisps groaned collectively. “But what if we want you to sing?” challenged one.

“Yeah! Lenore, you’re funny when you sing!”

Exactly why we’re stopping. “We’re done with singing. Come on. What if I let all of you pick? What would you like to do?”

Twelve sets of eyes darted around the front lawn, looking at the other groups doing activities. Monty seemed to be in the process of equipping his campers with water balloons, and Lenore wondered if there were still some Super Soakers buried somewhere in the req shed, in case her girls had to retaliate. A few cabins had banded together and started a massive game of kickball, which was currently leading to their third ball of the day being kicked into a large patch of poison ivy. Across the lawn, Duke was holding some kind of cabin meeting and gesturing emphatically to a whoopee cushion, and not too far from that, Ada’s cabin had begun a hair braiding chain, which Ada had for some reason placed herself at the front of. All reasonable things to do, and then—

“I wanna learn how to use a knife!” said one of the wisps, pointing to a group of older boys, supervised by the generic boy who was always hanging out with Annabel’s group. Lenore tried hard to remember his name… Will? No? Maybe? Yes, yes, but more importantly—

“No,” said Lenore flatly. “No knives.”

“But you said we could choose what we wanted to do,” said another one.

“You’re too young for knives.”

“Are not.”

She put her hands on her hips and stared at her group of twelve girls. “You’re really telling me that you think that you can listen to instructions about knife safety and not stab or cut anyone—including yourselves—when just yesterday you were running around and chasing Cabin Eight with sticks?”

If there was one thing Lenore didn’t expect to see, it was one of the wisps imitating her exactly. With her smaller hands on her smaller hips, the bravest of the kids looked right up at Lenore. “That was your fault, y’know. Cause you told us the sticks were for ankle whacking. You’re not gonna tell us the knives are for stabbing, right?”

Now all the little girls looked expectantly at Lenore, who sighed deeply. “Okay,” she said. “That’s fair.” She closed her eyes for a second and thought back to the first time she’d used knives at camp. She probably had been nine or ten when she first learned to whittle. “Alright,” she said. “Fine. But if any of you, and I do mean any of you, does anything unsafe, I’m going to take the knives away until you’re twenty-one.”

“Why twenty-one?” one of the kids asked.

“Because I’m twenty and I still don’t always know if I should be allowed to handle knives. Okay, line up and march to the req shed so we can get some pocket knives.”

She’d almost forgotten the reason for the activity change until she heard an older, melodic voice chime in… one that definitely didn’t belong to any of her wisps. “How bold,” said Annabel Lee, a small smile playing on her face as she looked upon the twelve little girls of Cabin Seven. “You must all be very brave to try that. I don’t think they’d ever let girls your age touch knives in my country.”

It was like she’d said the magic words. The girls’ eyes grew with that childhood wonder that Lenore was frankly already getting a little tired of, primarily because it almost always meant wild things to come.

“Where are you from?”

“What’s it like?” 

“Do they let girls do anything? ”

“Do you live in a third world country?”

“Why did you come here?”

“Are you gonna stay forever?”

Annabel did the best thing for the situation, which was to remain mostly silent, only acknowledging the questions with smiles at the girls and an abbreviated group response. “I’m just here for the summer and a bit afterwards, I’m afraid. Then it’s back to the UK so I can start uni.”

“The University of Kentucky?”

“No, stupid, the other UK.”

“There’s another UK?”

“Did you get bored with camps there?”

With another little smile, Annabel turned to Lenore. “You didn’t have to stop singing on my account, you know. You have a beautiful voice.”

“She does!” 

“Yeah! Tell her she can’t stop singing!”

And like she’d won, Annabel crouched down to meet the eyes of the campers. “How about we make a deal. I’ll tell her to keep singing—and leave so she’s not so embarrassed of it—if you all agree to leave knives for another day.”

“Do you really mean it?”

“What if we want the knives, though?”

“Another day,” said Annabel firmly. “I’m sure you’ll find time for them eventually.”

“Okay!”

“Please, Lenore!”

All the wisps and Annabel looked at Lenore. She could feel a deep blush rising to her cheeks. “Fine. I mean, it’s probably safer than knives, isn’t it?”

“Yay!”

“Awesome!”

“I still want the knives.”

Annabel flashed a smile that was somehow devastatingly beautiful. For a moment, Lenore thought her heart might stop in her chest, and wondered why she felt this way. Probably embarrassment. Not only had Annabel heard her sing, seen her dance, Annabel was also controlling her campers in a way that Lenore felt she couldn’t. It must be nice to be better than everyone else, she thought spitefully, but then softened. Annabel had never said she was better than anyone else. She just acted like it a little bit… but also managed to be nice when it mattered. 

Maybe she was overthinking things. 

“Well!” said Annabel, flashing that same smile again. “I did make a promise. I’ll be off to the beach now. You girls will be good for Lenore, won’t you?”

“Yes!” chimed the wisps cherubically before Annabel gave one last smile (more doting than the first two) and turned to walk away.

Lenore watched her go. The embarrassment was renewed and she could feel it on her cheeks, heating them up. For a moment, she stood there in silence. 

Then, she launched into a rendition of Baby Shark.

“I just don’t get it,” she said. She fumed. She whined. She wasn’t entirely sure how it sounded, only knew that she needed to vent to someone over her break, and Eulalie was just the right combination of kind enough to listen and distracted enough not to remember much about the conversation later. “I don’t care about looking ridiculous. It’s camp. I’m supposed to look ridiculous. But she just makes me—I don’t even know.”

“If it’s any consolation I think it’s kind of silly of her to not participate like we do. She’s really wasting her money if she’s not getting the full experience.” Eulalie’s voice was as serene as could be. “Anyway, do you think that Bill Grogan’s Goat or Little Green Frog is the gorier song?”

“Both are the versions where they die?” Eulalie hummed an affirmative. “ Little Green Frog. ”

Eulalie scribbled down something in her sketchbook, where she was making a very thought out bracket of the most violent camp songs. As she moved Little Green Frog forward, she pondered, then spoke. “You know, maybe she’s just been told the wrong things. Look at her friends. If you’ve never been to camp before, how would you know which was the right way to do things? Maybe she’s trying her best. Titanic or Dunderback? ”

“That’s hard. Historic event with massive casualties versus a depiction of a man getting ground up and turned into sausages? …I think I pick the sausages.”

“I agree!” 

As Eulalie added that to the next round, Lenore leaned back into the darkroom wall, feeling awfully like she was on a psychologist’s couch. “I guess. But it’s not even about her, I guess. It’s… I used to not care at all. I mean, who cares at camp? We’re paid to be ridiculous. It’s not much but it’s honest work. Then I come back from, what, only five years off? And now everyone’s so concerned with how everything looks and half the songs are banned, and—I don’t even know.”

“Well, that’s not very fair,” Eulalie said. For the first time, she looked right at Lenore, the type of fully invested that Lenore had been actively trying to avoid. “Plenty of us aren’t. Duke and Bea and Pluto and Morella and me, you know. And I don’t know if it’s very fair to assume that of the others, either. Everyone has something that matters to them more than appearances, I think.”

“Do you ever try to find out what it is?”

“Nope. It’s none of my business. Georgie or One Tin Soldier? ”

“ One Tin Soldier i sn’t even gory, it’s just sad.”

“The valley people kill all the mountain people. So it has more casualties.”

“Mentioned in one line, versus an entire verse about decapitation. Decapitation wins.”

As Eulalie mulled it over,  Lenore sighed. “I think I just… I want to have fun and make friends and, I don’t know, do camp things. But it feels like it’s less simple than it was when I was a kid. I don’t want to disappoint anyone, especially you guys.”

“You’re not going to disappoint any of us,” said Eulalie, who was once again making such intense eye contact that Lenore almost wanted to look away. “We like you for you, silly. For all of you. Even the part that’s worried. And the part that likes Annabel Lee.”

“What?”

“I mean you do, right? She’s your friend? She asked you to sit at her table on Friday night, after all. And now you’re thinking about her and worrying about her. Kind of like I do with Bee!”

“I-it’s not like that. Really. I don’t know why she thought it was a good idea to ask me to sit there, but I know her only reasoning was because my family used to own Camp Ravenshead.”

“Well, okay,” said Eulalie with a tilt of her head and a little hum. She sounded doubtful, but Lenore didn’t focus on that—just on the acceptance. For a moment, Lenore wondered if this was going to give in to awkward silence, but then Eulalie began to speak again. “ But do you actually believe that, or is that just what you think it’s safe to think?”

“What?”

“You’re still worried about what Duke said.”

“I—I—”

“Oh!” said Eulalie, and she put a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, did I say too much? I didn’t mean to be rude. Do you want to change the subject?”

Yes. No. Maybe. I’m not sure. No. Yes, yes, yes. “Um,” said Lenore intelligently, clutching her cane handle until her knuckles turned white. “Why don’t we? Yes, let’s go back to your thing. Your bracket.”

“Oh, sure! Last one for the preliminaries. Princess Pat, but the one where she doesn’t reel them in or bring them back? Or Baby Shark, but the real version and not the one people sing outside of camp?”

Lenore said “ Baby Shark for sure,” but her mind wasn’t on the songs. It was still on Annabel Lee, and still on what Eulalie had said. How Eulalie could tell that Lenore thought about Annabel. Cared about Annabel. It had only been two weeks since they met, which was forever in camp time and not that long at all anywhere else.

Well, that’s not that strange, scoffed a small part of Lenore. You care about Duke, too.

But that was different. Lenore knew that. 

The question was why.

Chapter Text

On Thursday, Cabins Seven and Eight met up once again, scheduled alongside Cabins One and Two at the adventure course. Cabin One was Duke’s cabin, and Lenore was excited to get to work with him until she remembered that the brother cabins setup meant she’d be working with Monty, too. By now, the Cabin Two campers had just as much of a reputation as their leader did. All it had taken was a single water balloon full of mud, “mistakenly” aimed at Ms. Poppet’s favorite white camp tee.

The counselors all gathered together, watching the  large group of kids that seemed rambunctious and wary in equal measure. The age range of the kids meant that some still thought the opposite sex was disgusting, while others were getting uncomfortably flirtatious as they sat on their sit-upons in front of the adventure area. The low ropes course, a maze of challenges and elements, was in full view. Behind it, deeper in the woods, was the high ropes course, the zipline, the free swing, and the bouldering wall. There was lots to do, and not very much time, which made it annoying when the chatter of the wisps didn’t die down even after Berenice and a few other members of adventure staff strolled out of the woods, ready to begin. 

“Hey!” Berenice said, to no avail, then again a little louder. “Hey!” Nothing. Not a single response, not a single kid listening.

“Quiet!” tried Lenore, but that didn’t seem to work either. She scanned her campers, trying to figure out where to start with getting them to pay attention.

A sharp, clear, shrill whistle rang out. Turning back to Berenice, she saw that the adventure director had two fingers in her mouth and a look of determination in her eyes. The wisps quieted almost immediately, some covering their ears as well. “Okay, buckos,” she said once there was silence, “here’s how it’s going to go. We’re going to divide up into a few random groups and you’ll go around to the different adventure elements. The adventure staff will help you, but we can only do so much if you don’t follow the safety rules. So you’re all going to follow the safety rules.”

“What if we don’t?” said one stubborn wisp. Lenore wasn’t sure whose it was.

“Then you die!” said Berenice, and it was suddenly very quiet again. “No bones about it. So don’t try shi—”

One of the other members of adventure staff nudged her quickly.

“—shiiiiiitttttake mushrooms because you’ll probably think they’re gross,” Berenice finished weakly, then adjusted a little and continued. “And you’re going to behave!” she said, leaving no room for questions. “The camp accountant is coming soon to see if we deserve funding for a new rock wall and none of you kiddos are gonna ruin it for me, capiche?”

There was a vague murmur of agreement from the campers, and a squeal of absolute horror from Ada. “Nobody told me that Prospero would be coming!” she said, panicked, turning and clutching Lenore’s hands in hers. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have looked like—like this !”

Lenore thought Ada looked fine. Sure, she had an old leaf in her hair, bags under her eyes, grass-stained socks and a wrinkled shirt, but that was just par for the course.

But Ada was staring up at Lenore with such desperation, such pleading. “That’s… fair?” she said.

Ada wailed.

The campers were beginning to stand around them, following Berenice as she went into the wooded adventure area. Ada didn’t even look up. “I’m a wreck ,” she sobbed.

Squeezing her eyes closed, Lenore tried very hard not to think about what she was about to offer. “Do you want me to do your hair like I used to?” she asked.

Ada whipped her head up. “Would you?” she asked.

In answer, she turned to Duke, who was standing a few feet away, slowly trailing after the campers even as he obviously waited for Lenore. “Duke, do you mind going ahead and watching my kids?” she asked tiredly. “I’ll be along in a second.”

Duke walked back up to her, pressing his lips close to her ear as he whispered. “Of course I will, but are you sure, mademoiselle? You’ll be alone with Ada. ”

“Yes, I know,” she said back. “I’ve done it plenty of times before. It’s easier than letting her stay like this.”

“But are you sure ?”

“Yes, I am. You’d be doing us all a huge favor.”

“ Oui , I’d be doing a big favor for you . But getting her out of our hair? That’s a big favor for all of the rest of us. Bon courage , Lenore,” he retorted and she tried to hide her snorts. As she composed herself, she saw Duke gather up her campers, taking them along with his own wisps deep into the woods and the ropes courses waiting there. 

Lenore turned back to Ada. “If you want me to do this, you have to sit down,” she said.

Ada sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I’ll get grass stains on my shorts,” she complained. 

“You already have grass stains on your shorts. There’s nothing to be done about it. At least if you do this, your hair will be nice.”

For a long moment, Ada thought. Then, she nodded and sat down. Lenore sat behind her and got to work.

The two were silent for a bit as she brushed Ada’s hair out with her long fingers, then as she gently began the braid. She would have never admitted it out loud, but there was something strangely comforting about doing Ada’s hair. Even after years without practice, the motions still came easily to her. Her fingers moved this way and that, nimble like her legs would never be again. For a moment, it was meditative. Nostalgic. Caring.

Then Ada decided to ruin it all by speaking. “Do you think this hairstyle will last a few days?” she asked. “I’m so tired of worrying that my Prospero is going to see me with messy hair.”

“ Your Prospero seems kind of like a jerk, Ada,” said Lenore, shaking her head. “Anyone nice wouldn’t care what you look like at camp of all places. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but speaking of camp,  he acts like he’d rather be anywhere but here.”

“He would,” Ada said dreamily. “But he does it all for me.”

Lenore was quiet for a moment. She thought and weighed her options. Maybe Ada deserved to have her pretty lie, or maybe she deserved for it all to inevitably come crashing down later. Or maybe—maybe even though being around Ada was hard to stomach at any given moment, maybe Lenore cared enough about her to tell her the truth. “I don’t think he does, Ada,” she said gently. “And I don’t want to see you get hurt like I did with all of the other boys you’ve—”

“All of the other boys were just for fun,” Ada said, whipping her head around to face Lenore. Lenore sighed as Ada’s hair went flying out of her fingers, the braid unfurling much faster than it had been created. “I mean…. except Theo. If it’s any consolation, I truly did love Theo.”

“I almost rather you hadn’t,” said Lenore tightly, ignoring that somewhere deep in her heart, it did feel nice to hear. 

“But Prospero’s different too,” she declared. “He’s not a screw up or a pastime. He’s the real deal! I know it.”

“Turn around so I can finish the braid,” Lenore said, and for all her faults, Ada did oblige without complaint. “What makes you so sure he’s different?”

“I saw it in this!” And like magic, Ada pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and raised it high for Lenore to see. Circles inside circles, crossed with many lines and symbols answered absolutely none of Lenore’s questions. “His natal chart! I’ve spent hours poring over it and we’re completely compatible! It’s fated by the stars themselves.” And when she sighed so happily, Lenore didn’t have the strength to contradict her. 

“How did you get that?”

“Oh, I asked him to give me his birthday, birth time, birth location…” Ada counted it all out on her fingers.

Lenore raised an eyebrow. “And he did?”

“Well, yes, once I told him it was for Nurse Dolly! He was so shy before that, though.” With a sigh, Ada pressed a hand to her heart. “He must have been so worried that we wouldn’t be compatible.”

“Or maybe he just wanted privacy?”

“No, clearly not. Have you never been in love, Lenore?” 

“Nope.”

“Even now, with all of the handsome men surrounding us daily?” pressed Ada.

“Nope.”

“Surely you must have your eye on someone. Pluto?”

“Pfft.”

“Duke?”

“No! We’re only friends.”

“Good, good. Montresor?”

“I’d rather die a thousand times over.”

“Ugh, right? That low-down dirty rotten scoundrel.”

Who calls people a scoundrel anymore? Lenore thought, the thought accompanied by a little snort. 

“I just don’t understand!” Ada said, her eyes flitting upwards in thought. “Are you really that picky that you wouldn’t like any man here? Do you like any boys at all?” she demanded.

“Think on it for a moment, I’m sure the answer will come to you. My hair’s a big clue. And speaking of hair,” she said as she pulled a ponytail holder around the end of the braid, “yours is done.”

Ada did not think on it for a moment, too distracted by the conclusion of Lenore’s efforts. From her pocket, she took a small, purple compact and flipped it open. She examined herself closely and from many angles. “There’s some flyaways,” she said critically after a long moment.

“My sincerest apologies.” Lenore tried very hard not to roll her eyes, but the effort was in vain. Ada was still only looking at herself.

“You are forgiven,” she said after a second, snapping the compact close and rising to her feet.  She held out a hand to Lenore. “Now come along, lazybones. My true love awaits!”

With a small, indulgent smirk, Lenore took it and used the leverage to pull herself back up to standing height. Grabbing her cane and backpack, she set off into the woods with Ada, who was already running. It was a struggle to keep up, but she wasn’t that far behind when they burst onto the high ropes course, Ada looking around almost comically. “Where’s Prospero?” she demanded.

“Oh, yeah, he already came and went,” said Berenice sourly. “Dunno what got into his panties, he was an absolute dic—” 

She cut herself off, seeing several of the wisps looking her way. “—diiiiiicccccccctatorial menace,” she finished after a beat.

For a moment, Lenore thought Ada was going to explode.

And she did. With glee. “He must have been so upset, to have come this far out into the woods without even getting to see me! Oh, he must have! I bet he asked about me. Did he?” she demanded to know, now placing her hands in Berenice’s.

Irritated, Berenice ripped her hands away. “He sure did,” she said sourly, then grew a mean little smile when she added, “Asked if you were here before coming in. Smiled slightly when I said you weren’t yet.”

Ada didn’t seem to notice any malice. “So he was thinking of me… and the stars just weren’t aligned. But don’t worry Lenore! With your help, I’ll get him yet!” Ada turned back to Lenore. There were practically stars in her eyes, burning with a passion that could never be quenched.

With a barely suppressed groan, Lenore wondered why she had ever agreed to help at all.

By the time Friday came, Lenore had almost forgotten about the beach party that Ada had planned. It took her normal early-morning cursory schedule glance for her to remember. Great, she thought to herself dryly, this’ll be fun.

Maybe a little pessimistic. Adventure hadn’t been that bad, not for the kids or the counselors. It had been almost sweet, almost nostalgic. It had reminded Lenore that while she and Ada hadn’t ever exactly gotten along, on some level they still were—or still had been—friends. Maybe today would surprise her too. With an only-slightly-forced cheerful attitude, she guided herself and her campers through the morning routine and off to breakfast.

The day passed quickly. Arts and Crafts with Cabin One, led by Eulalie and shared with Duke, was the highlight of the morning even though the three friends barely had time to chat among helping their campers with duct tape wallets and wire trees. Afterwards, they hiked out to the giant rock formation that had been deposited by glaciers thousands of years ago and climbed to their hearts’ content. Back to the main camp for lunch, then a quick gaga ball tournament before marching to the beach to start the party. Ada’s group had arrived at roughly the same time, and the twenty-four girls ran onto the beach together, ready to laugh, chatter, and play.

The campers spread their towels on the lakeshore sand as the three staff members gathered in front of the dock. “I’m so excited for this!” Morella said. “I’m glad I get to spend more time with our cabin, Lenore. And Cabin Eight too, of course,” she added with a look at Ada, who had one eyebrow raised and her arms folded over her chest.

“Wasn’t it just the smartest idea I’ve ever had?” said Ada, tossing her braid. Lenore wished that she could unbraid it with her thoughts alone. Ada didn’t deserve the work put into it. “The Cabin Seven girls have much to learn from my wisps and me.”

Whatever Ada could teach them, Lenore didn’t want them to learn it. She held her tongue, mostly out of respect to Morella, and scanned the beach, noticing something. ”Where’s Annabel?”

Ada made a disparaging sound, her mood switching on a dime yet again. “Why do you care? I can do things without her.”

“No one said you couldn’t, Ada.” Or at least, Lenore hadn’t said as much. Was someone saying something to Ada about it? It might be a good thing to find out later. “I was just curious.”

“So it’s because you’re obsessed with her!” Ada said, not without some misplaced triumph. “Don’t you have someone else to bother? She’s too good for your harassment.”

Harassment? Am I—no. She always approaches me. Right? I mean, I was staring at her that first night, but—

“She’s on her two hour break,” Morella said with a small smile. “It’s just me guarding today, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Ah.” Yes. A break. The thing we all get once a day. Time off. Perfectly normal that her break just so happens to be at the same time as my group is at the waterfront. Probably not planned at all. Absolutely coincidental. And probably for the best. She forced herself to smile. Forced herself to make it look as genuine as it should. “Thank you, Morella.”

“Of course! Okay, so everything’s ready once I go out there to start guarding. There’s a speaker in the beach house if you want to play music, and you had snacks, right?”

Lenore couldn’t keep this frown inside. “We did?”

“Ada, didn’t you submit a requisition for popsicles? You asked me to tell Lenore… I think I forgot.”

With a roll of her eyes, Ada nodded. “Yes. She was supposed to get them on the way in,” she said in a way that made it sound like she was blaming Lenore, even though Lenore literally couldn’t have known.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Morella wilted a little, and Lenore shot an automatic glare at Ada as she put her arm around Morella, comforting her wordlessly.

Nose almost in the air like a stereotypical snob, Ada didn’t respond to the glare. Instead she only said, “Well, Lenore can do it now, can’t she? She’s not going to be doing anything important.”

“What?”

“While Morella’s watching the children and I’m patrolling the beach, what are you going to do? Sit there with your cane in your lap? I’m sure if you have time to do that, you have time to fetch the popsicles.”

“I’m not a dog. And besides, I was planning on doing our paperwork.”

“Our what?”

“You know.  The things that are due later today?” Lenore held up the packet pointedly. “The paperwork you didn’t do earlier, during rest hour?”

Ada laughed in a way that was almost Disney villain-esque. “Well, it’s called rest hour, not paperwork hour.”

“Rest hour is for the wisps, Ada. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

The two counselors looked at Morella for backup, only to find that her face was frozen into an uncomfortable smile. “Um. I’d love to say things about this,” she said weakly. “But I do need to go be a guard. So that the kids can swim. Lenore, don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe it’d be good if you go and get the popsicles! The dining hall isn’t too far, and anyway, it’s good to get some time to yourself now and then when you normally have to watch the kids all by yourself…”

Lenore could read between the lines. She knew Morella well enough to understand that she was being given an out—time without the kids was one thing, but time without Ada was infinitely more valuable. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll be right back. Thanks for submitting the req, Ada, I guess. ”

“See? I can do paperwork. At the appropriate times, when I need to,” she said, and flipped her hair, and went to—oh wonder of wonders—sit on the beach.

With one last pleading look to Morella (who simply shrugged sympathetically), Lenore picked up her backpack and cane. “Hey, Cabin Seven!” she yelled at her campers. To her credit, they seemed to have enough respect for her to listen the first time, stopping their chatting and poking at the water to look Lenore’s way. “I’ll be right back. You guys be good for Morella. And Ada too I guess. I don’t want to hear any problems when I get back, okay?”

There was a vague collection of nods and some affirmative answers, which was enough for her. She didn’t think that the girls would be deliberately malicious to Morella, and she didn’t necessarily care if they were deliberately malicious to Ada. She waved to her campers and to Morella, and with a single sugary goal on her mind, set off.

The hike from the beach to the dining hall was hardly a long one; it was up a small hill and onto one of the main trails, then it cut across the front lawn. At the very back of the hall were the requisition shelves, where food needed for cookouts, snacks, and other things was laid out completely ready for taking by the kitchen staff… just so long as you’d filled the req paperwork out ahead of time. Lenore remembered how strict the Ravenshead staff had been about it. There had been several of her childhood cookouts marred by the fact that an ingredient or two had been forgotten from the requisition and the food turned out strange or (in the worst case scenarios) completely inedible. Once when she was twelve there hadn’t even been anything that could be salvaged or created from the badly-written req sheet, and the group had been forced to fill up on blueberries and teaberry leaves foraged from the woods around their campsite.

It was worrying, then, that she couldn’t find her requisition. The req shelf had things for Cabins Nine and Ten, and things for some of the tent units, and even a crate of s’mores ingredients for one of the yurts. As Lenore looked through the mess of labels and boxes she even noted that Duke and Pluto’s cabin group was doing a cookout, and she hoped that meant that Duke had finally got his boys under control. But there was nothing for Cabin Seven or Cabin Eight. Strange. 

Ada wouldn’t have forgotten to submit the req, right?

But she’d even gone so far to tell Morella to let Lenore know to pick the req up. Lenore frowned and headed into the kitchen.

The heat of the kitchen beat down on Lenore’s skin the moment she entered. It wasn’t entirely unwelcome; though the early summer chill was now gone, the heat hadn’t kicked in yet, and sometimes a burst of sudden warmth was nice. Kitchen staffers, most of them the junior staff who were too old to be campers and too young to be counselors, bustled around. Lenore could smell the beginnings of dinner in the air. A glance at the menu confirmed her suspicions: chicken dinner, complete with mashed potatoes and boiled broccoli, with chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Not the worst meal, especially after being sprinkled copiously with adobo.

She took another quick look around the kitchen, trying to find the person who looked the least busy, or at least someone who could work while holding a conversation. Her gaze locked on a girl chopping broccoli at one of the prep counters. Lenore slid right up with a big, friendly smile. “Hello,” she said. “I’ve got a question about a missing req.”

“Missing req?” The girl looked up, setting her knife down as she did. “Oh no… um, I think I’m able to handle this, though! What are you missing?”

“Popsicles? For Cabins Seven and Eight? They weren’t on the shelf.”

The look of stress on the girl’s face was unmistakable. “Oh! I’m so sorry, it’s been hectic this first week. We can get that for you right now. Wow, I don’t know how we missed that… unless someone wanted to keep it back for a while so they didn’t melt… but no, they weren’t on the list to put out on the shelf. I think. Sorry, this was probably entirely our fault, yeah…”

That was odd. To say the least. In her years at camp, she had never known the kitchen to forget a food req. Everything was documented and planned specifically so doing so was near impossible. Maybe things had changed since Ravenshead’s acquisition… and the kitchen staffer did seem a little bit out of her depth, but… it would be just like Ada to send me on a wild goose chase for a req that didn’t exist. Or force me to ask about a late submission that was denied so I’m the one who got yelled at. 

But if either was the case, the unwitting kitchen staffer didn’t seem to know, nor do what Ada intended. “It’s just popsicles, right? I know where those are, so I should be able to get those myself if you have enough,” said Lenore with another little smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you! That’d actually be a big help,” said the staff member. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth… I would have gotten it myself earlier, I just didn’t see any requisitions. Which is strange because I was being so careful because I was afraid of exactly this. But, you know, it’s the first week.”

Very interesting. Very, very interesting.

“Well, thank you.  I know we all appreciate your hard work here. The kitchen’s not an easy job.” 

“I’m learning that,” said the girl with an apologetic smile. “Well, thank you for understanding.”

“Thank you for all your help.” Lenore gave a lazy little mock salute, then started for the freezer.

The freezer was in the very back of the kitchen, away from the hustle and bustle of mealtime preparation, the kitchen office where the staffers hung out during downtime, and the much more frequently used giant refrigerators. Combined with the auto-lock, it was no wonder it was custom to tell kitchen staff where you were going, Lenore thought to herself as she opened the vault-like door. It’d be all too easy to—

Oh. Oh no.

There’s someone here.

Not just someone. Her.

And—no. Oh no.

She was huddled in a corner, her hair pulled down and out of its ponytail. She had slipped all of her limbs into her tee shirt as she’d curled into a ball, and her rain jacket was draped over her. As Lenore stared at her, horrified, Annabel Lee looked up. Before Lenore could so much as react, Annabel lit up as though she were seeing the sun for the first time in years. “You’re here,” she said through shivers. “I should have known it would be you.”

“Annabel.” The other woman’s name escaped Lenore’s lips before she even knew it, and her body moved in much the same way. She started to rush over before remembering the door; quickly, she threw her cane into the crack, stopping it from closing all the way. Then, she approached the door. “Annabel, what are you doing in here? How long have you—”

“I don’t know,” whispered Annabel, and Lenore had never heard her so vulnerable, fragile, desperate. “But you’re here now. You are, aren’t you? It’s not in my head?”

“No, no, no, I’m here.” Lenore began pulling her jacket off of her waist, where it was tied. She draped it around Annabel, then took her fingers. They weren’t white or blue, which was good, but they were redder than they should have been, and so cold to the touch. “We need to get you to the infirmary. Didn’t you tell anyone you were coming into the freezer?” Didn’t someone tell you to?

“No!” said Annabel with such ardor and volume that Lenore almost stepped back. “No, no one else can know.. No one else. Promise me.”

“Annabel, you probably have frostbite, or hypothermia, or—” 

“I’ll be fine,” said Annabel, voice commanding. “I just need to get… to get out of here. And to get warm. Please.”

“I—I have to get back to my—”

“You can tell them you forgot your cane. You can tell them that you were slowed down by your knee—”

“Hip.”

“—by your hip. They’ll believe it, I promise.” 

For a moment, Lenore wanted to protest. She wanted to tell Annabel all the things wrong with that idea—that if she faked this and people found out, they’d never believe her again, and she needed that faith and belief. That it was wrong to lie to sneak away from the kids. That Annabel really, truly needed medical attention. 

Why, why oh why was all of that washed away in the face of her— the usually so composed and poised, still so beautiful Annabel Lee?

“Fine,” she said, quite against her better judgment. “Can you walk?”

Annabel nodded. Up to her feet she went, then staggered. Lenore caught her by the shoulders and it was like catching a block of ice. “Thank you, pet,” Annabel whispered.

“Are you sure you can walk, because I—”

“Yes, quite sure. Please. I’ll be careful, and I have you to help me, anyway.”

“Oh yes, rely on the woman with a cane to keep you upright,” Lenore grumbled, but she adjusted her hold on Annabel even so, looping her free arm underneath Annabel’s arms to help keep her steady. “Careful,” she warned as Annabel adjusted her weight. “We’ll go slow, but I’m still not sure you should even be walking.”

“I know. You’ve said it enough,” said Annabel, weak humor apparent in her voice.

Bending down, Annabel still attached, she picked up her cane and stuck her foot in the door to block it from closing. “There’s a door nearby. It leads to the outdoor supply room and the food truck loading dock. No one will notice if we sneak out of it.” Assuming no one was breaking the “no smoking behind the dining hall rule,” anyway, something that didn’t happen frequently but did still happen.

Annabel nodded, and Lenore ushered them out of the cold room. The humid heat of the kitchen immediately blasted into both of them full force, though once Lenore thought about how cold Annabel must have been, the heat felt almost welcome. Good, good. Step one, complete. Now… “I’m leaving the freezer!” yelled Lenore to the kitchen staff so that they wouldn’t come looking for her after a few minutes. “Thanks again!”

Annabel managed a glare at her, seemingly not understanding why Lenore would call attention to them. Lenore didn’t bother to explain that this would ensure there wasn’t more attention later. Instead, she simply ushered her out the supply room door, helping her down the loading dock stairs and towards the safety of the woods and the trails within.

They slipped into the trees, looking both ways and listening to make sure no one heard them. Lenore set the pace, walking as quickly as she thought Annabel could handle, looking around for just the right place to lead the other woman. And then—there it was, just about halfway between the lakeshore and the dining hall. It got harder to see every year, but there were still just enough telltale signs to make it out. “Come on,” Lenore urged, tugging on the jacket that Annabel still clutched around her. “See that trail?”

“N-no I—oh. That’s a t-trail?”

“It used to be. It’s overgrown, but it’ll get us where we’re going. Quick, before anyone sees, okay?”

“Lenore, I—”

“If you’re going to trust me, then trust me, Annabel. I know where this leads and I’ve used it a thousand times.”

For a moment, Annabel paused. Lenore wondered if this was the breaking point of… whatever they had going here. If an overgrown little trail was going to be the thing that made Annabel say no, never mind, take me to the infirmary after all. Perhaps a smarter, happier ending, but somehow the idea disappointed her all the same.

But it never came to pass. “Alright. Yes,” said Annabel weakly, and she stumbled into the woods, Lenore following close behind and guiding her from behind with whispered instructions.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before they found the place that Lenore had in mind, though it felt much longer with Annabel looking so pathetic and cold, stumbling through an unfamiliar and uncleared path. Lenore tried her best to be a good guide, even as she spotted Annabel and made sure the woman didn’t fall. She couldn’t have been happier to find their location, just the same as she had left it ages ago.

The place that Lenore had brought them to was forgotten now, but she remembered back when she was a kid and more people had known about it. Technically, she was even the reason for its disuse—she and Theo had discovered it and used it as a clubhouse as small children several times before one day going to their “hideout” one day and unfortunately finding out its other use as a secret staff makeout spot. Perhaps Theo had had the good sense not to tell their father, because it was Lenore who spilled the beans. For a year or two, their father had run random checks of the small area and disciplined anyone caught there. The staff members caught on after a while and the little clearing was abandoned, as was the trail that led to it. The only people who still traversed it after that were Theo and Lenore… just enough to keep it from disappearing, even after five years of no use at all.

It was too small to count as a clearing, really. The better definition might have been that it was merely a larger than average space between a few trees. Sunlight streamed into the space, hitting a large rock that was the perfect size for two people to sit. Lenore eased Annabel onto it. Despite the few minutes’ walk, she was still shivering slightly, and even Lenore’s jacket around her shoulders seemed to be as icy as her skin. “You’re as cold as death,” Lenore whispered, brushing long, blonde hair away from Annabel’s face in hopes that the sunlight would warm it better that way. “Annabel, this can’t be healthy. Please, let me go get Nurse Dolly.”

“N-no, please. I’m just c-c-cold right now. I’ll be better soon, I just n-n-need to get warm, and then—”

Get warm. Yes. Even if you went and got help, she’d be here all alone now. Cold and alone, just like you were, once. That would be worse. Keep her warm. Keep her company. Those are the most important things. 

With a breath to stabilize her adrenaline-filled self, she threw her arms around Annabel’s body, sitting next to her on the giant rock and holding her as close as possible. In her arms, she could feel Annabel squirm in an instinctive reaction. “Pet?! What do you th-think you’re doing?”

“Warming you up,” Lenore answered.

“But we b-b-barely know each other.”

“That’s not important right now. I’m not ever going to let anyone die in the woods if I can help it.” Not again.

Annabel was silent, which was probably for the best. She stopped squirming, except to pull herself in closer to Lenore’s body. Lenore wondered if they were close enough that she could hear Annabel’s heartbeat, but it didn’t seem to be the case. What heartbeat she could hear seemed to be her own, still thumping fast with adrenaline.

“Thank you,” Annabel said quietly after a moment, the chattering stutter gone at last. “You feel nice.”

Lenore didn’t know how to respond to that, so she simply squeezed, hoping the action would bring even more warmth to the woman. Annabel was still like ice, but perhaps a little less so… melting ice, maybe. “Why were you in there?” she asked. 

“A number of reasons.”

“And are you going to share what those reasons are?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Right now, I simply want to enjoy this.”

“You’re enjoying this?”

“Didn’t I already tell you? You feel nice.”

For a while after that, they were silent. Annabel laid her head down on Lenore’s shoulders, shivering against it a little more until she was warm enough to stop. Even then, Lenore could feel that Annabel’s hands, which wrapped around Lenore and clutched the back of her thin tee shirt, were still halfway to frozen, as was the tip of her nose, buried against Lenore’s neck. Despite the uncomfortable temperatures, and the unfamiliar shape of Annabel’s body against her own, and the still-possible medical emergency, Lenore found it surprisingly easy to relax. 

Even so, the watch on her wrist was a constant reminder of time passing. Of the fact that this was camp, and they were on the clock for twenty-two hours a day, six days a week. As Annabel’s extremities began to warm, Lenore pulled back. “I have to go,” she said. “They’re going to be wondering where I am… and that’s assuming Ada wouldn’t go to the trouble to report me as missing yet.”

“Has it been that long?” Annabel looked shocked. 

“It’s been twenty-two minutes since they sent me to get the popsicles.”

“Ah. That’s why you were in the freezer, then?”

“Did you think it was because I had a sense that you’d be there, freezing half to death, having not bothered to tell anyone where you were going?”

Annabel smiled coyly. “Well, stranger things have happened. Perhaps you somehow knew that I was waiting for you there.” 

If Lenore was supposed to answer that, she wasn’t exactly sure how. Perhaps Annabel expected no answer, because after a moment she filled the silence herself. “I suppose I should thank you, pet. You technically saved my life.”

There’s not really a “technically” about it, Lenore thought, but that sounded too mean. Instead she shrugged. “What are friends for?”

“So you’ve decided. We are friends.”

“Well, you’ve asked for it enough.”

“Are you complaining?” Annabel’s eyes were big, round, questioning.

“Not exactly.” Lenore paused, trying to figure out exactly what she wanted to say, and settled on “But if we’re going to be friends, you need to stop being so damn cryptic. We need to be able to talk on even footing.”

“You are the only one here I can talk to on even footing, pet,” said Annabel with surprising fervor, and Lenore suddenly felt very sorry for everyone else.

She ignored that feeling… for now, at least. Slowly, she got up from the warm rock. “I guess since you want this to be a secret we shouldn’t walk back together, then.”

“No, we can,” said Annabel. “I feel like I perhaps owe it to you. If someone does take issue with your extended absence, I may be able to help.”

“Do the directors like you that much?”

Annabel looked out onto the lake. Lenore followed her gaze but saw nothing but the standard (admittedly still beautiful) scene: the sparkle of sunlight on the water, the north shoreline overgrown with lily pads that tangled any unlucky boat that came too close, the line of Eastern Hemlock trees on the land behind it, and—if she looked down and to the side—her own campers, close enough that she could hear their loud party, but far enough that she knew they wouldn’t hear her. “Why, everyone likes me, pet,” said Annabel in a voice that was ever-so-slightly distant. “You and your friends seem to be rarities.”

“I like you well enough.”

“You do,” said Annabel, looking back up to Lenore. There was something akin to gratitude on her face. “I’m glad. I wasn’t sure at first.”

A part of Lenore wanted to analyze how Annabel said that. What she meant. She wanted to figure out just what was going on with Annabel Lee Whitlock. 

But the larger part of her knew that Annabel had just survived a deeply traumatic experience, one that neither woman would forget for a long time. Analysis and questions could wait for later. Right now the important thing was that Annabel was here, and alive, and—against all odds—smiling up at Lenore as though Lenore was some rare and radiant maiden, some angel on her flight. As though she could see into Lenore’s soul and liked what she saw. 

The intensity was almost frightening, but no more frightening than the idea of a cold, numb Annabel locked in a freezer and waiting to be found. Shaking off that scare once and for all, she held out her hand to Annabel. As the other woman took it and used it to pull herself up, Lenore smiled back at her.

“Where were you?” Ada screeched as Lenore and Annabel stepped onto the beach. “We were all waiting on you and you let us down. I should tell the directors.”

Annabel raised an eyebrow. There was no sign of weakness or fragility left from earlier, only judgment and perhaps a little condemnation. “And when she tells the directors about the requisition she was looking for with no sign of it, who will that come back on pending an investigation?” 

Oh. Ada really did do what I thought. Annabel knew.

“Be smarter next time,” she continued. “I can’t bear to have friends who don’t think. ”

Ada sputtered, then quieted. She turned away, but it seemed to be almost out of shame. Lenore looked past her to the girls swimming in the lake. As she did, Morella spotted her and waved, looking relieved and pleased. Lenore waved back, then turned to Ada. She held up the box of popsicles that she and Annabel had stopped to get on the way back and frowned. “I don’t care about the popsicles and whatever prank you were trying to pull, but I’m sure the girls do. Were you going to take the blame when they were promised something and ended up disappointed?”

Perhaps it backfired. Ada looked back at Lenore with scorn on her face. “They’re smart enough to know it was just a joke. Unlike some of us.”

“If I was the one banking on the emotional intelligence of eight year old girls where sugar was involved, I’m not so sure that I’d be talking about smart,” said Lenore.

Maybe that got through to her. Tears started welling up in Ada’s eyes. “It wasn’t my idea,” she said, looking first at Lenore, who felt a little bit shocked seeing her old friend like this out of the blue. There were too many things to say, and she didn’t know where to start, so instead she said nothing. Ada turned her plea to Annabel instead. “You know how those boys are, with their ideas and their—”

“Take responsibility for your own actions, Ada,” said Annabel coldly.

Lenore thought that would really start Ada crying. But no. She wiped her eyes and nodded, though still looked at Lenore with an expression that was no less than devastating . “Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I was stupid. Please, please, please forgive me.”

“Sure,” said Lenore. Even to herself, her voice sounded almost distant, sort of numb. Can Annabel really turn Ada around that easily? 

“I will be going now,” said Annabel in that same cold voice. “I still have my break to enjoy. Please, everyone, let’s all get along. For the sake of the children.” A good sentiment, though the way she delivered it made Lenore go as clammy as Annabel had been half an hour ago. She watched Annabel walk away, unsure of what to do. But for the first time, she was finally somewhat sure of what to think . 

Annabel Lee was a lot of things—she was elegant, strange, intelligent, manipulative, kind, and very brave. Or perhaps she was none of that and it was all an elaborate act. But there was one thing she surely was now, and that was a friend…. Lenore had agreed to it, after all, and Annabel hadn’t given her any reason to doubt. Just reasons to wonder, and reasons to hide. 

Lenore sighed. It was going to be a very interesting summer.

Chapter Text

Lenore had wondered, after everything, if things would change between her and Annabel Lee. The answer seemed to be both “yes” and “no.”

Yes, because Annabel seemed to be more beautiful than she had been before, though probably no one outside of camp would think as much. Annabel had seemingly found the magic there at camp that Lenore had always loved.  There were new dimensions to her, something different and dynamic. She’d learned the motions, learned the lingo, and found a place. Her curls were no less perfect than usual, but a ribbon now tied them back into a ponytail. She still wore her camp tee shirt tucked into her khaki shorts, but her sneakers were scuffed. Sunglasses hung out of her backpack, she’d attached a carabiner to her water bottle, and most telling of all, she had a telltale circle on her ankle, drawn in blue permanent marker around a bug bite. All the things that Lenore had first noticed that Annabel lacked were now fully in view. 

As Lenore observed these things, she often felt Annabel’s eyes on her as well. What did she see? It felt like there could be no way that Annabel saw Lenore as anything but—well, a camp counselor with kids hanging off her arm, hair sloppily cut on a whim in the summer heat, bruised and bitten and barely becoming. And yet Annabel never did or said anything but smile when their eyes met, as if the two shared a secret. Which made sense, as they did. 

Sometimes Lenore wondered if she could ask Annabel back to her secret spot by the lake, or even to the hideout on a day when no one else would be around. But that seemed impossible, for even as everything had changed, nothing actually had changed at all. Annabel still sat with Ada at meals, both acting as though Annabel had never told Ada off. They found time to hang out with Prospero, Monty, Will, and Morella too. Sometimes Lenore could see them gathered up on Wifi Hill at the end of the night when campers were asleep, or over by the coffee maker at breakfast. Those were the times when Annabel wouldn’t meet Lenore’s eyes, let alone flash that heartbreaking smile of hers. 

After three days of this, Lenore gave up on thinking that any changes in their relationship would mean anything. So you saved her life. So what? Did you want something out of it? she chided herself silently on Tuesday morning.

Still bleary eyed from sleep, she rose out of her bed. She stumbled out of the staff bunk and through the main room of Cabin Seven, holding onto the bunk beds for support so she wouldn’t have to grab her cane this early. Outside, she hobbled the few feet to the latrines to get her morning business out of the way. 

When she returned and prepared to get out of her pajamas and into her clothes, there was something different about her room… no, specifically, about her bed. For a moment she was too tired to put her finger on what it was, but it was too obvious to stay a mystery for long. A note, lying folded on her pillow. Handwritten, but she could only tell that because it was scribbled onto a torn out piece of notebook paper. The penmanship was almost perfect, like a computer font, and Lenore knew immediately that this was Annabel’s writing.

Come alone and late to dinner tonight, read the note. Trust me.

It went against every piece of camp etiquette that Lenore had memorized, but she managed to make it work. As soon as the campers were at the nightly flag ceremony, she snuck off to the dining hall bathrooms and waited in one of the stalls until she could hear a rush of kids just outside. She checked her watch. Ceremony over. They’re washing hands in the sinks outside and then they’ll flood the dining hall. 

How late did Annabel even want her to come? She must have already been late by staff standards. Was this enough? Or was Annabel looking for something more? With something like this it was probably better to be safe than sorry. She didn’t know what Annabel was planning, but she didn’t want to know what would happen if she ruined it. And so Lenore waited longer, until the voices of children faded and only the quiet echo of Berenice leading pre-dinner announcements could be heard. Then she waited a little longer, just to be safe. Finally she emerged from the bathroom, steeled herself, and walked into the crowded dining hall.

She looked around, trying to find whatever event or activity might have necessitated No Annabel anywhere, which was fine because right now Lenore kind of wanted to strangle her. She could feel the entire camp staring, and especially the surprisingly brutal glare of Ms. Poppet at a nearby table. Desperately she tried to find a friendly face, but even when she locked eyes with a sympathetic-looking Berenice and an oblivious Eulalie, it was fruitless. Berenice gestured apologetically to their full table, Lenore smiled to let her know there were no hard feelings, and the search began anew. It didn’t last long, luckily; Pluto and Duke were waving to her from the back of the room, where the tables tended to stay empty.

She beelined over and slid in next to Duke, forcing a wide grin onto her face. “Glad you two had an open space. I was beginning to feel like it was day one with my cane again.”

“We always have a spot for you at our table, ma cherie ,” Duke said as he returned the smile. 

“Except when it’s full,” said Pluto.

Duke waved a hand dismissively. “We’d boot one of the campers in that case. Don’t listen to him, Lenore.”

That did it. Her forced smile became a real one. Duke always knows how to cheer me up. “What’s for dinner, anyway?” she asked as she started to loosen and get more comfortable. “It smells amazing.”

“Doesn’t it?” said a lukewarm, slimy voice behind her. To her credit, she only froze for a second before turning around to see the directors. How had they managed to creep up without her noticing? Why were they even present? Of course it would be the one time she was late that they’d bother to show up.

They stood nearly back to back, almost posed, like it was some sort of game. “You’re tardy for dinner, Lenore,” said the one to her left. “It’s not an impressive look, even for a former heiress. Fashionably late doesn’t apply here, as I’m sure you know.”

Lenore didn’t say anything. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what to say—she did—but that even she was smart enough to know anything she said could and would be held against her. 

“Anyway,” said the other, “that isn’t why we’re here.”

“Or at least, not the sole reason. There’s more rules than simply punctuality that you’re willingly breaking.”

“Every table needs two staff members before any staff can sit as a third at a table.”

“And not every table has yet met that expectation.”

She suppressed a groan, instead putting on a big, fake smile. In all her looking around, she hadn’t managed to see anyone else who needed a second, but of course there would be. Thanks for nothing, Annabel. “Well! Then pardon me, I didn’t even realize. Who do I have the pleasure of sitting with, oh dear directors?” 

If the sarcasm dripped like venom from her lips, the directors didn’t comment. In fact, they almost seemed pleased. “Dear Ms. Annabel Lee seems to have room.”

Lenore blinked as the dots connected. Wait. Was this her plan? “I didn’t see her,” she said, the honesty slipping from her lips. She was grateful that the words fit perfectly into the conversation. 

In perfect, uncanny unison, the directors pointed across the room to a table in the corner. Yes—there she was, at the very front of the hall, sitting there at the head of the table, the foot position across from her sitting empty for the first time since that first day. Not at all one of her normal tables, not at all anywhere Lenore thought to look, and not at all sitting with her normal meal partner. “What happened to Ada?” Lenore couldn’t help but ask. What happened to everyone? What did she say to keep people away?

“It’s no matter,” said the more dour of the directors. “Just go… do your job. For once.”

Slowly, painstakingly, Lenore picked herself up and started through the sea of tables towards Annabel Lee. She was about halfway across the dining hall when Annabel seemed to see her coming. She got a certain look on her face, one that Lenore would swear celebrated victory, if only there was a victory to be won.

She was stationed at the head of the table, head propped up on her hands. Lenore thought she remembered reading that it was rude to place one’s elbows on the table, but for all of her elegance and manners, Annabel seemed unconcerned with that. “You certainly took your time, Lenore,” she said pleasantly.

“Your instructions weren’t exactly packed with detail,” Lenore retorted as she sat down. “If you want me here sooner, be more specific.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Annabel. There was almost a glimmer in her eyes, the look of a mastermind pleased that her plans came to fruition as well as they did. “We’ve never sat together before, have we? How pleasant to get the opportunity.”

Lenore was almost surprised at how freely Annabel spoke—even if her words were somewhat coded, it was all but obvious what she meant. She looked around the table and her fears dissipated as she noticed that all of the people sitting at Annabel’s table seemed to be high schoolers. The oldest wisps almost never asked too many questions. They simply figured things out on their own, but luckily usually had the good sense to keep the answers to themselves. If a gaggle of teens knew that Annabel Lee and Lenore were secretly friends, it was hardly the end of the world.

Knowing this, she ventured a little bit outside of the veiled words once again, hinting that they could be more up front. “I don’t know how you managed to set this up.”

“Not nearly as cleanly as you might assume. Games such as ours have so many moving pieces. It takes quite a bit of improvisation to keep my strategies on course, I assure you.” 

“And what were those strategies?”

“It wouldn’t be any fun if I gave them all away, now would it?” Annabel winked. The look on her face was playful enough, but Lenore could see the slightest hint of dead serious underneath all the same. “Tell me, are you hungry? How much food would you like?”

Lenore straightened and craned her neck to get a look at what was in the serving bowls in the middle of the table. Pulled pork in  barbeque sauce, ready to serve on some probably slightly stale buns, was the main course. On the side were macaroni and cheese and cauliflower. It all sounded pretty good after a long day of activities. “I’ll take as much as you’re willing to give me.”

Annabel seemed to take that as a challenge. Less than a minute later, Lenore had a plate piled high with food. After the standard copious sprinkle of adobo on every single item, she was shoveling food into her mouth, the action broken only by sips from her water cup. She’d known she was hungry, but she was beginning to think maybe she had been hungrier than she’d even realized. For a moment, she wondered if Annabel would think less of her for the display, but when she looked up and met Annabel’s eyes, the woman was simply smiling at her.

“Um,” said Lenore, feeling like she should be saying something, but not entirely sure what. 

“Would you like more food?” Annabel asked, which saved her from having to think of something at least.

Lenore looked down at her plate. Her entire meal was gone; she felt a twinge of embarrassment. “Uh, I’m good for now,” she said, feeling heat in her cheeks.

“Well then, perhaps some conversation? I’ve been desperate to hear you tell me more about the camp. You really did help me out on your first night.”

“I—well, I can’t exactly say that makes for the most interesting dinner table conversation, but—”

“Hearing the history of the camp from someone so involved in that history would be more interesting than hearing it from a pamphlet, I’m sure,” said Annabel, and the teenage wisps murmured their own agreement. “Won’t you please tell us a tale, Lenore?”

It was, as she’d said, a little bit of a strange topic for the dinner table, but it was also secretly one of Lenore’s favorite things to talk about. She never could have said no. 

“Okay, yeah. Uh, so the camp started back in the early twentieth century. Lenore Vandernacht—not me, she’s like my great-great-great aunt that I’m named after—had a small school, the Lake Ravenshead Girls Academy, that she ran with her business partner and close friend, Annie Leeds. Summer camps were just coming into popularity for boys, and Aunt Lenore thought ‘hey, girls could probably benefit from being outdoors too,’ so she created a summer session for her students. They ran around the huge swatch of land her family—well, our family owned, and had a great time. So she decided to do it again. And again. Eventually the camp was more popular than the school.”

“Fascinating,” said Annabel. She was leaning forward, genuinely seeming interested, which Lenore was pleased by. Most people had gotten bored by this point in the history when she recounted it to them.

“Yeah. So, uh, Aunt Lenore and Annie shut down the school and dedicated all of their resources—all the money and land they had—to the camp. You know, added all sorts of buildings, repurposed the old schoolhouse—that’s the req shed now, believe it or not—and made some trails. Something new every year. Trying to outdo themselves was sort of a tradition, I guess. And that went on for years. Aunt Lenore and Annie were so dedicated to the success of the camp that neither ever got married, and they just lived with each other in the little cabin that they built together. That’s the Townhouse, now, where the directors and their families always stay for the season” she clarified. “But yeah. my aunt and her partner. The story goes they died on the same day,  and were buried beside each other as family. Aunt Lenore left the camp behind to her closest living relatives. It was passed down through the family and only ever through the family until it came to my dad and mom and—”

The table was silent. Everyone knew what happened next, at least in part. Still, the silence was uncomfortable if not expectant, and Lenore pressed on, albeit with a slight tangent.

“That’s not to say that’s the entire camp history. There’s a lot that happened in between that. For example, you know Dreamland Ski Resort next door? Over seventy percent of their property used to be Camp Ravenshead property. My family sold it back in the fifties. We’re sort of like sister staff to their employees, kind of connected due to shared history, which is pretty cool. It’s a fun place to go on rainy days off.”

Annabel watched Lenore contemplatively, as if deep in thought.Then the moment passed and she smiled sweetly. “I’m certain. Would you be so kind as to show me around the resort sometime?” she asked.

“Oh, you wouldn’t need me. It’s not hard to navigate. I think the front gates have maps, too.”

For just a split second, Annabel’s face contorted into something like—was that annoyance? Frustration? Disbelief? Perhaps it didn’t matter. Her expression smoothed out into that normal calm elegance. “But you know all of the secrets, don’t you? You always do. You’ll have to show me all of them personally.”

“Oh. I don’t actually know much about any Dreamland secrets. Uh, besides the fact that sometimes if they’re in a good mood they’ll give us the employee discount on things, since we had the same start and all, you know. Landwise, I mean.” She paused. Did she know any more secrets about Dreamland? “It’s not much of a secret, but I know they’re sponsoring a new local minor league baseball team now? But really, that’s everything I know.”

“I’ve never been to a baseball game,” Annabel said, a finger on her chin. She tapped it, her eyes glancing upwards in thought. “In fact, I’m not even aware how to play that game. Perhaps you could teach me, sometime.”

Lenore glanced at her hip, then at her cane. Pointedly. “I don’t really play a lot of sports,” she said dryly.

“Oh, my! How easy it is to forget,” Annabel laughed. “But I’m sure you could sit next to me and explain what’s happening, at least, were we to see a game. I heard there’s an upcoming staff trip to some sort of sports event. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was baseball, given the season.”

“Yeah, that tracks, one of the staff trips usually is a game.” She was glad that with the new team being local, it didn’t mean a long drive out to the next nearest team anymore. That long drive usually meant there was virtually no time between the campers leaving and having to board the camp’s passenger vans to make a Friday night event, and Lenore had spent many childhood trips with the Camp Ravenshead staff falling asleep in the car before the group even arrived at the game. Perhaps she was older now, but somehow she thought that would only bring more exhaustion.

“So you’ll explain it to me, won’t you? Baseball’s a charmingly American pastime, and I would love to learn it,” Annabel said, pulling Lenore out of her thoughts and memories.

Lenore blinked. “Um, sure,” she said unthinkingly. “Yeah, okay.”

There was that dazzling, beautiful smile that certainly belonged on a model and not a summer camp lifeguard. “Lovely,” said Annabel Lee. “It’s a date.”

Wait, a date like—no, no, just as in a thing we’re doing together. Assuming Duke doesn’t kill me first for agreeing to—whatever I just agreed to. Not that he’d actually kill her. He was more the type to shake his head in French and say disappointed words that Lenore couldn’t understand, then pat her on the back and wish her luck in surviving her fate. A bit dramatic, perhaps. The more Lenore got to know Annabel, the less she found merit in how wary Duke was of her.

Around her, the teenage wisps were chattering, finally taking advantage of a break in the counselors’ conversations to start their own topics. Lenore let the noise fade into the background and focused on her empty plate before passing it around in order to get seconds. When her plate returned to her fully loaded with more food, she concentrated solely on eating, not worrying about Annabel’s soft, low voice or sweet laughter on the other side of the table.

She was almost about to ask for a third plate of food when a high, clear sound echoed through the tables and the din of the hall fell hush. She looked up to see a rare sight—the camp’s owners, standing in front of their “subjects.” One of them held a champagne glass and a fork for whatever reason, probably the source of the sound that had made her pause. “We do hope you’re enjoying yourselves, campers!” said one of them with an almost mad look of excitement in his eyes.

“It is our honor to run this camp and uphold years of tradition in doing so,” said the other with a solemn look, eyes closed. 

Lenore repressed a snort; even though she thought she did a good job hiding the sound, she found the directors’ eyes on her like a curse and quickly looked away.

“It’s such a privilege to watch the young grow before your eyes,” sighed the first director. “Truly, you have faced so many challenges this past week with courage, aplomb, and selflessness. Of course, these challenges have been quite personal, all challenges against the self and none with more interesting adversaries. With that in mind—”

“—we are pleased to announce our first allcamp of the year,” the dour director finished smoothly, seeming anything but pleased. 

A murmur went up in the crowd, but was quickly stifled by the directors’ continuation.

“For the uninitiated, an allcamp is precisely what it sounds like—a game or activity that the entire camp takes part in. No one is excused and every single person has a role to play. These allcamps take place every other week, for a total of five every summer. Though they do sometimes allow the winners to gain fabulous prizes or rewards, the real reward at the end truly is the prestige of winning, isn’t it, Mourn?”

“Truly.”

“Of course, it would be remiss of us to not have a prize for the first event… though the specifics will remain secret until such time as a winner is announced.”

The dining hall buzzed with excitement, wisps and staff alike whispering to each other. Predictions, plans, alliances, most likely. Lenore didn’t bother to strain to hear it. She was too focused on Annabel across from her, who was listening to the directors and elegantly sipping from her cup of water, seeming completely unbothered by this new development.

“Without further ado,” said the merrier director, “we would like to announce this season’s annual Ghost Hunt.”

Lenore gasped without a second of hesitation. “Are they joking?” she asked, not quite sure who it was she was asking. “The Ghost Hunt? That’s not supposed to be until the end of the summer! What exactly are they playing at?”

With one eyebrow quirked up, Annabel frowned. Her head tilted, but it didn’t seem to be out of confusement, but more out of focus. "And what, pet, is the Ghost Hunt exactly?"

Lenore hemmed and hawed for a second before finally coming up with the perfect descriptor. "It’s our camp’s most famous and loved allcamp. It’s—well, you've played hide and seek before, right? That's a game they have in the UK?" 

"I did, rarely. It wasn’t something I had much of an opportunity to participate in."

"But you know what it is," Lenore said. Annabel nodded. "So imagine that, but much bigger, and it's a contact sport." 

She eyed Annabel up and down, taking in the blonde woman’s curves, her perfect hair, soft skin, all her feminine elegance. The doubts from the first night at camp came rushing back. No way would Annabel Lee be able to survive the Ghost Hunt unscathed. 

But no. She’d already survived the freezer, and she was a lot stronger than Lenore had first anticipated—she was a lifeguard, after all, and a closer look at her revealed an athletic build with a definite but almost subtle amount of muscle. She could survive a bunch of kids grabbing her and trying to drag her down from a tree and off to the lakeshore. She could probably survive it better than Lenore could, actually, considering she didn’t have a permanent hip injury. 

“You know what?” she said to Annabel, “you’re going to really like it. It’s—what did you say before? A game with a lot of moving pieces.”

A rapid set of claps drew Lenore’s attention back to the front. The directors stood there. “If you’ll all be so kind as to cease your chatter for a few moments more, we were hardly finished,” said the grumpy one. 

“Or, well, we technically were, but we’d like to turn it over to our most esteemed Assistant Director, Ms. Poppet. If you will?”

From her table, Ms. Poppet rose and walked with small, elegant steps to the front of the room as the directors slipped away. “How exciting!” said Ms. Poppet as Lenore watched the directors head for the back door, probably right back on their way to the Townhouse. “I’ve been asked to be this year’s rulemaster for the Ghost Hunt. As I’ll be primarily overseeing the main event, Directors Merry and Mourn asked me to give an overview of what the event would look like and its main rules.”

That was different—though for the first time, Lenore didn’t mind. In the past, the Ghost Hunt had been a sort of sink or swim event. First years had to rely on the guidance of those who had come before in order to learn the rules, traditions, and strategies. Almost against herself, she silently admitted that giving an overview during dinner was probably a good idea.

Ms. Poppet began explaining immediately, a smile on her face as she spoke. “The Ghost Hunt has two teams consisting of a set number of staff members: a big team and a small team. If you’re on the smaller team, the Hunters, your job is to find and eliminate Ghosts from the competition. Each Ghost hides and can in addition set their own achievable criteria for what must be done to eliminate them. They must be honest about what it is if asked. And no changing halfway through!” she chided, wagging a finger. “Any confirmed cheating will result in disqualification.”

A figure in the front of the hall raised her hand, and was called on. A glance showed Lenore that it was the kitchen girl from last week. “So the big team is the Ghost, and the smaller team is the Hunters? Doesn’t that seem a bit unfair?”

“Well, yes! It does, at first! But that’s why the Hunters have the campers on their side! Campers will team up with the Hunters to help them solve problems and overcome obstacles. However, there is a catch. All campers will wear a flag, such as one might have when playing flag football. If a Ghost removes that flag, the camper is out of play and must go to the “jail” on the beach, where defeated Ghosts will also be sent. If a Hunter runs out of campers, they can be tagged and are also out of play. Of course, the game ends when either all Hunters or all Ghosts are out of play, and the team that remains wins. Any questions?”

No one responded, but for a reawakening of the low murmur of chatter and excitement. Poppet clapped her hands together, perhaps out of joy or perhaps to get the attention of the camp returned to her. “Splendid!” she said. “The staff team list has been posted outside. You have twenty-four hours to prepare; best of luck to you all!”

There was no way that Lenore could be one of the first to get to the list, not unless she wanted to use her cane to shove people out of the way violently. She had planned to sit on a nearby bench and wait patiently for her turn, something she wasn’t thrilled at, but the plan was neary thwarted by a sudden clap on her back. “I’m going in,” Duke said gravely, looking down at her. “Wish me luck.”

“You’ll certainly need it,” Lenore replied. “You’ll tell me my role as well, won’t you?”

“ Absolument, mon amie. I wouldn’t dream of neglecting my dear friend’s burning curiosity.”

It turned out to be an unnecessary plan. By the time Duke was able to shove and budge his way to the front, most of the crowd had cleared out. Pulling herself up on her cane, Lenore walked over to meet him, and the two looked at the list together. 

“Oh. We’re Hunters,” Lenore said sullenly as soon as she noticed.

“Is that bad? It’s good that we’re on the same team, at least. I’d hate to be working against you.”

“Afraid you’d lose?”

“Afraid you’d feel bad when I’d beat you, actually,” he said with one of his most charming grins. “So tell me, what’s so bad about Hunters?”

“I don’t know, it’s just not as fun,” Lenore said. She’d never been a member of staff for a Ghost Hunt before, but she always remembered that the Hunters didn’t want to be playing the roles they were. They seemed lifeless and bored in comparison to the Ghosts, who got to dress up, climb trees, do scary voices, and try to snatch the flags from wisps when the kids weren’t looking. The attitude always gave the Ghosts the advantage, too, since the Hunters mainly wanted the event to be over…

Yeesh, is that what I’m going to be? No thank you.

She looked at Duke, feeling a newfound rush of determination. “Actually, you know what? We’re going to make it fun. Who else is on our team? We could gather them up, have a strategy meeting after bedtime tonight… I’d say we could use the hideout, but I don’t want that compromised. What about the req shed?”

Duke ran a long finger down the list, squinting as he read. “We’ll avoid the hideout for certain, mon amie .” He tutted. “I barely recognize any of the people in our group.  Just you, and myself… and Ada.”

Lenore groaned. “Well, we can’t just not invite her. The only thing worse than having her there is what she’d do and say if she found out she was out of the loop.”

“Unfortunately, I agree.” Pursing his lips, he seemed deep in thought. “The upper level of the req shed, perhaps? I’ve never seen a soul up there.”

It wasn’t a half bad idea. Nobody liked to go up there normally—the stairs creaked in such a way that implied they were about to give out, the building didn’t have air conditioning so the summer heat rose up to the top floor and settled, and there was nearly always some proof of mice within eyesight. Even so, that made it ideal for their purposes. Ada would certainly have things to say, but her fear of missing out would ensure that she was there, while no one on the opposing side would want to journey up to spy on them, especially because doing so in a way that also kept them out of sight would be even more uncomfortable. “Sure,” said Lenore. “Good thinking.”

Duke’s eyes were shining with excitement now. “Perhaps we’ll get lucky. I don’t know much of the other Hunters, I’ll admit. Truly, we could have a chance at this, mon amie. ”

She had to laugh at his enthusiasm. “I’ll trust you to gather up these others, then,” she said. “I’ve got some research to do.”

Late that night, the ten Hunters gathered in the req shed’s “attic,” or what used to be the mezzanine floor of the original schoolhouse. Even knowing the stories, Lenore never could quite imagine the building being so respectable or refined. Most of her own experience with it was surfing cot mattresses down the stairs with Theo before the start of each summer season, or going treasure hunting with friends for things to keep, or playing hide and seek amongst the rows of equipment. A strategy meeting was a welcome addition to the list. 

As the eleven o’clock alarm on her wristwatch buzzed, she clapped her hands. “Okay,” she said. “We have one hour until curfew and twenty until the Hunt begins. That isn’t much time.”

“No, it’s really not,” said Ada. She was standing in the back of the group, leaning on the railing that kept them safe from falling to the first floor below. “I really don’t see why we’d even bother. The Hunters never win.”

“Not usually, no,” admitted Lenore. “But there’s some exceptions. I did a little bit of digging before we gathered here, since my campers are all asleep by nine anyway. In the Ghost Hunt’s sixty-two year history, we have a total of eleven Hunt wins. So no, the odds aren’t in our favor, but I’m willing to take our chances rather than just give up. Anyone else with me?”

She wasn’t sure what she expected, and she wasn’t quite sure if she got it either. There was no grand response or round of applause, but Duke nodded and pumped his fist, and most of the others mumbled some form of affirmative. Only Ada—of course —broke the unanimity. “I still don’t know. Why go to all the effort when it’s almost certain we’ll still lose?”

Duke opened his mouth. From the look on his face, Lenore knew he was going to say something that would likely spoil any chance of the group working together, so she held out a hand to stop him. “Because,” she said, as sweetly as she could muster, “are you really going to let Annabel see you sabotaging a camp activity again?” Ada’s face grew heated, but it didn’t stop Lenore from continuing. “Or let Prospero think you give up so easily?”

Looking something like a balloon about to pop with her puffed out red cheeks, Ada turned her head abruptly and crossed her arms. “Well, no, not hardly,” she scoffed.

“Think about all the respect for you he’d lose if you just rolled over and let him win,” Lenore added, with a knowing glance at Duke to make sure he would follow along and not contradict her with some snide comment.

In fact, Duke was the perfect partner in crime. He tapped a finger to his chin. “I did overhear him mention to Montresor that he preferred a woman who could meet him at his level, and he’s quite competitive. I’m sure that he’s only looking for the worthiest opponents to woo.”

Now there was that fire in Ada’s eyes. Lenore usually hated to see it, but then again, historically it had been accompanied by something like roping Lenore into spying on a boy, or the Horse Barn Incident of 2010. Now it was a strangely welcome sight. “You’re right!” Ada announced. “I have to prove myself to him through my actions!”

“Uh… sure!” Lenore said. Beside her, Duke grinned and pumped his fist, cheering Ada on to her certain doom. “Now that we’re all on the same page—and the same team—I suppose we should talk about strategy. Against the entire rest of the camp, it’ll be hard to come up with something right now. But I think we have an advantage.”

“Which is?” asked one of the younger staff members at the meeting. Lenore recognized her as the kitchen girl from the Friday before.

Lenore grinned. “Why, we’re going against our friends, of course. If we can each focus on trying to figure out what the people we know well would do, we might have a fighting chance at getting past them. We’ll have to compare notes, but I estimate between the few of us we might be able to make decent guesses at what most of the staff might be doing, and how much of a threat they are.”

“For example,” added Duke, “I could say that I don’t anticipate Pluto being too much of a threat to our own capture. He’ll probably prefer to hide, with the conditions of his own loss being based simply on if we can find him.”

“Some people we might even just be able to ask,” said Lenore. “It’s a game, and the Ghosts are such a big team they may not remember that we aren’t Ghosts as well. If we act like we’re simply trying to avoid copying them, we might get information that way.”

The others murmured agreement. For a moment, Lenore let it sit as her teammates shared ideas, thoughts, and predictions. After a moment, she reeled it in. “We’ll spend the next day collecting these and writing down as many as we can and pass them on to a team captain.”

From the back, Lenore heard a little “hmmph!” sound. “And who exactly is going to be this captain?” she asked snidely. “You, I suppose? Assuming everyone will follow you just because your parents used to own the camp?”

“No,” Lenore said firmly. “I was going to suggest Duke.”

The man in question looked at her, surprise on his face and a hand on his heart. “Moi?”

She nodded. “Sure. You’re a first year, so easy to overlook and no one would expect you to be the one in charge. You have good ideas, you’re motivated, tall enough so as to be easy to find if needed—”

“Hey,” he said, but the warning tone in his voice was light, joking.

“—and you more reliably have use of both your legs.” With a self-deprecating smirk, she waved her cane around. “If no one has any objections—”

Ada raised her hand.

“If no one other than Ada has any objections?” Silence. “Then it’s official. Duke will be our Hunter team captain.”

That settled, the Hunters began planning, plotting, sharing strengths and weaknesses and predictions. One of the counselors, a girl with glasses and a bun full of blonde hair, started taking notes on crumpled construction paper pulled from her backpack, with a washable marker provided from her freckled best friend. The girl from the kitchen drew a surprisingly accurate map of the camp, which Duke and a few others utilized to compare strategies and plans. Even Ada got to talking about her normal group, once Lenore offered to rebraid her hair. 

“Of course I’ll handle Prospero,” she said as Lenore worked with a dismissive wave of her hand. “And I can probably talk to Morella about taking it easy on us. Annabel won’t be a bother either, she’s too much of a lady to play these games…”

Once upon a time, Lenore would have probably agreed, but now she wondered if that was actually true. What would Annabel do? She always seemed to have some kind of plan, or perhaps she just got very, very lucky. Lenore considered asking her directly, but when had Annabel ever given a direct answer?

All too quickly, the midnight curfew approached. Energy fading, most of the Hunters went back to their tents, cabins and yurts. Only Duke and Lenore were left behind by the time the clock read 11:55. Lenore turned to her friend. “Productive night,” she said.

“ Oui. You’re a good leader.”

She looked at him. “You’re the captain.”

“Because you insisted. And I’m honored and intend to do my best, but we both know that—”

Leveling her best withering glance at him, she interrupted. “You’re going to be great.”

“I certainly am! In large part because I have a dangerous, clever plan full of exploits that are sure to make me a part of camp legend forevermore.” His chest puffed out playfully as he winked at her. “I’m certain that, given that Ada isn’t exactly quiet, the entire camp knows of our little strategy meeting tonight. Or will by morning, at the very least. I intend to poke around tonight, while the opportunity is hot. Perhaps they’ve done something at the same time that we met, assuming we’d be too busy to find out.”

“Curfew’s in less than ten minutes!” Lenore protested. “You know how strictly that rule’s been enforced, don’t you?”

Duke stared blankly, and Lenore sighed. “Extremely strictly,” she said patiently. “ Knowing that, you’re really going to risk trying to find out what the Ghosts might be doing?”

“It should be easy enough, daring leader and spymaster that I am,” Duke said with a wink. “They don’t call me The Great Fortunato for nothing.”

Lenore almost choked on her laughter. “ Who calls you that?”

“My loyal fans, of course. It’s my streaming handle.”

“And what exactly has that got to do with sneaking around?”

“Well, I do play a ninja in FF14, so—”

Oh, the laughter was not ceasing . “A ninja , huh? Not what I expected,” she managed.

Duke’s only response was a huff. He looked away, arms folded over his chest. “It’s the natural progression of the rogue class, I’ll have you know. My point is that I am used to being a little bit sneaky.”

“Fine, then. If you think you can sneak around, absolutely go try. I’ll be rooting for you,” she said, meaning it genuinely.

Duke seemed to understand that for all the teasing, she truly was giving her blessing. With a giant grin, he bowed dramatically. “I shall strive to provide my team with all the information we lack,” he said. “Now, I may be taking this risk, but you only have five minutes until curfew, so you need to get out of here.”

She looked out the circular attic window. It was midnight-dark and beginning to drizzle; yes, getting back in five minutes was going to be difficult, given her hip. “Godspeed, Duke,” she said with a mockery of a salute before rushing out the door. As the req shed closed behind her, she couldn’t help a look back, wondering if he truly knew what he was doing.

Then the rain got louder, thicker, the big droplets almost hurting as they hit her head and face. With no more hesitation, she walked quickly back to Cabin Seven.

She didn’t have the chance to talk to Duke the next day, or even to see him. Besides all of the normal activities and care she gave to her wisps, she was working on her own preparations. At a break between boating and campsite chores, she made each of her campers swear undying loyalty to the Hunters in a quick and jokingly solemn ceremony. During her time off, she read over old camp records, digging through pictures, paperwork, and even some personal notes from various participants of former Hunts. Lenore was no Annabel Lee in terms of gameplay, but by the end of it all she had managed to put together a picture that gave birth to a sound strategy. Perhaps, she decided, they actually had a chance. Something to share with Duke when their paths finally crossed, whenever that might be.

He wasn’t at lunch either, which was understandable enough. She didn’t see his wisps, so there was probably some sort of lunchtime event, like a picnic, cookout, or meal on the water. She did manage to run into Eulalie and Berenice—their table was the one right next to hers. Eulalie leaned over with an excited smile. “We saw that you and Duke and Ada are Hunters this year!” she said. “That’s too bad, but if it helps, you’ll probably be really good at it. It’s about time they picked people who have some passion. It’s not fun being a Ghost if the Hunters aren’t playing the game right.”

“Then I take it you’ll be giving your all, too,” said Lenore with her most charming smile. “What sort of obstacle do you have planned for us?”

“Oh, nothing too serious! Bea and I are gonna work together and you’ll have to solve our—”

“Biscuit!” Berenice snapped, then smiled apologetically. “Nothing personal, but we are on different teams. Probably shouldn’t be sharin’ too much, huh sweetheart?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah!” Eulalie said, mouth round as she remembered. “Oops!”

Lenore grinned. “Worth a try, right?” she said before turning back to her own table.

Dinnertime was what changed everything. She scanned the dining hall to find him, confused when she simply couldn’t. She saw Annabel in the corner, waving to her, and casually waved back before continuing her hunt. There were Bea and Eula, together as always… in the back of the hall, Montresor was apparently teaching some older wisps how to pick pockets… Morella and Ada were chatting near the coffee maker with their mugs in hand as they waited their turn to use the machine… and Pluto was sitting at a table and staring off into the distance with a look of horror.

That wasn’t good.

She walked up to him and opened her mouth to greet him, but was cut off before he could. “Lenore? Oh no. No, you’re alone!” he said, his face horrified as he looked at her and at the empty space beside her. “Oh, this is bad. I told them, I—”

“Pluto, slow down,” she said, quickly taking his hands in hers and letting her cane fall to the floor as she did. “What’s wrong?”

“I-it’s—it’s Duke!” Pluto said, and her blood ran cold. “He isn’t here!”

She pulled him in, trying not to think, trying not to fall into the same pit her friend was in. “Shh, shh,” she soothed, pulling his body into hers and enveloping him in a hug. “You’re going to make yourself faint, try to slow your breathing. It could be that he’s running late.”

No, said the part of her that knew something was wrong, at the same time as Pluto said the word aloud. “But that doesn’t make sense, y’see,” he continued. She could feel him quivering in her arms. “Our breaks were scheduled from four to six. We were supposed to sit at dinner together, but he didn’t show up. Something’s wrong!”

Lenore’s thoughts ran through her mind like bullet trains, unrelenting. Pluto’s worry was sparking her own, but no—she couldn’t let that show, not here. Not when he was looking to her to be the strong one, to have the answers, just like the other Hunters had done the night before. She took a step back. She forced a smile as she spoke. “Duke must be playing hooky! He’s probably in our spot. You can give him hell for it after dinner, during the game. Just… not too much hell. We’re already at enough of a disadvantage,” she joked weakly. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“D’you really think so?” he asked.

She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by a loud clap from the front, where Ms. Poppet stood. “To your seats, if you would!” she said primly. “We don’t want to be late tonight of all nights—it’d be a shame if the allcamp started late!”

“Do you want me to sit with you, Pluto?” Lenore asked gently.

He shook his head. “Should probably keep the seat open for if—for when he shows up. Thanks anyway.”

She ruffled his hair as she picked up her cane and began looking around for a seat. Despite Ms. Poppet’s warning, it seemed that plenty of people were still lazing around the dining hall, trying to find friends or do a last minute fill up of their water bottle. Perfect, she thought to herself as she scanned the room and found one of the people she was looking for—a fellow Hunter, standing by the condiment cabinet looking for a full salt shaker.

She walked up to him as suavely as she could. “How attached are you to the idea of eating?” she asked with a charming smile.

He looked up, right at her. “Um—pretty attached? It depends?”

Lenore racked her brain and remembered his name—Arthur. The kid who was the last to go at name games so long ago during precamp, the counselor for the boys’ yurt unit, and one of her fellow Hunters. “Arthur,” she said, taking him by the shoulder with her free hand and looking him dead in the eye, “I’m going to ask you to do something for the good of the team. It’s not a fun mission, and you will probably miss dinner, but I can’t do it myself.”

“Okay…”

“I need you to find Duke—we haven’t seen him in a while, have we? Not good for our team, I’d say. Now, he might have slept in, he does that sometimes, but I’ll be slower to look, and anyway,  if I go to a boys’ cabin…”

“Probably better that I do it,” Arthur agreed, surprisingly easily. “I’ll check his cabin. Anywhere else he could be?”

“Showerhouse?” she said, though it was unlikely. “The staff house, maybe… he could have napped in there over break, I suppose. And… the arts and crafts lodge. Though don’t just look. Call out to him. He likes to… um… hide sometimes,” she said, trying not to stumble as she figured out how to keep the sanctity and secrecy of the hideout in check. “Maybe the freezers, just to be safe,” she said and shivered, thinking of Duke trapped within like Annabel had been.

“I got it,” he said. “Anything for the team. You can count on me.” There was a look of dedication in his eyes that almost took Lenore aback. Had she and Duke really inspired that?

“Good man,” she said, clapping him on the back. “Meet us at the starting location at the end of the meal either way.”

As soon as dinner ended, mealtime chores were completed, and she could escape the wisps around her, Lenore was at the large white oak tree next to the camp’s pavilion—the place that would serve as the Hunters’ starting location. She was almost surprised she was there before almost everyone, and almost hated it. Slowly, she paced, leaning on her cane for both physical and emotional support. It wasn’t raining, but it was “treeing—” the leftover droplets came down whenever a breeze shook the leaves in Camp Nevermore’s woods, coming down on everyone and everything. It wasn’t the water itself that caused the ache in her leg, though, but the promise of yet another storm somewhat soon, probably overnight. It was also possibly pure stress.

Arthur showed up right in the middle of the Hunter’s pack, and Lenore was relieved to see him wading through the small sea of campers until she noticed Duke wasn’t with him. “Is he—” she called out when Arthur was still a ways away. 

He shook his head. “I tried everywhere you asked. It’s like he’s vanished.”

Had he vanished? Could he have slipped off of camp? Gotten lost in the woods? Both seemed incredibly unlikely, but not out of the realm of possibility. Lenore’s lips pursed, all of Pluto’s worry and fear and panic threatening to rush back like a tidal wave. “Thank you,” she said, looking Arthur in the eyes. “Please, may I ask one more thing of you?”

“Sure,” he said.

“Keep the group in order. Especially Ada, once she gets here. I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Cane gripped confidently in her hand, she started away from the white oak and off to Townhouse, worried that for once the directors wouldn’t be there. Her worries, however, were unfounded. As she rounded a bend in the trail and her old home came into view, she could see the camp’s owners in front of the cabin, standing and talking next to their shiny little golf cart. She swallowed and walked up to them with as much purpose as she could muster.

“Why, Lenore,” said the cheerful director as soon as he saw her, though his attitude seemed less cheerful and more frightening. He almost leered at her, looking down upon her with something akin to a spiteful glee. “Is there something troubling you? I’m sure there’s a very good reason that you’re here, bothering us , as opposed to at your starting position with the campers.”

“And if there isn’t, I’d like to believe you have the barest hint of common sense necessary to know to head there straight away,” said the other. He was in a complimenting pose to his counterpart… not looming, or even facing towards Lenore, but rather stern and tall and unmoving, acknowledging her only with that voice, so dripping with condescension. 

But she couldn’t let it bother her. She couldn’t fall into some trap. There were more important things at stake—much, much more important things. 

“You have to cancel the Ghost Hunt and raise a missing person’s alarm,” she said. She could hear the barest hint of desperation in her own tone and hated it, but maybe it’d mean that the directors would take her seriously. “We can’t find Duke. He’s been gone all day. We have to stop and look for him. We have to find him.”

And—horribly—the directors began to laugh. Or, well, the merrier one did, while the other merely let out a snort of derision. “Missing would hardly be the right word,” that dour one said. “Plenty of people—us included—know his exact location. Just because you aren’t one of those people is not cause to postpone the event of the summer.”

“You know where he is?” she demanded, taking a step towards them. Underneath her, she felt her bad leg buckle slightly, her hip twinging with sharp pain, and she choked back a gasp. Of all the times for her body to betray her—no, she couldn’t let them see. She aimed her most indignant look right at the two. “Where?”

“Whether you find your friend is of no concern to us.”

“This can’t be fair!”

“Perhaps it isn’t!” The director who responded now smiled an unpleasant smile that almost seemed to stretch his face. “However, there is absolutely nothing in the rules that disqualifies it.”

Lenore felt her eyes widen. “In the rules… so this is all part of the game to you?” 

“Of course it is,” scoffed the smiling one, not breaking his expression in the slightest as he did. “If it wasn’t part of the game, don’t you think that we would have already noticed he was missing? Certainly we would have called for a missing person already, especially given how we noticed his absence before even you seemed to.”

It was like a hit to the gut, how accurate it was. It truly did take me all day… all the excuses I made… should I have known sooner?

“Now,” said the other director, “return to your starting point before you’re disqualified. It wouldn’t do to leave your team without even the barest hint of hope of winning, would it?”

How she wanted to say something more. Do something. Knock the smug looks off the faces of the directors. But that would only serve to get her fired, kicked out of the only place she’d ever felt at home, the only place she really belonged. She thought about how bad Duke would feel if she had to leave because of what she did on his behalf. She thought about Pluto and Bea and Eulalie, shaking their heads and wondering why she’d left. Morella, who would almost certainly cry when she thought no one was looking. She even thought about Ada, left without anyone who would braid her hair or speak to her kindly when Prospero inevitably broke her heart.

And she thought about Annabel. Annabel Lee Whitlock, who would wear a look of confusion and sadness when they told her Lenore was gone for good, who would still be pretty, but not as pretty as she was smiling.

No, that wouldn’t do. That couldn’t be what anyone would want. 

With a nod—and not without one last burning glare—she left the directors and walked to the starting line.

Chapter Text

By the time she arrived back at the white oak tree, Lenore had made an important decision: she would not be telling anyone that Duke was missing. Or at least, not more than they had already figured out. As she approached without her friend by her side, Arthur gave a questioning look. She smiled sheepishly and shrugged, trying to make it seem like no big deal that Duke still wasn’t there. 

Even so, he looked like he might have been about to say something, or at least had planned on it before Ada barged in, leaning herself against the large tree and smirking right into Lenore’s face. “Took you long enough to get here,” she said.

“I could say the same for you. I’ve been here; I just had to step out for a bit,” Lenore responded dryly.

“Well, at least you’re here at all.” Ada crossed her arms over her chest and turned her head dramatically, her braid almost whipping Lenore in the face as she did. “I’m glad that you at least could keep yourself out of trouble.”

“What does that mean?” Lenore asked, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, the camp bell began ringing. 

The Ghost Hunt had begun.

“Okay, Hunters!” she shouted. “Into the positions we planned! Walkie talkies on! Everyone take your coordinates, then move to the next location once it’s clear. Once we figure out who’s made it, we can go from there.” She hoped that was enough to remind them of the plan. Each Hunter was focusing on the Ghosts they knew best in hopes it would give them a slight edge. Of course, it could easily backfire, so Duke had thought to build in failsafes as well. Combined with passing information through a set of walkie talkies they’d found in the req shed, the plan was good enough that Lenore half believed they could win… even with Duke missing in action.

The others were off like a shot, their wisps tagging after them. Lenore looked at her group, the stragglers. Many were campers from her own cabin. Some were older kids who remembered being campers at the same time as Lenore, though they had all been in elementary school when she left. Some were just random kids who’d sat with her at mealtimes. Almost all of them had their own reasons to be loyal to her, though, and she grinned at them. “Alright, guys. Are you ready to win?” she asked.

“Yeah!” they cried, almost in unison.

“We’re starting with the Blue Trail, okay? Keep up. Mostly for your sake. I can only be tagged once all of you are out, but you guys can be tagged at any time. Stay with the group, look out for your buddies, and if someone comes for you, scream. Got it?”

There was a chorus of scattered agreement and Lenore grinned before leading them off and towards the nearest trailhead. They stepped onto the trail with no hesitation or trepidation, confidence carrying them many yards in before Lenore began even thinking of growing suspicious. Too quiet. Too empty. There was no way that the Ghosts would have neglected one of the main trails, and the group was about to enter the deeper parts of the woods, with the older, taller trees that could obscure too much. “Look around for clues. Or Ghosts. Either.”

The wisps did so. So did Lenore. There was nothing anywhere in sight, nothing but a feeling of being watched that she couldn’t shake. Some of the wisps started off without her, going down the trail freely, eyes trained on the ground…

“Wait,” said Lenore, holding her arm out to deter the wisps who remained behind her. The idea had come to her suddenly, but even so she was confident she’d found the answer. “Remember to look up.”

“Oh, they thought of it!” said a voice from a nearby tree, with a little giggle accentuating the end. Lenore whipped her head in the direction it came from to see Eulalie perched on some sturdy branches and Berenice in the tree next to her. They scurried down expertly, wicked grins on their faces.

The many resources of Edgar Hall had paid off, as had Eulalie’s skill with anything artsy—both women looked great. Berenice had dug up an old flapper dress that was probably left over from the end-of-year staff banquet they’d had back when Lenore was twelve. It’d been themed around the nineteen-twenties, and all the remnants still existed deep in the req shed if one knew where to look. She’d paired it with a glow in the dark set of cheap vampire fangs, and tied it together with some amazing makeup, ripped fishnets, and strings of paper beads that had clearly been lovingly crafted by Eulalie. 

Speaking of Eulalie, she’d taken another costume from storage (wizard academy themed, probably from the staff banquet that happened in the year Lenore was nine) and revamped it with swirls of purple glitter paint, shimmering fabric stars and ribbon sewn onto the robe in multiple places, and a little bit of body paint to add to the inhuman effect. Lenore wasn’t sure that Eula looked like a ghost, exactly, but she still looked pretty amazing.

“Alright, kiddos, hold still so we can tag you!” Berenice said in a singsong as she began shuffling toward them. For a moment, Lenore wanted to tell her campers to run, caught up in the reverie of the game. But…

“Wait!” Lenore called to them, holding out her hand before they could tag anyone. To her surprise, Eulalie and Berenice stopped. Lenore shoved through the pack of children to the front. “Duke’s missing and the directors aren’t going to do anything about it. I think it’s something that the Ghost team did. Do you two know anything about it?”

Eulalie and Berenice looked at each other, then back to Lenore. “If we did, Pluto wouldn’t be freaking out half as much about now,” said Berenice grimly. “You’re sure it’s our team?”

“It’s not ours, so it has to be. Not the whole team, apparently. But Ghosts hardly need to work together. Whoever did it must have told the directors,” Lenore said. “They told me they knew where he was, but that they weren’t going to let me know.”

“Dirty bassssssss… ketball players,” Berenice said, changing her word right in the middle as she looked at the slew of small children in front of her. “Well, we’re not in a position to help look much, and if they know where he is, he’s not in any danger. But still, we should be able to help you out, even if it’s only makin’ it a little easier for you to win. Eula, biscuit, you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“Easy questions for them!” Eulalie almost sang out, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Alright, alright. “If you want to defeat us, you have to answer our three spooky supernatural questions! First: what is the purpose of a pendu—”

“I can already tell this isn’t going to be easy enough,” Berenice groaned, putting her head in her hands. “Look, here we go. What’s the first letter of the alphabet?”

“A,” said Lenore, equally amused and dumbfounded.

“Ding, ding, correct. Next riddle. What’s my name?”

“Berenice.”

“Great! Eulalie, you think you can take this last one in a reasonable way?”

“Oh, sure! So Lenore and wisps, name one type of ghost or spectre.” As the words left Eulalie’s mouth, Berenice made a disparaging noise and buried her head in her hands. “What?” said Eulalie. “We said they’d be spooky trivia questions or riddles, and if we lie about what we need from them we get disqualified. And anyway, there’s plenty of types of ghosts.”

An idea struck Lenore. “Oh, really?” she asked innocently. “Eula, could you tell me some of them?”

Eulalie brightened immediately. “Sure! So, there’s many. Ladies in white, guardian spirits, shadow men, cryptids, poltergeists, strigoi (those are my favorite!), banshees, chimer—”

“Poltergeist! Poltergeist,” interrupted Lenore as she realized that Eulalie was simply not going to stop listing types of ghosts anytime soon.

To her surprise, Eulalie didn’t seem upset about the interruption. She grinned. “Yes! Good job! Okay, Bea, we’re defeated now. Let’s go to the beach.” And she took Berenice’s hand, starting to pull her away and stopped only by Berenice refusing to move her feet.

“One sec, biscuit, lemme talk to Lenore.” When Eulalie nodded and let go, Berenice slid in close to Lenore’s ear, whispering directly into it. “Find Duke. And if you can’t, find the assholes who got him out of the picture. And punch them in the face.”  

Lenore stepped back. “Trust me, I’m definitely thinking about it,” she said grimly.

“Perfect. Alright now, Eula,” she said, turning back to the girl in question, “let’s go be beach bums for the rest of the game.”

“Okay!” Eulalie said happily. “Oh, and Lenore, I wouldn’t take this path if I were you. First of all, one of your teammates already cleared out most of the Ghosts here, and second, they’re assuming you’ll come this way and are waiting at the end. You should sneak through the woods instead.”

Sneaking through the woods. It technically wasn’t against the rules, but had famously been considered a dangerous scheme. Though early Camp Ravenshead had once been crisscrossed with trails, all but a few had been abandoned or overgrown, leaving only faded and broken trail markers behind. It resulted in a confusing mess that would make even faerie forests seem simplistic—it was easy enough to see a trail marker seemingly leading to the still-used Yellow Trail, only to find it was a sunbleached imposter actually leading to the gross, marshy mess of the forgotten Orange Trail and you were more lost than ever. Lenore had plenty of times risked this during her childhood adventures with Theo, but that had—

Well. Even if she still felt confident risking everything like that, she could hardly risk the kids in her care. She had to stay on the trails, that was sure. 

Though thinking of the Orange Trail did give her another solution. No one ever said she had to stay on trails that were commonly used. As long as the trail markers could still be viewed clearly…

“The Red Trail connector should be around here somewhere,” she muttered, quietly enough that the wisps had to gather close to hear her. “Be on the lookout. Any red trail marker. If you see Flynn Lodge, we’ve gone too far.”

The wisps murmured understanding as they crept through the woods. After a few minutes, a tug on her shirt and a solemn point from the six year old boy who was the youngest group member revealed the coveted trail. She ushered the kids down it and was pleased at how soundless they could be. I’ll have to remind them I know that they can do this next time they’re screaming first thing in the morning, she thought to herself with a near-silent snort.

Eventually the woods began to thin; it wasn’t enough to reveal them or reveal anyone outside the trail, but it was enough that they could hear quiet but distinct arguing. Ada’s voice, first, then Monty’s. 

“It isn’t fair! You tagged me—you touched me—and you never even asked if I have any wisps left, or told me what I could do to get you out!”

“Well, do you have any wisps?” His voice was thick with the annoying drawl that Lenore so loathed, heavier than usual. Lenore peeked her head out from behind a tree and saw him slouched in front of Ada, a pine needle sticking out of his mouth. Unlike most of the Ghosts, he hadn’t bothered to dress up and simply wore his favorite jeans, a gold-buckled belt, and a Camp Nevermore tee shirt in bright red. There was a small branch stuck in his hair in such a way that it almost looked like a horn; Lenore couldn’t tell if that was intentional or not.

Ada had a branch or two in her hair, too, despite the braid. Lenore wondered if she’d tried to cut through a particularly tree-heavy area.

“I have a few,” she defended, gesturing behind her. Sure enough, there was a small group of kids, though not nearly as many as she began with. “Now tell me how to beat you.”

“Oh, it’s easy enough.” Monty grinned. Lenore sighed heavily at the sight. No way would it be easy. “Just solve a little riddle.”

“A riddle? That’s the best you could come up with?”

“And I think it’ll be enough by far. You ready?”

With a little laugh, Ada tilted her head. Her confidence radiated, enough that Lenore could almost feel it tangibly from her hiding spot. “Of course! All I have to do is keep guessing until I get the answers right! A hick like you never thinks about things like that.”

“Not quite. Ask Poppet if you don’t believe me, but  I set a limit. Three chances, sugar. That’s all you get. More’n reasonable, that’s what I think,” Monty said, taking a swig from his water bottle. He swished it around in his mouth before swallowing. “I’m not expecting you to get it, if I’m honest. If I’m remembering right from our childhoods, you never were one for payin’ attention to riddles.”

“Well—well—you weren’t either!” Ada accused, stamping her foot. “You were always as bored as me! Why choose now to get into it?”

Monty grinned. “Simple. Became a staff member, found the book all the camp’s best riddles came from in the staff lounge, skimmed the answer key. Now let’s get this over with, alright sweetheart? Here’s my riddle: what has thirteen hearts, but no other organs?”

Ada had gone a peculiar shade of pale. “Um… a monster?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Nope. Two more attempts left, little lady,” he said. His smile was almost predatory, Lenore noticed. He leered at her in a way that felt wrong, especially in front of Ada’s campers.

“Um!” Ada said, looking around. Lenore couldn’t tell if she was looking for help or inspiration. “Uh… trees have hearts, don’t they? A forest? The woods?”

“Now I could count that as both your answers, but I’ll be sweet to you and just say that’s one. It’s wrong, for what it’s worth. When’s there been a forest with thirteen trees? Why don’t you try using whatever brains are rattlin’ around in that pretty head for once?”

Horror was slowly dawning on Ada’s face. She backed up, caught by a tree as she did. No escape, not unless she could figure out the riddle. Or so she and Monty thought. Opening her mouth, Ada looked about to squeeze out another answer, but before she could, Lenore sighed and stepped out from the shadows, her wisps following. As much as it’d be satisfying in the moment to see Ada tagged out, the Hunters needed every teammate they could get. 

“It’s a deck of cards,” she said. 

Montresor opened his mouth with a grin. His gold tooth caught the light of the slowly sinking sun as he did. “Nah, it’s—”

“It’s a deck of cards, Monty, don’t try me.” She could hear the weariness in her own voice. “Give it up. Honor system. Though I suppose… well, you’ve never known honor, have you? Ever since we were kids, you’ve just been a cheat.”

“And it’s gotten me this far, ain’t it?” he said.

“You got kicked out of camp.”

“Not forever, clearly.” He was still grinning, and she’d never wanted to punch him more. “But let’s let bygones be bygones, eh, sugar? I’ll play fair and square now. Won’t matter in the end, though, let’s be clear. You’re a leader short and already at a disadvantage. Woulda been easier for you if you’d just let me take you and Ada out. Then all you’d have to do is sit on the beach and wait for the end.”

With a snort, Lenore rolled her eyes. “Only in your dreams, Montresor. Now, speaking of sitting on the beach—shouldn’t you be going?”

“You’re gonna wish you hadn’t done that, sugar,” he said, walking towards her. For a moment, she wondered if he might try something in front of the wisps, but he simply passed by her and started down towards the trail to the beach. She turned to watch him go and make sure he didn’t do anything funny. All she got for her trouble was hearing him say, “Good luck finding Duke, by the way.”

“What do you know about—”

“Don’t ask me,” said Monty. “I’m out of the game. Ask one of the people still in it. Maybe your pretty little damsel in distress right there.”

Of course, Ada knows something. She wanted to wheel on Ada right there, but some perhaps misplaced feeling of camaraderie stopped her. “Get lost, Montresor,” she spat instead. “If you’re not going to make yourself useful, just go to the beach already.”

With one last shit-eating grin, he turned and walked—slowly, impossibly, infuriatingly slowly—away. Lenore waited until he was gone before she decided to turn and ask Ada about Duke. Before she could, however, she found that the other woman was already pretty much on top of her. Ada’s arms clasped around Lenore’s shoulders, enveloping her in something between a hug and a death grip.

“I never expected you to be the dashing hero,” Ada sniffled. She leaned all of her body weight into Lenore, who had to brace herself on her cane to keep herself from falling. “But you do play it well. For a girl. Though there’s one thing I don’t understand.”

There’s lots you don’t understand, Ada, thought Lenore as she simply said, “yes?”

“You never liked riddles either, didn’t you? You fidgeted more than either Montresor or I did! How did you know the answer?”

“Monty,” said Lenore with a roll of her eyes, “isn’t the only one who thought to read the answer key.”

Immediately souring, Ada pulled away. “Oh. I suppose all that talk of honor was only talk, then,” she huffed.

“Says the one who apparently knows about Duke?”

Ada looked taken aback. “Oh, you’re not really going to believe what Montresor said there, are you?” she asked innocently, but she couldn’t hide the hitch in her voice or the way that she was suddenly looking up at the sky as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

Lenore opened her mouth to respond to the utter bullshit Ada had just produced, but then she remembered the wisps. They were all around—the three or four that Ada still had, plus her own fifteen or so. 

“We’ll talk later,” she hissed. “But you better pray that he’s fine.”

“Why wouldn’t he be? He’s—”

A sound in the woods cut Ada off. It was a rustling of some kind, perhaps the sound of a person knocking through branches and pushing away leaves. A few of the wisps clutched each other in an echo of how Ada had just clutched Lenore. She looked around, trying to find the source, but wasn’t able to do it before the children did.

“Lenooooore there’s someone behind us!” one wisp cried out.

“He’s gonna eat us!”

“We’re gonna dieeeeeeeeeee!”

Lenore turned back to her campers just in time to see the source of the noise emerge from the woods. “No, no, I—I’m not going to eat you! Not at all!” Pluto said. He stepped out from behind a tree and ran after the wisps, his hand outstretched. It was probably meant as a gesture of peace, but instead it came across as almost threatening. The wisps shrieked and ran towards Lenore, cowering behind her and afraid of being tagged out.

Pluto seemed aware of their worries. He made a disparaging noise and closed his eyes mid-run, obviously thinking. While his thoughts may have calmed, his legs didn’t. He ran straight into Lenore.

She caught him easily, examining his face. He looked more than concerned. “Careful, Pluto, we don’t want you to get hurt. You or the wisps; you’re scaring them. Come to think of it, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong? Is it still Duke? Do you know he’s alright, according to the directors?” There was a flash of irritation, directed at the camp’s absent owners as she spoke, one which Pluto seemed to misinterpret as something else.

“S-sorry! Don’t panic! There’s nothing to worry about. Er… not imminently, at any rate,” he said, clutching his head. Looking him up and down, Lenore wondered what the thinking behind his ghost costume was. Perhaps he’d just pulled things out of the req shed’s costume bin, because she didn’t know if a cat ear headband, matching tail, and old brown raincoat exactly screamed “ghost” to her.

“Don’t apologize, darling,” she said, pulling herself away from wondering about his costume, then pulling herself up with her cane. “I can’t tell you what a relief it is to see you!”

“Not a relief, no! Don’t be relieved, either.”

Lenore gave him a look, but relented. It made sense. They were on different teams. Combined with the fact that Pluto was obviously fast and seemed quite upset, it must have meant that something was up, and Lenore had a feeling she knew what it was. 

She tried to find a way to reassure him about Duke, despite her own latent worry gurgling back to the surface as she did. “The directors wouldn’t lie about the safety of a staff member. At least, I don’t think they would. And if they are, I’ll go to whoever I need to go to in order to—well.” She reined in her anger and tried to be more reassuring. “Duke will be fine. Is fine. As soon as we find him, we’ll—”

“It’s not about that! Well, not just about that! He may round the corner any minute—”

Lenore scrunched up her face. “Duke?”

“No.” Pluto had gone even paler than usual. “Prospero and his wisps.”

“Prospero?!?” Lenore had almost forgotten about Ada until she spoke, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “Oh, how wonderful! He’ll be—”

“He’s on the other team, Ada,” Lenore said. 

“Perhaps so, but we have so little time to spend with each other normally. I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed to see me!” Ada said with an almost cute little hop of excitement. “You stay back, Lenore!” she ordered. “I’m going to go see him.”

Before Lenore could stop her, Ada pushed through the small crowd of wisps and ran down the trail, her braid flying out behind her. Lenore looked at Pluto. “He’s going to tag her, isn’t he?”

“Most definitely,” he said.

She thought. It was really tempting just to let him… but then again, Ada had left her wisps behind. An argument could be made that since she’d abandoned them to Lenore, they were hers now and she had no protection, but there was an equal chance that if Prospero tagged Ada, she’d send him after the whole group.

I’m going to have to go and stop her, aren’t I?

With a deep sigh, she motioned her wisps forward. “Come on, you guys. Pluto, what’s your defeat condition, and do you mind terribly if I activate it later.”

The look on Pluto’s face was one of shock and desperation. “I—someone just has to ask me to please be out. I didn’t want to do this, any of this. Please, Lenore, are you daft? Leave her be, what does it matter to you? Didn’t you hear me? His wisps. He bribed campers to switch teams by promising them extra dessert and—”

She shook her head before turning. “She’s still my teammate,” she said, kind of wishing she didn’t have to. “And Pluto, if you’ll please see yourself out?” she asked. 

She raced after Ada before Pluto could answer one way or another.

The wisps followed loyally after her, silent as a group of children could possibly be in their pursuit. They helped her push through the branches and brush, following Ada’s footprints in the mud towards—yes, of course Prospero would set up at the staff office. That was practically the only place he could ever be found anyway.

Lenore rarely had any reason to go to the staff office, even as a little kid who had absolute freedom to go everywhere. The outside was no fun—there was no porch or any distinct features to play with or play on. The pond next to it had its own little fishing dock, but that pond had been effectively ruined by overgrown algae and lily pads for as long as Lenore had been alive.  Only a gross, marshy mess remained, something that mosquitos loved and even the messiest of little kids hated. Little Lenore would have taken it in stride and simply invaded the inside, but that was all financial records, paperwork bins, walkie-talkie charging stations, and adults telling her to hush or go away. She and Theo had quickly found they preferred to play literally anywhere else, and Lenore’s distaste for the building persisted to the current day.

She could see Prospero from the trees before he could see her. He stood there on the dock in his Ghost garb, which—wow. Of course he’d be the type to own a plague doctor outfit, Lenore thought, snorting aloud as she did. He was exactly the type. Men like Prospero were either absolute bores or they were the type of assholes who went to anime cons in edgy outfits that didn’t even really count as proper cosplay. She’d believed him to be the first, but she wasn’t too surprised to find out he was the second.

At the shore of the pond, Ada stood watching him. No, not just watching; calling out. “Oh, Prospero! I’m here! It’s me, your Ada!”

She stepped onto the dock, arms outstretched. It looked just as Ada probably wanted—like a romance scene. Except for the fact that he was dressed like a plague doctor, and she was wearing the same pair of khaki shorts she’d worn three days in a row now.

Other than that, idyllic. It almost took Lenore a moment to figure out what was wrong.

Pluto said there were wisps. Where are the wisps?

Not well hidden, apparently.  Not now that she knew to look for them. Much as she and her wisps were hiding in the woods to the left of the office, the little rats hid off to the right. Possibly elsewhere, too. Their eyes were all fixed on Prospero, likely waiting for some kind of signal. That was a blessing, and barely even a disguised one. If they were looking at him, they weren’t looking at Lenore and her own campers.

And there, as she’d predicted, was a signal from their master. A hand, ever so slightly raised. Then, pointing right at Ada, he said two simple words to his wisps: “Devour them.”

What kind of edgelord— Lenore thought, right before the turncoat children began running straight at her teammate. 

Ada shrieked. For a moment, Lenore thought she was going to run, and run she did. Straight at Prospero. 

Oh, for the love of—

“Wait! Prospero! There’s something I have to tell you!” she cried, falling to her knees in front of him.

His head tilted. “Of course there is,” he said calmly, as though there weren’t a pack of rabid-looking preteens storming down the dock. “I need to ask you something as well.”

“Oh, anything!” Ada promised.

“Somehow I doubt that,” he said, but he held up a hand. The children stopped running, and Ada seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Lenore hadn’t realized she’d even noticed the kids until that. “Tell me what you want to tell me. I suspect you’ll do it whether or not I want to hear it, after all.”

“I—” said Ada. For a long moment, she seemed almost paralyzed. Then, she slowly stood. “I know you’re shy, Prospero,” she said. She seemed the shy one, really. “I was going to wait for you to—”

“Don’t do this,” said Prospero. 

He tried to side step Ada, but Ada took a step opposite so that they simply spun in almost a dance, putting her on the dock’s edge where he had once stood. She was looking deep into his eyes and blushing madly, and Lenore felt like she was watching some kind of car accident take place. She wanted to look away, oh god, did she want to look away, but she couldn’t bring herself to.

“It’s… not good, is it?” said a soft voice behind her, and Lenore let out a hiss of surprise. Standing only one tree away was Morella, who looked like an angel more than a Ghost with wings attached via faded elastic bands and a tinsley golden halo. Lenore immediately identified her costume as a relic from one of the annual Winter Camp Christmas pageants that had stopped years before she was born.

“No,” Lenore said. “I’m worried about Ada. And about you, come to think of it,” she added with a wary look, “though in a different way. Are you here to tag me or my wisps out?”

Morella shook her head. “Um, no! I don’t think so. Prospero doesn’t know you’re here yet, so there’s no point… he convinced me to team up with him and make my defeat conditional on his own, but I think that may have been a mistake on my part… well, anyway, I won’t tag you if you promise to help Ada. I feel like she’s going to need it.”

“Unfortunately, I agree.” With that settled, Lenore turned her focus back to the soap opera playing out in front of her. 

“—for four summers,” Ada was saying. “And of course! I understand the issue entirely. You are older, after all. The financial manager! It would have been a scandal. But I’m only a year from twenty-one now. Next year I’ll be a member of support staff, I’m sure! So if we know that any power dynamic won’t last, while holding on is quite honorable of you… surely it wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

“Ada, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know,” she said fervently. “I’ll say it for the both of us. I think I lo—”

“Stop this foolishness, Ada.”

Ada stopped. “Huh?”

“Know this. In every way there is, this is over. You have lost the game, Ada, and anything else you may have imagined is something you never had any chance of having.”

“B-b-but you have to…”

“Yes, I have to tell you how I can be defeated before defeating you. Yes, that is a rule. Quite a thorn in my side, as far as rules go, but let no one say I am a cheater. Fine. I will tell you my secret.”

“P-prospero? My love?”

“To defeat me, you would need to take my mask,” he said, ignoring her. “And I know you won’t. Can’t.”

“I—”

“Because I would never, ever let you touch me,” he finished. And oh, was it a finish. The finality was heavy in his words. 

“You don’t mean that,” Ada said. Her voice was so quiet that Lenore could barely hear it. She had to rely partially on the shape of Ada’s lips to be sure that was what she’d said.

Then, seemingly possessed of a sudden boldness, Ada reached out for Prospero. 

And with barely a thought, he knocked her away. She stumbled back, eyes wide as she looked up at him. Just in time to see his leg come up and kick her away and into the murky water that ran around and below the dock.

“Ada!” Lenore yelled, bursting from the woods. “Pause the game, she’s in the pond! Ada, are you okay?”

Prospero raised his head and looked right at Lenore. “You too, then?” he said mildly before pointing at her in just the same way as he’d pointed at Ada. 

The kids, who had been paused on and around the dock, turned on Lenore in an instant. They started towards her—probably only a dozen or so, but overwhelming all the same. And just before they got to her—

“Stop this, Prospero.”

Prospero turned to the woods at the sound of the melodious voice there. 

“You will pause the game,” said Annabel, stepping into the clearing. “We are not risking someone’s life here. Not now.”

For a moment, Lenore thought Prospero would protest. He seemed about to. After a beat, however, he simply said “Fine. We will finish this after Ada is pulled from the water.”

Lenore looked at Annabel. If anyone looked like a proper ghost during this hunt, it was her. She’d taken a long, white nightgown and some of Eulalie’s sample beadwork from Edgar Hall and combined it. The red design was made of barely-shiny glass beads and attached to Annabel’s chest with matching string. If one didn’t look too closely, it almost looked like blood, seeping from a wound over her heart. That, plus some genuinely eerie makeup, gave Lenore a bit of a start. If you’d died in the freezer, this is how I could imagine you coming back, she thought. The idea of Annabel like that, trapped in some afterlife, eternally cold, made Lenore shiver. 

For a moment, that sight—those thoughts—distracted Lenore. Then, she heard a pathetic little gurgle coming from the swampy pond and snapped back to reality. “What are you doing, then?” she demanded of Annabel. “You’re a lifeguard! Save her!”

“She doesn’t need me. She’s saving herself.”

Lenore looked. Sure enough, Ada was doggy paddling her way back to shore, hacking and coughing but moving forward all the same. “Well… aren’t you supposed to act faster?”

“Even if she was drowning, it wouldn’t be safe for me to simply jump in,” Annabel said reasonably. Calmly. “She could pull me down. I’d need to think about what I could give her to hold onto, and that is exactly what I was thinking about. Although I do believe Morella might have been thinking faster than I was,” she said, looking to someone standing directly behind Lenore.

Lenore turned with a start. Morella stood there, surprising Lenore once again. In one hand was a large, yellowed ring buoy that she held out in front of her like she wasn’t fully sure if it was meant as a shield or an offering. “D-do we still need this?” she asked. “I can throw it out and reel it in, if I have to.”

“I don’t think you will, love,” Annabel said with a smile. “Look, Ada is coming back to us right now.”

Sure enough, Ada had reached dry land once again. She made a sound that was hard to describe but could best be summed up as extremely gross sounding , and then followed it with a pathetic little whimper. “Prospero, I—”

“You are out of the game,” he said, cutting her off. “I don’t want to hear from you.”

Ada turned to face Annabel, perhaps looking for help, or at least encouragement. Annabel didn’t respond in the slightest. 

“Walk to the beach, Ada,” Prospero continued. “You aren’t getting help here.”

Something about the way that he said it—or maybe about the look on Ada’s face—made Lenore’s blood boil. She too looked at Annabel. And you’re not going to say anything in defense of your supposed friend? she wanted to ask. But if she did, she’d have to place blame on Morella as well, who was clearly just too nervous to do much of anything. Lenore pressed her lips together and kept silent.

For about five seconds.

“One of you is walking her to the beach,” she ordered, walking up to Ada. The girl in question stood there looking like a drowned kitten in both expression and the amount of water dripping from her hair and clothing. She seemed surprised that Lenore had said anything, but still grateful.

“No,” said Prospero. “With one of us distracted, you could take out the others without fear of retribution. Ada can worry about herself.”

“Prospero, we’re paused.”

“And for how long do you expect that to go on? We can hardly stop the entire game for one foolish girl.”

“Fine. Unpause the game for everyone else, and I’ll take her,” said Lenore. “Surely you can’t have a problem if I remove myself from the game temporarily. I’m untaggable until she’s dropped off, but otherwise everything goes on fairly. There’s enough of us here to show that someone will be honorable about it.” Probably Morella. “I’m not making Ada walk by herself.”

“I think that’s more than fair,” said Morella quietly. “Lenore’s right. It’s nicer than making her walk back alone after falling in.”

She didn’t fall. She was pushed, thought Lenore, but aloud, she only sighed.

“By my information, you’re the only Hunter left. How could the game go on without you?” Prospero asked.

“Strategize. Hunt wisps. I don’t know, figure it out.”

“All clear ideas that benefit us. It’s settled,” said Annabel, before Prospero could finish further. “Lenore will take Ada to the beach. Ada will be marked as defeated. Lenore will head back and finish the game, all alone.”

“Yes. I’ll get her safely to the beach,” said Lenore. “And then I’ll come back and take all three of you out.”

Annabel smiled a smile that Lenore had never seen on her before. She tilted her head back, her eyes calculating… no, no, not the right word. Appraising. She looked down on Lenore in a way that might have been condescending if not for the twinkle in her eyes. For the first time, Lenore found her incredibly easy to read. Her look was nothing more than a friendly challenge. An invitation to play a game. For all her elegance and ruthless demeanor, Annabel Lee was nothing more than a child hoping for a playdate with a friend. 

“Let me see you try,” said that playful, childish girl, her smile widening almost imperceptibly. “I’ll wait for you. After all, I want to see how you play without holding back.”

Lenore grinned and slung her arm around her wet teammate—a gross, slimy mistake, though she wouldn’t let it show.

“You will,” she promised. “Oh, you will.”

The way to the beach was mostly quiet. On Lenore’s part, anyway. Ada spent the walk sniffling, the sound broken up by quiet, hiccuping sobs. “How could he do that?” she asked quietly, and Lenore decided not to answer. “After all I’ve done for him… after all the summers we’ve shared… how could he be so cruel?”

Lenore didn’t answer that either. In part, because she wasn’t sure how. It wasn’t like Ada ever listened to her, anyway. It wouldn’t be more than a week before Ada was off, chasing some other counselor. Maybe Will, which wouldn’t be the worst thing, because at least then Lenore would have reason to actually remember his face.

After a while, Ada’s laments grew into a hush. She seemed to be calming, so Lenore chanced to ask her a question. “Ada, did you really love him, or just the idea of him?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “You never understand. You never, ever do.”

“I don’t, you’re right. I would have thought that you would know better by now. Maybe it’s you that never understands,” Lenore retorted. 

Ada didn’t answer that directly, but the rare silence she provided spoke volumes. Lenore could feel the hot, knifelike anger, and it was fine because she was angry too. Why did she even do so much for Ada? Sure, they’d known each other for over fifteen years, and sure, they’d had just as many good times as they’d had bad. But she wouldn’t have counted Ada as a friend. Not enough to stand up for her time and time again. Not enough to indulge her stupid choices.

As they walked the path near-soundlessly, Lenore realized that any moment now, the lakeshore would come into view. Ada was soundly out of the game, and everyone was about to know it. If Lenore was to ask anything about Duke, she’d have to do it now. Throwing down her cane, she thrust her hand out until it gently connected with Ada’s chest, then walked forward into it, pressing the woman into the nearest tree. “Now look. I’ve done a favor for you, and I’m tired of playing your games. It’s time for you to repay my kindness. What do you know about Duke?” she demanded.

Ada shrugged, though her eyes were panicking. “He’s French,” she said, “and some sort of gamer, and bisexual, and he’s tall and—” She counted the traits out on her finger as she spoke.

“Not that,” hissed Lenore. “Where is he being kept? I know you know.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” said Ada primly, turning her head away from Lenore and right into the tree that held her. It had the side effect of rubbing dirt onto her cheek and getting a loose piece of birch bark pressed into her still-wet hair.

“But you will, ” Lenore threatened, “or I’ll tell Prospero and Annabel both about what really happened during the Horse Barn Incident of 2010.”

Ada went pale. “You wouldn’t!” she screeched. “I bet you don’t even actually remember what happened! You’re just bluffing. Yes, just to make me mad.”

Lenore cracked her neck before looking back to Ada. A tiny smile played on her lips. “July 15, 2010. Foggy, but not rainy. A perfect day for undercover activity. It was the year we both got assigned to the yurt units for all five sessions. You told me your exact plans when we woke up, but I thought you were joking because it was such a stupid idea so I—”

“Okay, okay!” Ada said. If she’d been pale before, she was all but ghostly now. “Fine. I’ll tell you where he is, but you can’t, absolutely can’t, tell anyone it was me that told you. Right?”

“Sure, alright,” Lenore agreed easily. “I don’t really talk much with your friends anyway.”

“But not even your friends,” pressed Ada.

“Sure.”

Ada looked at the ground. She looked guilty, which was almost worth something. “Monty wanted him out of the way,” she said. “Something about a frog in a backpack, I think. Anyway, once he found out Duke was going to be the team leader of the Hunters, that was it. There was a reason.”

“And how did he find out?” The words Ada muttered were too quiet and indistinct to make out. “Speak louder. How did he know it was Duke who was going to be the leader?”

“He overheard me telling Prospero, okay?”

Lenore sucked in a deep breath. “Why on earth would you tell Prospero our plans?” she asked emphatically.

As if she didn’t already know the answer. The little sniffle Ada gave didn’t help. “For love,” she said quietly.

“And look where it got you,” said Lenore. “Serves you right, playing without any sense of loyalty.”

“But Lenore, don’t you see?” Ada pleaded. “I was loyal to the end! If it wasn’t Duke, it would have been you! Really, you could say I did all of this for love. For love of Prospero, and for us too! For our friendship! I thought from the beginning that we could rekindle it, and I knew that I had to keep you from the closet, so of course I told! Duke’s just a first year, you know there’s almost no chance he’ll even come back next summer, don’t you? I’m loyal to us. To the old guard. Don’t you see? Isn’t that smart?”

“If you thought this was your way to show your friendship with me, you were mistaken,” Lenore said. “Besides, you tried to sell me out to Prospero the first chance you got. Prospero, who can’t be more than a fifth year staff member, if that. What’s your excuse for that one, oh shining beacon of loyalty?”

“Romance conquers all,” said Ada.

“He pushed you into a pond.”

“Well, I didn’t know he was going to do that at the time!”

There was so much that Lenore wanted to say. So many questions she had, and most of them about Ada’s sanity or lack thereof. Before she could ask even one, her mind conjured up images of all the men that Ada had loved before, all of the rejections she’d faced over the years. All of the times she’d come running, sobbing as she fell on Lenore’s cot. And as much as Lenore was internally rolling her eyes every time, she’d still scoot over to make room before softly beginning to braid Ada’s hair. She’d list off every reason that the boy of the summer would have been an absolutely horrible soulmate. She’d hold Ada tight as the girl cried into her shoulder. She’d ask Ada to be a little more careful with her heart. “This is the last time I’ll comfort you,” Lenore always warned, but it never was.

She opened her mouth. “Ada,” she said softly, “do you think perhaps this is like all the other times?”

“What other times?”

“With the other boys.”

“No,” she said, sniffling but defiant. Then again. “No! He’s different, really, he is. I just—he’s just—he has his reasons for not wanting me around and—”

Maybe she couldn’t interfere. Maybe it was just fated to be this way. Lenore sighed. “I don’t want to see you hurt. Not in this respect, anyway.”

“But in others?” Ada asked, appalled.

“Sometimes you need to be whacked in the face with a pillow, or attacked with a water balloon, I won’t lie.”

Ada choked out a laugh. “Well, so do you, Miss Vandernacht.”

Lenore snorted. 

They quieted for a moment, neither willing to walk to the beach, but neither sure how to proceed. After a few beats, Ada was the one to break the silence. “You’ll want the req shed. The closet on the first floor.”

“Huh?”

“Duke. You wanted to know where he was, right? The closet on the first floor. Don’t tell the others that I told you.”

Oh. I probably shouldn’t have forgotten that. Really, really, shouldn’t have. She was supposed to be mad. She was mad. She was just also… something else. Pressing a finger into Ada’s chest, she willed her face to look as intimidating as possible—something nearly impossible after their moment of shared vulnerability. 

She let go of the tree and raked her suddenly-free hand through her hair. “Fine. Thank you, Ada. Now. You are going to go and sit on the beach. You are going to wait for the game to be over. And you are not going to tell a single soul that you spilled the beans to me. And if you can manage to do that, then I will keep my mouth shut about the Horse Barn Incident. Do we have a deal?”

“If you’ll throw in another rebraid of my hair after my next shower, I think that such a deal could be arranged,” Ada said with a smile and a faux-snobbish sniff.

“You’re hardly in a bargaining position.”

“And yet, I’m bargaining.”

“Fine. But you’re walking yourself to the beach from here.”

“What?” Ada demanded. “ Wasn’t the whole point of this that you would make sure I got to the beach safely?”

“And you aren’t dead yet, and the beach is in sight. Mission accomplished.”

Ada made a sound like a scoff, but she did rush off. She was almost halfway to the beach when she turned and yelled something back to Lenore.

“What?” Lenore asked, trying to supplement with a giant shrug in case Ada couldn’t hear her either.

“I said, thank you for being there for me!” Ada screamed back.

Lenore snorted. What a nerd, she thought.

But she couldn’t deny that she thought it somewhat fondly.

Once Ada was out of sight, the clock was ticking again. She raced to the req shed as fast as she safely could, both caring for her hip and watching to make sure no Ghosts were planning to ambush her. The way was clear, which was almost strange. She would have thought they would have placed some sort of guard or sentry, but perhaps they had gotten overconfident. Or, maybe, one of the other Hunters had taken whoever had been posted here out earlier, not even knowing what was happening behind the shed’s closed doors.

As soon as she got to the shed, she raced inside and threw the doors to the closet open. Duke sat there, curled up on the floor of the large closet. He wasn’t dead, which was all she had to confirm before pulling him up to a standing position and hugging him close.

“Duke! I’m so glad you’re okay!” she said, squeezing him until she heard him start to choke a little bit.

“You’re crazy,” Duke said. The words were not without a large amount of admiration. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.

“Are you prepared to play? We need you desperately,” Lenore asked, not bothering to respond to the probably-true allegations. There wasn’t time. Unless—- she frowned. “They have fed you and given you water, yes?” This was just a camp prank, not some form of torture… right?

“If peanut butter and jam sandwiches and carrot sticks count as food. Which unfortunately for your country, they seem to,” he sighed. Lenore breathed a sigh of relief, as much to see that his humor was intact as to find that he’d eaten. “And I had my phone and backpack on me when Montresor locked me in, so it wasn’t even that bad. I had some charged power banks, and I found some spare blankets in the back, too.” He pointed to a small nest. “So I watched the movies I’d downloaded for the flight over here again, since there was no service or internet. I’m glad I had enough to keep me entertained.”

“Of course you’d be having a blast while I’m out here doing all the work.”

He raised his hands defensively. “ Hé! I had no say in this, and despite how it sounds, this wasn’t exactly comfortable for me, either.”

“Fair enough. Glad you were able to rest, though. We need your help. I think I’m the only Hunter left, besides you, and they think you’re out of the game.” She smiled conspiratorially. “That works to our advantage, now. If you can be sneaky, there’s no reason for a single Ghost to think you’re a threat.”

It was almost satisfying, watching his eyes go alight. “ Fantastique!” he breathed. “Yes, yes, and you’ll be keeping them distracted, of course. You still have wisps?”

“A few, as far as I know. They’re somewhere in the woods. Prospero got most of them, I’m sure.”

“Do you know what needs to happen to defeat him?”

“His mask needs to be taken.”

Duke grinned. “Simple enough.” 

“If he doesn’t think you’re coming? Without doubt.”

“Who else?”

“Most of the Ghosts have been finished off. Once they found out you were missing, most of our friends willingly went out easily. Our team finished off a large chunk of the others, and as far as I know, it’s just Prospero, Morella, and Annabel Lee left.”

“Morella?”

“Prospero convinced her to make her defeat condition ‘defeat Prospero.’ The good news is that makes defeating him a two-for-one. The bad news is it effectively gives them double the offensive power.”

“And Annabel?”

“I saw her. Briefly. I think she’s at the bell tower, but I’m not sure.”

With a nod, Duke stretched. “Well then! Leave those two to me, and you’ll find Annabel. Between us, we should be done in… twenty minutes?”

“With the plan I’ve got? Less if we hurry. Come on. Let’s go win this thing,” she said with a grin, feeling more confident than ever.

The bell tower was the only place in camp in Lenore’s assigned domain that she hadn’t looked. An open air structure, there were no walls apart from the pillars and beams that framed the giant bell. It wasn’t very tall, either, only stretching up to just above the dining hall roof. More than a tower, it was a courtyard, used as a gathering place in emergencies or occasionally other events. It would be an extremely dramatic backdrop for the Ghost Hunt, so Lenore naturally suspected that was where Annabel would make her camp.

The main trail leading to it was also conveniently blocked by Prospero, which made it all the more likely that was where Annabel would be found. She crept into the woods with her few remaining campers—found hiding in the trees nearby, many having followed Lenore away from the danger- and Duke. Lenore gathered them close as they moved through the trees as silently as they could, avoiding noise and avoiding the deadly trail. They took a side path, listening for any hints of movement ahead, any inkling that this was the wrong approach… but no, all seemed silent. Calm.

As they approached the bell tower, Duke split off from Lenore, ready to follow his own role in their grand plan. As discussed, he took half of the remaining wisps with him. “Good luck, Duke,” Lenore whispered, and he gave her a grin and silent thumbs up as his squad started off towards Prospero and Morella.

Lenore ushered her wisps into a huddle. “Remember the plan,” she told them. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“What wouldn’t you do?” asked one wisp.

“Would you kiss a bear?”

“Would you eat a chicken?”

“Everyone eats chicken, dummy.”

“Vegetarians don’t, stupid.”

“Alright, alright,” Lenore said, massaging her temples. “We can… we can pick this up later. For now… break.”

The wisps melted back into the trees as Lenore braced herself for what was about to happen. It was a good plan, if they could pull it off. The only question was if they could. If she could.

She stepped out of the trees.

“Good to see you’ve finally made it, pet,” said a voice from under the bell. Standing there was Annabel Lee, apparently having just stepped into view from the relative protection of the woods in the opposite direction from where Lenore had emerged.

Lenore gulped nervously and walked towards Annabel, almost circling her so that she could glimpse her wisps—still hiding in the woods, just as planned. “I told you I’d come back,” she said,

“Yes, you did. I’ve been waiting a long time for you, you know.”

“It couldn’t have been more than seven or eight minutes.”

“My time spent waiting for you always feels so much longer though.” Annabel’s expression under her fluttering blonde eyelashes was so intense, but so genuine. “It’s as you said, I suppose. Time passes differently here, doesn’t it?”

Not literally, Lenore wanted to clarify. Still, it was so easy to get swept up in the supernatural magic of the Ghost Hunt, and she wondered if bringing everything back down to earth would break the strange spell cast upon the staff and campers during the event.

“What’s your grand plan, then?” Annabel asked. “You must have some daring idea, something you feel will allow your victory. You know that I won’t after all. Not easily.”

“We’ll see. You have to tell me what I need to do to get you out of the competition,” Lenore said, staring at Annabel, taking in the details of her nightgown and makeup once more. If she didn’t take her eyes off the woman, she’d be fine, she told herself. She had her wisps behind her; if anyone tried to pick them off, they’d scream. As long as they were quiet, as long as there was no issue—no more Prospero with his little rats—that meant that she was safe.

“Why, pet,” said Annabel with a little smile. “It’s easy.” She pointed up at a rope dangling above her. Lenore traced it with her eyes to its origin—the camp’s large bell, the one that rang every morning for wake up calls and to summon the camp to every meal. “Ring the bell and defeat me.”

“But you’re standing right under it,” Lenore noted. She could hear the tinge of leaked annoyance in her own voice. “How am I to ring it if you’re guarding it so closely? The rules say that the task you present must be possible, after all.”

“And I’m sure it is,” said Annabel lightly. “If anyone could figure out how, it’s you. I believe you’re much more clever than you give yourself credit for. Terribly clever, in fact.”

You have no idea, thought Lenore, and checked on the campers who had elected to follow her lead.

Yes, her wisps were still free. Annabel couldn’t tag her, not until all of them were gone. She made eye contact with the oldest, a sixteen year old who could have been staff if she’d wanted to. The most likely one to understand. With the slightest nod, she tried to silently communicate her plans and intentions. Don’t get caught. As long as you stay free, I can move as I want. 

The wisp seemed to understand. She put gentle hands on the shoulders of her teammates and led them each away, slightly deeper into the woods. Lenore watched them go, relieved.

“Pet?” said Annabel. Lenore’s eyes snapped back to her opponent. “What are you doing? Is there someone else there?”

Lenore shook her head. “...No,” she said after a moment.

“I see,” said Annabel. “I suppose Prospero would have picked off the remaining wisps. I’m sorry that I had to have been the one to distract you while that happened. You’re terribly clever, but not quite clever enough.” Annabel stopped, hesitated, smiled. “You were trying to do the same thing, weren’t you?”

Lenore felt her blood go cold. What? But I was so caref—

“You came ahead to try to distract me so that the wisps could ring the bell when I wasn’t looking, weren’t you? Guerilla warfare. It’s exactly what I would do in this scenario, too. If you don’t have numbers on your side, you play it safe by using stealth. Though I will admit, you called my bluff in some ways by acting outright at all!” Annabel mused. “Well, it is to be expected. You’re very clever, Lenore, as clever as I am at least. Clever, and talented, and always full of surprises.”

Annabel took a step towards Lenore, reaching her hand out in a way that could have been inviting either a hug or a handshake. No; Annabel was tricky, and she was misinformed. She thought if she touched Lenore, tagged Lenore, then the game would be over. Lenore took a step back, trying to do it as warily as she could. “Nice try,” she said.

And Annabel giggled, like one of the younger wisps might. “Oh, it was worth an attempt,” she teased, light in her eyes. “I must say, I am rather glad you caught on. You never cease to impress me.”

“Really?”

“Truly. But even so… well, pet, you must know that you’re all but defeated, aren’t you? You could run, but it would be difficult with your cane. Come, pet. It’s time to finish this.”

Lenore felt a constriction in her heart and gut. If Annabel tagged her and then got told that wasn’t it, Lenore was still in the game… no, she had to give Duke more time, had to trust in her wisps, had to play longer. “Are you so eager to tag me?” she said. “What about our—what did you call them, that time? Our stolen moments?” She flashed her most winning smile at Annabel. “It’s kind of nice, not having to worry about others being around.”

Annabel relaxed. “It is, isn’t it? Well, a moment more won’t hurt, if you want to take your time being caught. But you must regale me with your adventures, pet! I’ve barely done anything at all. It’s been terribly boring, waiting here all by myself.”

“Of course,” said Lenore. She leaned heavily on her cane, resting. Showing how relaxed she was. Don’t let her know the real plan. Your only job is to buy time. Though… there was one thing she wanted to know, on that note. “Duke never showed up, that was the first adventure. I was worried that he had gone missing, but the directors seemed unconcerned. Did you know anything about that?”

She hesitated. “I—yes. I did.”

All of the relaxation drained from Lenore, though she tried not to show it. She had hoped that Annabel, like all Lenore’s other friends, would have said no. “And you let it happen?”

“Oh pet, I had such little choice.” She looked genuinely sorry, though with her makeup, perhaps ‘sorrowful’ was the better word. Lenore wondered what Annabel did outside of camp and made a mental note to ask in less tense circumstances. It wouldn’t be at all surprising if Annabel was some sort of actress. Or maybe being a Ghost simply suited her. “Perhaps there will be a better time to explain it, after all of this.”

“Hmmph,” Lenore sounded, not entirely pleased with the answer.

“Pet…” Annabel trailed off, then took a step forward. Then another, then another, until she was only a brush of fingers away. Lenore wondered if she should step back, but her feet didn’t seem to get the message. 

“It’s okay. He’s fine, I’m sure,” Annabel said. “I promise.”

“He could have been hurt.” 

“No, I’m sure not. That would go against all intentions, after all.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“I know, pet, but… oh, to tell you, someday, what I mean. Someday, when we aren’t in the middle of a game. Please, let us end this.”

From behind Annabel, the wisps giggled, silenced only by their own hands pressed against their lips. Lenore pretended to consider, then nodded. “Fine.”

She watched Annabel step forward, and she let Annabel touch her, hug her. Annabel was warm this time. Warm and gentle, even as her whole body pressed into Lenore’s. Lenore let her cane drop, her weight supported by the lifeguard, and wove the fingers of one hand into Annabel’s. 

“I’ve tagged you out, then,” Annabel said. “I suppose this means we’ve won.”

Got you. Lenore buried her face on Annabel’s shoulder so that the triumphant look on her own face wouldn’t be seen. “We could stay here for a moment longer,” she said. “I’m not ready to go the beach and see the others yet.” True, though not for the reason Annabel might have thought.

“A moment longer,” agreed Annabel, and once she did, Lenore pressed even more into her, causing Annabel to take a few steps back. Starting a dance.

There was no music, just the sounds of the wind through the trees as the rain threatened to start up. Lenore’s hip ached terribly with the anticipation of it, but she ignored the stabs. She concentrated on her actions instead. One foot, then the other. An imagined beat. Let Annabel think it was all just a waltz, all just a lament, no longer part of the game….

Opportunity struck so perfectly that she could barely believe it. Annabel closed her eyes, savoring the moment, just as their feet took them straight below the bell. She let go of Annabel’s hand, grit her teeth against the pain in her hip, and began to dip the blonde woman, supporting her single handedly.

The other hand reached up, desperately, with more fervor than even she had expected. Her fingers barely clasped the end of the bell’s rope. As Annabel sank towards the ground, Lenore following, the rope went with them. And—quietly, but ever so clearly—the camp’s bell tolled, and it tolled victory.

Annabel’s eyes shot open. Lenore smirked down at her. “Surprise,” she said.

“What are you doing?” said Annabel as she scrambled—still somehow gracefully, but a definite scramble—upwards. She smiled, almost condescendingly, as she smoothed her nightgown. “A valiant attempt, but wouldn’t you say that’s too little, too late, pet?”

“Not in the slightest.” Lenore met the gaze of the wisps in the woods once again; Annabel followed her eyes to see the girls waving and cheering. 

For a moment, Lenore thought that Annabel Lee might be angry. She looked mad. Her face grew red, and her chin tucked in, like an animal covering its vulnerable spots. She opened her mouth, as though to yell, then closed it. Lenore watched her take a deep breath in, but even that didn’t seem to stop whatever was running through Annabel’s mind. She almost swore she could see Annabel’s thoughts racing across her face—indulgence, disbelief, triumph, failure, confusion, and things Lenore didn’t have names for, all mixing and mingling into something that Lenore had never seen before, and especially not on a woman so beautiful.

It was probably best not to add to the mix, but she couldn’t help it. “Also, I’ve seen Duke. And he’s fine. If you were wondering.”

Annabel’s eyes widened, and her face became even more of an emotional mess. Lenore thought that perhaps she might storm away. 

Instead, Annabel merely laughed. 

“Just as clever as I said,” said Annabel, not without delight. Her entire being had relaxed out of nowhere, all the anger evaporating like a puddle on a hot summer day. “I should have confirmed my own story instead of assuming I was correct. Well then. A victory well earned. I won’t sulk about it… at least, not while people are watching,” she added with a wink. “Aren’t the directors going to be surprised you’ve won?”

Surprised was likely going to be the understatement of the year.

“Well, should we go to the beach and inform the camp the game is over, then?” Annabel continued. “It’s as good of a reason as any to walk somewhere together, even if there are young children around as well.”

Lenore didn’t see what the problem with kids walking with them was, but didn’t ask. “I think you should be the one to announce it,” she said, just a little bit wickedly. “I’d love to see that.”

“The directors would probably want to, though. I heard they’re to ask the winners to meet them in their office tomorrow…”

That sounded horrible. It was also a thought that could wait. “Well, we’ll see. For now… Annabel Lee, may I escort you to the beach?” Lenore asked.

And Annabel giggled, and said “Please, lead the way.”

Chapter Text

“So if this is a prize, that means I can say no, right?” Lenore said the next morning, staring down at the baseball cap that the directors held.

Director Mourn—she’d finally figured out what their names were, hindsight making it so obvious that she almost felt a little stupid—looked away. “Regretfully, no.”

“Perhaps if you had told us your intention to forfeit last night,” Director Merry added. “We’ve already submitted all the paperwork necessary and can’t go changing it now. Besides, don’t you feel it’s kind of fitting?”

“I don’t get what’s so fitting about it,” she said, taking the hat and examining it. The “Sandman” mascot of the newly-formed Lake Ravenshead City Dreamers stared back at her with a cheeky little grin. “I’ve never really been into baseball. Maybe you should have Monty do it. I think he used to play.”

The two directors looked at each other, communication happening silently. Lenore tried to read their faces, and only could decipher an expression of sheer disgust from Director Mourn. Which, come to think of it, was no different from his usual look. 

“We have committed to having a member of our staff throw out the first pitch of the next game,” said Merry eventually. “We decided this would be the allcamp’s prize. A special reward, just for the winner. Whether we like it or not—”

“—and we don’t—”

“That would be you. You will report directly to the camp vans two hours prior to the finish of your Friday night shift so that you can be promptly transported to the field.”

“In the meantime, we would suggest that you spend your free time practicing,” Mourn said. “So you don’t make more of a fool of yourself than usual.”

“Then I’ll refrain from using my cane as a lacrosse stick and shouting  ‘fore.’ Unless you believe that would earn our team a touchdown?” She blinked innocently, but she knew that the directors could smell her impertinence a mile away. Not that she really cared at this point—nobody had ever been fired from camp for a sassy remark. At least not as far as she knew.

“Mind your tongue, Miss Vandernacht,” Mourn said through teeth. His eyes appraised her as though she were something disease-ridden and slimy, which Lenore took as a win. If she’d been wrong, he wouldn’t have bothered with the pleasantries and would have likely fired her on the spot. “You of all people know that our camp has a reputation to protect. If you intend to threaten it with your willfulness, you will face the consequences.”

Merry grinned in a way that Lenore greatly disliked, and clapped his co-director on the back. “Oh, it’s all in fun, Mourn,” he said. “Miss Lenore would hardly be stupid enough to risk her only chance of remaining here on a witless, impulsive, and unbecoming remark. Not if she truly meant it.”

Lenore opened her mouth to respond, but another irritated look from Mourn cut her off—which was, perhaps, for the better. “Very well,” he said. “Either way, we have no other use for you at this time, Miss Vandernacht. Leave us.”

“Gladly,” said Lenore, bowing sarcastically to make her point before she turned to leave the Townhouse’s foyer, where she’d been called and then cornered. Secretly she was glad she hadn’t been allowed more than five feet into the house; it would have brought back too many memories.

“And watch your attitude. Next time, we may not be as forgiving,” Mourn called after her.

But Lenore was already out the door, with a foot on the trail leading towards the dining hall. She didn’t turn back to respond, and they didn’t see her roll her eyes.

Lenore slumped to the dining hall, arriving a few minutes late by staff standards. Even though she had an excuse, said excuse being that she was literally with the directors, Poppet gave her a look. The look was ignored as Lenore glanced around, trying to find a table with an empty staff seat. It was at least easy to see—though the staff had already arrived and claimed spots, the campers were still in the foyer, waiting to come in. The room was clear and calm, with the only bits of activity being a few counselors grabbing last minute cups of coffee or trying to get away with chatting with someone at a different table than the one they’d ended up at. 

She noted immediately that Annabel Lee was one such person. Hot water was pouring from the industrial machine at the front of the hall into her baby blue personal mug. Annabel watched with a look of weary acceptance until the mug filled. Once it did, she ripped open a packet of some sort of tea and dropped the tea bag in before taking a deep breath and turning back to the rest of the hall. She seemed to notice Lenore immediately; her face lit up, and she headed confidently in Lenore’s direction. For a moment, Lenore wondered if perhaps Annabel was going to chat with her, but as Annabel grew closer, there was no sign of her slowing down.

Except…

“My normal table partner is absent, pet,” she whispered in Lenore’s ear as they passed. “I’d quite enjoy your company again.”

Oh. That could work. Even so, Lenore’s gaze skimmed the rest of the dining hall until she finally saw someone else with an empty staff seat. Duke sat at the head of a table in the back all alone— Pluto, it seemed, had decided to sit across from Eulalie for dinner. He waved her over enthusiastically, and Lenore felt caught between two places. Of course it would be best for her to go over to her camp best friend, right? But also, there was—well, what was Annabel to her? 

She didn’t have an answer, except for “more than nothing.”

She waved at Duke awkwardly and mouthed “next time,” then turned towards Annabel’s table, though not quick enough that she didn’t see Duke’s arm drop and his face contort into a look of confusion. She forced herself to ignore it. She’d explain later. There had to be a reason he’d accept without question… though come to think of it, she didn’t really know what her reason actually was in the first place.

Sliding into the foot seat at Annabel’s table, she forced herself to grin. “I didn’t know I made such good table company that you’d deliberately seek me out. Or did you just not want to get stuck doing all of the staff work on your own?”

“Perhaps a bit of both,” Annabel admitted. She wore a satisfied little smirk on her face. “I rarely do things for a single reason, I’ll have you know. Why not multitask?”

Lenore chuckled and leaned in. “Well, just as long as it’s not only to escape extra tasks, I suppose I’ll allow it.”

There was a particular sort of pride in Annabel’s eyes, but she didn’t say anything more, just watched as Poppet waved the wisps into the main dining area. They crowded into their favorite tables, leaving Annabel and Lenore with a mix of girls from Cabins Seven and Eight, plus a couple of Duke’s campers who had taken to Lenore as well over the course of shared activities. Their table was full incredibly fast; Lenore could see the disappointed looks of a couple of kids who now had to find seats elsewhere and shrugged apologetically. Eventually, the hall quieted as the wisps all found places and readied themselves for announcements.

Ms. Poppet led the quick event, as she always did. She called on any counselor who had their hand raised to acknowledge all sorts of milestones and situations, from the big to the small. Will, who was working with the Counselors in Training, reminded the staff that next week some of them would be about camp doing small jobs as part of hands-on learning. Eulalie kindly reminded everyone to keep the friendship bracelet string unknotted, lest the recently-undone “Rat’s Nest” live again. Montresor commended all twelve of his boys for getting one-match fires on their first try (doubtful), and Morella applauded a girl who had achieved the next level in swimming lessons.

Then it was on to the administrative announcements. “As you know,” Ms. Poppet said, “last night’s allcamp activity, the Ghost Hunt, was won in a spectacular upset by our Hunter team! Good work to all, winners or not! You all represented the spirit of fun and camaraderie we strive for here at Camp Nevermore.”

Ah, yes. Camaraderie. The sort of thing that’s well represented by hiding a man in a closet for over eighteen hours, or for allowing it to happen.

“Of course, one particular counselor stood out and led her team to victory, and for that reason will receive our grand prize! This Friday night, at the Lake Ravenshead City Dreamers game, she will throw out the ceremonial opening pitch! Let’s give a warm round of applause to counselor Lenore!”

It felt like all of the eyes in the camp were on her, and that was probably accurate. The wisps at her table were certainly staring. One even had her mouth hanging wide open, as though it were a cartoon. 

“You’re famous,” the wisp sitting next to Lenore informed her matter-of-factly as people began to clap.

God I hope not, thought Lenore. She chanced a look at Annabel, who seemed serene as ever and completely unperturbed. She was clapping delicately, as though it was a golf match, or the conclusion of a particularly bland opera. Even so, her eyes told a different story. They burned with some kind of fire behind them. Lenore wished she had an opportunity to ask why, but something told her that the middle of a dining hall surrounded by tweens was neither the time nor place.

“Finally,” said Ms. Poppet, “dinner for tonight will be hamburger stroganoff, egg noodles, boiled carrots, and chocolate cake. Please enjoy it! Will Cabins Three and Four please lead our gratitude chant?”

Lenore barely paid attention to the thanksgiving. She moved almost as though through muscle memory alone, rising and sitting with the others around her without active thought. Her cane, folded in her backpack, was somewhere in the big pile at the back and she wished that she had it with her. Then she could pretend that the glances her way were because of her injury, not because of something as simple as this.

Finally, the mealtime ritual was done. The little girl next to Annabel rose to go get the food, and Lenore finally managed to look back to the table.

As she did, she saw Annabel leaning very slightly forward. Her eyes smothered. “I would have appreciated some forewarning, pet,” the blonde woman chided playfully. “I didn’t expect to have to hear your good news from our dear Ms. Poppet, of all people.”

“I didn’t know they were going to announce it, in case the look of utter surprise on my face wasn’t clue enough to that,” Lenore quipped. 

And Annabel laughed at that, as Lenore had sort of hoped she would. “Very well. I assume you only just found out as well?”

“It’s why I was a little bit late to the staff seating.”

“Of course. What an exciting prize! I’m almost grateful that it was you that won rather than me.”

Lenore glared. “And why is that?”

“Merely because I think I will quite enjoy watching you throw that pitch.” The words were lighthearted, but there was something else behind them. Though what else was new? Annabel nearly always seemed to have layers to her emotions and plans. She’d admitted to it herself. Lenore wouldn’t have minded so much if it hadn’t meant so much more work in deciphering the woman’s true motivations and feelings.

She was ruminating on that when part of the meaning hit her out of the blue. “Wait. You’re going to the game?”

Annabel smiled. Slightly. A tease of a smile. “Of course I’ll be going. I did tell you I was interested in your sports, didn’t I?”

Lenore felt her cheeks heat up a little. She’d forgotten that conversation. “Oh. Yeah. I suppose you did.”

“In fact, I believe you agreed to explain it to me. Though I would understand, of course, if you’re too busy now.”

“It’s not that, it’s that I just don’t know what I’m going to be doing, or what they’re going to need. Honestly, I don’t know if I’m even going to get to see the game.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” said Annabel, her smile not dropping. “But I do hope you’ll honor your word, pet. Not that I have any doubt. You’re quite honorable… it’s part of what I like about you.”

“It is?”

“It is,” Annabel confirmed. “You are a good friend, Lenore Vandernacht.”

“It is with regret that I have to consider that perhaps Annabel Lee isn’t that bad,” she told Duke Friday morning as they waited for the campers to come in. 

Not that she hadn’t thought that for a while, but she had never had the courage to vocalize it. The only reason she did so now was because there seemed no way around it, not if she wanted a good summer. It seemed with every day, the rivalry between the groups grew hotter. First with the snap judgments during precamp, then the night at Alessandra’s, then all the experiences of the first two weeks… would it ever stop? No, not unless she stopped it, and she was sure that Duke would be amenable to a peace treaty if she talked to him about it.

At first, she thought he may not have heard her. He was craning his neck, trying to peer into the kitchen and see what was on the menu for the day (only slightly green scrambled eggs, only slightly limp bacon, and only slightly burnt toast). Her suspicions were quickly debunked, however; he whirled back to her quickly. If he’d had coffee in his mouth, he would have spit it out. “ Pardon? tu n’est sérieuse. ”

The look of disbelief on Duke’s face was exactly what Lenore expected. She hastened to explain herself. “I can’t understand the company she keeps, or… well, a lot of things. But at least she isn’t one of those people who’s only here so she can travel afterwards. She’s not just calling it in for her own benefit. She’s actually—well, she’s actually okay. She’s at least taking this seriously.”

“Please define seriously, because I must admit I wasn’t aware the word was even in your vocabulary.”

“I can be serious! Sometimes. Enough to tell that she’s not as awful as all of us may have assumed. Look, she’s as good as Ada, maybe better, and Ada’s been here as long as I have.”

He leaned over to her. He seemed to be the serious one, more serious than she’d ever seen him before. “I need to know this,” he said. “Are you and Annabel Lee…”

Wait, is he implying… “No!” she said hurriedly, laughing the idea off. “Why would you think that? She’s a friend, at absolute best.  I think you’re not that bad either. That doesn’t mean I want to—”

“She calls you ‘pet.’”

Lenore blushed. She didn’t know he’d heard that… though, she supposed, Annabel hadn’t exactly been subtle with it since that night under the bell tower. “She’s British! It’s a British-ism, isn’t it? Like how they call everyone “love” and “dear” and stuff?”

Duke squinted for a second, but then drew back. “If you say so, mon amie. I trust you. It’s her I watch out for. We’ve seen enough of her to know that she’s a snake at the best of times. Make sure she’s not playing you for a fool, oui? ”

Is she? Lenore wondered. She thought back on all the interactions they’d had. On Annabel’s words.

I suppose it comes to reason that I’d like to be your friend .

You have a beautiful voice.

So you’ve decided. We are friends.

You are the only one here I can talk to on even footing, pet.

My time spent waiting for you always feels so much longer.

Until our next stolen moment.

You are a good friend, Lenore Vandernacht.

No, Lenore decided. Annabel was strange, and intense, but clearly genuine. Her words were too flowery to be pure manipulation… right?

But then, what was it? What was this strange relationship that was brewing? Was Duke onto something, suspecting—or seeming to suspect, anyway—that Lenore and Annabel were in some sort of secret relationship? That all of Annabel’s charms, whimsies, and soft words meant something like that ?

Lenore felt an ache in her heart at the prospect.

She quickly shut it down. No. It’s as I said. They’re all just Britishisms. Things are different over there. I’ve heard of this enough. The pet names, the closeness… that’s just something part of a different culture than my own. It doesn’t mean anything more than friendship. And that’s fine. Friendship’s more than I expected to get out of a girl like Annabel, anyway. 

She looked at Duke and forced her expression into something casual and cool. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this under control,” she said as the campers walked in, even as she tried to convince herself that it wasn’t a lie.

Duke didn’t look convinced. Not at all. But he didn’t say another word about it for the rest of the meal, which was probably the best response that Lenore was going to get.

The worst thing about the whole baseball prize was that it meant she had to leave early, and on the last day of the session, too. While many wisps attended all summer long, going home for quick breaks every other weekend, many came only for a two week session and then were gone until the next year. To make matters worse, each session meant the whole camp was shaken up somewhat. Counselors were reassigned to new cabins, tents, and yurts. Tentmates were changed. Age groups were reassigned. Come Sunday night, everything was different.

And that meant Fridays were, in some ways, goodbyes.

Lenore reluctantly had to admit to herself that she’d gotten somewhat attached to her current group of wisps. She wished in vain that they could stay for the rest of the summer. It wasn’t that they were particularly great, or that she was some kind of weirdo. It was just that as the groups phased out, you never knew what the next group of wisps might be like. At least she was used to this one, and at least they would listen to her. Eventually. If she bugged them enough.

If there was any sad feeling about leaving, it was mutual. The kids hugged her tight. All of a sudden, she realized how small they were. Eight, nine, ten, eleven… even the oldest still hadn’t started middle school and wouldn’t until fall. There was a flash of something in her chest. 

Lenore had always known camp was important, and she’d always loved camp with her whole heart, but seeing these girls and saying goodbye… for the first time, she understood what it meant to be a counselor. She was part of a safe space, a place where they were allowed to take risks, to try new things, to leave their parents and schoolmates far behind, to be fully themselves with nothing to stop them. And they loved her for it. They’d remember her for years. Probably for longer than she’d remember them.

She hugged them back. “You’re all coming back next year,” she ordered. “And you’re going to tell me about all the chaos you’ve raised in the meantime.”

“Yeah!”

“Can you be my counselor next year, too?”

“I’m gonna come to Winter Camp, are you gonna be there, Lenore?”

“What’s chaos?”

“Did you cause chaos when you were our age?”

“See you later!”

See you later. That was a good one. There was a camp song, actually, with a similar sentiment. ‘ This is goodnight, but not goodbye,’ she remembered, humming the melody softly as she thought it.

See you next year. You girls are going to be amazing.

There wasn’t much time for sentimentality after that. The directors didn’t meet her at the parking lot; Nurse Dolly turned out to be the one driving her to the field. Though Lenore didn’t like her all that much overall, she found Dolly to be more tolerable than the other admin staff members. She was no-nonsense, didn’t seem overly fond of herself like the directors did, and genuinely seemed to care for the staff and campers in her special, grumpy way. Fittingly, there wasn’t much conversation on the drive to Dreamland Field, save for Dolly eyeing Lenore critically in the rearview mirror as soon as she had parked.

“Be careful when you pitch,” she said. “I don’t want to have to deal with an elbow or wrist injury because you had a grand idea of doing something fancy.”

Lenore sighed and barely suppressed an eye roll. “Look, I didn’t want to do this. I just want to throw the pitch decently and be done.”

“Good. Be careful anyway. Now get, I have some errands to run for the directors while I’m out.”

She scrambled out of the car obediently, and as soon as she was a safe distance away, Dolly did indeed pull back out of the parking space and start off. She couldn’t have dropped me off by the door if she was going to do this? Lenore thought with a grumble as she trudged towards the faraway main gate. She hadn’t brought her cane—there was no point. The day was sunny, and tomorrow was meant to be sunny as well, so there were no unwelcome twinges in her hip. Even so, she was disabled, and shouldn’t a nurse be nicer about that?

When she got there, she simply showed her ID and told the gate guard that she was with Camp Nevermore and she was let in without fuss, just as she’d been told she would be. They gave her a special commemorative jersey to put on, then led her to the bottom of the stadium, the entrance of the field itself.

The hour that passed between her arrival and the start of the game’s ceremonies were simultaneously a whirlwind and a bore. She spent a lot of time being talked to; she also spent a lot of time scrolling through Tumblr on her phone. As time wore on, she could hear the crowd grow louder and louder above her, where the stands were. It wasn’t a roar. Not yet. But it would be. How many people were watching, again?

No, it didn’t matter. She forced herself not to think about it and instead concentrated on the pink-tinged GIFs that were now front and center on her phone. 

And then it was time. She and two others were ushered out onto the sidelines of the field. There was barely any warning, barely even the time to stick her phone in her pocket. The crowd, louder now than ever, seemed to rumble somewhere above them, separated only by a heavy concrete ceiling.

Nothing could have prepared her for the lights. Even though the day was winding to a close, the artificial spotlights of the field burned down on her. Lenore wasn’t frequently self-conscious about her looks, but even she had to wonder if this made her seem paler than usual, or washed out with her special black and purple Dreamers jersey on. 

For a brief second, she wished she brought her cane with her. She wanted something to grip, to channel her nerves into. Couldn’t they have given her the baseball before her turn? She didn’t have anything to do now except watch the first pitch before her, badly thrown by some local politician she’d never heard of before. The ball bounced halfway to home plate and there was a ripple of a reaction through the stands. Lenore felt her stomach clench at the sound.

No. There’s no time to be nervous. Who cares what these people think, anyway? It’s just a stupid ball, and I didn’t even want to do this. Hell, if anyone wants to say something, I can hit them with my cane. Perhaps literally. 

The thought broke the nerves and made her smile. She wondered what her parents would have thought if they were watching. Father was so convinced I’d never walk again. And now I’m about to stand in front of hundreds and do sports. Perhaps Duke or Eulalie or someone will take a video and I can send it to his staff. If I’m lucky, they’ll even show him.

The politician walked off the field, dusting himself off awkwardly as he did. At the same time, a member of the field’s staff walked up to Lenore and plopped a brand new ball right into her hands. 

“You’re up,” she said. “Wait until your introduction is finished, then give your best throw. Don’t stress out about it; it’s almost certain you’ll be better than he was.”

She nodded. Her throat felt overwhelmingly dry and she tried to force herself to swallow anyway. Overall, Lenore didn’t think of herself as a nervous person, or someone who was easily cowed. Even so, seeing over a thousand people all around her… and then seeing her own face on the huge screen of the field… well, it was enough to give anyone stage fright. 

She kept going towards the marked area in front of the pitcher’s mound from where she was supposed to make her throw, forcing herself to keep her head up, to look at ease. This was threatened by the booming sound of the announcer’s voice over the speaker, which almost made her jump. 

“Representing a popular summer getaway for kids, Camp Nevermore, is counselor Lenore Vandernacht. Lenore has been both camper and counselor at Nevermore, being part of the camp’s community for eleven years. At Camp Nevermore, you’ll have the adventure of a lifetime! Sessions are still available in later summer, so be sure to sign your child up today at their website, or by calling—”

Great. She was part of an advertisement for the camp that had overtaken her family’s entire legacy. Just what she always wanted. 

She tuned the rest out as she arrived at the spot that had been marked for her, and looked at the catcher. He was a member of the Dreamers, no one she recognized—not that she knew most of the team’s players, given that they were so new and she wasn’t much for watching sports. She couldn’t tell for sure from the distance, but she thought he might have been giving an encouraging smile.

The sound from the speakers faded, and the catcher nodded at her, probably a signal that it was okay to throw. Lenore gripped the ball in her hand, put out her alternate hand to aim as she’d learned as a kid, muttered a quick prayer to no god in particular, and threw. 

The ball soared. 

Back in the time after the accident, her physical therapist had been insistent that she exercise what she could, even if any “leg day” was off the table. Even if she hadn’t been, rolling around her chair sometimes had felt like exercise enough after a long time spent bedridden. Lenore had kept up the habits of exercise even after most physical therapy had stopped, and the reward she got were arms that were stronger than they looked. 

A healthy helping of spite from her talk with the directors also helped.

As the catcher caught the ball, Lenore grinned in satisfaction. It was no perfect pitch; she’d thrown it a bit too much to one side, and it would have fallen slightly short if she’d actually been at the mound. Even so, it was miles better than it could have been. She raised a hand and waved to the crowd proudly, and saw the action echoed on the huge screen above her.

At the border of the field, one of the team’s staff member flagged her, likely ready for her to exit and make way for the last of the first pitches. She obliged, still smiling.

By the time Lenore arrived at the camp’s portion of the stands, the game proper had already started. She waited for one of the ushers to clear her to walk down before joining her friends, and immediately wished she’d gotten food before she’d done so, as they were all loaded up.

Berenice was dual wielding hot dogs, one in each hand. The one in her left was a typical American dog—mustard, ketchup, relish—while her right hand held a coney covered in chili and cheese. She alternated bites of each in such an effortless way that Lenore wondered how much practice she’d had eating two hot dogs at once. Next to her, Eulalie was eating Dippin’ Dots out of a small, plastic reproduction of a batting helmet. She waved Lenore over. 

“We saved you a seat!” she said excitedly, gesturing to the empty spot between her and Duke. 

Lenore looked at Duke, who was smirking between eating pieces of popcorn. “Come sit down, sports star. Someone has to explain what’s going on.”

And like a flash, Lenore remembered that this was not the first time this request had been made of her. “So you’ll explain it to me, won’t you?” said the Annabel Lee of her memories. “Baseball’s a charmingly American pastime, and I would love to learn it.”

“It’s a date,” she’d said too, once Lenore had agreed.

Without further thought, Lenore glanced around to try to find Annabel. She wasn’t far; only an uncomfortable looking Pluto separated her from Duke. He seemed to be trying to sit as far from Annabel as possible, which couldn’t have been more perfect. 

“Of course,” she said easily. “But Eulalie, Pluto looks like he’d rather sit somewhere a little different. Would you mind if we traded and he sat in that seat? I’ll take his.”

“Oh! No, that’s fine,” said Eulalie with a cute little blink. “Pluto! Come sit by me!”

The furious redness of Pluto’s cheeks made Lenore wonder if she’d made a mistake. Maybe Pluto didn’t want to sit by Eulalie, either. If so, he didn’t say anything, simply quietly slipped over and into the empty seat. Lenore settled in his old spot, right between Duke and Annabel. This should be fun, she thought to herself, satisfied with her spur of the moment plan.

Then she saw the way that Duke looked at Annabel from across Lenore. Annabel seemed to be ignoring him, but Lenore noticed her gaze flicker to him for a quick second, noticing his look without being noticed in turn. Oh, Lenore thought, amending her expectations sourly. 

She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut as she examined the rest of the group. Not everyone had come on the staff trip to the baseball game. Prospero wasn’t there, she noted—he’d probably gone home for the weekend, as many of the more local staff did. Will was either blending in spectacularly, or had also chosen not to attend, as had Morella. But two rows below them, sitting between Arthur and a brilliant, bubbly blonde that Lenore thought was named Charlotte, were two other familiar silhouettes.

What are Ada and Montresor doing sitting next to each other?

Annabel probably knew. She turned her body towards Annabel and opened her mouth to ask before the embarrassment of being interested in camp gossip kicked in, but was stopped by the blaring, near-deafening music from the speakers above them. 

The jock jam was more like something she’d expect to hear at a basketball game, but it sure did get the crowd going. Berenice roared, jumping to her feet and waving around a giant foam finger that must have been stashed somewhere, hot dogs finished and forgotten. Eulalie clapped along to the beat, swaying a little as she did, and even Pluto and Duke seemed interested in what was going on. Lenore glanced at Annabel. She was smiling slightly. On anyone else, the look might have been one of the barest hint of amusement. And yet, there was something in her eyes that Lenore had to take a moment to identify. Hunger. Excitement.

“I didn’t take you for a sports fan,” Lenore murmured to her while the music was still high and the others were still distracted. 

Annabel jumped a little bit at the sound, but didn’t so much as turn to face Lenore after that. She seemed to sense Lenore’s secret desire that the two of them wouldn’t be caught talking. “Enough to know that was a beautiful pitch,” she said. “Not that I expected any less.”

Lenore felt herself blush a bit. “So you do know your stuff? I thought you didn’t know anything about baseball.”

“Anyone can tell a good throw. Anyway, you were correct. I’m not a sports fan; I’m a games fan,” she clarified under her breath. “The physical aspects? Hardly interesting. Now the tactics? The forethought? That is what I am hoping for. I only pray that baseball doesn’t disappoint.”

Lenore wasn’t sure what to say. She’d never exactly thought of minor league baseball as a tactical sort of thing. She leaned back in her chair as the music faded and the first batter walked up to the plate.

The first inning went by fast, with the Dreamers playing a clean, sleek defense. As soon as the teams began to switch, Annabel slipped away and up the stairs towards the food and shop options. Lenore, who had been chatting idly with Duke, watched her for a few seconds before standing up as well. “I might as well get some food,” she said. “I didn’t have time before the game.”

“Would you like some company?” he asked. 

“No, no!” Perhaps her words were too quick, too frantic, because his brown furrowed until she continued. “Honestly, I also need to clear my head… and anyway, I have no idea what I might want. I’d be happy to grab something for you, if you would like.”

He raised his half-eaten popcorn container. “I think I’m fine until… halftime? Then I’ll find something that’s somewhat palatable for dinner.”

Lenore didn’t correct his use of terminology, but she did snort before pressing through the row of people and up the stairs.

Annabel was standing by a cement pillar in front of the authentic taco stall. As Lenore approached, she smiled. “I had hoped you would catch on,” she said. “Of course, I had every confidence you would. What a tight game it’s been!”

“Yeah, that was a pretty quick inning,” Lenore said. She looked around at the row of food stalls that made up the outer ring of the park. 

“No,” Annabel clarified. “I meant… oh, you saw! The positioning games I had to play, just to get a seat next to your friends! I had to offer my original seat to Ms. Poppet so that she could ‘have a good view of the rest of the staff,’ and then had to convince Ada to let Montresor, of all people, sit by her so I didn’t have to take the seat she saved me… I may regret the choice of words and intentions I used for that particular move later, but it was what had to be done in the moment…”

“So you manipulated people. You’re playing others. That’s your game.” 

Annabel shrugged, and even that managed to look elegant. “As did you, That masterwork with Pluto was a stroke of genius, pet. Even I couldn’t figure out a good reason to ask him to move seats.”

A thousand emotions bubbled up in Lenore, like a stew made of guilt, embarrassment, a horrible sliver of pride, and so much that she couldn’t even name. They all stirred together until it almost hurt her stomach. 

Lenore pushed the confusion aside. “Well, it’s for the best anyway,” she said, as though that were an excuse. “Anyway, why did you want me to follow you up here?”

“I was hoping we could talk, of course.” An easy answer, with an easy smile to accompany it.

Even so, Lenore felt a little bit annoyed at the theatrics. “And we couldn’t have done that back at our seats?” she asked pointedly.

“Without one of your friends interrupting ‘to protect you?’ Unlikely at best, pet. I don’t feel like having a confrontation with them over you quite yet. Come, let’s find something to eat. I want to try your favorite thing.”

There was a new tone to Annabel’s voice, something sort of giddy and childlike. She grabbed Lenore’s hand and pulled, not quite gently. She was obviously eager to get going. 

Lenore hesitated slightly, but allowed herself to be pulled along, then shoved in front of Annabel. “You’re leading the way, pet. I want your recommendations. I can take the lead if you ever come to Britain.”

Scratching the back of her head, Lenore shrugged. “I mean, they don’t have my all time favorite food here,” she said. “Or at least, I’d be really surprised if they did. But if you mean my favorite out of the standard ballpark fare, there’s nachos, and corn on the cob, and soft pretzels.”

Annabel grinned. “Let’s get them all, then, and split them.”

“Uhhh, maybe not the corn on the cob. That’d be messy at best.” Lenore closed her eyes and thought about the rest. Sharing nachos and a pretzel with Annabel was the natural thing to do. It’d let Annabel try the foods without much pressure. 

On top of that, she could perfectly imagine Annabel leaning over towards a plastic tray in Lenore’s lap to dip a beautiful bite of salted pretzel in the processed melted cheese, then popping it into her mouth. It was a surprisingly cute mental image, cute enough to make Lenore’s cheeks heat and her brain whir like an old computer booting up a triple-A video game. 

But then her brain flipped to the other side of the equation. In her imagination, Duke, Pluto, Eula, and Bea were staring at her, horrified, as though Annabel was some malevolent spirit who had Lenore in her grasp. The imaginary Duke made the Sign of the Cross as he watched.

“You know,” said Lenore, her voice only squeaking a little, “actually, I eat a lot. We could get the same things and just… not split them?”

Annabel’s face fell, though so minutely that Lenore barely noticed. “Why, of course. It wouldn’t do to deprive such a lovely figure of nutrition, or what passes for it here, now would it?”

So they stood in line together at three different booths, ordering the same thing. The best thing about standing in the lines was the longer wait times. It gave them a chance to talk without judgment or hiding, something that Lenore was beginning to lament was all too rare. 

If only I could convince Duke…

You tried already. It didn’t work. 

Finally, they had made the rounds and gotten the standard ballpark treats, then made it back to their section at a perfect break in the conversation. Annabel climbed back down to their row first. Lenore made some excuse about going to get something to drink at the very last second, then followed a couple batters later. She slipped past the others in the row and then into her seat. “I didn’t miss much, did I?” she asked.

“If you did, I don’t know,” said Duke without taking his eyes from the game.

“More than fair,” Lenore said, and took a big bite of her overly-buttered corn on the cob.

Only then, at the crunching sound, did Duke turn. His eyes flickered to Lenore’s food, then to Annabel’s, then back to Lenore’s. For a moment, Lenore thought that he might have something or other to say about the similarities.

But no. He stayed silent. Only his eyes spoke, but they spoke volumes.

“So,” said Duke two innings later, when things were beginning to heat up, He drummed his fingers on the seat in front of him as he looked at Lenore, “Let me get this straight. The man can just run—with no reason—to the next base, even though nobody hit the ball?”

“Yes. It’s called stealing a base.”

“Stealing. So it’s illegal then?”

“No, actually it’s almost encouraged. For sure, perfectly legal.”

“I don’t understand”

“Frankly? Neither do I.”

“You’re American, isn’t this supposed to be your sort of game?”

Lenore rolled her eyes. “It’s not like they teach us how to play in school. Well, actually,” she amended as she thought about her elementary school gym classes, “I guess they do. But not very well, and that was years ago. Just roll with it.”

From Lenore’s other side, she felt a tap on the shoulder. She looked over to its origin, not that she had to. Annabel was smiling softly—the smile she reserved for the public, Lenore could now tell. “It seems that bases are stolen when the pitcher is distracted,” she said. “If my observations are correct. You don’t have to confirm it.”

“Then why even tell her?” Duke demanded. He raked a hand through his hair. “Just ignore her, Lenore. Mon dieu , you were brave to take Pluto’s place, though I wonder now how wise that was. Perhaps he would trade back with you.”

Lenore looked to Pluto, who was flushed and fidgeting, but paying strict attention to Eulalie and Berenice. “No, I wouldn’t ask that of him,” she said. “Sitting next to Eula will be good for him, anyway. He could do with a bit more of her energy.”

“They sit together all the time,” Duke pointed out.

“And he’s yet to learn a lesson from it, but it’d be a pity to give up hope. Duke, I’m fine where I am, I promise,” she said. More than fine. Maybe.

Duke shrugged and turned back to the game, and Lenore optimistically thought that might be the end of it.

Until a few minutes later. Annabel leaned over until she was all but in Lenore’s seat and pointed to the batter. “Pet, would you explain what he’s doing?”

“Batting,” Duke spat immediately, glaring at Annabel. “It is, if I am correct, one of the most basic elements of this game.”

“Of course he’s batting.” There was a dangerous edge of irritation to Annabel’s voice, one that Lenore was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of. “It’s the way that he did it that concerned me. It was different from the others.”

“Yeah,” Lenore said. She bit her lip. “I think he was trying to bunt, maybe? Like I said, I’m not an expert. And it didn’t work, so now he’s… not doing that.”

Annabel giggled. “Very astute,” she teased. “Still, I’m glad I have an American friend to explain this to me.”

Duke leaned in to face Annabel. “You have half the camp wrapped around your finger. There is no reason you need to take this particular American away from her real friends.”

“Is there not? Lenore promised to explain this to me.”

Duke looked at Lenore. All he had to do was turn his head slightly; like Annabel, he was practically in her seat. The two would have made for a funny sight, nose to nose only inches away from her, were she not too busy trying not to have her nacho chips crushed. “Uh, I sort of did,” she said hastily. “But there’s no reason I can’t explain to both of you.”

Annabel smiled a haughty, victorious smile. “Very good,” she said. “Duke, if you have any objections to sharing my dear Lenore, I’m certain you can keep them to yourself.”

For the second time in an hour, Duke gave Lenore a knowing, concerned, and almost dangerous look.

Lenore tried her best to ignore it.

The game ended with a Dreamers victory. The crowd cheered; then, content with the result, they began to resettle in their seats for the post-game fireworks show. As they began to prepare for the event, Eulalie excused herself to head back to the camp vans early. “I forgot my headphones,” she said, in a voice that was both matter of fact and ever so slightly apologetic. “So I’d rather watch from inside somewhere, where the noise is muffled.”

“I’ll go too,” Berenice and Pluto said in accidental unison, which grew more awkward as they also rose in tandem. Pluto blushed and pulled on his collar awkwardly, but didn’t sit.

“Come on, cat boy,” said Berenice. “We’ll all go together. It’ll be a party. Hey, maybe we can grab one last drink for the road, even. Think the bar’s still open?”

“No, and I’m too young to drink in the States anyway!”

“Ehhhh, I’m no snitch.” Taking him forcefully by the arm, she squeezed the two of them through the row of seats. Eulalie followed after them, humming to herself as she did. 

Duke rose, shaking his head with a sigh. “ Oh là là . I take it this means we’re leaving. Shall we follow them back to the car, Mademoiselle Lenore?”

Lenore looked down to Annabel, who was sipping her hot chocolate and very clearly pretending not to listen. Then, she hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. “You go on ahead. I want to watch the show from here. But give Eulalie and the others my regards, and tell them I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Are you sure? It’s bound to be crowded when the show is over; if we leave now, it’ll be miles quicker returning to camp.”

There was something else in Duke’s tone, a hidden message that she couldn’t quite decipher. Even so, Lenore spared another glance at Annabel and said “I’m sure. It’ll be worth the fuss.”

Duke looked at her for what seemed like a very long time, then slid past her, Annabel, and the other Camp Nevermore staffers in the row. Lenore watched him go and wondered if she’d made the right choice. She wondered, also, how much of a choice she’d been making. If there was something more here than simply where she was going to watch the fireworks from.

But he was gone before she could regret it. 

Lenore sunk into her seat. She leaned back, half trying to disappear into it. Was… whatever this was… worth her friendship with Duke? With the others? No, probably not. Wasn’t that the thing of it? You weren’t supposed to abandon your friends, especially not for one of your friends’ bitterest rivals. 

…that was why she was doing this, after all. Right? For Annabel?

She glanced at the woman next to her. Annabel hadn’t acknowledged any of what went on. She simply watched as the huge screen counted down to the upcoming fireworks show. The field lights were dimming and people were being ushered off the field. Something about Annabel’s face made Lenore think that she enjoyed this. That Annabel got something out of watching people, out of the hustle and bustle and crowd.

But then Annabel spoke, and it wasn’t about the people. “I’ve always enjoyed fireworks, you know,” she said. 

“Well, you’ll love being in the States next week, then,” Lenore said. Annabel stared blankly until she clarified. “For the fourth. Independence Day.”

“Oh! Yes. Absolutely. You wouldn’t kick a Brit out for that, would you?” she joked lightly.

“No, but if you have tea for breakfast that morning, we may force you to throw it into the lake.”

Annabel laughed. “I’m not that attached to my tea,” she said. “Drinking it is mostly habit.”

“A coffee fan, then?”

“Whatever those around me are having, usually. No use in going against the grain or stirring the pot. Better to be seen as easygoing, hmm?”

Lenore eyed her. “You say that after all you did and said in front of my friends earlier.”

“Well,” Annabel said with the slightest tinge of pink on her cheeks, “You are a special case. And your friends have done nothing but encourage you to forget me, if the rumors are true. Need I say it’s a matter of pride to remind them that such a thing won’t easily happen?”

“And by them, you mean Duke specifically.”

“Not so explicitly, but to the best of my knowledge, the others aren’t nearly so vocal about their distaste. Maybe Pluto would be, given the opportunity, and Berenice if we hadn’t had to do lifeguard training together.” She laughed softly, but the sound seemed almost like a lie. Lenore could tell that it was born from discomfort rather than amusement. “I’m not used to being disliked, I must admit. I usually charm people quite quickly.”

And that doesn’t fly here, Lenore half wanted to say. She was surprised that Annabel had found as many friends as she had. It seemed pointless to say such a thing, though, so she kept her mouth closed.

“But I suppose that’s what happens when you go out of your way to make friends!” Annabel said, and she leaned forward just as the first explosion began. She seemed unfazed even as Lenore jumped. With a crackle, the sound died along with the red and white lights that had illuminated the dark summer sky.

Lenore leaned back in her seat, heart still beating wildly, as the second and third fireworks went off in quick succession. Dreamers’ colors, this time—more of the white, now with purple added in. Then a high pitched whining sound signified a new kind of explosion, one that rained a shower of sparks, presumably to land on the empty field.

One by one, the fireworks went off, and Lenore allowed herself to relax into the beauty of them. She barely even noticed the lingering chaos of the crowd around her, or even Annabel laying her head on Lenore’s shoulder. 

Should this feel weird? The question, asked mildly from somewhere deep in her mind, was the only signifier that this was anything but perfectly natural. Lenore told herself to shut up, then wrapped her arm around Annabel’s shoulders, pulling her in closer so that she could feel Annabel’s warmth and Annabel could feel hers. The night was cold, after all, and neither of them had thought to bring sweaters. It was only the polite thing to do for a friend.

The fireworks stopped all too soon, with the finale encompassing every color of the rainbow and the chorus of a Taylor Swift song. Roaring applause died down as the lights came back on; with them, there seemed to be a shift to the crowd as they rose, gathered their things, and began to go back to their cars and their daily lives. Like it was part of the magic, the comfort that Lenore had with easy physical contact also fizzled out.

“I guess I should be going,” Lenore said. She shrugged Annabel gently off, standing awkwardly. “Everyone’s waiting for me. So, uh, I’ll see you later.”

“You won’t walk me back to the vans?” Annabel half-purred. She stood and pressed herself into Lenore, her chest against Lenore’s side, one of her arms wrapping around one of Lenore’s. It was a peculiar kind of contact, almost possessive and definitely—

Nope. Don’t think it. Definitely don’t hope for it. Just friends. If that.

“I think it’s better that I don’t,” she said, looking away, towards the ground. The concrete was covered in popcorn and melted Dippin’ Dots, and she tried hard to find that interesting. “Duke—”

“Duke has other people around him right now, as you know. All of your friends went together. I’d hardly be worried, pet. He’s surely having a grand time. Now, I, on the other hand… I’m all alone. Most of my friends went home for the weekend, and those that did not… ” Though Lenore was still looking at the ground, her peripheral vision gave her a sense of Annabel looking at Monty and Ada. “Well. Needless to say, you’re the one who chose to stay with me. Would it truly do you so much harm to do so a little longer?”

Lenore hesitated. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Annabel, I like you a lot but—”

Something shifted—no, something flipped. Like a switch, her expression changed. Annabel’s eyes widened and her arms stiffened. “But?” she repeated.

“But I don’t know how my friends are going to take it. I don’t want to choose you at the expense of them. You understand, right? I mean, you have your friends too, and they hardly like me.”

“Morella does. And Ada seems to, despite what she says.”

The only possible response to that was a snort, a tiny smile, and a roll of the eyes. “Ada’s practically my sister. She likes me in the same way that I like her. Which is to say, I’d gladly be the one to push her into the lake, but I’ll never forgive Prospero for doing it.”

Annabel giggled, a hand at her lips. “Yes, that does seem to line up with what I’ve observed. I’m all but certain that if you and I were publicly friends, she would come around to actually admitting she cares about you.”

“And take the fun out of our relationship? I could never allow that,” Lenore said lightly before becoming serious once again. “In any case, there’s still Monty, Prospero, and Will to think about. I’m certain they wouldn’t be so understanding. Neither would Duke, Pluto, or Berenice. Eulalie, maybe. I’m not sure.”

Leaning in close, Annabel’s face grew serious. “You never struck me as someone who would let others tell them who to befriend, you know.”

Was she? Lenore blinked, trying to figure that out. “I—I’m not, but—Annabel, if I could tell them, I would, but I don’t think Duke will ever believe that you’re actually my friend. He’s worried about me. He thinks you’re using me.”

“As though you could be used! Pet, I’ve seen how you speak to the administrative staff. Are you telling me that you’re afraid of a French magician?”

“I’m not afraid of Duke! I’m more afraid of… of…”

What was she afraid of?

Lenore tried to think but her thoughts seemed both slow and all too quick; she grasped around for some answer, any answer, but none came.

Then Annabel leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. 

As friends, obviously. A European thing to do, right?

It had to be.

It couldn’t be anything else.

It wouldn't be.

Lenore wouldn’t allow it.

But. What if? 

What if?

Annabel’s voice brought her back to Earth. “When you have an idea, come find me at camp,” the blonde woman said lightly. “For now, your friends are waiting. Aren’t they?”

“Yes!” Lenore half yelled. Her face was hot with embarrassment and her thoughts were still disorganized and muddled. She grabbed the remains of her soda and her commemorative baseball, then scooted awkwardly down the row, raced up the stairs, and straight out of the stadium.

She stopped only once she was at the front gates, just to catch her breath. She clutched her head. Dull pain was starting to blossom behind her eyes, along with an intense pressure that she couldn’t easily ignore. It shared that in common with her thoughts.

Do I have a crush on Annabel Lee?

Her own thoughts snarked back at her. Of course you do. Have you listened to yourself lately?

Well… it could just be…

Stop denying it, Lenore! What’s the point?

But what’s the point of doing anything but denying it? Look at her. At best, she’s out of my league. At worst, she’s straight.

Maybe so. But even if she is…

She knew she couldn’t deny her feelings. She never was one who could. All she could do was hope that she could keep her emotions under wraps enough that Annabel wouldn’t be scared off. 

Her head pounded, as though her very skull was revolting against the idea of accidentally chasing Annabel away.

Not that Annabel acted like she’d be chased away. She always seemed excited to see Lenore, sought her out, even. But maybe that too was a cultural thing, a show of politeness. Pity could be another reason, or rather a forced attempt to show that she didn’t pity Lenore by befriending her instead. 

Lenore didn’t think so. She didn’t want to think about it; it was too upsetting. But she also knew she couldn’t get her hopes up, She couldn’t think that perhaps, as actions suggested, Annabel might like her too. Lenore tried hard to be confident, but she was just as scared to be wrong as she was convinced that she was right. 

She wouldn’t give Annabel the satisfaction of breaking her heart. If all of this was simply based in pity or misplaced “charity,” and if Lenore misread it and thought she had a chance… 

No. Her heart couldn’t take it. 

She decided not to think of it any longer. 

Lenore walked out to the parking lot alone and beelined to the camp vans. Perhaps it was the nice night, or perhaps it was simply the fact that she was distracted, but the pain in her head eased somewhat, and her hip didn’t twinge or pain her once. She was the first one to make it there, other than the misfits who had left earlier.

Through the large van window, she could see Pluto, Eulalie, and Berenice all chatting with each other, laughing at a joke that one of them had made. She scanned for Duke and found him leaning up against the back of the van. 

“Well?” he asked. “Was it worth the fuss?”

Lenore hesitated. “I don’t know,” she lied, then added some blessed, misleading truth. “Right now I’m too busy contending with a headache to really decide.”

“Mmm,” Duke hummed. He seemed to hesitate, just ever so slightly, then narrowed his eyes. “The headache’s initials wouldn’t happen to be ALW ?”

Her musical education answered before her common sense. “Andrew Lloyd Webber?”

“ Mon dieu , Lenore, you’re stupid sometimes,” he said with a hand to his head, but he said it with friendly affection that canceled out any bite the insult could have otherwise carried. “I left you in the pit of the beast by your own insistence, and you can’t even remember her full name.”

Oh. Yes. Annabel. “She was fine,” Lenore said. “She usually is.”

Was her voice higher than normal?

Duke looked at her apprehensively.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Lenore said, with a little more confidence, and only because she forced it.

Duke squinted. “Lenore… you weren’t just staying for the fireworks, non ?”

“Duke, I—”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to be untruthful with me,” he said. His tone was serious, but then he smiled, just a bit, adding the smallest hint of levity to the conversation. “You know, just because I don’t like someone doesn’t mean you have to dislike them too.”

“I know that,” Lenore said. Only a hint of annoyance worked into her tone, which was still more than she would have liked. She grabbed at her arm with her opposite hand and squeezed nervously. “But—”

“I mean, I still don’t like her. And I don’t think that you should either. But it’s not my business.”

“Except in the ways it is. Or will be. It’s a small camp, Duke.” Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. It wasn’t a large camp, at least, and even a large camp had a fairly small community most of the time. The sentiment stood; she didn’t correct herself. “You’re going to run into her sometime. Or. If I were to be… friends… with her. Us.”

“ Oui, I understand, and—”

“ Ooooh , Montresor, do you have any other knives you can show me?” A shrill, loud voice from a few parking spaces away interrupted the conversation and caused both Lenore and Duke to pause and look for the culprit.

They watched Ada giggle as she clung to Monty’s arm as the two walked towards the vans. Monty was grinning, twirling a large pocket knife in between his fingers and chewing on a toothpick as he did.

Duke shook his head. “ Je ne peux pas le croire . What does she even look for in a man, that she’d end up enamored with him ?”

“What does she look for?” Lenore repeated, then pretended to think. “Historically, a pulse, and that’s about it.”

“Clearly. At least with Prospero, I could pretend it was because she had some taste.” He tutted and shook his head. “A shame that looks don’t make the man.”

“I don’t think he’s that good looking. Although, really,  I just don’t understand how people find men attractive, no offense.”

“None taken, obviously.” Duke eyed her for a long moment, seemingly thinking, Then, he added, “Is that why you want to be friends with Annabel? Because she’s pretty ?”

“That’s not—I mean, she is , but- well—she’s other things too.”

“A manipulative priss?”

“Duke—”

Duke sighed. “If you want me to stop sharing my feelings about her, I will, but I can see what kind of a person she is. She’s a rich girl who’s probably never worked a day in her life until now, and even this is probably just a vacation to her. She all but admitted to using you because of your family and your history at camp, or at least to being friends with people who would. Speaking of her friends, they’re insufferable. And I don’t want to see you hurt. You are the first person I found in this country that I actually liked, so perhaps it’s simply foolish protectiveness, but…”

He trailed off, which almost seemed like the worst thing he could do. Lenore touched a hand to her heart, now lost in thought. He didn’t know that his words stung—and oh, did they sting. There was no normal reason they should but—

How long again had it been since someone had brotherly concern for her? 

Though Duke was not Theo—too brash, too sarcastic, too French—something about the serious set of his mouth, the genuine care that he was admitting to, it was all too familiar. Lenore looked away and rapidly blinked back the welling tears, taking deep breaths as she did. She didn’t turn back to Duke until she felt confident he wouldn’t see any hint of her moment of weakness.

“Thanks for caring about me,” she said, and she meant it. “I promise, I’ll be careful with her. But… I don’t think she’s all that she seems.”

“I’ve been saying as much,” he reminded her.

“Not like that. Perhaps she’s… maybe she’s more like us than we’ve thought.”

Duke looked at Lenore for what felt like a very long time, then clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps,” he said. “If you’re going to give her a chance, I might have to rethink some of my stereotypes. Just not all of them. And you may tell her, if you will, that if she ever does anything to hurt you, I won’t hesitate to push her off the req shed mezzanine.”

“I will not tell her that,” Lenore said with a snort. 

He draped his arm around her shoulders. “I suppose that makes sense,” he said with a sigh. “Very well, Annabel Lee will remain unthreatened and blissfully horrible for yet another day of her prim, boring life. She should be lucky there’s a stand-up woman to vouch for her. And speaking of said stand-up woman, that woman isn’t going to ditch her friends and go sit in Annabel’s van, is she?”

“Duke, you’d have to kick me out for that to happen.”

“Splendid!” he exclaimed, and marched her towards the doors to the vehicle. 

As she buckled into the window seat in the back, Lenore looked out and into the parking lot and the night that blanketed it. Annabel sat in the same position in the second van, next to a seemingly-ceaselessly talking Ada. At first, Annabel seemed not to see Lenore, but just as Lenore decided to look away, their eyes met.

Tentatively, Lenore raised a hand and waved.

Annabel waved back. The smile on her face could have lit up the entire stadium. 

A giddy feeling rose in Lenore’s heart, like bubbles in a can of Mountain Dew. She smiled too.

Chapter Text

The rest of the weekend time off flew by. Saturday had Berenice and Lenore teaming up to drag their friends to get breakfast at Tamerlane’s before a quick, easy hike to a semi-hidden waterfall. Berenice was happy to play lifeguard in the fall’s small pool, but both she and Lenore had neglected to tell the others to bring swimsuits. Most of the morning was spent chatting as a group, feet dangling in the water as they lounged on the cold, shaded boulders that framed the pool and creek. 

As the sun grew higher in the sky and its rays poked through the trees to remind them of the passage of time, the group hiked back out to Lenore’s van. Duke only complained a little about having to hike on a day off, which Lenore considered a victory.

They drove to the nearest city for a late lunch, then had a necessary Walmart run to stock up on the camp counselor essentials: new socks to replace the ruined ones, granola bars and trail mix, junk food for nights off, a new flashlight for Pluto, more friendship bracelet string for Eulalie, and forty-eight cans of Mountain Dew for Lenore. After that was dinner, then Lenore rushed them back to camp.

“We really could stay out later, you know,” Duke said. “I don’t think any of us are tired of the real world quite yet.”

Lenore shook her head as Pluto, Berenice, and Eulalie scrambled back into the car with all the urgency that the situation entailed. Morella put a hand on Duke’s shoulder, deciding to be the one to explain it to him. “Saturday night is when they put up the unit assignments for the next week—what tent or cabin you’ll stay in, who your roommate will be, and what age of campers you’ll have.”

“Good to know, but why rush? The list will be there tomorrow, right?”

“Yes,” Lenore said patiently, putting her hand on Duke’s other shoulder so he was completely flanked. “But campers return to camp tomorrow. We have to be all moved into our new assignment before we are back on the clock at noon, and the road through camp is closed off starting at nine in the morning. So unless you’re planning on forcing us all to get up stupid early, we either move tonight using my car, or you lug it all by hand. And if you’re going from a unit at the front of the camp to a unit in the back…”

She trailed off. The implication spoke for itself. Almost all staff members had at least one heavy trunk. Usually, they had at least two. 

Duke climbed in without any further hesitation.

The rest of the night was spent moving into their new units. Duke and Pluto were excited to be co-counselors for Cabin Ten, which was a double-sized group of high school boys. Berenice and Eulalie had both been assigned to be “big sisters” for the female junior staff house. Morella was with the elementary school girls in Cabin Five along with the smart blonde counselor Charlotte. Lenore was about to curse her luck for being stuck without her close friends for the next two weeks when she finally found her own assignment at the bottom of the list: Tent Unit Six, high school girls, co-counselor Annabel Lee Whitlock.

She stared at the assignment, unsure how to react. The idea of sharing the staff tent with Annabel made her insides twist and turn like a roller coaster car on a broken track.

We’re going to be sharing a space together for two weeks. Just us and the mosquitos. No sharing a cabin with kids, because they’ll all be sharing the camper tents together. 

It had been the best thing about tent units when she was a little girl—it had always felt like there was no supervision, even though the counselor tents were close enough that the staff could hear any cries for help and could be at any tent’s opening within a minute if they ran. Now it was the best thing about being a staff member, too. Just her and Annabel. Just her and Annabel.

Oh god, am I going to see her shirtless when she changes in the morning?

You have literally already seen her shirtless and in lingerie, deadpanned the single remaining logical brain cell she possessed.

Just for the lake drill… that doesn’t mean anything! Lenore clutched her head, suddenly feeling a return of yesterday’s headache.  I’ve only known her for a month. I shouldn’t be thinking about this. I told myself I wouldn’t think about this. 

“Lenore? Houston to Lenore?”

Berenice was waving a hand in front of Lenore’s face. Lenore blushed and tried a smile; it came out shakier than she would have liked. “Yes?”

“Do you want to start unloading your shit, or are we just planning on sitting here like a bunch of ducks?”

Lenore blinked. They were sitting in her van, her belongings all packed into the back, and they’d just pulled to a stop right in front of her new tent. A glance behind at the passengers showed that they were all sitting there awkwardly, save for Berenice in shotgun. Eulalie waved when she saw Lenore looking, and Duke held back laughter. 

With a laugh of her own, Lenore unfastened her seatbelt and hopped out of the driver’s seat. By the time she opened the trunk, the others were out, too. Pluto turned his flashlight on and shined it on the dark path in front of them as the others grabbed things from the back. They’d done Lenore’s move last, and it was already past nine at night. With the sun already set and the tree cover blocking what remained of the light, it was a tricky move. It did mean that there was great satisfaction once the trunk was hauled in, the mosquito net was assembled, and the sleeping bag was unrolled. There were high fives all around, and big, weary smiles.

“Thanks, everyone,” Lenore grinned, sitting on her new cot.  The others stood around her, creating a small, intimate circle that she decided she liked very much. “Though you know I didn’t expect you to help me, right?”

“You helped all of us,” Pluto pointed out. “It’s only fair.”

“And at risk to yourself, given that we’re not supposed to be in the opposite gender’s units,” Duke said, looking around as though he’d just realized he was in a girl tent. “Good thing that we all seem to like being the bad kids, I suppose.”

“It was nothing, really,” said Lenore. “But I appreciate the help, I just… I guess I’m just thinking that a lot of people would have run off the moment their own stuff was unloaded.”

“All for one and one for all,” Berenice said, slinging an arm around Lenore and squeezing her shoulders tightly in a side hug. 

“Also, we were worried about your hip,” Eulalie added, and got a nudge from Duke for her troubles. “Ow. We didn’t know if you could move your stuff on your own that easily. Ow! Duke, stop elbowing me, please.”

Lenore laughed. “I could do it, but it wouldn’t be easy. You’re right about that. At least now it’s done.”

“I’m surprised that Annabel hasn’t moved in yet,” Morella said, eyeing the empty cot on the other side of the tent. “I wonder if something’s keeping her.”

“Maybe she died in a freak stand up paddleboard accident and Lenore will get the tent to herself,” quipped Duke.

Glaring at him, Morella put her hands on her hips. “You shouldn’t even joke about that! Anyway, Annabel isn’t that bad. Not really.”

Duke sighed and put a hand to his forehead. “ Pardon, I suppose. If both you and Lenore are enchanted by Mademoiselle Annabel Lee, who am I to complain about her?”

Lenore took a little umbrage to the idea that she was enchanted, but let it pass. Instead, she stood. “Come on,” she said, changing the subject with resolute confidence. “We’ve still got more than two hours left in the day. Might as well raid the kitchen freezers for ice cream. Maybe play a board game, too?”

It was the perfect combination of words. Excited, Morella took off for the van, followed by the others. Duke was the last to leave besides Lenore, flashing a knowing, teasing smile. “Nice try,” he said. “You’re not getting away that easily, mon amie. I can tease you over a sundae as well as I can tease you while illegally standing in your tent.”

“And I can tell everyone that you call yourself the Great Fortunato while wearing a top hat and playing a dorky fantasy video game in front of thousands of nerds,” Lenore replied cheerily.

“That’s public information. I’m clearly not ashamed of it.”

“And yet you haven’t told Eula, Morella, or Bea.”

“It hasn’t come up,” he protested, just a little too quickly.

Lenore cackled. “Sure. Well, how about this. You keep my secrets, and I’ll keep yours, and there’ll be no need for teasing either way. Fair enough?”

“Your terms of truce are amenable to me,” Duke said with an eye roll and a bow.

“Splendid,” purred Lenore. “Back to the van, then?”

Duke snorted, which was enough of a response for Lenore’s liking. As the two reached her vehicle, her mind was already off the topic, busy thinking about what kind of ice creams the kitchen had.

Sunday morning came all too soon. Lenore slept in until eleven, then trudged the ten minute walk to the girls’ shower house. It was filled with all the other girls who had gotten up past breakfast, but most were getting ready to leave just as Lenore was getting in. They bunched up at the mirrors, doing their hair in styles that could last them a few days until they had time to shower again. 

The showers were almost all free, with only two occupied. Lenore thought about calling out to see if any of them belonged to her friends, but it seemed unlikely. Eulalie and Berenice were both management staff and went back on the clock over an hour ago, in time for the ten o’clock leadership meeting. Lenore wasn’t sure whether she pitied them more because they lost sleep due to it, or because that meant they were stuck in a meeting with the directors, Poppet, and Prospero.

Morella and Annabel weren’t likely to be in the shower house either; they were both morning people, as evidenced by the fact that while Lenore had found Annabel’s things neatly moved in when she returned late Satuday night, Annabel had been long gone before Lenore had woken on Sunday morning. She was probably out doing some morning person thing, like exercise or reading a book in the sun. Perhaps she and Morella were doing whatever they were doing together.

The important thing, though, was that given that Ada was one of the girls fussing at the sinks, Lenore knew there would be no one she really cared about in the shower stalls, and therefore there was no need to strategically place herself. She scanned the rows once more. Not the first one near the sinks, that’d be too loud given the circumstances. Not the third from the back, that one always smelled funny and had horrible water pressure, but was never quite bad enough to be worth getting it fixed. The accessible stall was open, and she had more reason to use it than just about anyone here, but the idea filled her with distaste—she didn’t really need the extra support, did she? Not today, at least. She’d held up just fine all weekend without even using her cane. She’d managed to feel a little bit normal—why not keep the ball rolling?

She looked at the accessible stall again and frowned. She could recognize that she was being unfair to herself. Probably also a little bit ableist, albeit the internalized kind that she’d never express to anyone but herself. Anyone else would tell her to go ahead and use the spacious, comfortable, safe accessible shower stall. They’d be in the right, probably.

But it didn’t stop the feelings. 

Lenore went with a random, run-of-the-mill stall that had no issues instead. 

There was something so nice about showering at camp. Satisfying, if a little gross—you could almost always see the dirt and grime being washed away. Lenore watched what she thought was a tan on her arms disappear under the water, even before she applied any soap. Only when it was mostly gone did she get her bar of plain, scentless soap from her shower caddy and start to scrub at what remained. 

Normally, she was the queen of the five minute shower. She’d learned the tricks from a young age: focus on the upper half of the body, let the soap run down your legs, call it clean enough. Don’t bother lathering or double shampooing, just get the worst of the dirt and the smell out of your hair and throw it into a ponytail later. Sing a song or two under your breath so you know how much longer you have before the people waiting for your stall get impatient. Have everything laid out on the shower stall bench so that you can get into clean clothes as quickly as possible. Do anything you can outside the shower. If you have to use deodorant, better to awkwardly maneuver the stick under your tee shirt out in public than to take even a spare second for it in a stall.

But this was a rare luxury. She could take a long, hot shower that lasted at least eight whole minutes. She was going to enjoy it, she decided as she took out her camp shampoo—tea tree and mint scented, both natural things that wouldn’t make any nearby bears think she was a snack cake. She massaged it into her skull and sighed contentedly.

And then someone stabbed her in the leg. Repeatedly.

Or at least, that was what it felt like. With no warning, rhyme, reason, or known purpose, her hip and the surrounding area burned and quivered. She’d experienced this enough to know how to describe the feeling to others. It was like someone took a huge and red-hot needle and plunged it into her leg over and over again. It was like every one of those fictional stabs injected fire into her muscles, into her very blood. It was as though the action sapped her strength on top of all the rest.

She felt herself start to buckle; she heard herself gasp, then whimper. Noises she made against her own volition. Noises that were made when something much louder and more unsettling were stifled out of years of habit. 

Lenore tried to grasp at the wall, hoping to steady herself, but the yellow stall material was slick with water. Her hands slipped right off, and she pressed her body and its full weight into the plastic-like partition. Slowly, she lowered herself onto the floor of the stall, uncaring how gross it might be down there. Above her, the showerhead continued to spray water down on her, the droplets hitting her head and rolling down her face. Some got in her eyes and produced a further unwelcome sting.

She couldn’t help it; she whimpered again.

The girls at the sink were still chatting and singing to pop songs. They couldn’t hear her, unless she were to call out, unless she literally cried for help. The humiliation pooled in her stomach like rain in a pothole. Was the newfound pressure in her head pain, or embarrassment? She couldn’t be sure.

She tried to grab onto the walls and pull herself back up. Now that she was braced for the pain, she could handle standing on her own so long as she grit her teeth. She could at least bear it for long enough to rinse her hair, turn off the water, and crawl miserably into the changing portion of the shower. Then, it’d just be waiting out the other girls so she could limp and hobble her way to the outside door of the shower house, where she’d thrown her backpack—and her cane—down. 

That would have been the plan if only the walls had cooperated, but they seemed even slicker than before. In a flash, Lenore realized she was well and truly stuck.

The sound died down at the sinks, the music clicked off, and the buzz of conversation grew faint. It took a moment for Lenore to realize that most people were leaving, and longer for her to swallow her pride. “Someone?” she asked, her voice coming out too quiet. “Is there anyone still out there?” she added, louder this time. 

Nothing.

Then, footsteps. The kind of steps that came with the sound of floppy, squeaky shower shoes. Then the rough sound of metal on metal as the curtain rings scraped against the rod, pulled to one side. Someone stepped into the changing area of the shower stall and Lenore hurriedly tried to maneuver herself so that she was as covered as possible. She still looked pathetic, she knew she did, but at least she wouldn’t have to be more embarrassed than she already was.

The second curtain pulled open. Lenore looked up at Annabel Lee. She looked horrified, and that fact absolutely stung.

“Lenore… pet… what happened?”

Lenore felt her cheeks heat up and she turned her head away too. “I fell,” she said shortly, which was sort of mostly true. “My hip is aching, and the walls are wet. I couldn’t stand back up on my own.”

Annabel’s face shifted into something like decisiveness. Here’s where she decides I’m more trouble than I’m worth. Here’s where she runs to get Dolly and makes me someone else’s problem. Then, a flash of anxiety. The directors could find out. They could call me a liability, or unable to complete my job. They could get rid of me, and they’d probably be within legal rights.

But Annabel Lee did none of that. “How can I best help you?” she asked.

“What?” said Lenore.

“I’m certain I have the strength to simply pull you up if need be, but to be truthful, I’ve never had to help anyone with something quite like this before. Would that be helpful, or is there something else you need?”

“Pull me up?” 

Annabel smiled. “You may be taller than me, but I am the lifeguard here, hmm? Granted, my training only goes so far above water… though I suppose technically, you’re under it. Should we start by turning that off?”

Lenore nodded, then paused. She felt her cheeks redden once more. “Wait. There’s… there’s shampoo in my hair. It needs to be rinsed out.”

“Let me take care of that, once you are comfortable.”

She peered at Annabel curiously, but nodded again. “Okay.”

Annabel squeezed a little past Lenore, stepping over the tangle of a girl to reach in and turn the water off. Then, she retreated back and picked up Lenore’s towel from the changing area bench. She bent down and handed it to Lenore, who took it gratefully and wrapped herself up as best as she could, covering any part she didn’t want to be seen. 

Once the towel was around her, Annabel’s arms slipped underneath Lenore’s and began lifting. Any other time, the feeling of her crush touching her sides when she was almost completely nude would have made Lenore faint. It was probably good for both women that the shame and embarrassment was still the reigning feeling. It was hard to feel turned on when you were too busy feeling a bit like a burden.

“Don’t worry about helping me too much, but any bit you can do without pain would be helpful,” said Annabel as she began to lift. Perfect, a way to alleviate some of that awful feeling. Lenore tried to put some weight on her good leg, then on her bad. She winced and got a glare for her efforts. “I said without pain.”

“I can handle it; I’ve handled it before.”

“And I’d bet it’s not making it any better, is it? Here, we’re almost there.” 

Annabel guided Lenore over to the bench in the changing area as Lenore clung to the towel. Lenore sat as carefully as she could while still nearly collapsing onto it. She held onto the edge as her shoulders slumped and her back hit the stall’s wall. “Thank you, Annabel,” she sighed.

“It’s my pleasure. Truly nothing,” said Annabel. “Now, hang on for just a moment.”

Before Lenore could protest, Annabel left the stall. It did in fact only take a moment before she was back with an empty Nalgene water bottle. “My spare,” she explained once she saw Lenore’s confused expression. “It’s clean. I ran it through the kitchen’s big industrial dishwasher this weekend.”

“Bruce,” said Lenore.

“What?”

“The dishwasher’s name is Bruce.”

Annabel raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t say anything else about it. Instead, she said, “Lean forward.”

“What?” Now it was Lenore’s turn to ask. 

“I’m going to rinse your hair.”

Lenore obliged, folding as much as she could without furthering the lingering burn in her hip. Though she couldn’t see much, she could hear Annabel rip back the curtain between the changing area and shower, then turn the shower on once more. The water bottle collected most of the water from the showerhead, something that made the distinctive sound of water meeting plastic. 

Then, Annabel said “close your eyes.” Lenore did that as well, just in time to miss Annabel’s hand resting on her hairline. The other, presumably, was what was pouring perfectly warm water over her scalp and hair. She clutched her towel close to keep it mostly dry, even as her hair was drenched in the soothing-but-brief waterfall, forming a curtain that fell onto her knees.

She heard the soft tap of plastic on tile and registered it as Annabel setting the water bottle down, just as she felt gentle tugs on the top of her head. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Combing your hair out. You don’t have a comb, do you? No? It’s alright. You don’t need much detangling; fingers should do it.” There were a few more tugs, then an unwelcome reprieve for a second before more water poured over her head and down her bare back. 

Annabel repeated the process a few times before declaring Lenore’s hair clean. She set the water bottle down and turned the shower off once more. Lenore clutched her towel closer to her chest, then flipped back around to face the other woman.

“I guess this is why you’re a lifeguard,” Lenore joked weakly as she looked into the face of said woman, who could have been an angel. “Look at you. Guarding my life.”

Annabel smiled, a light acknowledgement of the joke that quickly turned soft and contemplative. “This makes us even now, doesn’t it, pet? I haven’t forgotten the freezer.”

“Oh, yeah.” Maybe Annabel hadn’t, but Lenore almost had. The incident seemed so long ago. “I mean, I don’t think you ever really owed me for that or anything. It’s just decency.”

“And so is this,” Annabel said, flashing one of those bright smiles of hers, the sort that made Lenore feel like she was at the center of the universe. “Do you want me to stay with you a while longer?”

There were two wolves in Lenore. They were fighting tooth and claw in all the ways she couldn’t. One wanted Annabel to leave as soon as possible, embarrassed to be so weak. The other wanted Annabel to stay for the rest of her life, for every waking moment. That was also embarrassing, in a different way, but at least the feeling made the choice clear. “No, I’m good, but thanks for offering. I’ll see you at lunch in an hour?”

“I’m sitting with some others; I promised,” Annabel said apologetically. “But I’ll wave.”

“Sure,” said Lenore. Part of her was secretly disappointed; the other part was extremely grateful. It was only a good thing, right? It meant more time to compose herself.

With one last smile, Annabel walked off. Lenore heard the door to the front of the shower house shut before remembering that her cane was still outside. She cursed; why hadn’t she remembered to ask Annabel for it? She’d still be limping out, grabbing onto things as she went, and that could have been avoided. She scrambled to put on her clothes, knowing that at this rate she was going to be tardy to lunch yet again.

As she pulled the changing area curtain back to walk into the main shower house, she spied something sitting across from her stall. Something red, black, and bulky—her backpack? Yes. She was sure she’d left it outside. Next to it was her cane, unfolded and ready to use, like it had never been in its carrying case in the side pocket.

Annabel. Thank you, Annabel, Lenore thought as she realized. She took her cane and put her weight on it, slightly easing the dull throb in her hip. God, she thinks of everything. 

She couldn’t help it. Despite the ongoing ache, she smiled.

The rare staff only meals meant that tables usually filled with children instead had large groups of staff clustered. Lenore tried to find most of her friends, but a glare from Ms. Poppet (who was no doubt judging her for continued lateness) made her slip into the first table that she saw, which was completely empty. Across from the table, she could see Morella, as well as several other lifeguards and counselors that Lenore didn’t know half as well. Morella’s eyes met Lenore’s; after a second and some quick words to the others around her, Morella slipped away to join Lenore at her table.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Lenore said.

“I know,” said Morella. “But it was the kind thing to do. And anyway, I like spending time with you! You’re my friend!”

Lenore’s smile was faster than her thoughts. “Well, that’s fair, then. I’m honored, Morella. I’m honestly impressed you even remembered me after five years gone.”

“How could I forget you? Your family—well, even barring them, you were always so brave and adventurous and cool. I wanted to be you, growing up,” Morella admitted, a bit shyly.

That was touching. Lenore opened her mouth to say how touching it was, but was cut off by a sharp whistle. She looked up to see Ms. Poppet standing at the front of the room. Her hands were on her hips, and she looked impatient. “Alright, settle down, everyone. We have very little time. Luckily, there are no pressing announcements—nothing that can’t wait for dinner. Except, I suppose, for the announcement of lunch, which is being delivered to you as you speak, so no need to send anyone up for it.”

Sure enough, the members of the kitchen staff were walking out with full trays of food, which they placed on each occupied table. Probably a time saving measure, given that arrival days were always bustling.

“No dilly-dallying!” Poppet called, confirming Lenore’s suspicion. “You each need to be at your stations in half an hour. Please eat expediently!” And with that, she sat down and the dining hall came back to life, counselors reaching for food and chatting with friends and acquaintances alike.

“ Eat expediently. What does she think we’re going to do, play table games?” Lenore griped as she grabbed a grilled cheese sandwich from the pile on the platter. 

Then, she blinked. “Wait, hang on. Have we been playing table games?” Morella didn’t answer, and Lenore gripped the sides of the table, her thoughts racing. “No, we haven’t, have we? I’ve been here a month, and we haven’t done any. No invisible frisbee, no napkin check, no call and response, no shipwreck dinners, no stop and go lunches…”

“We don’t do them anymore,” Morella said softly. She dipped her sandwich in her tomato soup as though that weren’t a huge deal and took a bite.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think about it before,” Lenore groaned. She laid her head down dramatically next to her plate, just barely missing her green beans. “Why haven’t we been doing table games?”

“The directors banned them in their first year here,” Morella explained. “We had them the first couple weeks, but after that they said that they were too distracting.”

“Even Camp Shiloh has table games, and they’re basically running a dictatorship there!” Lenore said, gesturing wildly at an open space at the table as though their rival camp’s director would suddenly materialize and agree with her.

“Charlotte said it wasn’t that bad there.”

“Didn’t she also get kicked out?”

“She left by choice, technically.”

“And came to the camp that banned table games?”

“Well… to be fair… they are distracting. They could even be a choking hazard, I suppose, if someone was in the middle of a bite when they started. I mean, they’re really fun too!” Morella hastened to add. “But after Theo, I think safety and order were high on the list of priorities for the new administration.”

Lenore huffed. The proper thing for that should have been gratitude, but… well, it wasn’t as though Theo had died from having too much fun at dinner. The circumstances had been entirely different. “Theo would be rolling in his grave if he knew this was done in his name,” she grumbled. “He was always the first to start dancing at musical breakfast.”

Morella cracked a small smile. “Provided he’d had at least three cups of coffee first,” she reminded Lenore. “And perhaps because of them!”

“My god, do you remember that time he tried to set a camp record for most breakfast consumed in one sitting? For all that people complain about how much caffeine I had… and all that bacon, too.”

“Didn’t your dad have to cut him off?”

“Right before he set the record, or so Theo said,” Lenore confirmed. “Of course, later we all realized we didn’t know what the record even was. Ah, those were good times.”

She felt a sort of pang in her heart, something that was part loss and part contentment. Looking back down at her plate, she took a deep breath to try to steady herself and push back any tears that might threaten to fall.

Though she wasn’t looking at Morella anymore, she could feel her friend’s concerned gaze. “Lenore, are you alright? We can stop talking about him, if you want. I know it’s probably hard.”

“No, it’s nice to get to talk about him, although I’m at a loss for what to even say next.” She looked back up and smiled at Morella, who sure enough looked worried. “I miss him, but that only means that I want to remember the good times. That I need to. Thank you for letting me.”

“Of course! Any time I can do that for you… please, let me?” Morella looked shy as she offered. There was a beat of silence, though a comfortable sort, before she spoke once more. “We all loved him too, you know. He was the heart of the camp.”

He was. She thought about him, letting the memories flow into her heart and mind. She remembered her first day as a real camper—her first night spent in a “faraway” cabin and not in the comfort of the Townhouse. Though she wanted to be a big girl and so brave, the reality had been that she was about to cry until Theo snuck into her bunk. While there, he’d seen other homesick kids. He’d comforted them, too.

He might have gotten a reputation for being soft if he hadn’t also been downright cool, in a way that Lenore wanted desperately to emulate. It was usually Theo who kicked the winning run in kickball, or who planned the perfect assault in a water gun war. And he was loved for it. By her, and by everyone. It was nice that Morella remembered that. That she acknowledged that.

She smiled gratefully at Morella once more, and opened her mouth to say… something. 

She wasn’t entirely sure what was about to come out of her mouth when she saw Ms. Poppet from across the room. She was watching Lenore, an eyebrow raised slightly. Lenore supposed that meant that she wasn’t ‘eating expediently’ enough. Quickly, she took a bite in a big exaggerated motion, trying to show that look, yes, I promise I’m eating and not just goofing off. Why is it always me you’re trying to catch, anyway?

As if she didn’t know the answer.

She’d have loved Theo, Lenore thought as the two trains of thought combined in her head. He never got into real trouble.

But she wouldn’t have to be here if we still had Theo.

But they didn’t. Hadn’t for years. She felt a bitter ache in her chest, then pushed back a flash of the memory of the last time she’d seen him alive. Then, she replaced it with determination. I’ll do what I’ve been doing. I’ll bring the camp back to what it used to be, table games and all. I’ll live for the both of us. I’ll be the camp’s new heart. It’s the least I can do for him.

Arrival day assignments were given by some criteria that was technically unknown to all but the directors themselves, and maybe Ms. Poppet. However, there were plenty of guesses… and a fair bit of evidence… that claimed that the primary factor in deciding where a counselor was placed was simply how well the upper management liked them.

Lenore got the feeling that this wasn’t far off, given her position at the health tent checking for lice and athlete’s foot.

She put on her most charismatic look as Nurse Dolly examined her readiness moments before campers were due to arrive. “Do you really think I’m the best fit for this? Oh, I know the directors put me here and all, but I have a cane to navigate on top of a lice comb. That won’t be too easy.” She held up her cane and shook it a little for emphasis.

“I was warned you might say that,” said Dolly. “And accordingly, I was asked to remind you that, quote, ‘employment was contingent upon the ability to perform all jobs given,’ and then asked to report if you still had an issue. So. Will I be reporting?”

Lenore set her cane down and sighed. “Nope,” she said. “Just complaining a bit, that’s all.”

“You can complain all you want. Outside of my presence. We’re about to have over two hundred campers incoming, plus their parents, siblings, and maybe even some pets. I need you at the top of your game and smiling.”

For a second, Lenore thought about pointing out that Dolly herself never, ever smiled. She tried to force a grin, and it just made the nurse’s eyebrows raise. Maybe a bit too heavy, Lenore decided and softened her face.

 “Of course, Nurse Dolly,” she said with a slightly easier smile. “I’m so happy to be here, looking for parasites and fungi. It’s always been my favorite thing about camp.”

The look Dolly gave her could have killed a lesser being. “You don’t need to be that enthusiastic. In fact, if you could be normal for the next couple of hours, that would be ideal.”

“Normal?” said an accented, dramatic voice from the doorway. Lenore didn’t even have to look to recognize that it was Duke, also strolling in. “At camp? Mon dieu, my dearest nurse, don’t you know that goes against everything we stand for in this field?”

Nurse Dolly sighed and rolled her eyes. “Of course. Of course I’d get both of you. Never mind. Both of you, glove up, and stand on opposite sides of the room. We’ll be starting any minute, and I’m not having your banter be the first impression of some poor, impressionable kids.”

Lenore smiled, genuinely this time. Even standing on opposite sides, they could at least make faces at each other and maybe have a little more fun. Lenore was already trying to think about how to signal to him that they should meet in the hideout after their campers were asleep. She had to tell him all about the table game plans, had to teach him all of the rituals. Yes, that’d be a fun challenge to figure out, and one that might distract from the constant smell of feet that was about to flood the room. If she had to be on lice duty, she couldn’t think of any better person to be with.

Well…

Maybe one. Annabel was loved by the administrative staff. If she had been in head and foot check too—well, that would never, ever happen, but if it had, Dolly likely would have allowed them to chat. Lenore could just imagine Annabel’s face concentrating as she combed through a child’s head, as delicate as she was with her own curls. Then, Annabel would look up. She’d make some witty comment that would immediately endear her to everyone who heard. But it wouldn’t be meant for everyone, it’d be meant for Lenore. Her eyes, intense and bright, would be making that very clear. 

She snapped back to reality suddenly, courtesy of a twinge of guilt in her stomach. She shouldn’t be thinking of Annabel like this. She’d told herself that she wouldn’t. 

So instead, she put on the thin latex gloves that the nurse handed her, aimed an I can’t believe we got assigned to this mess smile at Duke, and waited for the first campers to arrive.

Once head and foot check had closed down and Dolly had shooed Duke and Lenore off, Lenore ran to her assigned campsite. A few families had trickled in late, just past the normal dropoff time. Dolly had been ready to let Duke and Lenore go and deal with the stragglers herself, but Mourn and Merry stopped by right as they were packing up. With their normal smile and frown duo, the directors had insisted that Dolly was needed in an urgent management meeting, leaving Duke and Lenore to do the last few checks on their own. This meant that Lenore was now late, something that might have been a normal occurrence now, but also didn’t ever score her points with other people.

By the time she arrived, Annabel already had the new wisps gathered around the campfire pit. It remained unlit as they perched on the uncomfortable wooden benches, laughing about a joke that Lenore had just barely missed. Annabel looked as regal as she could while still managing to fit in. Her curly blonde hair was held back in a now-standard low ponytail. She rocked the camp tee that Lenore guessed was her favorite due to its frequency of wear, the pale blue one that had the Nevermore logo in black and white, right above an elegant font that read “Established 1904.” Lenore had always had mixed feelings on that particular shirt, which seemed like the directors were claiming over a century of history that they knew nothing about, but which at least acknowledged the Camp Ravenshead legacy. It didn’t hurt that it also made Annabel’s chest look really good.

As Lenore approached, Annabel crossed her ankles delicately and leaned forward with a smile. “Oh good,” she said. “You’re here. I was having trouble delaying introductions any further.”

Lenore ran a hand through her own, much messier, ponytail. She tried to say something casual and witty, but instead heard herself say “yeah, I had to clean up a lice breakout,” which was not either of those things and also entirely untrue.

Annabel stiffened. So did the campers.

“Kidding,” Lenore said, trying to salvage it. “There were some latecomers, that’s all.” She internally cursed her beating heart and racing thoughts as she slid into the seat next to Annabel. To her credit, Annabel didn’t so much as shy away, even after the lice joke. Lenore tried not to look at her, mostly out of embarrassment and a little bit out of distraction.

 Instead, she turned to the campers, who were watching her curiously. “Hi. I’m Lenore,” she said.

“My name is Annabel Lee. You may call me Annabel, if you prefer,” Annabel added.

“We’ll be your counselors for the next two weeks. Or, well,” Lenore amended, “Mostly me. Annabel is a lifeguard, so you’ll see her at swim lessons and maybe boating, plus every evening. I’ll be the one who’s with you from dawn to dusk. Well, not counting my daily break, I guess, or meals if you want to sit somewhere else. But the rest of the time…”

“So you’re like our parents,” one of the girls said. “Annabel’s the breadwinner and goes off to work every morning, and Lenore’s our stay at home mom.”

Lenore looked at Annabel, who was chuckling, before she answered. “Well. That’s not entirely an inaccurate summary.”

“Look at us, bucking gender roles,” Annabel said with a delicate laugh. A finger snaked up to play with one of her curls, as if for emphasis.

Something within Lenore seemed to shift once more. She felt her cheeks heat up and looked away quickly. 

Stop. I decided not to feel this way. I have to actually commit to it. I have to ignore this.

She felt eyes on her. For a moment, she feared that they were Annabel’s eyes, and that Annabel was doing the thing she did sometimes where it sort of felt like she could see into Lenore’s soul. When she looked up, however, she saw that the feeling was courtesy of a pair of teenagers on the other side of the fire pit. They watched her, then glanced back at Annabel and giggled. One, a girl with stick straight brown hair that looked almost like a younger version of Ada, whispered something into the ear of her friend. Maybe it was the girl’s resemblance to Lenore’s sworn frenemy, but something about that made panic rise up. What’s she saying? It’s clearly about us, and not just something about my cane.

What does she see?

Am I too obvious?

And if I am, does Annabel know how I feel?

Lenore pushed the thought down and away, clearing her throat and moving on. “Uh. Right! Now that you know who we are, why don’t we all go around the circle, and you can tell us your name, where you’re from, and a fun fact about yourself? You start,” she said, pointing to the small girl next to Annabel.

She half listened as they went around the circle. The introductions seemed to distract the campers from seeing things they didn’t want them to see, which was part of their purpose. As soon as they finished with that, they jumped into weekly planning. Lenore buried her head in her notebook, scribbling down every idea the teens could come up with for things they wanted to do over the course of the next two weeks. High ropes course, extra swimming, boating on the lake, primitive camping by the boulder deposit, ice cream party, and stand up paddleboard yoga… nothing revolutionary, but that only meant it would be a fairly easy week to plan. One camper did request a ten mile hike up to the peak of a nearby mountain, but she was quickly shot down by the others, something Lenore was not ungrateful for.

Once that was finished, there was a second or two of awkward silence. Eventually, Lenore realized it was up to her to say something.  “Um, okay! I’m sure you’ll all want to unpack before dinner, right? Why don’t you all go and… do that. We’ll be around if you need any help.”

There were some blank looks, and some knowing looks, and some excited and completely unaware looks. But one by one, the new campers rose and started back to their own tents. It left Annabel and Lenore alone, still by the fire-less campfire. Lenore felt Annabel smile at her before she saw it. “Well,” she said. “Shall we?”

“Shall we what?” Lenore blinked, trying to think of what Annabel might mean. Surely no wisps needed help so soon.

“Walk around. This campsite is quite beautiful, isn’t it? I’d like nothing more than to stroll around it with you.”

Lenore looked around. As though she needed to. Tent Unit Six was one of her favorites. She had once heard someone call it a ‘fairy forest,’ and though that wasn’t her usual sort of descriptor, it was so apt that she couldn’t help but adopt it. The ground wasn’t well suited to most plants, as it was covered in rocks apart from the trees that had managed to grow through them. Luckily for both klutzy campers and anyone with a good aesthetic sense, a carpet of thick, soft moss had grown over most stones. Much of it was shaded, but usually rays of sunshine poked through with a nearly ethereal effect. Only the cloudy sky that was growing ominously dark served to prevent that.

“It’s going to rain soon,” Lenore said, feeling like she was stating the obvious. But it wasn’t just rain. Rain was a nearly daily occurrence, but what was coming seemed like one of the big thunderstorms that sometimes shook the camp.

Annabel didn’t see that, or didn’t care. She merely smiled. “Perhaps,” she said. “But it’s not raining yet. Shall we promenade?” she asked in a jokingly affected voice.

Lenore snorted. “Yes,” she responded in kind, holding the hand not occupied with her cane out to Annabel dramatically. “Let’s.”

Slipping her soft hand into Lenore’s, Annabel began leading the way around the campsite, delicately stepping over mossy rocks and around trees. For a few minutes, they walked in comfortable, content silence, only broken by the excited chatter of teenagers in distant tents. Eventually, Lenore thought to break it. 

“Annabel,” she asked slowly, suddenly curious, “Who are you really?”

“What, pet?”

“Nobody’s ever quite the same at camp as they are outside, I mean,” she quickly clarified. “Here, everyone’s… well, it’s your true self, the sort of person you are when you know nobody’s really going to judge you for looking like a fool. Not that you look like a fool. But it stands. We don’t really know each other, do we?”

Annabel frowned. She was obviously deep in thought. The expression lasted only a few seconds—just long enough for Lenore to decide to press harder on it—before it turned bright again as Annabel gave a dazzling smile. “Well, I’m much the same person outside of camp as I am inside, usually. I would say it’s not camp that makes me act differently, but rather, your friendship.”

“Okay,” said Lenore, somehow both flattered and confused, “but what are you like there? In the real world? You probably go to college, don’t you?”

“I’m a student at the University of Cambridge, yes.”

Cambridge? Lenore tried not to gape. That was one of the few British schools she’d heard of, which she figured meant it must be a very good school. 

Annabel didn’t seem aware of Lenore’s amazement/distress. Her eyes flitted towards the sky as she used her fingers to count off facts about herself. As she did, she started walking slowly along the unit’s main trail.  

“I enjoy board games, especially ones that involve a lot of strategy. Chess, of course. It’s a classic, but it is genuinely one of my favorites. Perhaps that’s old fashioned of me, but there’s a reason it’s survived for hundreds of years, isn’t there?” Annabel sighed and shrugged, both actions somewhere between playful and wistful.

“I get it,” Lenore said. She thought she did, at least sort of. “I’ve played a little bit, though I’d bet you’re better. What other games do you like?”

There was a gleam in Annabel’s eyes that Lenore had never seen before. Fire, perhaps, as though this was just the sort of thing that Annabel had always wanted someone to ask her and nobody ever had. “Oh, any. I’ll try any game you put in front of me, really. It’s just a matter of finding people to play with. Harder with the obscure ones, but I’ve found some more common mainstays. Settlers of Catan, for one. And Scrabble, often competitively.”

“Competitive Scrabble?”

If the fire had been a gleam before, now it was burning full force. “Yes! Oh, even before I started playing for myself, it’s fascinating! Did you know there are high level Scrabble players who don’t speak a word of English? They memorize the strings of letters, strategize where to play them, how to use each one for maximum efficiency to earn the most points. In some ways, English speakers could almost be considered to be at a disadvantage! We look at the letters and put them together naturally, sometimes causing us to miss out on what actually might be the smartest play. I’ve always liked that. There’s something thrilling about mastering that first instinct in order to make the best decision.”

“So you go to competitions often?”

“During the school year, yes.”

“Not the summer?”

Annabel shrugged and waved a hand, not quite dismissively, but more… no. Lenore frowned, unable to put words to the action. Annabel continued, not seeming to notice how Lenore analyzed her. “When I’m not at school, I stay with my father at my childhood home. Or, well, I do theoretically. More often than not he’s booked us a few weeks worth of cruises, or we travel to attend a boating show, so we’re hardly home in the summer.”

“Especially not this year,” Lenore noted. “Why did you decide to come to camp instead? Especially if you could have been playing in game tournaments.”

Annabel thought for a moment before answering, tapping a finger on her chin. “A few reasons, really. Primarily, though, I thought of it as a chance to see America on my own terms, rather than for my father’s hobby or to study abroad. With the program I signed up through, I work here for the requisite three months, then I get a fourth month to travel as I will before returning home for the beginning of the semester. I’ve yet to decide what to do with that… I’ve heard most people embark on a tour of the major cities, staying in hostels or with the friends they’ve made over the camp season. I’ll likely follow that model, but I’ve yet to lock in any reservations…”

Lenore pursed her lips briefly, as though she had to think. She didn’t. She was set on what she was going to say. “Well, if you do that, no need to get a room in New York City. I live close enough; you can stay a few days with me.”

“That would be lovely. I accept the invitation and extend one of my own—would you care to travel with me?” Annabel must have seen Lenore’s blank expression, because she tacked on, “Just for a little bit, even. I know American schools start before ours do, so I’m sure you couldn’t do the full month. But perhaps a week or two?”

“No, no, it’s not about that.” How do I explain this to someone who’s so put together? Who has this vibrant life, these long term goals?  “I’m not actually a student anywhere. I’m… I’m not much of anything, really.”

There was a flash of something on Annabel’s face. If Lenore hadn’t known better, if the expression had made any sense, she would have sworn it was annoyance. “Why, you must be something when you’re not here.”

“Not really. I’m one of those people who lives ten for two. Um,” she hastened to explain as she saw Annabel’s expression shift towards confusion, “it’s a pretty popular camp world saying. I kind of survive for ten months, but I’m just counting down until the time I can be back at camp.”

“Well, perhaps it feels that way, but even if you aren’t in school, surely you aren’t simply lying in stasis like some sort of camp-powered robot!” 

“I wouldn’t say I’m a robot. I have hobbies. I guess.”

Annabel raised her eyebrows and tilted her head forward, looking at Lenore expectantly. Lenore shrugged, but Annabel didn’t get the message and give up. “Typically, when one says they have hobbies, they next explain what said hobbies are, pet.”

“Uh. Anime?”

“You hardly sound sure.”

“I mean… I guess it’s just that I really don’t do much. Not anymore. I used to, but I’ve kind of fallen out of the habit. I really do just sit around and wait for camp. Sorry to disappoint.”

The look on Annabel’s face was about ten percent irritation, forty percent indulgence, and fifty percent low-level desperation. “I hardly believe that, pet. Please. I simply want to know more about you. I want to know who you really are, just as you asked who I was.”

Easy for you to say. You’re going to Cambridge, you have a father who loves you, you—ugh. All the things I thought when I first saw you may not have held true here, but surely they’re true outside. You’re popular and pretty and have a life ahead of you with endless possibilities.

I have a traumatic backstory and that’s about it.

She opened her mouth to say as much, but before she could, Annabel pressed her hand into Lenore’s own. “Please?” she asked again, so softly and gently this time that it was impossible to refuse.

Lenore did still manage to hesitate, ever so slightly, before she spoke, “So you know a little bit about my history. About my brother, Theo. How I got my cane. I mean, I assume you do. Everyone does.”

Annabel nodded.

“After… the accident… I was heavily injured. My father was busy selling the camp and managing his other family projects, and I was probably pretty irritating. You know. Screaming in pain. Begging him not to sell Camp Ravenshead. That kind of thing.” 

Annabel made a sudden face, but remained silent, waiting for Lenore to continue. Lenore realized she had never actually seen Annabel scowl, and  wondered what part of her words prompted it. Nothing she’d said seemed like a big enough deal to warrant it. Not anymore, anyway. Not with so many years between the memory and the present. 

Sighing, Lenore looked away so she didn’t have to think about it anymore. That was probably for the best. It was easiest to tell this story when she didn’t have to look at someone else.

“So he called around the family, trying to find somewhere I could stay. He finally found a cousin in upstate New York, and I went to live with him. He’s an academic who is out of the house quite a lot for teaching, conferences, all of that, so I had a couple of live-in nurses to help me. My father paid all of the expenses, but refused to actually see me, and of course my mother went along with him. I thought… I thought that if I could learn to walk again, if I could run and jump and be all of the things I was supposed to be, then maybe I could prove something. Maybe if I could, maybe they’d even buy back the camp and just let me take care of it. When Theo died, they blamed the land itself, but I couldn’t. I just wanted it back, or else what did we have left of him?”

She sighed and wiped her eyes, which were somehow surprisingly dry. “All of that to say that… it didn’t work. I can walk now. I can do all the things I used to, even if it’s a little painful or hard sometimes. But I still live in my little ‘apartment’ in my cousin’s house. I could have gone to college, probably, but I keep taking gap years. I kind of just… sit in my room, watching anime and playing video games, sometimes messing around with my piano or keyboard. This was the first year I knew I could do camp, even with my hip issues. Or else I would never have left, because it’s literally all that I have. All that I am.”

“Lenore…”

She could feel Annabel’s eyes on her, heavy as their conversation. It was exactly the opposite of what she wanted.

“So you see,” she said, as though Annabel hadn’t said anything, “I really do just live for camp. That’s it. That’s all. So go ahead and judge me, because I probably deserve it.”

“I’m not judging you. I’m concerned about you. That can’t be healthy.”

“It’s healthier now that I’m not bedridden. That was how it was for the first year after the accident, you know. I finally got a chair the July after Theo’s death.” Three hundred and fifty-nine days later, she specified silently. The number had been all but burned into her memory. She remembered using a stolen butter knife to carve tally marks into her bedside table. It was her second best form of entertainment, with the first being picking holes in the floral wallpaper that covered the walls within her reach. Someone had gotten it in their head that too much screen time would be bad for her, and all of the books in the house were about her cousin’s rather uninteresting line of work. Anyways, they had all been kept downstairs, so she couldn’t have gotten access even if she’d wanted to.

“And now you walk again.” Annabel unlatched her hand from Lenore’s and reached over, tapping the cane. The smile she wore was playful on the surface, but there was an intensity to her eyes that wasn’t anything other than serious. “That shows me a lot about you, too. Perhaps as much as you told me outright. You’re determined. You have a fire in you. And you’re strong, strong enough to work through pain to get what you want. Athletic, too—haven’t I said that before?”

“I think so. Yeah.”

“You’ve proven so much by being here. Why not work to prove a little more, if what you are now upsets you so?”

Lenore opened her mouth. There were a million excuses to make. She still didn’t have the support of her parents, there was nothing she loved enough to work towards now that she had camp back, the live-in nurses were long gone and she had no support to help her towards what she wanted anymore. She’d always have a long gap on her resume, so jobs were harder to come by, and it was too late to apply to a university and hear a decision for this year, meaning she’d have to wait at least several months before she could take even the slightest of steps.

All of those thoughts and more were cut off by the first couple raindrops falling on her face. She held out her free hand and watched a few more land there. A storm was coming, and quick; no wonder she had felt so pained earlier. “We should get to a tent,” she said.

“Lenore—”

The unit’s walkie-talkie crackled to life, right on cue. “Poppet to all staff,” said a voice entirely too cheery for the weather, “The radar has picked up on a major weather event beginning now, likely ending in about two hours. Please direct yourselves, all campers, and anyone else in need of shelter to the nearest tent or building. We’ll be stuck there for a little, so do prepare, and keep your walkies nearby for further instruction.”

As it silenced, Lenore looked at Annabel. Her face said this discussion isn’t over, but Lenore was eager to make sure it was. All she had to do was focus on the weather event for now, and make sure that Annabel forgot to bring her well-meaning criticisms up later.

“Annabel,” she said, “you take Tents 1, 2, and 3. Make sure they’re prepared and know the safety precautions. I’ll do the same with the other four.”

Annabel nodded. “And we reconvene at our tent.”

“Unless we’re needed.”

“Of course.”

Lenore nodded. “Not much time,” she murmured. “We have to go now.”

She didn’t wait for a response before setting off to her chosen tents to brief the wisps, all the while thinking not of the brewing storm and the fat drops falling on her arms, but of what she might say to Annabel to force a subject change. What questions she could ask, what conversations they might have.

Stuck in a tent with Annabel, alone for two hours as the world flooded around them. It was hard to deny that even knowing of all the things that could go wrong, she was looking forward to it.

Chapter Text

Lying in bed that night, Lenore wondered if she had been worried for nothing. 

Or, worse, if all of her feelings had been for nothing.

They sat in the tent in the rain on their separate beds. Annabel read a book. Lenore browsed the internet on her cell phone, which was a mostly thankless task as the already limited internet in the woods was made less reliable by the storm. Instead, she mostly spent time glancing up at Annabel, trying to figure out what to say, what to do. 

Secretly, she tried to download a chess app, just so she could offer a pass and play game. The download wouldn’t progress past ten percent, and Lenore gave up after half an hour. After that, she plucked up the courage to speak, telling herself that it was better to distract from the earlier conversation than simply leave it hanging. “So, uh. What are you reading?”

Annabel simply held the book up in response— Secrets of Modern Chess Strategy. For a moment, Lenore thought that meant she was getting the ‘don’t bother me, I’m reading’ sort of silent treatment, but after a second Annabel contextualized. “Much of it is nothing I don’t already know,” she said matter-of-factly. “Still, it’s a good refresher to keep my brain moving, and more interesting than reading the Scrabble dictionary again. It’s a pity I haven’t been able to find anyone here who plays any of the games I play. I’m sure to find myself behind when school resumes in the fall.”

“You could play against me,” Lenore blurted.

“You would be interested?” Annabel’s face grew curious, as well as something else. Ravenous, perhaps, Lenore decided. “You didn’t mention that earlier.”

“I did say I played a little. But I meant it, I’m not very good. You’d have to teach me, which I suppose would mean I wouldn’t actually be much of a challenge.” She felt as though she were babbling a little, but almost couldn’t stop herself. “They do say teaching makes you better at what you’re teaching though, so it couldn’t hurt. Or, well, wouldn’t hurt if we actually could do it. I was going to download a chess app so we could pass and play, but the internet—”

“No need,” Annabel said, so smoothly that Lenore thought perhaps it was the beginning of a rejection. I don’t play with amateurs, or some such thing. 

Instead, Annabel reached into her backpack and pulled out a small wooden box, which she quickly opened. Tiny chess pieces rolled onto her cot, all clumping together. Magnetic. With practiced ease, Annabel quickly began placing the pieces on the board in their correct starting locations, while Lenore watched and tried to follow along with what she knew from when she used to play. Pawns in front, rooks like castle towers on the back ends, queen likes her own color best and always sits there…

“How much do you know about chess?” Annabel asked. “Do you have a ranking?”

“No ranking,” Lenore said, figuring that having a ranking first required one to know what ranking even was. “I know how the pieces move. And I guess some strategy? I mean, I’ve read all of Umineko no Naku Koro ni, which is probably worth something?”

Annabel didn’t respond in anything more than a hum of acknowledgement. Lenore wasn’t sure if that meant that it was worth something, or whether it meant that Annabel had no clue about the value that an anime horror visual novel could bring to one of the world’s oldest games. 

After another couple of seconds, Annabel finished setting up the pieces. “I’m ready to begin,” she said pleasantly. “You may choose—would you prefer to start as white, or black? White has a slight advantage.”

“Then I’ll take black, of course.”

“You’d turn down an advantage?”

“I like playing the underdog. Besides, white suits you better,” Lenore said with a smile. “The color washes me out, according to Berenice.”

Annabel looked slightly baffled, but laughed delicately, then motioned to the foot of her cot. “Come sit with me,” she said. “We can hardly play from across the tent.”

There was really only supposed to be one person per cot, even if the intention was simply to sit upon it. Depending on the age of the bed’s occupants, there were different excuses for why. Lice, often, or weight restriction. But with Annabel’s big eyes looking right at Lenore, and soft curls framing her face, it was almost impossible not to remember the primary reason for the rule. Lenore thought about it, but then thought better of it. She had a reputation as a rule breaker and bad kid—what was the point of trying to play goody two shoes, especially to Annabel, and especially when it was simply to play a game of chess?

Nodding mutely, she sat across from Annabel. 

The game was simple, yet complex. Lenore had only played against people of roughly her skill level before. Annabel moved pieces like a general—no, like a goddess. In her hand, every movement seemed thought out, every strategy considered. She knew the capabilities of all her pieces and a bevy of obscure rules. And she did not go easy on Lenore.

“If I’m to go easy on you, it will defeat the purpose of teaching,” she warned after her first move. “You’ll hardly learn if I’m holding my knowledge back.”

It felt a little unfairly matched, especially when Annabel managed to capture a piece en passant , something Lenore unwittingly argued was against the rules for a solid minute until Annabel pulled out a rulebook and proved her wrong. But Annabel was right. Watching her did provide more insight into the game than any amount of games played against Theo on rainy precamp days when they’d been stuck together in the dining hall for hours. 

Plus, it provided insight into Annabel herself, which was also welcome. There was a lightness to her when she played. A speed. Normally, Annabel reminded Lenore of a cat—elegant, regal, and not unwelcoming but definitely independent. Now,  a devious enthusiasm gripped her. Every move she made she accompanied with an eagerly smug look towards Lenore, as though she was trying to gauge not just what move her opponent was making, but also if Lenore was having as good of a time as she herself was. Lenore was sure that she was disappointing Annabel in that regard, though mostly because she didn’t think anyone could be as excited about chess as Annabel was.

The game was won quickly, by Annabel. Then another, then another, then another—an undefeated streak. Lenore, quite competitive, would normally have been devastated by the results.

But this time, as she looked at Annabel’s furrowed brow and excited eyes, the way her long fingers gently touched her queen before she moved it into another flawless attack… this time, she somehow felt she was the winner, in the end.

Annabel took up too much brain space, Lenore decided by the next evening. Not that she was complaining about it.

A large part of that was sharing a tent with her. It was watching her face crinkle in thought during the chess game, then shift to a smile as though she and Lenore had some secret between them. It was seeing her applying her fancy body lotion that night. Catching a glimpse of her changing shirts in the morning. Hearing her soft but confident “Until tonight, pet,” as she left the tent to head off to the waterfront. Was there a constant hint of flirtation to Annabel’s tone? Or was that just Lenore’s imagination, which seemed to be as overactive as a nine year old wisp lately?

She drowned the thoughts of Annabel in her new pet project: bringing table games back. 

Every spare second where she could be overanalyzing, she was instead dedicating to recruitment. First was spending time convincing Morella, who was surprisingly easy. All that took was Lenore catching her at lunch before the wisps came in and assuring her that she wouldn’t get in any trouble—clearly the “bad” staff members would get all the blame, not a sweet and unassuming lifeguard without a single disciplinary strike.

“Well, I still don’t want to agree if it means you’ll get in trouble!” Morella said, twisting a strand of hair on her finger nervously.

“Me?” Lenore grinned, her smile all confident and reckless and fun. “Well, I’ve decided to do it either way. You declining won’t stop it, so why not join in?”

For a moment, she expected Morella to decline anyway. Morella had a childhood reputation of being a bit of a goody two shoes, even when it wasn’t expected. She never snuck out of her bunk at midnight to play Ghost in the Graveyard, never tried to lie about her swim level to get extra choices at the waterfront, never participated in prank wars, and she’d never even taken extra dessert at dinnertime, even if there was clearly enough for everyone to have more.

“Well…” said Morella. “If you’re going to… then, okay!”

“That’s the spirit.” She clapped Morella on the back. “Spread the word, okay? To old staff members, and to new if you’re willing to teach.”

“I’ll do my best.” Her voice was a little too grave and serious for the situation, but the twinkle in her eye indicated that perhaps that tone was in itself a joke. Morella relaxed and added, “To tell you the truth, I’m excited. It’s been so long since we’ve done these!”

Not for the first time, Lenore wondered what the five years between her family’s departure and her re-arrival had looked like. Some things were evident in the changes she’d noticed, but so much wasn’t. Most staff members only did three or four years, the summers of their college days until they got an internship or relationship or graduated. A whole generation could have come and gone. Was it all so strict and boring as the directors demanded? Had there been anyone up for a little mischief? She made a mental note to ask Eulalie later. She’d probably know better than Morella. But that was for another time—right now, she had a mission.

She tracked down Ada next, during a mutual afternoon break. Ada was sitting on the porch of the staff house, fiddling on her cell phone. She was making all sorts of faces as she scrolled—annoyed, then intrigued, then one that Lenore could only describe as ‘lovey dovey.’ Lenore sighed. This was not going to be fun. Approaching Ada when she was on her phone usually meant getting snapped at. She thought about postponing, but no. She needed Ada—and the social power she held—on her side as soon as possible. Nothing to it but to do it.

She approached, coming as close as she could without being weird and finally standing about a foot away from the porch stairs where Ada was sprawled. “Ada,” Lenore said through only slightly gritted teeth, “I need to ask a favor.”

“Oh, perfect!” said Ada in response, looking up from her cell. That was a surprise. Her voice was almost excited, and definitely slightly more shrill than usual. “Because I was to demand one of you as well. That’s good news for you—it means you’ll no longer be in my debt.”

Huh? Lenore thought to herself, trying to make sense of Ada’s words before she realized there was literally no point.

“Tell me what you planned to ask for, Lenore, and within reason, I’ll be gracious and consider our favors even,” Ada continued, placing her phone into the front pocket of her backpack. “No need to thank me at all, by the way. I’m in a fantastic mood, and giving back is merely a way I can express it.”

Privately, Lenore wondered if they bottled whatever Ada had ingested. If they did, it could probably sell out in minutes, if only to those who didn’t mind being seen as absolutely nuts.

Even so, she sighed and started the speech she’d half-planned. “I know the directors don’t want us to play table games anymore, but look, it’s just not camp without them. Have you ever heard of a camp that doesn’t do them at least once in a while? Frankly, we should all be ashamed that they were taken.”

“Ashamed?” Ada raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest. “I, for one, like that we no longer have to participate in barbaric screaming rituals at what should be and can be a perfectly peaceful mealtime. Perhaps your family had all the money and none of the class, but I can say with certainty that most people learned it was rude to play during dinner.”

Lenore pursed her lips. There were a lot of things she wanted to say to Ada, most of them insults, but she managed to hold her tongue. She hated to admit it, but she needed Ada on her side. Not only would it mean someone else would be able to help teach the forgotten games, but it also ensured that Ada’s friends would be more likely to follow along. 

“Perhaps that’s a real world rule,” she tried to explain, forcing herself to be patient for the benefit of them both. “However, if we’re at camp, don’t you think it’s unforgivable?”

“Not particularly.”

“Well, uh— okay, think of it this way. You want to work for the most popular and fashionable camp that you can. One with prestige.”

Ada’s head tilted slightly and she smiled. “Of course I do.”

“We used to be the trendsetters, Ada. Think about it. Every camp in the Poconos wanted to be Ravenshead. And now what? Are we going to let the other camps think that Camp Nevermore is made up of upstarts with no idea how to behave at a summer camp? They’d laugh in our faces. You know, even Camp Shiloh plays table games. We can’t let Camp Shiloh beat us. We’d never live it down.”

“Hmm. You have a point.” Invoking their old rival had been the right idea; the conflicted expression on Ada’s face was as clear as day. Lenore knew it meant she was close to winning.

She laid it on a little thicker. “Besides, think of how influential you’d be. One of the people who brought back an old tradition long forgotten. And with a little bit of mischief attached. You’re dating Monty, aren’t you? Isn’t that official?”

The beam on Ada’s face was something half triumph, half adoration. “Yes! How astute of you to notice.”

When you loudly call him pet names, hold hands in the dining hall, and sneak out at nights to go meet with him, I’d hardly call it astute. Even the youngest wisps know what’s going on. “Well, imagine how impressed he’d be. In fact, why not get him in on it? You two could make it a whole couples thing.”

It’d mean that Lenore wouldn’t have to deal with Montresor herself, at the very least. 

“Hmm!” hummed Ada. “That’s not a horrible idea, especially coming from you. Alright, you can count us in, I suppose. Provided you don’t get fired, of course. I don’t plan to continue the plan of someone who gets fired.”

“I’m not going to get fired,” said Lenore. Probably not, anyway. It’d be a really stupid thing if this is what did it.

“Well, see that you don’t. I still need you to teach me how to braid. Nobody else will,” she complained. “I’ve asked and asked but everyone has their excuses. Even Annabel says her hair type is too different from mine and that she’s not sure if she could do it as elegantly as it deserves.”

“She said that?”

“Something like it, anyway,” Ada said dismissively. “So it’s your job now. You’ve done a passable job braiding it thus far, but I’ve tired of sitting still for you. I want to learn it.”

It sounded miserable. “And this is what it will take for you to play table games?” Ada nodded. “Fine. Yes, I’ll teach you.”

“Wonderful. Then I’ll see you on Saturday morning, bright and early.”

“What? I never agreed to a day.”

Ada smirked. “It sounds like you’re desperate for friends to play games with, though. So if you want me to do that, you’ll do this for me.”

Lenore sighed. “Fine,” she said wearily, hoping it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as she was already worried it would be.

The rest of the recruitment went fairly easily. Duke had been on board since the first night—she’d slipped away after the thunderstorm and presented the idea with enough pomp and fanfare that he’d been immediately invested. He’d told Pluto, who was wary but agreed after Eulalie and Berenice found out about the plot and effectively strong-armed him into it. Ada dealt with Monty, which was worth waking early on Saturday for, and he in turn spread it to Will. 

Past that, Lenore couldn’t keep track of who knew and who didn’t. Counselors she couldn’t have named if you put a gun to her head kept coming up to her, asking for more details, expressing fondness for the idea, or lamenting that they didn’t think they were courageous enough to participate. Lenore always gave the best words of encouragement she could, smiled her best, brightest, bravest grin, and reminded them to spread the word, but keep it away from those who might snitch.

Time flew like the birds that made their homes in Nevermore’s trees. As the hours passed, the project grew bigger than Lenore herself, until almost too many people knew. With the threat of the directors looming, word swept through camp to stop telling people. The remaining members of staff could be surprised along with the administrators and campers.

With one critical exception. Lenore couldn’t help it; she had one person left to tell.

If anything good had come from the ball game, it was that she no longer felt pressure to sneak around just to talk to Annabel, nor to limit their talks to the tent at night. Duke knew her heart and knew her decision; he knew that despite his worries, Lenore planned to be friends with both of them. 

With that settled, Lenore’s breaks were no longer purely spent at the hideout—Lenore still couldn’t convince Duke to let Annabel into the fold of that secret. Nor did they always want to spend time in their unit; even if they were both on break, kids didn’t seem to understand that and would sometimes burst in asking for knots to be untied, lost items to be found, or spiders to be killed. Luckily, they had their own secret, remote place, courtesy of the clearing where Annabel had once almost frozen to death.

It was perfect. So long as she could keep her newfound feelings from bubbling up and spilling out, anyway.

On the day that Lenore recruited Annabel, the two were sitting on the large, sunny rock back to back and basking in one of the rare sunny afternoons. Lenore’s cane was folded into her backpack and forgotten. Her fingers, desperate for something to mess with, instead were knotting a friendship bracelet. 

Annabel’s bracelet, though Annabel didn’t know it. Lenore had thought for hours about what colors and designs to pick, though. She’d finally settled on a simple red heart with a soft blue background, but had made it fancier by way of a lacy white border on the sides of the bracelet. It was coming together slowly, but surely, and she had to resist the urge to press the strings against Annabel’s wrist just to see how it’d look. Patience. It’s a surprise for her. Don’t give it away.

“What are you doing, pet?” Annabel asked, almost like she’d read Lenore’s mind.

“Just a craft to keep my fingers busy.” Not a lie. She held it up towards Annabel and got a first glance at the colors next to Annabel’s skin, Annabel’s hair. It was as good as she imagined. Better, maybe. “I’m sure someone’s roped you into making a friendship bracelet or two in your life, if not as a child then surely in the last month or so.”

“They’ve tried,” Annabel admitted. “However, they’ve yet to succeed.”

“I could show you how to do it, if you want. It’s not hard.”

“It’s—it’s not about the difficulty, pet, but more about… well, I simply dislike the concept. That is all.”

“You don’t like making friendship bracelets?” Lenore wasn’t sure whether to be shocked or be amused. Maybe both. Weeks ago she would have written it off as Annabel just not being suited for camp, but that was then, and this was now. From the look on Annabel’s face, there seemed like there was more to it anyway. “Why?”

But Annabel brushed it off with her usual air of elegance and social propriety. “Oh, the reason really is nothing important, just…”

“Yes?” She wasn’t letting Annabel get off that easily. She leaned in close, her face and body language teasing.

“It all comes down to needlepoint,” Annabel said lightly. Even so, there was a thread of irritation in her tone. “My father always admired my mother’s needlepoint and wanted me to learn as well. So of course I did, to please him. It was an old fashioned hobby, but it meant a lot to him that I could do it.”

“You hated every second, didn’t you?”

It was just like her, not to confirm it verbally. The look on her face, however, said more than enough. “It doesn’t matter. I grew older and found other, more pleasing hobbies. Hobbies that both my father and I could easily accept. Even so, the sight of embroidery floss…” Against her usual demeanor, she shuddered quickly. “Really, it’s silly of me. I hope you’ll forgive my lapse in—”

“You don’t have to apologize for your needlepoint trauma. I think you’re allowed to be affected by it. Heaven knows I’m affected by mine.”

“A tree falling on one is a little bit different than a sour childhood experience,” said Annabel, and she looked away.

For a moment, it was quiet. So very quiet.

Then, Lenore forced herself to smile. She nudged Annabel with her elbow. “You know,” she said, determined to change the subject and lighten the mood, “I asked you to come out here today for a reason, and we still haven’t gotten to it. And I know you only have half an hour of your break left.”

Annabel seemed to take the hint. She looked back to Lenore. “And that reason would be?” she asked. In her eyes was an excitement that Lenore had only recently begun to see, something that Annabel often hid from others. It was a shame. The passionate look in her eyes, the way her smiles were so much more genuine… who wouldn’t fall in love with Annabel Lee, seeing her like that?

So maybe not a shame. Maybe it was good that these looks seemed to be reserved for Lenore alone, and only when they were alone.

She almost wanted to lean in and kiss Annabel gently on the lips; she pressed this feeling back. 

No. No, not now, not yet, maybe not ever. Not while things were still so unsure. Not when she couldn’t work up the courage to simply ask.

“Lenore?” Annabel said. She sounded amused, and the quirk of her lips seemed to back that assumption up.

“Oh, uh. Yeah. Right. I was asking you things. About—about table games. Yes. Hah, sorry, got a little distracted there.” Idly scratching her neck, she hoped that Annabel wouldn’t ask abou—

“Distracted? By what, pray tell?”

Shit. “Just a chipmunk behind you,” she lied. “Anyway, table games.”

Lenore explained the situation to Annabel, including all the people she’d gotten on board already and how awful the directors were for canceling them. “It’s up to us to bring them back and show them they’re being ridiculous. It’s important work. It’s just not camp without them.”

“So we’ve been simply not having camp for four, five weeks?” Annabel joked, tapping a finger on Lenore’s nose playfully. 

Lenore felt herself blush, but shook off the feeling and Annabel’s finger so she could stay focused. “Well, you know what I mean. Or, I suppose you don’t. Since you’ve never seen a table game. Uhhhh, you don’t happen to have a handkerchief on you, do you?”

“Am I that old fashioned, that you think that I would?”

“No, no, not at all. Handkerchiefs are… uh, is it too on the nose to say they’re handy? You can use them to hold back your hair, wipe your hands, clean your knives, add extra padding to backpack straps, pick up spiders, collect berries, reusable tissue...”

“We are washing these in between uses, yes?” Annabel said with a laugh.

“Mostly,” grinned Lenore right back. “If you can see the gunk and dirt, sure. Otherwise, it’s still camp clean.”

“For all that I have adapted to, I think some things I simply never will.”

“More than fair. Okay, so I can’t show you Napkin Check. But there’s clapping games, rhythms that shake the entire dining hall when everyone does them. And special meals, some with games and some that are just themed. We had a Regency Era Dinner my last year here as a camper. That was a lot of fun.”

“It sounds like it would be. I’m normally not one for fancy dress, but I have always thought I could easily pull off historic fashion. Perhaps something Victorian or Edwardian.”

Lenore tried to remember if they’d ever done those eras as themes before. She didn’t think so. “Maybe we could do that once the other games are back. Themed meals are harder to organize than some of the other things because they have to be planned in advance and the kitchen director and activity director usually need to be involved.”

“Hmmm. Perhaps. I don’t want you to get in trouble, pet,” Annabel said. She pursed her lips together, looking almost stressed.

“They’re not going to fire me over a few table games.”

“No, likely not,” she agreed, “but they certainly can make your life miserable if they choose. It’d be better on both of our hearts were you to avoid that.”

Lenore grinned. “Nice to know you care.”

“It never was in doubt, you know. Or rather, I hope it wasn’t. Even so, I can’t deny I have purely selfish motivations. You simply make camp so much brighter than it otherwise would have been.”

She could feel the blush rising to her cheeks and looked away, concealing her face from Annabel as she stared deep into the woods and tried to ignore the increasingly loud feelings inside of her.

“What’s wrong, pet?” asked Annabel.

“Nothing,” Lenore lied. “Just another chipmunk.”

“So,” said Duke on Friday morning as he spread himself out on the hammock they’d hung in the hideout. “Lenore. May I ask a question?”

Lenore raised an eyebrow. “Shoot.”

“What exactly are the rules for dating here?”

She felt her eyebrow shift even higher for a split second, then grinned, leaning forward in her folding chair as she examined him. “Got your eye on someone?” she teased. “Who is it? Our dear Pluto? Eula? Both? Or someone else? Not Prospero again, I’d hope?”

Duke turned away with a look that was a little too over-exaggerated to be true disdain. “If you must know, I was asking for you. If you’re going to be getting in trouble for being in a relationship, I’d like to know how much trouble to expect.”

“I’m not getting into a relationship, Duke. Not anytime soon, at least.” She thought about Annabel, briefly, then shook her head, trying to clear that thought away. I mean, it certainly feels like it sometimes, but…

Duke raised an eyebrow. “Then humor me, mademoiselle . I’m still curious enough to want an answer.”

Lenore didn’t completely buy it, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she wasn’t buying. Either Duke did have his eye on someone, or he thought that a relationship between Annabel and Lenore was imminent. Which maybe it was. Not that he would know, or at least not know before she did…

Still, it didn’t hurt to answer. “Well, technically it’s a no-go. But they can’t stop it normally. I don’t think even the directors are foolish enough to try. There’s a few common courtesy rules though, mostly unspoken.”

“Such as?”

“You don’t let the campers know, for one. It’s all very discreet, and any relationship things happen when you’re off the clock. Even when you are, nothing really heavy can happen on camp property. Nothing you wouldn’t want a junior staff member to see. And there aren’t supposed to be any relationships between management staff and regular counselors. Which isn’t to say it doesn’t happen, but if you were to get caught breaking the other rules, they’d be much more likely to actually pursue disciplinary action for it. So if it was Eulalie you were thinking of…” She trailed off, trying to gauge Duke’s reaction.

He gave nothing away. “Would it be worth it?”

“Depends on who it is, I suppose.”

Rolling his eyes, Duke shattered Lenore’s haphazard illusions. “For you, Lenore. You know as well as I do that they’ll look for a reason to get rid of you.”

She tried not to show any signs of weakness and answered steadily. “I already told you that this didn’t matter to me right now. Nothing’s happening between Annabel and me. We’re simply good friends.”

“For now.”

“And likely longer. Or forever. Though if it changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

“If only because I don’t think you could hide your feelings if you were paid to,” he quipped with a mischievous grin in her direction. “At least I know that I can trust you. I just wish you would maybe have a shred of a self preservation instinct sometimes. Reintroducing table games and thirsting over the camp’s golden child, all in the same week? Really, mon amie, you’re looking for trouble.”

Lenore felt her face heat. “I wouldn’t call it thirsting.”

She loved Duke, but in that moment, she wished she could smack the smirk off his face, just a bit. He was leaning back slightly with eyebrows raised and a haughty, knowing look evident on his lips and deep in his eyes. “ Oui, of course,” he said dryly. “Be careful out at the lake, won’t you? I don’t want you drowning from distraction.”

That did it. She leaned forward in her chair even more, until she was in danger of falling off of it, and socked him in the arm.

He didn’t look upset. If anything, he grinned wider, as though he’d won something. Lenore sighed and leaned back, looking up at the hideout ceiling. 

Turned out, gullible was painted there, too.

The sight of the directors was the very first thing she noticed when she walked into the dining hall that night. Duke and Morella must have noticed in the same way; they were both looking at Lenore expectantly, as though to say ‘do we go on anyway? Would it be safer to back off?’

Probably, yes. Lenore told herself that it wasn’t like common sense had ever stopped her before. The camp was counting on her. Half the staff was expecting her to bring back table games, and to do it tonight. If she faltered now, that would be the end of any respect they ever had for her. Maybe someone like Annabel could quietly transfer everything to another day, but Lenore was just a girl with a broken legacy and a bad hip. She had to do what she had told everyone she would. It was just about being brave and honorable at this point, and sometimes she felt that was all she had left.

“No change of plans,” she said under her breath. “They’d find out sooner or later, one way or the other.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing, mon amie ,” Duke muttered back, but he showed no other signs of doubt.

The three quietly dispersed; Lenore had realized fairly quickly that placing everyone involved in the same part of the dining hall would only bring unwanted attention, so everyone involved dispersed themselves throughout the dining hall, waiting for the signal. They’d all but assigned positions—Lenore in the front, to do the starting call, Berenice close by to lend credibility as a director. Pluto, who tried to blend in, would be in the center, able to carry the chants and games without being any sort of distraction. Morella, to the side, able to keep an eye out for any issues. Duke and Eulalie were the only ones of the group sharing a table—they’d be at the back. As the only first year staff member among the group, Duke would follow Eulalie’s lead, and any mistakes wouldn’t be as obvious.

Across the hall, others in on the plan were setting up. She could see that Ada and Annabel were sharing a table today, probably so Ada could help Annabel through like Eulalie was doing for Duke. Monty was at a side table, and the table next to him held Will. Other counselors were also dispersing, and from the kitchen window, Lenore could even see the kind kitchen worker that she liked, who waved and mouthed “good luck.”

The meal began and with it came the first of the nerves. She pushed them down and tried not to look at the directors, who she could swear were staring in her direction. Instead, she set her focus on her mission. Discreetly, she nodded at anyone who glanced her way during the meal. Yes, it’s still on. Once the meal finishes, so that they can’t complain about choking, just as I said. Act natural, keep eating your vegetable soup. Once they announce dessert, maybe.

And then they did. The kind kitchen staffer emerged from behind the food line to let everyone know that there would be blueberry pie for those who were so inclined, starting in five minutes because it was a little bit late coming out of the ovens. Lenore couldn’t help but smile. More than perfect, really. Most people were done with their meals, but not yet able to have dessert. There was no better place to do table games.

And yet, the nervousness came from somewhere deep within her. Even in the din of the dining hall she could hear her own heartbeat—a low, dull, quick sound. It grew quicker and quicker and louder and louder every instant, until she knew it was the moment of truth. She could back out, or she could start the games. Despite all the things she’d told herself, the first seemed pretty tempting.

Lenore touched a finger to her chest, trying to ease the frantic rhythm that beat inside her ribcage. 

Then, she took a deep breath, readied herself, and projected the opening words.

“NEVERMORE, GIMME ONE!”

Not everyone in the hall clapped. About half of the staff looked absolutely baffled. But those who responded did so confidently and loudly as the three beats of the chant’s sequence rang out. Tables shook as hands connected with them.

“GIMME TWO!” she yelled.

The response was a bit louder. Some of the baffled returners who hadn’t heard the news had already come to their senses… and most of those had joined in. 

“GIMME THREE!”

This response was the longest and loudest of all. The sound carried and echoed, filling the hall with sounds and nostalgic memories. 

“ ONE, TWO, THREE, BREAK IT DOWN!”

Only now that things had started and were not showing any signs of fizzling out could she look around to find the directors and see their reactions. Mourn was staring at her with a look that could only be described as vitriolic, while Merry wore the shit-eating grin of a hunter who had just watched a stupid animal stumble into their trap. Shit, Lenore thought frantically. Maybe I am going to get fired for this.

“WHOO WHOO! YEAH!”

But—well, she’d said it, hadn’t she? There was no real way of backing out, no way of stopping what had been started. She simply had to continue and deal with whatever came next. 

“NAH, NAH, NAH, NAH, NAH NAH, NAH, NAH!”

With a final clap and stomp, the chant was done. The dining room grew unnaturally silent for a long moment, then slowly chatter began to rise up and fill the room. Lenore could hear snippets of conversation. “What was that?” 

“Oh! We haven’t done table games in ages!” 

“We used to do something like that at my old camp.” 

“Did that just happen?”

She couldn’t help but grin. Even the administration seemed baffled. Poppet was blinking her large eyes and looking around as though she was going to see something that proved the table games were just a dream. Nurse Dolly had her head in her hands. And the directors—

The directors were standing. Standing and smiling. Lenore felt her heart drop into her stomach.

Merry clinked a glass, which didn’t do much as the dishware used in the dining hall was mostly plastic. Even so, silence filled the room once again, apprehensive and expectant. “Well!” said the director with his most winning smile, “that certainly seems to be unexpected for a large portion of you!”

“It has been five years since such games graced our humble camp,” Mourn droned.

“From the looks of your faces, some are wondering whatever we could be thinking about this. Now, it certainly is true that in the past we’ve enforced disciplinary strikes for those who have gone against our important camp rules. Written warnings, of course, and loss of privileges. Rescinded invitations to return in the following year. Formal termination, effective immediately.”

She could swear she felt her heart stop in her chest. Was this it? They weren’t just going to fire her, they were going to do it publicly? 

And what about her friends? The people she’d roped into this? The people who didn’t deserve this? 

They can’t fire us all, she’d justified. With the amount of staff on board, the entire camp would have to be shut down for the foreseeable future. Right? They wouldn’t do that, right?

For a second, Lenore didn’t feel sure of that at all.

“Well, we can assure you there is absolutely no cause to worry! A  round of applause for Lenore! Ever since we mentioned our intentions to resume table games, she has been working tirelessly to get them off the ground. Such dedication we’ve never before seen from a counselor, but could we expect less from the former heiress?” Merry said. His grin was little short of evil. Lenore knew she was red in the face; from anger or embarrassment, she could only guess.

She ducked her head, but she could still feel eyes on her. She was making it worse for herself by trying to hide; in defiance, she straightened up and began to skim the dining hall tables. Where were her friends, the people who might believe that she was as shocked by this as they were?

There was Duke in the corner with Eulalie. They both stared at her—Duke open-mouthed and horrified, Eulalie blank and unreadable. 

“And how modest of her not to tell anyone she was working so closely with us,” Mourn drawled, tapping his long fingers on the table in front of him.

“I assume she simply didn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea,” Merry said, his grin unceasing.

In the center of the room, Pluto eyed her with quiet disappointment. When their eyes met, he quickly looked away. Lenore could see a flash of hurt on his face before he did. Closer to Lenore’s table, Berenice looked flat out angry, watching the directors with what could only be described as disgust.

“Well!” continued Merry, “here’s to many more surprise events where we work ever so closely with Miss Vandernacht. For now, we hope you enjoyed the show just as much as you’ll enjoy the fabulous dessert the kitchen has whipped up for us! If those helping serve the table would be so kind as to go fetch it…?”

That seemed to break the spell ever so slightly. The dining room returned to its normal chatter, first sporadically and cautiously, but quickly catching like a wildfire. Lenore, in turn, put her face to the table. What had just happened? How was it worse than being fired?

She didn’t touch her pie. It sat there, somehow mocking her with its dripping blueberry filling and melting scoop of ice cream on top. Eventually, a teenage wisp sitting three seats away asked meekly if he could have it; Lenore shoved it at him wordlessly.

And so passed the last few minutes of Friday night dinner for Lenore Vandernacht—sitting uncomfortably, devoid of appetite, and mourning the loss of her friends.

As soon as the camp was dismissed from the dining hall, Lenore ignored her duties as a counselor once again and opted instead to run after the twin directors. They were walking slowly back to their personal golf cart, which would surely be there to take them to the Townhouse. She waited until they had both climbed into the small vehicle before jumping in front of it, keeping her hands on the hood so that they’d have no choice but to run them over if they started it up. “With all due respect, directors, what was that?” she hissed, rediscovering some of the spark that had fizzled out after the announcement.

Merry smiled slyly. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Why? Why did you tell them I was on your side?” she demanded, pressing her hands into the cart even more. Her teeth were pressed together just as tightly.

Merry smiled. Mourn’s head tilted upwards. The two examined her for a beat before Mourn spoke. “Isn’t it obvious? You don’t fear punishment. What you hate most of all, however, is being associated with us. So what better way to punish you?”

“What?”

“It’d be easy enough to fire you,” said Merry. “And that would get you out of our hair, of course. But that wouldn’t be in the spirit of camp, now would it? When you get pranked, you respond with a prank of your own. Rules so old they may as well be ancient. So when you think of it like that… how would the kids these days say it, Mourn?”

“Get pranked,” said Mourn, deadpan.

“And best of luck getting your fellow ‘misfit’ followers to trust you again, hmm? Now, if that’s all, we will be heading back to the Townhouse now. Have a good night, Miss Vandernacht. Try not to get eaten by a bear.”

Mourn turned the ignition. Lenore wondered whether it would be better for her to jump away—if the directors really would just run her over—but they had other ideas, putting the vehicle into reverse and sending her sprawling. She caught her balance just before falling over, clumsily wobbling as she tried to stand up. 

Once the cart was far enough away, it shifted back into drive. Merry waved cheerfully and mockingly at Lenore. For her part, she simply stood there for a second in shock, watching them go. She could feel the anger like a fire in her, as hot and pointed as the pain in her hip had been only days before. 

It wasn’t like she wanted to get fired. She should have been happy. This should have been a good result. Table games were back and she still worked for Camp Nevermore, and despite what the directors said maybe she could even convince her friends to like her again. 

But then… why did she feel like she’d lost some sort of game?

She ran to the hideout as soon as her campers were asleep that night, leaving them in the hands of the on-duty counselor from their sister unit. Lenore had had to put them to bed herself; the other unit had returned late, and Annabel had some sort of urgent waterfront meeting to attend. Or something like that, maybe. Lenore wasn’t quite sure because Annabel had been vague. It sounded, almost, like an excuse so she didn’t have to be nearby.

The anxiety that produced settled heavily in her gut. Even so, she kept running. The weather was clearer than it had been all week, and finally the pain in her hip had dissipated to a level that allowed for more exhaustive activity. She still gripped her cane, just to be safe, but she moved fast through the trails, jumping over any tree roots or logs in her way with ease.

When she arrived at the hideout her friends were all there, which was about the worst sign there could be. They all looked at her when she entered. “Oh, good,” said Eulalie. “You’re here now.”

“We thought you weren’t going to show up,” Pluto said.

“Everyone, I—”

She was cut off by Duke. “Lenore, about what happened tonight. This week. We talked and—”

No. No, no, please let me explain. “They’re lying,” she said, cutting Duke off. “Know that I would never lie to you like that. And think about it! It doesn’t even make sense, does it? Why would I work for them?”

Berenice raised an eyebrow. “But you do work for them. We all work for them. They literally are our bosses.”

Lenore’s heart sunk into her chest. “But I—”

“Lenore, we know. We know, mon amie. Relax,” said Duke. His smile was easy. “You’re right. We talked and it made no sense. Why would you hide such a thing? Why go to all the trouble? Why would they choose you, of all people, if it truly was their idea?”

Eulalie nodded along. Her eyes were trained on a scoubidou keychain she was making, which Lenore knew was a good thing—a serious or upset Eula wouldn’t multitask. “They’d have picked Prospero or someone else like him to do it instead.”

She could feel her heart grow lighter; her back straightened as though her weighty fears had been pulling it to the floor. “Thank you,” she said. 

“There’s no need to thank us for being decent,” Berenice quipped, walking over and slinging her arm around Lenore’s shoulders. “Anyone would have listened to you and realized that the directors are full of shit. Or anyone who’s worth anything at least. Anyone who really knows you.”

Duke walked over to join the huddle, and Pluto followed. Even Eulalie swiveled in her seat to beam up at the group. Lenore almost wanted to cry with relief, but she wasn’t really a crying person. Instead, she took a seat in the nearest chair and leaned back, watching her friends with interest. “Well, then,” she said, “it’s time to make sure the camp really knows me, I’d say.”

“Are you worried about Annabel?” Eulalie asked, and Lenore blinked. She had forgotten to be, until that very moment.

“Uh—”

Berenice pushed her off the chair; Lenore barely managed to catch herself. “Well, go find her! That waterfront meeting should be over—”

“That was real?”

“Yes?” Berenice gave her a funny look. “Did you think it was just made up? Morella had to go to it too, that’s why she’s not here either.”

Lenore hadn’t quite registered that. “Oh. That… makes sense.”

“Yeah, it does.” With a grin, Berenice placed her hands on her hips for a second. Lenore was still thinking about the implications of there actually being a meeting and simply watched her do this until Berenice finally walked over and gave her a little shove from the back. “Don’t just stand there. Go find her!”

Oh, yeah. Lenore nodded and raced off without another world, slamming the door to the art building behind her as she did. Her hip ached in protest as she ran down the main trail, but she ignored it. Where would she be? Near to the beach, because of the meeting? Up towards our unit, heading to bed? The staff house? Wifi Hill? She could be anywhere.

“Lenore?”

Like directly behind me.

Lenore turned. Annabel stood there in her swimsuit and a light linen coverup, her face serious. “Annabel,” said Lenore. Her voice sounded quiet and breathless, something only partially caused by the running.

“What are you doing alone in the woods at this time of night?”

“I was looking for you.”

“We share a tent, you know,” said Annabel, amused. “Surely you could have waited for me to arrive? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

Annabel’s voice sounded slightly too measured, polite. And it was strange that she’d imply that Lenore could wait, wasn’t it? Not after so many times when she’d expressed gladness that Lenore would go out of her way to see her. Maybe this really has messed things up, Lenore realized. The meeting may have been real, but that doesn’t mean Annabel’s feelings haven’t changed.

There was nothing to do but try to reveal the truth. “I had to talk to you as soon as possible,” Lenore said, her voice stronger now.

“You did?”

“I had to tell you the truth about what the directors said.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, pet.”

Nothing to talk about. The words hurt more than her hip did. But she’d ignored her hip, and she could ignore this sting as well. “But there is.”

“Truly, there isn’t. I—”

“I promise, the things they said weren’t true. I don’t know why they would lie about me, besides the fact that clearly they hate me and they’re probably some sort of eldritch evil beings from the depths of the underworld, but—”

“Lenore, you’re being foolish right now.”

That stung—but not enough to stop her trying to explain. “I didn’t work with them. On my honor, Annabel. That has to mean something.”

“How can I—”

“Look, I’m not perfect, but I’m not a liar. I wouldn’t do that to the camp. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Pet, I—”

It was as though she couldn’t stop herself now. The words kept spilling out. “Honestly, there’d be no point in lying to you, anyway. The directors love you. Had it all been true, you would have been surprised, but you would have helped even more willingly, I’d guess. If you could have been sure you wouldn’t get into any trouble.”

“Honestly, Lenore!” Annabel said, sounding mad. 

“I just need you to listen!”

Annabel sighed, looking up and away. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest. “Do you truly believe so little of me that you would think that I would take this much convincing? I’m insulted! If you say that this was a lie on the part of the directors, of course I believe you!”

Lenore blinked. “Oh. You do?”

“Why wouldn’t I? When have you lied to me before? And please, Lenore, understand that I like you. Even had I had doubts, I would have given you the benefit. There was never any need for such a panic.” Annabel rolled her eyes, but after that she aimed a small smile in Lenore’s direction. If Annabel had been angry, it had already passed.

“I can’t tell you how much that means to me,” Lenore said. “I didn’t know the meeting was actually real until Berenice said something about it. I thought you were just making excuses and avoiding me.”

“Historically, you’ve been the one who avoids me,” Annabel reminded her with a chuckle.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“It’s almost like you do it on purpose, you know. I’m not going to bite. Well, not now, anyway.”

Lenore flushed, her mind going places with that sentence that were very much not appropriate for camp. She shook the thoughts from her head, but couldn’t help a little lingering sensation. She felt emboldened. The heat on her cheeks disappeared as words rose to her lips, words that she barely had to think about. She didn’t know what was coming over her. Some ungodly confidence, no doubt, something that could ruin her in the long run. But what was ruin, really? She’d already dodged it once today—why not try for twice? 

Lenore leaned in close and placed a hand on the tree behind Annabel, grinning. “Are you flirting with me?” she asked, the tease in her voice so apparent that she didn’t think it was possible to miss.

Annabel rolled her eyes again, and Lenore immediately had to hold herself steady as she wilted inside, prepared for the rejection. She closed her eyes as Annabel opened her mouth.

“Yes.”

Her eyes shot back open. “Huh? I thought you said—”

“Yes!” said Annabel, that slightly annoyed edge back once more. “Yes! I’ve been flirting with you for some time! I thought we were on the same page with that. You are either the most oblivious person I have ever met, or you’ve been playing the most infuriating game of hard to get—and I could never tell which!  For what it’s worth, I’m now leaning towards the first, but you’ve yet to prove me wrong on the second!”

Lenore had never felt more confused in her life. She knew, theoretically, what was happening. Somehow it still felt like she was missing a link.

Perhaps Annabel saw this. A little of the fire in her gaze seemed to die, replaced with a sort of tiredness. “It would take one simple thing to make your motives clear, something you’ve yet to consider, let alone enact.”

“It would?”

Annabel’s face was now one of combined amusement and frustration. “I’m asking you to go out with me , you absolute—ugh. No need for names, it’s not helping my case. Will you?”

“Will I—?”

“Date me!”

“Annabel—” Everything was happening so fast, Lenore felt a little dizzy. Was this a dream? She pinched herself discreetly and had to swallow back a hiss of pain. Nope, definitely real life. She blinked rapidly and paused before speaking. It wasn’t like she had to think of an answer—her mind was running so fast that she simply had to think in order to remember the right word. “Yes,” she said, and smiled. “Yes, I’d like that. Very much.” 

Annabel sighed. She had looked nervous for a brief moment, before Lenore finished speaking. Now there was only a look of utter relief in her eyes. “There. That wasn’t so hard.”

“Are you talking to me or—”

“Us both, really.” Annabel winked. “I thought such an approach might scare you off—that I needed to be more subtle. As if I wasn’t as transparent as glass already. But clearly outside of throwing myself at you, nothing seemed to work.”

“Was I really making it so difficult?”

“Oh yes. All sorts of carefully selected sentences and soft looks, only to be met with mixed signals and fumbled words. And then that would lead to nights strategizing, trying to figure out if each rebuff was meant intentionally. Lucky for you I’m persistent and like a challenge.”

Lenore felt herself blush and ducked her head in an attempt to conceal it. “Well, I guess I’m just glad you seem more amused than anything.”

“Oh, I am,” Annabel said. The words were accented with a mischievous wink. “You’re terribly awkward sometimes; it’s quite cute.”

“I’m not always like this,” Lenore said, just a bit defensively. She smirked as she looked down at Annabel. “If I could do it again, in another world, with a plan? I’d sweep you off your feet.

“Who’s to say you already haven’t?” Annabel said. “You’re terribly awkward sometimes, yes, but more often terribly charming.”

It was almost as though she was possessed, how quickly and smoothly her next sentence came out. She leaned in, almost smoldering, hoping she looked suave rather than ridiculous. “Well then,” she asked in a half-whisper, “could I charm you into a kiss?”

Annabel’s cheeks were pink and warm, her eyes widening into excitement as she beamed. She looked as though she might burst from it had she less self control. “You certainly may,” she demurred, the hint of a giggle hanging on the back of the sentence. 

That was all the permission that Lenore needed.

Lenore leaned in even closer and Annabel let herself fall against the tree behind her. As Lenore cupped her cheek, she couldn’t help but marvel at how smooth and soft it felt under her thumb. 

For a half second, they simply looked at each other. Then, Lenore leaned in and pressed her lips to Annabel’s, softly and gently, so slightly that it may as well have been a tease. In response, Annabel wound her fingers into Lenore’s hair, bringing her closer. As the kiss started to deepen, Lenore remembered where they were, and what sort of place this was. 

Shit . She pulled away, her hands lingering even as she took a half step back. “There’s children in these woods,” she reminded Annabel.

Annabel, for her part, hardly seemed to care. Her eyes were hungry as she looked up at Lenore. “Children who are supposed to be asleep by now,” she reminded. “And if they aren’t, well, it’s hardly our fault.”

“Well, yes, but—if we’re going to do any more than a little kiss, we probably should do it less… in public.”

“More than a little kiss?” Annabel said with a smirk. “My, Lenore, you are bold.”

Lenore felt her cheeks heat up once more. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant—well, we really aren’t supposed to.”

“And that line of thinking has stopped you before?” Annabel’s voice was as pointed as a knife.

“It’s about the principle. No one comes to camp to see counselors making out in the woods. And I’d prefer privacy. I don’t necessarily want to be watched either, you know.”

“Ah, yes. We would hardly want the squirrels ogling us,” Annabel said teasingly. “Very well, provided that this isn’t the only time a kiss will happen, I think I can bear to let you go for now.”

“I’ll take you on a proper date. With no kids to worry about. Or squirrels, or mosquitos. But you know, you don’t have to let me go fully now. We’re going back to the same place, aren’t we?”

Annabel’s eyebrows raised, a flirtatious smile playing on her lips. “That we are.” She slid her hand into Lenore’s, which made Lenore’s heart jump into double time again. “Do lead the way?”

And Lenore did.

Chapter Text

Everything felt so blissful that Lenore didn’t even feel that mad about having to wake up early to teach Ada how to braid her own hair.

The two women met in the shower house at seven, an hour before most of the campers would awaken. Standing in front of the long line of mirrors, Lenore attempted to talk Ada through it, even going so far as to try to demonstrate the technique on what was left of her own once-long hair. “It’s really not hard once you get used to it,” she promised.

Ada struggled in a way uniquely her own, somehow being both pathetically bad at the task she was determined to learn, and also impressively convinced she was grasping concepts way out of her league. It was something between frustrating, endearing, and pitiful.

Lenore was trying to figure out how to tell Ada that the task was hopeless in a way that Ada would actually accept when Ada simply put her arms down and smiled serenely. “Well!’ she announced. “Though I’ve certainly grasped the concept—

She had not grasped the concept.

“—I have to say that you never told me it was so much work to braid. My arms are exhausted. I suppose that means you can still do my hair after all.”

“Lucky me,” Lenore muttered.

“Aren’t you just?” Ada said with clueless glee. “We can continue our talks. Perhaps next time I can give you some fashion advice. You certainly need it.”

I don’t have to answer every single thing she says, Lenore reminded herself, gritting her teeth as she did. Perhaps wisely, she stayed silent and simply forced a smile. 

After she undid and redid the braid that Ada had started, and after Ada had run off back to her own tent, Lenore grabbed her backpack and started off slowly to the dining hall. She’d already gotten ready for the day before meeting up with Ada, and upon hearing about the deal that had been made Annabel offered to get the campers off to breakfast. 

And so, once more, she had the camp to herself in a way. Just like she had throughout her childhood.

The early morning air was crisp. The summer heat hadn’t yet fully set in, so there was still a bit of a bite every time a gust of mountain wind blew through the trees. Lenore had packed most of her jackets and long sleeves away the week before, so she clutched her bare arms and shivered a bit as she walked towards the center of camp. Under her hiking boots, tiny twigs and branches that had fallen onto the trail in the last storm crunched and cracked, their sound combining with a near-constant symphony of birdsong to make a sound that Lenore associated with home.

A glance to her sides showed that the blueberry bushes lining the trail were beginning to show signs of the coming harvest. Some of the fruits were already a shade of off-blue, not good for eating in general, but they’d likely end up in the stomachs of impatient campers and staff anyway. Lenore was half tempted to risk it, but forced herself to walk past. They’d be better, fuller, sweeter in two weeks, maybe even one and a half if she was lucky. 

After a few minutes, she ended up at the border of the front lawn. It almost glimmered, dewy and misty and mythical. For a moment, Lenore was loath to step onto it, but she did it with only a second of trepidation. She picked her way through the lawn and to the old wooden steps that opened onto the front porch of the dining hall. Sitting down on one of the wooden benches that had been handmade by her great uncle once upon a time, Lenore gazed upon the view. A sea of grass and sky, with a horizon made of looming conifers and a shining lake.

Paradise. Home.

And only going to get better in a half an hour or so, when her girlfriend would arrive for breakfast, greeting Lenore with a twinkle in her eyes.

Lenore smiled. Life was good.

Even though it wasn’t a weekend where the staff was off—the camp was still crowded with campers, and activities still went on—there was a lazier feel to it. Some of this was by design. Weekend wakeup time was an hour later, the bell ringing at eight for a nine AM breakfast. Lunch was lighter, usually just sandwiches. Swim times and boating times were faster and looser, and mostly consisted of games rather than lessons. 

But the best thing by far was the Saturday evening movie. Thirty minutes after dinner, much of the  camp gathered in the covered pavilion next to the staff parking lot. There, Pluto set up a cheap projector to show a Disney movie on the back wall, which was covered with a large white sheet. Sure, the image was a reflection and the sound was a split second off, which gave the whole thing a vaguely uncanny quality, but Lenore knew the wisps probably wouldn’t be too critical. They were always entranced by the rare appearance of technology at camp, no matter how shoddy.

Sure enough, Lenore and Annabel’s teenagers had no complaints, or at least none they vocalized. They happily crowded together in a corner of the pavilion, using their backpacks as cushions so they didn’t have to grow uncomfortable on the concrete floor. Many sat their raincoats across their laps like blankets.

Lenore didn’t sit with her campers, which she would have felt vaguely guilty about if most of the other staff members hadn’t been similarly neglecting their wisps in favor of adult company. Someone had dug up a bunch of folding chairs from the back of the pavilion’s giant closet, and Lenore managed to snag two for herself and Annabel. Sitting in a makeshift “theater” with her girlfriend felt exciting. It made their relationship more real, somehow. 

As the opening song started, Lenore gently took Annabel’s hand in her own. The sky was still light—the summer solstice had only just passed, after all—but Lenore was already eager for the sun to set and bathe the camp in the myriad colors of the coming dusk. It was the most sure way to make the night a little more romantic, and romance was something hard to come by in a camp.

Sure enough, as the brightness of day melted into night, the sky turned red and wondrous before becoming a dark blue, dotted with a thousand stars. Underneath the shaded pavilion, the children looked upon the screen with wonder, and Lenore looked at Annabel much the same way.

Monday brought a return to the normal routine of camp. This affected Lenore’s mood in no significant way; she still felt high on life and love itself. As the morning bell tolled, she scampered from her cot and smiled to see Annabel already up and getting dressed. 

Annabel’s nightgown was off, revealing the same lingerie set that she’d worn on the day of the lake drill. When she noticed that Lenore was up, she smiled. “Good morning, sunshine. Admiring the view?”

“Maybe I am, yeah,” Lenore responded with a grin. “I have to take it when I can get it, considering I’m sure you’re planning to cover up in just a second.”

“Once I decide which shirt to wear. Opinions?” Annabel held up two options. One was a white spaghetti strap tank top, simple except for the tiniest edge of lace around the neckline and the hem of the shirt. The other was a dark blue tee with a fitted cut that read “I Conquered the Lake Challenge at Camp Nevermore,” right above a picture of a baby polar bear. If Lenore was correct, it was one of the new camp shirt designs for the current season. She would personally never wear it but apparently she was in the minority, as it had gained some amount of popularity among campers and staff. 

Both would look spectacular on Annabel, Lenore had to admit. She frowned, considering the benefit of both, then brightened. “If you wear the camp shirt, I could wear one of mine too. We could match.”

“Charming,” said Annabel with a laugh, but she did put down the tank top and started to pull on the tee. 

For her part, Lenore started digging in her own trunk. She had finally broken and bought one of the new shirt designs with the new camp name on it… not that she intended to stop wearing her merch from the Ravenshead days, but it seemed sillier and sillier to hold out for something to change back when it likely never would. Besides, she liked this one. Deep red in color, the design was an old sketch of the original schoolhouse that had started the camp’s long history. A raven was drawn perching on the building’s roof, and the looping, cursive font that stated the current name of the camp was small and discreet. Lenore thought perhaps even she couldn’t have designed a better camp shirt.

She paired the tee with khaki shorts and her hiking boots, then looked back to Annabel to find that she had done the same. “Do you think people will wonder if we did this on purpose?” Annabel asked.

“Do you care if they do?”

“Not particularly,” she admitted. “Perhaps we have to be secretive about our status, but I can’t imagine this could be used as evidence against us. Now, if I had been wearing one of your camp shirts instead of my own…”

The thought made Lenore blush. “That would definitely be something best kept for a weekend when kids aren’t here, I’d think.”

“Are you offering the use of a shirt this weekend, then?”

How red was her face? It felt so hot that it must have been crimson. She took a breath and tried to calm herself, putting on her suavest face instead. She knew she could be cool and romantic. She was certain she possessed the ability. Somehow Annabel just managed to scramble her a little. After a couple of seconds, she pulled herself back together. “If you’re asking, then yes, that could be arranged.”

“Well, then I may just have to ask properly,” Annabel purred. “Or perhaps simply take one. I wouldn’t want to root around in your trunk, but if a shirt were simply discarded onto the floor…”

Lenore raised an eyebrow with a smile, but cut herself off when she heard the faint but undeniable sound of approaching footsteps. She held a finger out to quiet Annabel, then peeked out from behind the tent flaps. The wisps were beginning to gather in the campfire circle nearby, ready to start the day. The circle was still some distance, but definitely within earshot of a sharp eared teenage girl. “Probably best we continue this discussion some other time.”

“Friday night, perhaps,” Annabel suggested.

Lenore nodded, then smiled. “Maybe if I’m lucky, you’ll let me take you to dinner.”

With a smile of her own, Annabel walked over to Lenore and gently pecked her on the lips as she took her hand. The hand that was still free brushed back the tent flaps and delicately stepped onto the ground below the tent’s wooden platform, not letting go of Lenore all the way. “Well, then,” she said as Lenore followed her down and the two started towards the gathering group of girls, “You may consider yourself lucky.”

Tuesday was the Fourth of July. Some campers got picked up to celebrate with family, but it was hardly all of them. The atmosphere was perfect—just bustling enough to be interesting, and just quiet enough for Lenore to be able to relax and let herself breathe.

Of course, the celebrations added an excitement that further changed the attitude around the camp. The entire camp was invited to eat their barbeque lunch as a picnic in the front yard rather than in the dining hall, which would have been nice had the ground not been ever so slightly damp and the air home to several roaming mosquitos. Lenore, experienced in this sort of thing after years, showed Annabel and her campers how to fold their raincoats into sit-upons and use it to keep themselves dry. After that and a bit of bug spray, it was a bit more fun, especially when Dolly and Poppet passed out popsicles for dessert.

Hours later, after dinner, the campers filed onto the main road that led to the outside world. The directors’ golf cart and Prospero’s Kia Sportage blocked it off so that no one could get in using a vehicle and potentially run over any small children. Every few feet, an old tin #10 can filled with water sat on the road, and as the campers and staff lined up alongside them, Dolly and Poppet took charge of distributing the annual Fourth of July sparklers. 

Standing next to Lenore, Annabel eyed the line of people before them, who had already received their sparklers and were watching them with expressions ranging from intensely serious to joyous and excited. 

“Is this… safe?” she asked, her eyes flickering to one of the youngest wisps, who waved her sparkler around like a magic wand.

Lenore gestured to the water cans. “What do you think these are for?”

“I’m not sure whether the fact that there are so many is a good thing or a bad.”

Opening her mouth to reassure Annabel, Lenore was about to mention that there had never been any unintentional incident with the annual sparklers. A good majority of the scares and all of the burns she’d seen throughout the years had been the result of Monty’s antics. Particularly in the year they were both eleven, when he started snatching the sparklers from the hands of the five and six year olds, wrapped a fist around the ten or so he managed to acquire, and began waving them around wildly while growling “ I am Montresor, son of Belial!” 

Nobody had been sent to the hospital, but there had been enough chaos and resulting trouble for Monty and anyone who associated with him that it'd been the very thing that destroyed Lenore's tumultuous friendship with the boy. She'd decided to stop speaking with him well before her father had ordered her to do so.

Now, looking down the long line and seeing Monty not far away, Lenore decided that maybe telling Annabel about this incident would only cause more worry. “It's really safe, don't worry. The one person I know of who didn't observe safety rules ended up getting kicked out of camp.”

Which was true. He was back now, but it didn't make it less true.

Annabel frowned lightly, curiously, but accepted the explanation. As she did, Dolly handed her a sparkler before shoving another into Lenore’s hand. 

“No injuries,” she said somewhat sharply. “The directors have been looking for a reason to shut the Independence Day celebrations down. Don’t give it to them.”

“Do you say that to everyone that you hand a sparkler to?” Lenore quipped. “I’ve never set fire to anything, Dolly.”

“I’ve heard about the dining hall.”

“Overblown, unintentional, and nothing was harmed. Also, I was eight.”

Dolly didn’t answer, just gave a look that could wither flowers before moving onto the next person. Lenore shrugged playfully with a glance at Annabel, whose curious look had only intensified. 

Coming down the line, just a few people behind Dolly, was Poppet. She held a long kitchen lighter in her hands, which she used to spark each stick individually, if only after giving the holder a brief overview of the rules. By the time she approached Lenore and Annabel, Lenore already had the speech memorized. 

She and Poppet spoke it in unison: “Now, don’t wave it around, and if it starts to get out of control or grow too short, immediately step forward calmly and place it in the water!”

Poppet was already mostly done talking before she registered that Lenore had said anything. She gave Lenore a smile that was almost weary, sighed, and tutted, “Well! If you know the rules that well, and if the directors are vouching for you, I’ll choose to believe that I won’t have any trouble. Don’t let me down, Miss Vandernacht!”

Lenore scowled slightly at the reminder that the directors had pulled one over not just on her, but on most of the camp. The joy of dating Annabel had overshadowed much of the fallout, but she wasn’t immune to the occasional prick of irritation at the memory. At least very few people had talked to her about it… she had a feeling that Duke and her other friends were handling the situation before it got to her.

The irritation was quickly forgotten as she looked at the lit sparkler in front of her. Maybe the little wisp had the right idea; it really looked like a magic wand. The end of the stick fizzled and hissed, light flying in all directions. For a moment, Lenore was a wisp herself once more—small, excited, filled with childlike wonder.

There was a joke among camp staff that every counselor was a little bit of a pyromaniac. It had its basis—counselors fiddled with lighters at rest hour, played with matches when campers weren’t looking, and no one could resist seeing how high or wide or stable they could build a campfire. This was no exception. As her own sparkler began to grow short, she glanced down the line and found that all of her friends and coworkers were just as entranced by the pyrotechnics as the campers were. She grinned, then looked back just in time to see that her sparkler was fading out. Beside her, Annabel was witnessing the same thing on her own sparkler, though with more of a curiosity than anything else.

As the final sparks died, Lenore and Annabel stepped forward together and placed their sparklers in the water cans to let the remains cool. A second passed, just for savoring the moment, and then Lenore snapped back to business. 

“We should round up our campers and get them back to the unit,” she said. “I’ll take left, you take right, and we’ll meet at the big tree on the front lawn?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Annabel joked. A quick flick of her eyes made it clear she was looking around, and she must have found no evidence of anyone watching them, because she quickly blew Lenore a kiss before walking away. Lenore grinned, watching her girlfriend go for a few seconds before turning to start looking for their wisps.

As she started down the line, her eyes scanning the faces of the teens she saw, she heard a voice from the nearby tree cover. “Lenore.”

There was a voice that Lenore hadn't heard in a while. It was also the last voice she expected to hear. Low and refined, slightly stiff, it had to be the voice of the camp's accountant and financial director. She turned to face him, his demeanor haughty and hers intentionally relaxed. 

“Prospero,” she greeted him, smiling in a way she knew didn't reach her eyes. “And to what do I owe the honor?”

“I want to speak with you,” said Prospero, still lurking under the trees. There was little intonation in his voice; it was confident and careful. Lenore resented that. She didn’t like the feeling of not knowing what he was going to say next. Her brain idly reminded her that Prospero was technically a manager, something that people rarely considered but was technically true. Is he going to fire me? Can he fire me?

She tried not to give him any ammunition, keeping her tone as measured as his was. “Why?”

“It'd be better if we spoke in private.”

“Okay… building private, or—”

He disappeared into the tree cover. Alright, that's… a choice. And it left her with a choice of her own. She could ignore him or follow him into the night.  Normally, following a strange man into the woods wouldn't be the smartest thing she could think to do, but she felt she knew Prospero enough to know he wouldn't do anything untoward, just maybe a little bit odd and stiff. And there had to be a reason. When Prospero had to speak with someone, there was always a reason.

Shrugging, she followed him into the tree coverage. He was there, waiting, just out of sight of the campers and staff. “Thank you for meeting with me,” he said.

“Sure,” said Lenore. “Mind telling me if this is official business or not?” She poked at the tree next to her. “If it’s official, you could have at least offered to meet me somewhere with a place to sit.”

Prospero didn’t remark on the location, focusing on Lenore’s first sentences only. “You could say that it is both official and unofficial in a way. Leaning official. I have concerns about your relationship with Annabel Lee.”

She froze, a deer in headlights. Maybe he can fire me. Out of habit, her hand started squeezing into itself, used to squeezing her cane grip when she got stressed. She wished that she hadn’t left it folded in her backpack.

“Despite being in a higher position, I apparently can’t do anything to discipline you, regardless of reason,” Prospero said, so casually that Lenore’s blood ran cold. It seemed unlikely that he could read minds, but also didn't quite seem impossible. “Nor can I actually prove that you’ve done anything wrong. However, it’s clear that you have romantic intentions with her.”

Are you aware that you sound like a middle aged conservative father? Lenore wanted to ask him. Her stress was turning into something more akin to indignance. Even so, she’d learned to exercise some good judgment when facing off with people who technically held power over you… Prospero might have said he couldn’t personally do anything, but chances were he could still appeal to Poppet or the Deans. They might even listen to him.

Warily, she folded her arms over her chest. “As you said yourself, you can’t prove it.”

“This would lead me to assume you have some amount of care for her,” he said, continuing as though she hadn’t spoken. “Which is why I have come to propose something that I doubt you’ve considered.”

“Hit me,” said Lenore, even as she mentally prepared to ignore him and walk away.

“You’ve clearly considered the risk to yourself should your actions be found out. Likely, given the camp’s track record with lax rule enforcement in regards to romance, you doubt there will be repercussions even if your relationship is proven. However, you fail to consider one thing.”

“That the directors hate me, right? Trust me, I'm very aware. So yeah, if I'm obvious about it, I'll probably get into a little bit of trouble. I can handle it. Worst case scenario, if they fire me without firing Ada and Monty too, maybe I could sue.”

Prospero tilted his chin up. He was looking down on Lenore, and doing so intentionally. “But have you considered the harm to Annabel?”

A snort escaped Lenore’s lips before she could stop it. “The directors won't touch Annabel. They like her and—”

“And if she's fallen from grace because of her association with you, then what? Are you content to watch them send her back to England with a black mark on her travel record because of something you could have prevented? You're supposed to care for her, aren't you?” He eyed her disdainfully. “I consider Annabel a friend, and from my vantage point, you aren't actually treating her as though you care for her at all. You're treating her like a fun summer toy you found in the req shed that you will steal and inevitably discard when it no longer interests you.”

“That’s not remotely true,” Lenore snapped. Now her chin, too, was raised, albeit from pride and not condescension. She jammed her finger in Prospero's face. “You have no idea what you're talking about.”

He didn’t flinch. “I know more than I might have let on. Annabel hopes to go to graduate school here in the States. Did she ever tell you that? If she lost a visa and had to return to her home country, it might be more difficult for her to return in the future. To get the education she desires. The life she looks forward to.” 

He tilted his head, analyzing her as though she were a slightly moldy piece of toast at the dining hall breakfast bar. “Make the right choice. For her sake,” he said, then turned sharply and walked away, back towards the rest of the camp.

For a moment, Lenore stared after him, trying to comprehend what just happened. Her finger dropped, her arms and hands falling to her side as she watched his infuriating, unchanging expression. She could feel her face contort, half from her own confusion and half out of anger. This was ridiculous. Who pulled aside someone they barely knew to convince them to break up with their girlfriend?

Then Lenore realized. Prospero had said it himself. Someone who was friends with said girlfriend.

The anger died down almost instantly. Or at least, mostly died down. There was still a low buzz of irritation coloring her thoughts, but it was almost against the logic that was beginning to form against itself. If situations had been different… if, for example, it had been something like Eulalie dating Monty, god forbid… Lenore wouldn’t hesitate to try and put some sense into Monty. Maybe this was all it was. Maybe Prospero was trying to be a good friend.

But good friends didn’t usually tell their friend’s partners to break up with them. Usually, there were just vague threats of violence if heartbreak should ensue. 

Did he have reason to believe something was going to happen? Lenore replayed the conversation in her head as she walked towards the tree where she was supposed to meet Annabel, trying hard to analyze every word as she did. It didn’t take that much. The implication was clear without searching for it. If the directors crack down on us, she could be fired. 

And once fired, it wouldn’t just be a matter of going home like it would for Lenore. She would have to leave the country within a matter of days. Her travel plans would be ruined. Maybe part of her life; Lenore was sure it didn’t look good if she was quickly forced to return to the UK. Would it affect her future travel plans? Would she still be able to go on cruises with her father? Or to things like international Scrabble tournaments, events she desired to attend?

To Lenore, a camp fling gone wrong would be bad. She’d miss working at Camp Nevermore, but even in a worse case scenario, she knew that the land wouldn’t be completely lost to her. She knew the property borders like the back of her own hand. It’d be easy enough to sneak back onto the grounds during the off season and explore it then if she got the urge to be around the land that was so important to her. Or even sign up as a camper herself for the annual adult camp session every September.

For Annabel, it wouldn’t be an upsetting and inconvenient blip. It could be devastating.

She sat down where she was and stared out into the night. Without thinking, she’d somehow taken the long route towards the meeting spot and ended up on the beachiest section of lakeshore. The view was good, but did nothing to warm her. Sand seemed to creep into her shorts and settle in unfortunate places, and the lake was still, cold, and uncaring. Above her, clouds loomed with the promise of rain tomorrow, a promise that was beginning to settle in her bad hip as well. Not a very nice future on any front, then.

Especially because the singular option that guaranteed that Lenore wouldn’t be Annabel’s doom was also an unpleasant one.

Only days after getting together, Lenore knew that she and Annabel Lee had to break up.

Not that night, though.

First, there were the kids. They prevented Lenore from saying much of anything when she made it to the meeting place. All she could do was smile weakly at Annabel, make up a crappy excuse for why she couldn’t find any kids, and trudge back to their unit. Once they got there, there was a scheduled sing-a-long by the campfire that left no way for Lenore to sneak Annabel away. Then the campers had to get ready for bed. They were old enough to do it all by themselves, but it seemed over the course of the day a couple of giant spiders had made a home between the cots of two campers. Lenore had to throw the things out of the tent using her recently developed baseball skills, calm the campers, and clean up the web before anyone would so much as brush their teeth.

Annabel was asleep by the time Lenore returned to her tent. She slept as beautifully as she did anything, and Lenore smiled to see it before remembering that this wouldn’t last. It wouldn’t be past Annabel to get one of those expensive sleep privacy pods just to separate herself from others, once seeing Lenore became something that only led to bad memories. Though actually, given Annabel’s insistence on a good night’s sleep, Lenore was surprised she hadn’t done that already.

Lenore shook off her shorts (an action that came with a veritable rainfall of sand) and slipped into her own cot. It was too hot out still to sleep with a blanket yet, so she threw her sheet and her mosquito net overtop of her but kept the blanket handy for the inevitable temperature drop in the middle of the night. Closing her eyes, she shifted her body so she faced the inside of the tent wall. 

This led to the next delay. They couldn’t break up the next morning. When Lenore awoke, Annabel was already gone, her cot neatly made, her area tidy, her backpack and water bottle nowhere in sight. Groggily, Lenore rolled over to check her alarm clock. It was half past seven, which meant she’d slept past the morning bell. A glance out of her tent confirmed that. All the campers were almost ready to go, Annabel hustling them into a line so they could walk down for the morning flag ceremony. The small sprinkles of rain that promised a storm to come spurred them on; no one wanted to be caught in what was coming.

Not the best conditions for a breakup. Not in any way, shape, or form.

So Lenore threw on the first clean clothes she had, tied her sneakers quickly, grabbed her cane, and headed out to meet them.

The day passed on like this. It felt like as much as Lenore was dedicated to protecting Annabel, the universe was equally dedicated to destroying any chance she'd have of it. Their breaks were scheduled at different times and they found different shelters from the gloomy, rainy weather. When Lenore entered the dining hall hoping to catch Annabel before lunch, Annabel was already in deep discussion with Morella and Ada. They finally managed to see each other after the rain stopped, at their Wednesday evening cookout, but that was the absolute worst time to have a breakup. It was stressful enough trying to help fifteen teenagers cook food. Doing it when the counselors could barely look at each other would somehow be a lot worse.

Finally, the end of the day came. It was Annabel's night to stay in and monitor the campers while the other counselors enjoyed their evening, which was perfect. Lenore could stay behind, say her piece, and then disappear. Annabel would have a night to get over her—surely that was all she would need. The next morning would be awkward, but at least it wouldn't be as fresh. 

But as a quick survey of campers proved that all had fallen asleep and everyone readied themselves to leave for the night, Annabel was among those slipping on her backpack and tying her shoes. “I thought you were in tonight?” Lenore asked.

“I traded nights, actually,” said Annabel. “We had an incident at the lake and I had to dive in. It's only to be expected, but I don't like what the lakewater does to my hair, and the rain does nothing to wash it out. I'm going to go take a shower. I'll be in tomorrow night, though. If you were planning to stick around.”

“Oh,” said Lenore.

Annabel smiled and looked up at Lenore through her thick, beautiful eyelashes. “Or if you simply are that eager to spend time with me, you could accompany me to the showerhouse. I wouldn't say no to company, pet.”

Lenore felt like she was short circuiting for a solid second before coming back to Earth. No. No, it doesn't matter how beautiful she is, how much I like her. I have to break up with her. And the public showerhouse is certainly not the place. “I was sort of hoping to catch you alone, actually,” she said. 

“Then maybe tomorrow. If we're to spend time alone, I'd much rather do it with good hair, after all,” Annabel joked. She took a few steps forward, closing the gap between them, and swung her arms over Lenore's shoulder. Lenore immediately smelled lake water and campfire smoke and conceded that though Annabel didn't smell bad, she could hardly be faulted for wanting to take a shower.

Lenore swallowed hard and nodded, stepping back from Annabel with more reluctance than she would have liked. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Are you quite okay, pet? If there's something urgent, the shower can wait…”

The last thing Lenore needed was Annabel hating her not just for the sudden break up, but also for forcing her to smell stinky for another full day. “No, I'll just talk to you about it tomorrow. I'm going to go find Duke and the others for tonight.”

Annabel looked at Lenore studiously, with the barest hints of her chess master persona showing in the set of her eyes and the quirk of her lips. Eventually, they faded. Perhaps she realized that Lenore wasn't a piece that could be easily moved, or a player who would be easy to shake. “Very well then!” she said in a voice that was light and also somewhat forced. “I'll leave you to your mysteries. Until tomorrow, Lenore.”

“Until tomorrow ,” Lenore echoed, and she made herself smile at Annabel in hopes it would prove that nothing was wrong.

Annabel smiled back. Still forced.

And the two walked off in opposite directions down the trail, headed for their separate goals.

She arrived in Edgar Lodge to find it mostly empty. The door to the hideout hung open, and a light was on in the art kitchen, so Lenore walked towards it. “Duke?” she called once she got to the doorway.

“It’s his night in,” said Pluto. He was sitting on an old wooden stool in the corner and fiddling with his headphone cords. “And Prospero’s been patrolling the boy’s units since Ada tried to sneak into Monty’s tent.”

Lenore cursed. Prospero again. Every time she thought she couldn’t dislike him more, he seemed to prove her wrong.

A muffled voice drew Lenore’s attention towards the fridge. The door was open, temporarily obscuring whoever was there, but after a second Berenice popped up, a lemon bar hanging out of her mouth. “Mmrrm rmmm mmmmm muh.”

“What?”

She slammed the fridge closed and removed the lemon bar. “I said, you can always hang out with us. You’re not interrupting.”

Lenore frowned. “I—I don’t know if it’s the best time for a hangout right now.”

“You’re not just trying to give us space, are you?” Berenice asked. She walked over to Pluto and slung her arm around him. He jumped, but didn’t shrug her off. “It’s sweet of you, but we want to see you too, doll.”

“Oh,” Lenore said, not really sure if there was a way out of hanging out with them now. The sinking feeling in her gut lended itself better to sneaking off and being alone, now that she knew she couldn’t get advice from Duke. At the same time, she didn’t want to slight her friends, especially when she was beginning to get the idea that she could use any friend she could get right about now. She shuffled her feet a little and forced her chin up, trying not to show her lack of enthusiasm, a task she definitively failed at.

“You're acting weird,” Berenice said, walking over to Lenore. Now it was Lenore that she slung her arm around, pulling her in close. “Or, well, weirder than normal.”

“Weirder than the new normal you've been since you started dating Annabel Lee,” Pluto said, taking off his headphones.

“Have I?” Lenore said. Her voice cracked.

“Tell us what's wrong,” Berenice encouraged, giving Lenore a friendly noogie as she did. “We're here to help.”

“You can't really help with this.”

“Just try us! You don't know until you ask, mm?”

Lenore closed her eyes slowly. She took a deep breath. Maybe they could help. Maybe talking about it, saying her intentions out loud, could help. At the most, it might give her new resolve to follow through. At the least, perhaps a kind ear could be just what she needed. “I have to break up with Annabel,” she said.

“Oh!” said Berenice. She stepped back and put her hands on Lenore's shoulders, moving so that they were facing each other. “That's all? Yeah, if you wanna do it, then do it. No use in waitin’ to spring the bad news to her, right?”

Pluto took the news with a little bit more shock. “Didn't you just get together a few days ago?” he asked.

“Last Friday.”

“What did she do? ” he asked.

Lenore sighed. “Nothing. She's great. Perfect, even. That's the problem. I can't ruin her life.”

“You’re trying to ruin her life?” Berenice said. Her eyebrows quirked upwards, furrowing in curiosity. “That's one I haven't heard before, doll, and I've heard them all.”

“No, I’m afraid that—”

“Have you ever considered that maybe she'll ruin your life?” Pluto interrupted. His eyes carried an intensity and sort of wisdom to them that Lenore had never seen before, but which didn’t look out of place on him. 

Lenore frowned deeply. “No. Why would I?”

He shrugged. “If you’re not thinking about her ruining your life, she's probably not thinking about you ruining hers.”

They didn’t see the obvious issue, did they? “But that's just the problem!” Lenore threw her hands up, then brought them back down and wrapped her arms around her torso until she was nearly hugging herself. “She's not thinking about what it means if I get her fired. She could lose her entire future.”

“Frankly, and no offense or anything, that’s some bullshit right there. It's not like she's going to die because she was with you,” Berenice said with a small smile that was halfway between reassuring and goodness, girl, do you hear how ridiculous you sound?

Lenore refused to let Berenice's smile sway her. Her worries were valid. She had proof. “My family is cursed. It's one thing to be friends with me—I doubt whatever horrible luck's attached itself is going to jump onto you guys, or Duke, or Eula. But dating feels different. Even if this is a nonissue for everyone else in a relationship, it's absolutely just par for the course if I get singled out for romance. And if I do, so does Annabel.”

“Lenore, don't you think you're being a little bit of a pessimist?” Berenice still had that smile on her face, but it was a little forced. Ah. She's growing tired of this.

She should have stopped talking. That was what good friends did, and well-socialized young ladies, like she was supposed to be. But instead, she shook her head. “The last time I was an optimist, I was naively running through the woods. A child who didn't want to do as she was told. The rain started falling, my counselor sent her coworker—my brother—to find me. And—”

“Lenore, you don't have to talk about it,” said Pluto. He stood and walked over, laying a hand on her shoulder as well. “You have reasons to keep your distance from people. I get it. So do I. But catastrophizing something good because you're afraid for it to be anything but bad isn't the way to deal with the situation.”

“That's not what I'm doing. I—I just can't be the cause of—”

“And you wouldn't be,” said Pluto.

“Maybe you need to take a break before making any big decisions,” said Berenice. “Hey, why don't we meet up tomorrow evening at the lake? I can steal us a couple of intertubes and we can float by the dock for a while. No better way to get your mind off things, apart from a margarita, and even I'm not risking sneaking alcohol onto camp. So that'll have to wait for the weekend.”

“I'm only twenty, Berenice.”

Berenice stared at her. “And? Do you normally stop that from letting you have fun? What do you do when you need to unwind?”

“Uh… read books? Webtoons? YouTube videos? Stare at the water?”

“Oooh, we're definitely teaching you some better ways, aren't we Pluto?” Pluto mumbled something, though Lenore couldn't tell if it was in agreement or not. Berenice seemed not to mind even if it wasn't. “Saturday's ours, doll, unless you've got better plans to ditch us for.”

“I’ll think about it,” Lenore lied. “For now, I think I’m going to go take a walk. You guys have fun.”

“We will,” said Berenice, her voice almost a singsong. She looked at Pluto, who sighed heavily.

So with a wave, Lenore left Edgar Lodge. Her heart somehow felt heavier than it did before. Not only was she forced to make a decision she hated, it was a decision her friends didn’t even like. She’d been sure that they would all be on her side, eager for her to leave Annabel, to cut their “enemy” out of her life. To find that they weren’t on that page was disheartening. Bad.

For a moment, she considered returning to her tent and going to sleep. It’d be the best way to avoid the churning, anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach. It also meant that if Annabel was back from her shower and awake, that Lenore would have to talk to her then and there. What had seemed only an hour ago like the best idea now felt like the worst.

Instead, she walked to the lake and sat on a bench there, staring at the water until it was almost curfew before returning to her cot. By the time she got there, Annabel was asleep, which was perhaps the only good thing to happen in the entire day.

On Thursday morning, Lenore woke up with new resolve and decided that she had to do it. No matter how the universe might conspire to stop her, she had to push through and find a way to catch Annabel alone, for the woman’s own sake. 

Perhaps the universe knew she was dedicated. As soon as the morning bell rang, Lenore snapped up, awake and alert. Annabel was sitting on her bed, unrolling satin ribbons from her hair. When she saw Lenore was up, she smiled. “Good morning, pet. It’s good to see you. My, it’s felt busy these past couple of days, hasn’t it?”

Lenore returned the smile, though it felt wobbly and off putting and obviously disingenuous. “Sure has!” she said with every ounce of cheerfulness she could muster, which was close to none. 

“Do you have big plans for our campers today while I’m at the waterfront? Anything I should feel sad to be missing?”

“Uh, we’ve got adventure this morning… they’re going to try to climb the high ropes course, which should be interesting. And then there’s swimming immediately afterwards, so you’ll see them then. Lunch, then boating, and after that we have arts and crafts. Eula said she had a fun idea for our group, but I don’t know what it could be. And I think after that it’s rest hour, then a nature hike.”

“Another busy day, then. But then, once the campers go to bed… tonight is ours, yes? Ours and quiet.”

Nodding mutely, Lenore turned away and picked up her backpack. She started digging around in it, trying to look busy. Her hands brushed over her cane, folded in its case, then her raincoat, her sunscreen, her case of friendship bracelet string… if only she could keep excuses in her pack, put away until the moments like these, when they were necessary.

“Pet? Is something wrong?”

At the same moment that Annabel asked, Lenore’s hand brushed the friendship bracelet she was making, half finished. She hadn’t worked on it for the last two days; what would be the point? And yet, there it lingered, haunting her. A gift never given, one that would never find its way to the wrist of its intended.

No. No, I’m doing everything right. This is for you. The best gift I could possibly give to you is to let you go.

So she forced herself to smile up at Annabel. “No, everything is fine,” she lied.

The evening came far too fast. Of course it did.

Lenore took her time getting the campers into bed after the session’s closing ceremony. Teenagers didn’t need the same care as the youngest wisps, usually, but they also hardly protested the extra attention. Lenore went to each tent individually, turning out electric lanterns, providing bedtime high fives, hugs, and handshakes, and then sang every single tent a lullaby. A long lullaby.

Annabel was in her nightgown by the time Lenore returned to the tent. She sat elegantly on the side of her cot, doing her hair in satin ribbons for the night. As Lenore returned, she smiled widely. It made Lenore’s heart drop about a thousand feet. “You certainly pulled out all of the stops for their final night, didn’t you? I’m not complaining, mind. You have a lovely voice.”

A weak shrug was all that Lenore could muster in terms of an answer. All of a sudden, doubts flooded her mind. Am I stupid for breaking up with her? When is the next time I’ll find someone I feel this way for? 

Perhaps never. It wasn’t like she got out much.

But that was selfish of her to dwell on. Lenore knew she could be a selfish person sometimes, but she tried not to ever be so selfish that it would hurt the people she cared about. 

“Pet?” said Annabel. Her face had furrowed into concern. “Are you quite sure that everything is—”

“Annabel.”

“I want you to be able to talk to me. Is something the matter? Did someone say something? Was it about the directors?”

In a matter of speaking. Even so, she shook her head. “Annabel…”

The rest of the sentence would not come out. Could not come out. Lenore's mouth felt like someone had stuffed cotton balls inside of it. Her throat felt like she'd swallowed one. Annabel pursed her lips in impatient curiosity as Lenore reached for her water bottle and gulped about half of it down.

She swallowed. With it, she swallowed back any lingering doubts. She had to do this. For Annabel’s own sake. Lenore took a deep breath, set the bottle down onto her cot, and looked Annabel in the eyes. “I can't sidestep this anymore. Annabel, I—I care for you. I think you're wonderful. And that's why we need to break up.”

There had never been a more perfect look of shock on any person in history. Annabel's lips were open in a little “o” shape. Her eyes were deep with hurt, and as she processed Lenore's words she took a staggered step backwards. 

“Pet?” she said, her voice full with confusion and distress.

“I'm sorry. I really am. And I need you to know, it's not because of you. Well, it is. It's because I want you to be happy.” The words started spilling from Lenore's mouth, an unstoppable flow of everything she needed Annabel to know, everything that might be able to make Annabel hate her just a little bit less. “Because you're going to be amazing someday. More amazing than you already are. I know you want to get a master's degree, and compete in and win game championships. You want to travel. I don't want to ruin it for you.”

“Is this about your cane?” Annabel asked, her eyes flickering for just a second to Lenore's bad hip.

“No. It's about—look, dating at camp is just a bad idea, okay? If we're caught, we could be fired. That'd be bad for me, but you'd lose your visa. Haven't you ever worried about that? About what would happen to you if we get caught?”

Annabel raised an eyebrow. “No, I can't say that I have. Or at least, I haven't since I saw Ada and Montresor cuddling on the front porch, no.”

“Ada and Monty don't have the reputation I have.”

Frowning, Annabel stood from the bed. Her hair in its ribbons bounced as she did, enticing and beautiful and almost too much for Lenore to bear. “Lenore, your reputation is no less clean than theirs. Ada and I might keep close company, but I am no less aware of the rumors around her and her past exploits. In fact, as her friend, I might even venture I am more aware of them than many. Montresor as well, if by default.” She sighed heavily. “I do try to tolerate him, despite all I've seen and heard. If only to keep the peace…”

“It's not what's floating around the camp that worries me. It's the directors. They'll latch onto anything to get me in trouble.”

“After last Friday night? Would they really, after taking all the effort to start such a charade? To tell the whole camp that you were their lackey?”

“They might!”

“You are being ridiculous right now.”

Lenore burned. There was a fury inside of her. Not at Annabel, but at the situation. She was angry that it had come to this, that Annabel hadn't simply accepted the obvious fate and made it easy. Now she had to justify herself. She had no choice but to think about her decision. To really feel it. 

It was so unfair, and what was even more unfair was that the only person she could direct such an injustice on was her soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend.

“I'm being ridiculous?” she said. “Maybe you think that because you've always been on their good side. Maybe you think it makes you safe. Annabel, I'm a walking curse. I'm not going to ruin you if I can at all help it.”

“Honestly, Lenore!” 

Lenore softened immediately. The look on Annabel's face was just short of fury. That was probably good, but it still hurt. More than she'd ever let on, but enough to make her take a breath and try to undo some of the damage. “Look. I wasn't trying to imply anything about you. Really. But I just can't have you getting in trouble because of me.”

“Really?” Annabel folded her arms across her chest and huffed. “If anything, this whole situation would be my fault, if you're looking at this as the result of a singular person's actions. Which, I'll remind you, it is not. Nevertheless, I was the one who asked you out, and I will take responsibility for it should push come to shove.”

“What? But-- but that's exactly what I don't want. If they decide to fire me… well, they like you. You might still have a chance to stay. It's like I said, I don't want you to end up on their bad side.”

“Lenore Vandernacht, you will be the death of me. You wouldn't be the reason. I made my own choices. I am not some damsel from, I don't know, 1901, tied up by society and forced to live a fate I despise. I am not the sort of woman who merely plays to the whims of others! Let me make my own fate—a fate I definitely want you to be part of!”

Lenore frowned. Wait, does she mean… no. “I don't want you to throw your life away for a summer fling, Annabel.”

“A fling? I have never, will never, simply date someone for a summer fling.” Another huff, this time accompanied by a finger spooling a lock of blonde hair and an impatient roll of her eyes. “Pet, you drive me absolutely mad. In more ways than one.”

“We've known each other for a month,” Lenore pointed out. 

“I'm quite a good judge of people's personality and  intent, and I like you. Does the passage of time really matter so much when we have the connection we do?”

“I-- I guess not?”

“Then trust me. We are not getting fired. But even if that is a risk we take, that I may be wrong, I won't alter my course. Especially not if the only reason is because I was told to do it.”

A pang of guilt pierced Lenore’s heart. Hadn’t that been exactly what she’d done? Had Annabel known? ”I—look, it wasn’t just his idea. I agreed with it.”

“Who’s idea?” Annabel asked, or really, almost demanded.

Maybe she didn’t know. “Prospero. I’m not telling you to tattle, but I guess you should know if—”

“I’ll talk to him,” Annabel said smoothly, though there was perhaps the slightest hint of irritation on her face. “Let me handle it. He won’t bother you again, at the very least.”

“I—”

“Now. Does that address all of your concerns? Or are there still things left to rebut? I can be preemptive, if you wish. Contrary to how Ada introduced us, you have yet to slow me down, and you do not snore. You're also—”

Lenore flushed. “I think that's it. If you really want to take the risk and be with me, I mean. I can't argue. Or at least, I can't argue in a way that I think you'd accept.”

“A good instinct,” said Annabel. She stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and pressed herself into Lenore. “No more decisions for both of us, pet. I don’t want to lose you so soon. Not when we’ve only just begun things, and not for such a petty reason. Please.”

“Okay,” said Lenore.

She wrapped her arms around Annabel, intent on pulling her closer. That was thwarted by Annabel herself, who stepped back and looked Lenore in the eyes, an echo of a time not too long ago when Lenore had done the same for infinitely worse reasons. Lenore was not worried. A small, almost imperceptible smile played on Annabel's face as she raised one hand, which had a singular, slender finger extended. 

“Promise?” she said.

Lenore hooked her pinky with Annabel’s. “Promise,” she agreed.

Chapter Text

“Oooh, and what are you up to, Lenore?”

Lenore felt the hands on her shoulders and heard the voice at precisely the same time, and jumped. Looking up, she saw Ada standing over her. The woman’s eyes were trained on Lenore’s cell phone screen. 

“A reservation at Alessandra’s?” Ada said. “You have been taking my advice then. Good, good. If you do that enough, I’m certain you’ll eventually outgrow your crude and boorish behavior. Or at least, you might. Possibly.”

“Speaking of crude behavior, I’m pretty sure it’s impolite to look over someone’s shoulder at their personal devices,” said Lenore dryly.

Ada took her hands off of Lenore’s shoulders, if only to wave her off. “There are no secrets between friends.”

“Ah. So we’re friends today. That’s news.” With nothing else to say to Ada, Lenore gently hit the side of her phone. 

As though it would help. The wifi in the staff office had been on the fritz all day. Most people had given up—after all, it was the Friday before a day off, and they’d have all the internet access they wanted once kids went home. The ones who didn’t had found places with cell service, but hiking up and down Signal Hill or over to the hideout was out of the question when her hip was throbbing as it was. If Lenore hadn’t been desperate to get a reservation, she already would have thrown the phone across the office and given up . Or, perhaps more satisfyingly, drowned it in the swamp. 

But no. She had to get the reservation, and she had to do it before her break time was over. To make matters worse, it was becoming more and more apparent that she was also going to have to make time to use the restroom. 

She tapped the refresh button on the screen. It kept half loading the reservation page, unable to fully load in the “confirm” button. Even so, Lenore refused to give up. After all, she’d seen it load all the way just a few minutes ago… right before her finger slipped and refreshed by accident, taking all the progress with it. 

Now, frustrated, she went through the motions for what seemed like the millionth time. A reservation for nine in the evening. Party size, two. Name, Lenore Vandernacht.

The confirm button still hadn’t loaded in, but neither had the page stopped trying to pull it up. Lenore took a swig of Mountain Dew from her water bottle and stared daggers at the screen, hoping that maybe sheer willpower would hasten the response time.

It didn’t, but it did make the growing discomfort in her bladder more noticeable. Crossing her legs, Lenore sighed. She wanted to avoid leaving the office. If she took her phone with her, the wifi very likely wouldn’t connect and she’d be back to square one. If she kept it here, she was losing valuable time where she could be trying to get the reservation. There weren’t any other options, she thought, looking around and hoping that Duke would walk in, or Eulalie, or Morella. Any of them would help her out. Any of them would happily do her a favor and keep tabs on the website. But they weren’t here. Only Ada was here, now sprawled out across a chair looking at her own phone.

The discomfort continued to mount. Lenore sighed. “Ada,” she said slowly, reluctantly, “can I ask a favor of you? Since we’re… friends ?”

“Hmmm?” hummed Ada, her gaze flickering up to meet Lenore’s. “Well. I don’t know if I like you using our friendship to try to get favors out of me. But I can be gracious. It depends on what the favor you’re asking is.”

Standing from her seat, Lenore walked across the small room to Ada and handed over her phone. “All I need is for you to try to make the reservation. I have to leave for just a couple minutes. Can you just refresh the page until it lets you make it?”

Ada shrugged. “I don’t know why I should.”

“Because you decided not to learn how to braid your own hair, so someone has to do it.” It was almost funny, playing by Ada’s rules. One thing for another, almost always hair-related. But if it would get her the reservation, Lenore would do it gladly. 

It took a few seconds of thought, but Ada raised her chin haughtily. “I suppose I can do it. After all, it’s not just for you, is it? It’s for Annabel too.” She paused for just a second, staring at Lenore with a furrowed brow and a frown. “Some friendly advice, Lenore, you really do have to learn to be more careful in hiding your relationship. Everyone on staff knows about it, you know. You could get in trouble.”

“Solid advice, and truly coming from a shining beacon of discretion,” Lenore quipped. Her mind wandered back to earlier that day, where Monty had dipped Ada under the trees in front of the dining hall. Lenore had been surprised not just at how bold the couple was being, but also at how genuinely romantic it looked. 

Then Monty had dropped Ada, causing her to fall on her bottom, and suddenly the scene was less romantic and more hilarious. Lenore and Duke hadn’t been able to stop laughing until they sat down for breakfast, and neither had most of the nearby campers.

Flipping her hair, Ada held her hand out. “Give me your phone, then, and I’ll make sure it happens. But take my advice. Believe it or not, I don’t actually want you kicked out of camp.”

“That might be one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me, Ada.”

“What are you talking about? I say nice things to you all the time.”

Lenore repressed a snort and handed Ada her phone. Grabbing her backpack, she left the small staff office. After a brief look around to ensure the quickest route wasn’t blocked by campers, she walked to the nearby dining hall restrooms. It didn’t take more than a couple of minutes for her to get there, and she did her business, washed her hands, and immediately started back across the lawn towards the staff office. 

As she walked back into the small building, she was pleased to see that Ada was still sitting there, still sprawled and entranced with her phone. She’d been half convinced Ada would forget or something and simply walk away. Slightly more concerningly—or maybe promisingly?—Lenore’s cell sat on the table next to Ada. “Any luck?” Lenore asked.

“Luck?” scoffed Ada. “I made the reservation on my own skill, thank you. It’s all settled now.”

Surprising, but a welcome sort of surprise. “Wonderful, thank you,” Lenore said, actually managing a genuine grin at Ada, who didn’t notice because she hadn’t looked up from her own device. Lenore picked her phone up off the table and turned the screen on. Sure enough, a confirmation waited there. Lenore Vandernacht, nine in the evening, party of four.

Wait.

Lenore slowly turned to Ada. “Why does this say table for four?” she asked carefully, trying to keep her cool.

Ada got a peculiar look on her face. She was smiling, but it was weak; her eyes drifted away from Lenore and towards the ceiling, and her hands began to wring at the skort she was wearing. “Well, I just thought… it took you so long to even get to the website to make a reservation, and my break is nearly over, but Monty was saying he wanted to go out for dinner too. Besides, a double date is the perfect sort of fun activity that friends do together. And we are friends, remember? You said so.”

“So you decided to invite yourself without even asking?”

“I knew you’d say yes! Or at least, knew you would with a little bit of convincing… but since you weren’t here, I had to go ahead and make the call myself!”

Lenore pressed the “amend reservation” button on the website a little more harshly than perhaps intended. All she got for her troubles was an error message. She squeezed her eyes shut, then took a deep breath. 

In. Out. Nothing to be done about it. Not if she wanted to be able to take Annabel out for the night.

She sighed wearily. “Fine, Ada. But just this once. And Monty better be on his best behavior.”

Ada perked back up immediately. “He always is! Now, at least. Such a gentleman. But don’t worry, I’ll pass on your worries before we meet you at your car.”

“And now you’re inviting yourself to ride with us too?”

“How else would we get there?”

“An Uber?”

“Lenore, please, think of the environment for once,” Ada said with a sniff. “For someone who loves nature and the woods, you’re being awfully inconsiderate. To the trees, and also to me personally. Really, it’s quite rude. Carpooling is the only real solution.”

For a moment, Lenore thought of simply saying ‘no…’ or something a little bit stronger. The only thing that stopped her was her cell phone, now cheerfully playing a fun and very unwelcome little ditty. Her alarm. Break was over; she had to return to her campers, and she had to do it now. She pursed her lips, rolled her eyes, and said, “Fine, okay. Yes. Meet us in the parking lot at eight fifteen. And don’t be late, or I’ll leave you behind.”

“We won’t be!” Ada hollered after Lenore, who was already running out the door as best as she could with her hip acting up.

Hopefully it won’t be that bad, she thought as she shuffled down the trail to Edgar Lodge. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?

Then her brain supplied some answers, and Lenore began to worry she had made a terrible, terrible mistake.

Annabel was at a swimming lunch that day, and so Lenore wouldn’t be able to talk to her at the meal. Telling her about the rather annoying change in plans would have to wait until the wisps had all gone home. Instead, Lenore marched up to Duke in the spare moments between counselors entering the dining hall and the campers filing in. She sat down across from him at the foot of his table, buried her head in her hands, and took a deep breath before speaking. “If I were to commit a single tiny, little murder, you’d help me with my alibi, right?”

Duke raised an eyebrow. “Well, I must admit that while the larger part of me wants to say ‘of course, mon amie ,’ I’m suddenly increasingly aware that I have known you for a grand total of six weeks. Which is to say, this hypothetical murder isn’t someone I care about, is it?”

“It’s Ada.”

“Then of course I’ll be your alibi. I’d do it even if you hadn’t asked,” he joked. His expression sobered after a couple of seconds even so. “But seriously, what did she do that merits this sort of reaction?”

Lenore put her arms down and sat up just a bit straighter, just enough to meet Duke’s eyes for the full griping-to-a-friend effect. 

“She altered the reservation I was making at Alessandra’s. It was supposed to be for myself and Annabel… now she and Monty are coming too. And I can’t edit the reservation.” She sighed deeply. “Duke, I can’t be almost entirely alone with her and Monty for an entire evening. I’ve done that too many times to count, back when we were kids and there was no other choice, and every single time someone gets about an inch away from committing homicide.”

“And I take it you don’t think Annabel’s presence will help, then? She is friends with them…”

Shaking her head rapidly, Lenore gripped the wooden table like a lifeline. “She can’t see them like this. She can’t see me like this. But what am I supposed to do, tell her we can’t go on a date? We’ve been excited for this since last week.”

Duke tapped his chin. “So you don’t want her to see you mostly alone with Ada and Monty… hmm. Yes, I do believe I have a solution.”

Lenore stared at him skeptically. “You do?”

“Oui, I do,” he said, a little brighter now. “Do you trust me?”

“I did until you had to ask me that.”

“Mon amie, don’t be such a skeptic! Leave the burden of solving your little issue to me. I have a plan, and once I pull it off, you should be free to have an enjoyable and fun night. It’s the least I can do for you after you so kindly rescued me from that closet,” Duke said with a wink, then added, “and on that note, it’s something I’d be willing to do anyway as a matter of my revenge.”

Though she was a little worried about whatever Duke might have planned, he seemed confident that it would be the solution to her problems. Frowning only briefly in thought, she relaxed after a second. “Alright. Do whatever you’re planning then. And if it works, I owe you one.”

“Nonsense. As I said, this is merely me repaying you, and anyway, it’s just what friends do.”

The bell for lunch rang. Campers began to file in, so Lenore didn’t say anything further. She shot Duke a grateful smile, and held her hands high in the air to signal empty seats at her table, suddenly feeling much better.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Duke—she did—but just in case, Lenore found Annabel before the staff were set free. Once campers were gone, the staff members were assigned to various light cleaning tasks, making sure the camp had a neat and clean appearance on the following Sunday when a new group of campers and parents arrived. Most tasks were fairly simple and done quickly, but a few—usually given to area specialists and directors—could take an hour. Anyone on those simple tasks inevitably ended up on litter patrol, and Annabel was no exception.

As soon as all the tents in her unit had been swept from top to bottom and the fire circle restocked with dead wood, Lenore ran to the center of camp to find Annabel walking in a zigzag pattern and staring intently at the ground. After a few seconds, Annabel bent down, picked up a small piece of paper, put it in a trash bag, and continued on. With a sigh that was half contentment and half premature boredom at the task ahead of them, Lenore ran up to her girlfriend and smoothly locked arms with her.

Annabel looked up in mild surprise. “Done with tents already?” she asked.

“Tents aren’t that bad, they don’t take long if you know how to do them. What did you end up doing?”

“Wiping down the rescue tubes. Similarly, not a difficult or time consuming task. I’d wager we have at least a quarter hour of litter duty.” Annabel’s smile was a little bit forced, but there was a chuckle at the end that reached her eyes. Lenore understood why after Annabel continued. “Being with you makes it better, though.”

“Speaking of being with me—”

That earned an eyebrow raise. “Pet, you aren’t trying to break up with me again, are you?”

“No! No, of course not. There’s just…” Lenore frowned, trying to figure out how to break the news. “There was a bit of a hitch in the plan for tonight, and her name is Ada.”

She explained what had happened as they continued to trace a pattern on the front lawn, picking up scraps of paper, mini-erasers, and a forgotten sock as they did. Annabel listened with a slight frown. 

“And you tried amending the reservation once the kids left? Perhaps the wifi is better,” she suggested.

Lenore nodded. “The website says it’s too late to amend without canceling, and I’m not sure I could get another one. Plus, it’d put Monty and Ada after us, and as much as I don’t want them ruining our evening, I also don’t want them ruining the rest of our summer.”

Annabel hummed in response, as if mulling it over. She picked up another piece of trash, but said nothing else. Not quite sure how to respond, Lenore decided to steer the conversation to the positives. “Duke said he had a plan when I told him what happened. Maybe they won’t even show up.”

“Maybe,” Annabel repeated, but doubt still wormed its way into her voice.

Lenore started to respond to that, hoping to reassure Annabel, but a sharp whistle from the direction of the dining hall porch interrupted her. Standing on it as though it was a stage was Eulalie. The determined look on her face told Lenore that she came not just for fun and friendship, but in her capacity as a technical manager. 

‘Excuse me, hi!” she said, addressing the many people on litter patrol. “Ms. Poppet needs everyone in the dining hall for post-session announcements. Now, please.” And with that said, Eulalie walked into the dining hall herself, leaving a minor hubbub behind her as people picked up final pieces of litter, tied trash bags, and breathed sighs of relief.

Lenore turned to Annabel. “I guess we should head in. But… we’ll get through the night one way or the other, right?”

“We will,” Annabel confirmed with a nod and a small smile, eyes sparkling under long lashes.

Then, her smile growing, she held her arm out loosely. Knowing exactly what she was going for, Lenore hooked her arm in her girlfriend’s, and the two started towards the dining hall.

Maybe Duke didn’t have a grand plan, Lenore conceded. If he had, she would have expected its execution to be before everyone was to leave for the restaurant. 

Instead, all four of the planned people showed up at the parking lot soon after cleanup on Friday night. Lenore had built enough time into the reservation to shower and dress in “real person” clothes, so by the time they came together they were almost like completely different people. 

Lenore, Ada, and Monty knew enough about camp to know that it was important to bring one truly nice outfit, and Annabel had known so little about camp that she had brought several. The result was that the party looked quite nice, though Lenore privately thought that she pulled off the button down shirt and slacks with handsome charm while Monty in a similar outfit looked a bit like a conman.

As Lenore approached the others, who had gotten there first, she saw that Ada was forcing Annabel to compare dresses and jewelry. She spun around, her loose ponytail and skirt both flying out as she did. 

“Don’t I just look the most elegant?” she asked as she slowed to a stop and began fingering the creamy off-white frills on her red sundress. “I’m sure that everyone will have to stop and stare as I walk in!"

“I’d hope not,” said Annabel evenly. “It might make our poor Montresor jealous. Hardly a considerate thing to do. Besides, I’d much rather go about my business with quiet dignity and little head turning.”

Ada flushed. “Well… of course they’ll let us be afterwards! I’m sure they’ll be able to stop staring at me, regardless of how beautiful I am. They might keep looking at Lenore, though. I’m sure they’ve never seen anything like her. Honestly, Lenore, you couldn’t have worn something a bit more becoming? I’m sure Annabel could have lent you a dress if you didn’t have one. Pants just aren’t formal for the feminine persuasion!”

“Alessandra’s isn’t exactly Michelin starred,” Lenore muttered.

“And even if it was, you look more than fine,” Annabel said, sending Ada an annoyed look she quickly replaced by a hungry once-over of Lenore. “In fact, I think the look suits you especially well,” she added.

If Ada heard either woman’s words, she ignored them. Instead, she grabbed Annabel’s hands to coo over her. “But you, Annabel Lee.. oh, aren’t you just the most beautiful? Like a princess! Wherever did you find such a dress?” And without a care, Ada dropped to her knees so she could examine the white lace trim on Annabel’s cocktail dress up close, even going so far as to run her fingers along the hem.

Annabel was unshaken, which was nothing short of incredible in Lenore’s opinion. She also did look, as Ada said, “the most beautiful.” The main part of the dress was exactly the color of blue that Lenore privately thought Annabel looked best in, and the shape of it emphasized all of her curves in a way that wasn't immodest, but certainly made one pay attention. 

She didn't spin as Ada had, but merely tilted her head as she responded, letting her appearance speak for itself. “There's a boutique in Paris that I'm quite partial to. My father and I visited soon before I came here and he purchased it for me as a going away gift.”

“A bit dressed up for a small town dinner, dont'cha think?” Monty drawled. 

Lenore didn't like the way he looked at Annabel somehow both as though she were a piece of meat he was thinking about buying, and also like she was a rival animal edging in on his territory.  Almost without thinking, she stepped a little closer to Annabel, narrowing her eyes. 

Monty didn’t seem to even notice, simply continuing on, “Careful, you don't wanna mark yourself as a target with all the resort pickpockets around.”

“Montresor!” chided Ada. “We're going to a restaurant, I think we'll be safe.”

“Just lookin’ out for my friends, sugar,” he said with a smile that Lenore recognized. It was the one he had always shot adults in the minutes before a big prank: the “I'm not involved in what's about to happen, look at me, I'm too smart and charming to do something that stupid” look. 

Lenore almost said something about it, but already Monty was cupping Ada's chin with one hand, helping her up with the other. “Now, shouldn't we be going before it gets too late?”

Ada, who had been giggling just a bit, straightened and tried to look serious and elegant… at least, that was what Lenore assumed she was going for.  “Yes,” she said primly. “Lenore, which of these cars is yours?”

Lenore pointed to her minivan. It should have been obvious, in her opinion. Only one car in the lot had a disabled parking permit and seven Camp Ravenshead bumper stickers.

Walking over to it, Ada pulled a face, her nose wrinkling with disgust. “This is truly it? You aren't pulling my leg? With your family’s money, you’d think you’d have a better car than a piece of mobile scrap metal.” She poked at a dent in the door,  circling the vehicle, her face contorting more with every scratch and scuff she saw.

Monty, for his part, seemed unbothered by the state of the car. In fact, his face perked up. “Really now? I've known you for how many years and still didn’t know your family had any dough, Calamity Jane.”

“How do you think they owned the camp once?” Ada said. “I’d hardly expect such a place to be cheap to run. Besides, that’s not all they do. They’ve got—other things. Stocks, probably. Maybe bonds? I’ve heard they have a real golden parachute in their private jet.”

“We don’t have a private jet,” Lenore said. “Look, it’s an inheritance thing, my great-great-grandfather or something used to be really involved in trains… obviously not something that’s really profitable anymore. A lot of the money got divided between different kids, so it’s not like I’m a billionaire or anything. Stop exaggerating, Ada.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Ada said. Her voice had an edge of irritation. “There’s still boxes of tote bags and keychains and stuff from your family’s company in the back of the req shed, so don’t even try to pretend it’s all just old stuff.”

Lenore cringed. She knew exactly what Ada was talking about. Back in the camp’s Ravenshead days, it had been only one of several properties her parents owned—part of a series of woodland and mountain retreats collectively known as Vandernacht Leadership Retreats, Inc. 

Companies, churches, and clubs would pay ridiculous amounts to ship their VIPs and execs out to one of these properties. There, they would spend a few days in the woods connecting and networking, doing trust activities, and relaxing by the campfire. It was basically camp, but for adults and much more respectable.

Thaddeus Vandernacht, Lenore’s father, had put most of his attention into these events and it was through them that he’d managed to maintain and grow the family’s wealth. Even Camp Ravenshead couldn’t escape it—the original Lenore had built safeguards into the land to make sure it would stay a camp for children in the summer, but once the leaves began to fall in September, it had become an adult retreat until the following May. 

Lenore was sure that if the safeguards hadn't existed, Thaddeus would have done away with the “camp” part of the camp at least a decade before Theo's death. It was hard not to be sure, when he'd spent the first weeks after the incident cursing Aunt Lenore, Annie Leeds, and the airtight wills they had crafted.

If I had had my way, that wild and unkempt land wouldn't have had any children on it. I tried my best, but there's truly too much danger for young people in the woods.

You didn't have any problems with it for all the years before, Lenore had thought… and still did, whenever she remembered these conversations and curses. Anyway, Theo was legally an adult. It could have just as easily happened on a retreat. You're not making sense. You're just desperate to not feel anything anymore.

Knowing that it was all coming from pain and fear didn't make it better. Couldn't make it better. No matter how many times Lenore replayed the weeks after in her head, the results were the same—family land sold off, and Lenore shipped away to be out of sight and out of mind.

Shaking herself back to the present, Lenore didn’t give Ada any real response, merely shrugging. In her peripheral vision, she saw Annabel looking at her curiously and repressed a sigh. I’m probably going to have to address this one later, aren’t I? she thought to herself, then decided to pretend the conversation hadn’t happened, at least until the night was over. 

Annabel probably wasn’t a gold digger since she started dating Lenore before she knew about the Vandernacht fortune, and especially since she’d started dating a woman who had an uneven haircut, scrapes all down her legs, and a penchant for getting into trouble. As Ada had often pointed out, Lenore was hardly high class.

She opened the van’s driver seat door and slid in, unlocking the rest of the vehicle as she did so. Ada slid into the front seat without any hesitation, because of course she did. This left Monty and Annabel to climb into the back. This time, Lenore couldn’t repress the sigh that tried to come out. 

As she did, she felt the weight of Annabel’s gaze and glanced in the rearview mirror, catching her pointed look. Annabel’s eyebrows raised, the look conveying a combined distaste and confusion that Lenore shared.

Their eye contact lasted until the moment Monty leaned over. “Whatcha lookin’ at, sweetheart?” he said, starting to follow Annabel’s line of sight. Lenore quickly turned her eyes back to the driver’s console as Annabel made polite excuses in the back.

There was no way they were getting an ounce of privacy, Lenore realized. Not unless Annabel had some brilliant idea up her sleeve. Which knowing her, she did, but even that hope held a promise of something more interesting and chaotic than Lenore had hoped to have on their first real date.

Even so, there was nothing to be done about it. Lenore simply had to accept a single fact—that this truly promised to be one of the evenings of all time.

Despite what it caused, Lenore was glad she made a reservation as soon as she pulled up to the restaurant. The parking lot was packed, somehow looking even more crowded than it had on that fateful night four weeks ago. She had to use her disabled parking tag to get a spot closer than the very back of the lot.

The sun was already setting as they piled out of the car, turning the mountain sky hues of reds and oranges and purples. Soon a deep, pure, dark blue would settle in for the night, dotted with thousands of stars and the soft glow of the moon. Admiring the sky, the four counselors walked up to the door of Alessandra’s. There was indeed a wait—several parties were crowded onto the benches in the front, with others huddled in groups outside or just inside the front doors.

Ada eyed the waiting patrons with disdain as they picked through the small crowd to get inside. “They should have been smart like us and simply reserved a table. Imagine waiting like cattle!” 

Lenore wasn’t going to say anything to this, but then she caught Ada’s pointed look at her. Ada was very likely remembering their last time at the restaurant.

“I was the one who decided to make the reservation this time,” Lenore said, in just a bit of retaliation. “You just helped. And remember how bad the wifi was? This could have just as soon been us.”

“I suppose,” Ada sniffed.

Lenore ignored her haughty expression, and looked towards the hostess booth instead. It was the most crowded close to it, almost impossible for a party of four to pick through the people. “I’ll go see about our reservation, speaking of,” she said. “Annabel, do you want to come with me?”

Annabel opened her mouth to respond, but Monty cut her off, slinging an arm around her shoulder. Annabel immediately brushed it off, which didn’t stop Monty from continuing his sentence. “No need, we’ll take good care of her. Can’t have a pretty lady being trampled now, can we?”

“Annabel?” Lenore asked.

With almost grit teeth, Annabel smiled. “No, quite right. Why don’t you go on ahead, pet?”

Lenore was loath to leave Annabel alone with Monty and Ada—especially when it seemed clear she didn’t really want to be—but there seemed little choice. As Annabel’s smile turned less forced and more polite, and as Ada began to talk her ear off, Lenore slipped through the gauntlet of waiting people to the hostess stand. “Uh, I have a reservation under Lenore Vandernacht?” she asked the solemn-looking brown haired hostess, who wore a nametag that read “Julia.”

The hostess’s eyes flicked up to meet Lenore’s, then back down to the tablet that must have held the restaurant’s schedule. “Party of four?”

“About that,” said Lenore. “There’s no way you could amend that to be two parties of two, could you? I tried on the website but—”

“There’s not any available tables for two right now. You could give up your reservation, I guess.”

“Oh.”

“The wait time would be about an hour to get two couples tables,” Julia continued.

Lenore considered waiting in the lobby next to Ada and Montresor for another full hour. Then she considered that she’d have to explain what she’d done, and that Ada would very likely take it as the gravest of insults. Lenore shuddered. “Never mind. I’ll keep the reservation the same, then.”

Julia nodded. “If your party is ready, I can lead you to your table now.”

“Sure.” Lenore waved the others over. As soon as she did, they all started towards the booth. Annabel picked through the crowd delicately, in the lead. Following behind her were Ada—imitating Annabel, but rather clumsily—and Monty was last, pushing through without a single care for the people around him, obviously making plenty of people very annoyed.

Soon, they were all gathered at the booth. Julia led them through the restaurant, to a place in the very back. They were seated at a small corner booth and given their menus. Around them, every table was filled, though most people seemed to be enjoying the middle or ends of their meals. The booth next to theirs was signing the check, a large table in the center of the room was eating dessert, and one couple was getting up to leave. Julia had claimed an hour wait, but looking around, Lenore wondered just how true that was.

Even so, they sat down, Annabel and Lenore sliding into one side of the booth, facing the rest of the restaurant, as Ada and Monty sat on the side that faced the wall. Lenore braced herself for the awkward and likely annoying small talk that would be almost guaranteed to be dominated by Ada, but almost as soon as they were settled, their server arrived carrying four glasses of cold ice water.

“Welcome to Alessandra's,” she said. Her voice immediately brought to mind the sort of voice that a counselor got after dealing with very tiring campers all day long, but her appearance was too put-together for camp. She had dyed blonde hair, a name tag that read ‘Avaline,’ and a bearing that felt more like old money than Lenore herself did. 

Directing her gaze at Ada first, she took a notepad from her apron. “Can I start you with a drink or an appetizer, or do you need a moment?” 

Ada leaned into Montresor with her full body. He didn’t seem put off by it, which Lenore was actually a little bit impressed by. Instead, he slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. She giggled and beamed at him before turning back to Avaline. 

“What’s the fanciest appetizer you have?” she asked. “Something befitting a lady and gentleman on a date.”

Avaline’s eyebrows raised, almost imperceptible but enough that Lenore caught the action. “Fried calamari?”

“Ooh, it sounds so fancy. I bet it’s related to caviar!” Ada gushed. “Monty, we just have to try it!”

Lenore opened her mouth to correct Ada, but then she felt pressure on her arm. A glance at Annabel showed that she was gripping it, sending some silent signal for Lenore to keep her mouth shut. Fine. Lenore shrugged, suppressed a chuckle, and continued to watch the situation play out.

With a ruffle of Ada’s hair, Monty flashed what he must have thought was a charming smile right at Avaline. “Yeah, we’ll have an order of that, then,” he drawled. “And can we get some drinks headed our way too?”

“If you want anything alcoholic, I’ll need to see the ID of everyone at the table.”

“O’ course, but the lady and I did leave ours back at home. You understand, don’t you?” Another not-so-winning smile accompanied the words. Ada was nodding along like a bobblehead doll.

Avaline sighed wearily. “No ID, no alcohol.”

“Now, is that really fai—”

“Perhaps I can get you a Shirley Temple instead?” There was an ever-so-slight bite to the words. 

Monty soured. “Thanks but no thanks. We’ll both have a Coke, then.”

“We serve Pepsi products.”

“Then a Pepsi,” he said with obviously mock patience, but even so he aimed one of his most ‘charming’ grins her way. “Thanks in advance, sugar.”

The look that Avaline gave was somehow both devoid of emotions and could wither flowers. “Wonderful,” she said flatly, then turned to Lenore and Annabel. “And for you two?”

“Some breadsticks, please. And, uh, I'll have a Mountain Dew to drink,” Lenore said.

Annabel looked like she almost wanted to say something about that, but then sighed, shook her head slightly, and simply smiled at Avaline. “If you have a hot tea of any sort, that would be lovely.”

Avaline scribbled something down on a notepad. “I'll be back with those shortly,” she said.

She walked away, which did unfortunately leave Lenore open for the small talk she had been dreading. Ada leaned over so that her head rested on Montresor's chest and pointed up at the ceiling. 

“Look!” she squealed. “I never noticed before but there are plants up there on the rafters! How fancy! Just as expected from a resort town; they really know how to cater to the right sort of clientele!”

Lenore wasn't going to say anything about how Alessandra's was one of the cheaper places in town. It didn't seem polite, and anyway Ada would probably find some misguided way to spin it back on her, or else Monty would be a little too interested in how she knew that. Annabel, however, seemed to have no such qualms. Smiling politely, she leaned forward a little, as though sharing a secret with Ada. 

“If you think this is nice, you really have to try Froissart. I went and tried it at the beginning of the summer, right before precamp started. The atmosphere is lovely and the food is hardly short of divine.”

Raising an eyebrow curiously, Lenore made a mental note to ask if Annabel had actually eaten there. It was likely true, as everything that she had said about it was factual, but Froissart was also one of the most expensive places in the area. Even their lunch specials cost more than most counselors would be able to comfortably afford. 

The beauty was that of course Ada knew that, and of course she couldn't admit that she'd never been able to go herself—or if she had, it'd been a very special occasion in the five years where Lenore had been MIA. More than likely, she hadn't, as her face went red. 

“Oh, of course! Froissart!” she said, her voice rising in pitch just a little bit. “I mean, they truly are the top tier, but, well… I simply mean… um… for what it is, this little hovel isn't too bad, is it?”

Annabel smiled again, mostly sweetly but with a sharp edge that Lenore hadn't seen before. “No, not at all,” she said in her most pleasant voice.

“I should hope you’re not offended that I’m taking you to a little hovel,” Lenore murmured under her breath, hoping Ada wouldn’t hear. Annabel nudged her under the table for her troubles and subtly shook her head.

“Well, lucky me,” said Montresor. “I really am in the presence of royalty, huh? Knew what I was talking about when I said all you Brits were fancy.”

“Manners have nothing to do with a person’s country of origin and everything to do with their character,” Annabel said, and took a sip of her water.

Monty snorted. “Well, I’d certainly hope that’s not true, or else Lenore’s got—”

“Yes, yes! This should be fine, mademoiselle,” said a terribly familiar voice, loud enough for them all to hear and turn their heads. Annabel squeezed her thigh to steady her, and Lenore’s balled fists unclenched, the temptation of punching Montresor dissipating. “We truly are glad you could accommodate our table requests. Merci beaucoup, you have made our lives much easier, non?”

By the time Lenore realized what was happening, the one recognizable voice had blended into several recognizable voices, all agreeing with him. Duke, Eulalie, Berenice, Pluto, and Morella were standing only a table away, where the dessert eating family had been only a little bit before. They were almost all smiling down at her enthusiastically—only Morella seemed a bit reluctant. 

“What—” Lenore started, looking back towards Julia the hostess for some explanation or assistance. This was futile; she had already started away.

“Quelle surprise! Mon amie, I didn’t know you would be here tonight!” said Duke, who normally wasn’t a huge liar, but who also apparently had exceptions.

Lenore snapped her attention back to him the second the lies were out of his mouth. “I thought I mentioned it,” she said, mostly avoiding saying it through gritted teeth. “But I suppose perhaps I didn’t.” 

Rising, she slid from the booth and wrapped her arms around him in a hug, which he reciprocated easily. As soon as his ear was close, she squeezed slightly, only a little threateningly. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“You said you wished you and Annabel didn’t have to be alone with Ada and Monty,” he replied. “We all rallied to help.”

Lenore softened. It wasn’t much use telling them now that she hadn’t wanted more company, but rather less. Though perhaps they might have been able to infer it on their own. “Well, I can't exactly fault you for that. But humor me, Duke—did you have a grand plan that wasn't just showing up here?”

“Of course not, mon amie. What fun would that be?”

She pulled back with a sigh. “Well, then!” she announced, now speaking loud enough that all the others could hear as well. “Great to see you all, truly, but now Annabel and I will be—”

“Hey! Eula, help me move this!”

Nearby, Berenice had begun to lift a larger table. From its awkward position, Lenore could guess she had tried to drag it over to the booth herself, but had found it was a definite two person lift. A few feet away, Eula perked up, but before she could do anything Duke swept in, winking at Lenore as he did. 

“Here, mademoiselle,” he said, lifting the other side of the table. “If we're moving it over to our dear Lenore's table, it'd be my pleasure to help.”

Working together, Duke and Berenice maneuvered the free table against the booth as Pluto and Eulalie began grabbing chairs. Morella hung back, looking more than a little nervous. Lenore appreciated it. Morella seemed to be the only one who cared how Annabel and Lenore felt about the sudden invasion. The hanging back, at least, didn’t last long; once the table was moved, Duke took her by the shoulders and sat her down right next to Lenore.

 “Sorry,” she whispered.

Lenore sighed. “Apology accepted. It’s not your fault. At least, I’d guess it wasn’t.”

“Well, Duke said you needed our help, and he’d already requested the Uber… I didn’t know you’d be on a date!”

“That sounds about right,” Lenore said, sighing again. “Well, thank you for coming to my aid, even if it was under false pretenses.”

Looking up to the chaos that was beginning to unfold, Lenore noticed that Ada was standing nose to nose with Duke. “—and it's entirely rude and inconsiderate to take over a date without so much as asking!” she was saying. “I would have thought someone French would know that! So much for elegance!”

“And I would have thought that someone who claims to know about elegance would stay far away from Montresor,” Duke responded dryly. “So much for taste.”

“Ugh! Like you're any better!”

“My dear mademoiselle Ada, I am devastated to be the one to bestow this news upon you, but any man would be better than Monty.” From the tone of Duke’s voice, he was not as devastated as he claimed. 

Sitting in the corner and chewing on a toothpick he’d somehow acquired, Monty’s eyes flicked up towards Duke. “Some women like a bad boy,” he drawled.

Duke’s eyes narrowed as he switched his gaze over to Monty. “In my opinion, there is a difference between a ‘bad boy,’ something I could also be considered, and a terrible excuse for a human being. Maybe Ada enjoys the latter, but I can guarantee that the vast majority of women would avoid that sort of man like the plague.”

Monty glowered, but didn’t say anything—likely because Ada, in front of him, was already standing and blocking him as though she were some sort of protector. Or, from the way she was nearly screeching, maybe some sort of banshee. “Can’t you and your horrid friends just go sit somewhere else? I don’t get why this concerns you at all!”

“Let’s just say we’re rescuing our dear friend from having to spend the evening with you,” Duke said. He grabbed one of the chairs that went with the newly-moved table and maneuvered it next to Ada’s seat in the booth. 

“It’ll be fine, though,” he added with a grin. “You can simply pretend we aren’t even here.”

“That’s impossible!” Ada exclaimed.

For once, Lenore agreed with her wholeheartedly.

By the time poor Avaline returned with the appetizers, it was clear that no one was budging. Lenore’s friends had made themselves thoroughly at home, something only made more evident when the fried calamari was set down on the table and Duke immediately grabbed for a ring. 

“Hey!” said Ada as he took the first bite, “that’s ours! You owe me money for that!”

“I’d say we’re even, actually, considering you both helped to stuff me in a closet,” Duke replied as he finished the piece and went for another. “Or at the very least, we'll be even by the end of this meal.”

“That was a prank. This is thievery, you scoundrel!”

As the two began to argue, Avaline stood there, her face clearly schooled into an expression that was none emotions, with left exhaustion and disdain. After a beat, she turned to face Lenore and Annabel. “Have you decided on your main courses?”

“We want a pizza to share for the table!” interrupted Eulalie.

“Wait, hang on!” Berenice said. “We need at least four. One with just cheese for Eula and Morella, meat lovers for me and Pluto, and—hey, Lenore, do you know what Duke likes?”

“French food more than Italian,” Lenore said automatically, before pausing. I should probably be irritated at them. I wasn't even going to get pizza. We were going to be fancy and try the pasta…

“Supreme,” said Duke, mid-argument, before going right back to hounding Ada.

“And then whatever Lenore wants, and we’ll split the bill,” Berenice told Avaline with a grin. “But not with the other three.”

Avaline looked pointedly at Lenore, who had almost no words for what was happening, or how wrong it was going. 

“Actually, I’ll pay for myself,” she said, only a little weakly. “I want to get the veal bolognese for myself, so… no reason to split that with anyone else.” Nudging closer to Annabel, she whispered to her date,  “Order whatever you want. I’ll get your bill. And I’m sorry.”

Annabel’s hand found Lenore’s under the table and squeezed, all while her face was looking at Avaline with a pleasant expression. “I’ll have the chicken piccata, please.”

Scribbling something down on her pad, Avaline turned to the last two. Monty ordered a chicken parmesan, and Ada picked an Italian-named dish that she pronounced so poorly that Lenore couldn’t even begin to tell what she actually ordered. If Avaline had any issues, she didn’t ask and instead merely wrote those two orders as well. 

“I’ll be back with drinks soon,” she said before turning and walking away. Lenore noted idly that Duke and the others still only had water, and wondered if any of them had even noticed that.

If they had, they didn’t say anything about it. Instead, they talked about anything and everything else. Perhaps Duke had said that he didn’t have a grand plan, but if it had it couldn’t have been better thought out. Every time that Ada or Monty tried to get a word in, one or another of Lenore’s friends began to talk over them. Perhaps they would have done the same to Annabel, but she was staying quiet. Uncomfortably so, almost. 

Say something. Or try to. So we can talk and I can promise that I didn’t want our date to be interrupted like this.

But no, there was no way for either to get a word in. The chatter was ceaseless, even when Avaline and another waiter delivered the entrees to the table. Lenore had thought that maybe the addition of food might quiet things down, but Pluto, Eula, and Duke kept up the conversation between bites and Berenice simply seemed content to talk with her mouth full. Only Morella was quiet, still looking fiercely apologetic.

Lenore was halfway through her meal when she began to daydream about rescuing Annabel, the two of them heisting their way out of the situation. She stared out into the distance, trying to think of an escape plan that wouldn't cost her the respect of her friends—so crawling under the tables was right out. 

As her eyes pointed into the distance, she could see restaurant patrons coming and going. They were so free, all having a great time. It would have been nice to be like them, she thought as she watched them pass. A smiling couple with matching yellow outfits, sharing a kiss as they waited to be seated. A group of local high schoolers, doubtless thinking they were fancy for eating at a place like this—they giggled as they were led to a table. A woman at the takeout counter with graying hair, a sunhat, and a very, very familiar smile…

“Damn it,” Lenore cursed aloud. Loud enough, in fact, that everyone turned to look at her. She hastened to explain herself. “Everyone, look. Poppet’s here.”

“Ms. Poppet?” Ada said, finally managing to get a word in. Her voice held the cadence of a screech, but still managed to be quiet, which Lenore took to mean that she didn’t want the camp’s assistant director to know that they were there any more than Lenore did. 

She flipped around in her seat like a little kid, trying to peer over Duke’s nearby shoulder to see the entrance of the restaurant. “Are you sure it’s her? What would she even be doing here?”

“Getting a takeout order,” Eulalie said. “She’s standing at the takeout counter. It’s pretty obvious if you ask me.”

“Oh, I can’t believe it! Why here?” Ada whined the words, still bobbing her head up and down in an attempt to see around Duke. For his part, he merely sat stoically there, still blocking her. Perhaps it was on purpose, as he looked somewhat amused.

Eulalie didn’t notice any of this. She tilted her head. “Because this is the only restaurant in the area that does takeout orders this late at night. I don’t mean to be rude, but this feels like pretty obvious stuff!”

“It’s rheumatical,” Ada spat.

Duke almost choked over his laughter. “Do you mean rhetorical? Mon dieu, this isn’t even my first language and I know that.”

Shoving him off of his chair and away from the table with all of her strength, Ada climbed out of the booth. Duke stood there, amused, as Ada all but yelled at him. “You might know big fancy SAT words, but you clearly don't know any manners, you—”

“Shit!” said Berenice, interrupting Ada just as she jabbed a finger in Duke's face. “She's looking at us. Oh. She's not just looking. She's coming towards us. Uh. Okay, y’all, act natural!”

“This is natural for us,” Pluto noted calmly as he put his head in his hands and let his eyes go back and forth between Ada, Duke, Eulalie, Berenice, and the quickly-coming Ms. Poppet.

Berenice hissed. “Then act unnatural! Act like we all get along! I came along for the food, not to get fired!”

There was silence for a moment, as though everyone had to think about it. Then, shrugging, Duke pulled Ada in close, looping his arm around her shoulders casually. Ada looked too shocked to protest. Her eyes were wide and her face was bright red. Underneath them, at the table, Eulalie and Berenice turned to Pluto and started engaging in meaningless conversation. Annabel smiled at Monty with such obviously false pleasantry that Lenore thought it might blow the whole thing open, and Monty smiled back with the same.

If Poppet did notice anything strange about the gathering when she arrived, she kept it firmly to herself. 

“Well!” she exclaimed, stopping about a foot away from their tables, “isn't this a surprise? I never expected to see so many counselors here and all getting along so well! You look like you're having so much fun!”

“We are,” said Duke, squeezing Ada slightly, but noticeably. She looked up at him, briefly obviously irritated, before flashing a weak grin at Poppet and nodding along.

Annabel looked up from her place in the corner. “It's a surprise to see you too, Ms. Poppet,” she said. Her voice was calm and cheerful-- despite how fake her smile had seemed when she aimed it at Monty, she was now putting on arguably the best act of anyone. “Don't the management staff usually get something delivered on Friday nights?”

“Well, yes,” said Poppet, seeming surprised that Annabel knew that. “And the delivery drivers nearly always get lost! The issues with having private roads, I suppose… mapping apps never do well at finding us, for better or worse. We decided that tonight we'd try picking up our own food for a change. So I'm afraid I can't stay long… everyone's hungry! I did want to say hello, though. Are you all enjoying the weekend so far?”

“All three hours of it that we've had!” Lenore joked, forcing a smile of her own. “It's certainly a change of routine.” Which wasn't a lie. 

“As it should be! Now, I know we talk a lot about health while we're working—hydration, proper rest, hygiene, and the like—but mental self care is just as important!” Ms. Poppet had shifted into full “manager” mode as she spoke, one finger out and shaking emphatically, an expression she'd often used during precamp lectures. “Be sure not to waste your important time off. Have fun and recharge for Sunday afternoon, but also still be sure to be getting enough sleep!”

Everyone nodded. Poppet didn't have to know that they had differing actual approaches to this—Annabel likely took it to heart, while Lenore knew she'd be up until at least one in the morning tonight and make it all up by sleeping until noon or so. Berenice, who seemed to be made of pure energy and willpower sometimes, likely wouldn't sleep more than an hour or two.

With that seemingly sorted, Ms. Poppet beamed at them all. “Wonderful! Well, I'll leave you to it—I'm sure you don't want your assistant director hanging around on your off hours! It was good to see you all. Have a good weekend, and I'll see you back at camp on Sunday, if not before!” And with another smile, she was gone, just as quickly as she'd arrived. 

The second she was out of earshot and back at the takeout counter, Duke and Ada practically ripped away from each other. They didn't say anything, but each glared forcefully at the other, as if they were putting all of the blame on the person opposite them. 

As though that opened a gate of some kind, slowly people began talking again—first Eulalie trying to convince Pluto to try a bite of her pizza, then Morella leaning over Lenore to ask a question to Annabel, then Ada falling dramatically into Monty’s arms, crying crocodile tears while Duke rolled his eyes at her from a few feet away.

Lenore, for her part, sighed and looked out into the restaurant again, picking up where she had left off after seeing Ms. Poppet. She dug into the remainder of her pasta as she watched people come and go. This late, it was getting less crowded, with many tables empty or just finishing up. The restaurant seemed mostly full of couples now. Couples, the big mess of camp staff at Lenore's table, and—wait, was that—

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at a single person sitting at a booth meant for four people. He looked familiar. Brown hair, light skin, rather run of the mill features… and an obviously fake blonde mustache. Combined with the fact that he was staring daggers at Ada and Monty from behind a local newspaper, it was obvious who this was. So Will's here too. Great. Wonder what that's all about.

She ignored him and looked away, knowing that if he caught her staring she'd basically have to go over to his table and invite him to join the party. Instead, she turned her attention back to Annabel. It should have been on Annabel all along, and that it hadn't been served to show how truly upside down the night had turned out to be.

Annabel was quiet, ignoring the din around her and simply eating her chicken politely. Almost too politely, really. Not a single drop of sauce landed on her napkin, let alone her nose. She had all of the elegance of a queen. Specifically, a queen surrounded by a bevy of fools, an image only solidified when Berenice put a piece of pizza crust under her nose and pretended it was a mustache. 

I'm sorry, Lenore wanted to whisper to her girlfriend. I didn't plan for this to happen. Any of this. I wanted it to be us alone, a quiet date without any of the worries we would have at camp. A moment that we didn't have to steal.

But every time she leaned over to say it, something happened. Ada asked a question. Duke made a joke that caused the table to burst into laughter, making any speech effectively inaudible. Eula, sweet but currently clueless, spoke rather enthusiastically about ghosts in a way that would almost certainly make Lenore seem like a jerk for slipping out of the conversation.

This hadn’t been the intention at all, and the worst part was that nothing was technically that bad. Lenore could have enjoyed an evening like this, if it hadn’t been ruining her initial plans.

She glanced at Annabel, who was expertly ignoring the chaos before them in favor of languidly typing something on her phone. She was about to ask what, or maybe even who she was texting, but then her own phone buzzed. She pulled it out—Annabel had been texting her. 

Miss Poppet gave me an idea. I do believe we can sneak away. That is, if you’re willing?

Lenore felt she couldn’t type fast enough.

yes 4 sure

I thought as much. Keep them all occupied, won’t you?

Looking away from her phone, Lenore glanced at Annabel. Annabel had the faintest trace of a smirk on her face, and there was the distinct feeling that she was looking at Lenore from her peripherals. Hoping this was true and Annabel could see her, Lenore nodded slightly.

Annabel’s smirk grew slightly. Then, she snapped back to a neutral, pleasant expression and turned slightly to face Lenore head on. “If you’ll let me out, please, Lenore? I need to slip to the restroom for a moment.”

“Oh, of course,” Lenore said, starting to slide from the booth. Morella scooted over in her chair in order to give them room, and Annabel finally was able to climb out and into the aisles between tables. She started towards the restroom, which made Lenore curious. What sort of idea was this, anyway? How had she gotten it from Poppet?

She kept watch on Annabel with one eye. The blonde woman stepped elegantly and confidently, heading at first towards the restrooms as she promised. Once she arrived there, however, she took a swift turn towards the bar in the next room over. 

With a huge, open door connecting the dining areas, Lenore could still see her clearly as she walked up. Well, I suppose a glass of wine could be considered a solution to the problem, if you were of legal drinking age here, she thought to herself. Maybe Annabel had forgotten that you had to be twenty-one to drink alcohol in the States. She would be reminded soon, Lenore was sure—Pennsylvania was a notoriously strict enforcer of those laws.

But Annabel didn’t flag down the bartender. Instead, she walked up to a man sitting there at the bar, watching the news. Lenore couldn’t tell who he was at first, but then Annabel spoke to him and he turned to greet her, just enough so that he was visible from the booth.

Prospero too? Her jaw almost dropped at the sight of his face. She hadn’t noticed that he was here before because his back had been facing  them while he sat at the bar. It made it all the more surprising that Annabel knew of his presence… though it really did make sense for her. It was hard to escape Annabel’s notice.

Annabel spoke to Prospero almost casually, and he listened with a raised eyebrow. In one of his hands was a small espresso cup, and sitting in front of him was an entire plate of cannoli, which begged questions Lenore wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to. After a few more seconds of Annabel’s words, he put the espresso down next to the cannoli plate and took his cell phone out of his pocket to type something in. Annabel smiled a polite but genuine smile, then slipped off to the ladies’ room for real as Prospero turned back to the bar.

Lenore blinked. She had no idea whatsoever what she had just witnessed. She also had a feeling that she was about to find out.

Sure enough, after another bite of cannoli, Prospero stood, at the precise moment that Lenore felt her cell phone buzz once more. She took the device from her pocket and saw another text from Annabel. When you see Prospero coming, make a fuss as you did for Ms. Poppet.

Frowning, unsure of what this plan could be but unwilling to test it, Lenore pointed. “Prospero's at the bar.”

Immediately, everyone looked, though it took a beat for them to find him as he was no longer at the bar after all. Instead, the financial director was beelining for them, a look of irritation on his face. “Do we act unnatural again?” Morella asked, her voice full of doubt.

“Nah,” said Berenice. “He already knows how we are. Just be your normal, charming selves.”

“Frankly, I think we should really give Prospero a show,” said Duke, smiling wide. There was an undercurrent of something mischievous in the look. 

Morella's eyes seemed to grow. “What do you mean by that?”

“Ms. Poppet is one thing, ma cherie . She's at least pleasant, and also has the power to fire us. Now, Prospero, on the other hand… he's more powerless than he'd like us to believe, can't discipline us one bit, and also I can't imagine anyone here likes him all that much. I simply can't stand a buzzkill, Lenore's had to deal with his meddling with her relationship, Berenice and Eulalie have had to be in leadership meetings with the man, and I'm sure that Pluto has some grievance.”

Pluto shrugged and nodded.

“Why, even Ada and Montresor have issues with him!” Duke continued. “As well they should. It takes a heartless person to push a beautiful woman into a swamp, and to push Ada in is still at least a third as bad!”

Beet red, Ada snapped, “It was technically a pond! Not a swamp!”

Duke expertly ignored her and finished his thought as Prospero drew closer. “So why not welcome the man in with all of the goodwill he's earned?”

Morella looked about to protest, but she was cut off by Prospero entering the room, and likely being within earshot. He stormed up to the table and placed his hands on it in a way that might have been menacing had he not been just spotted eating an entire plate of dessert. 

“Do you mind?” he hissed. “Some of us are trying to enjoy a free evening in peace and quiet?”

Bursting out into laughter, Berenice wiped her eyes. “Oh, Prospy, come on,” she said, the laughter catching her voice. “We haven't even done anything to you. We're across the restaurant in a completely different room, how could you have even heard us? Seriously, don't you ever get tired of being a buzzkill?”

“I heard you, if you must know, because you are all being a disturbance. Furthermore, you're giving Camp Nevermore a bad name.”

“Which of course affects you personally,” Pluto muttered.

Lenore wasn't sure that Prospero heard the dig at first, but the way he whipped his head towards Pluto proved that he definitely had. 

“It does,” he said, voice nearly a hiss, “in that I pride myself on doing my job well. As a reminder, my job is to make sure that Camp Nevermore has enough money to cover operational costs. Which means that we need to continually bring in campers. Which means we need a good reputation, which we will never get if a group of unruly staff members seem determined to act like fools in public!”

By the end of his speech, his voice had grown to a crescendo. Duke covered his ears, dramatic and playful. “Ouch, Prospero,” he said. “I don't know which hurts worse: your accusations, or your anger right in my ear. For someone so intent on accusing us of disturbing the peace, you don't seem much better. If you don't mind…”

And just as playfully, he stood and walked around the table, settling between Morella and Lenore. “Here!” he continued. “You can continue yelling at your leisure.”

Prospero looked a little redder than usual, but otherwise seemed to have schooled himself into a relatively calm expression. “If you can’t represent the camp well, I can request that all of you are grounded onto camp property for the weekend.”

“Can he do that?” Pluto asked Eulalie and Berenice.

Eula tapped a finger to her chin. “Yes, technically! He can!”

“Buuuuuuuut,” said Berenice, “it’s two management staff members against one if he tries. The financial director has no more weight than either the adventure director or the arts and crafts director, and if put together, he’s already at a disadvantage. Then consider that when Ms. Poppet saw us she thought we were just having fun…” She clicked her tongue. “Not a good look, Prospero, trying to shut down some perfectly innocent staff members just having dinner on their off hours.”

Prospero opened his mouth to say something, but Duke interrupted with a laugh. Before anything could be said, Prospero’s gaze went to Ada. Ada, for her part, huffed and turned away from him and into Montresor’s shoulder, causing Montry to also break into laughter. That was all the catalyst that the table needed to start talking again, all over each other, dissolving into utter chaos.

It was at that moment that Lenore’s phone buzzed once more. She glanced at it to see another text from Annabel.

I take it the distraction is working?

uh if thats what this is yes

Good. Find an excuse to leave and meet me at your van as soon as you are able.

“I have to go,” Lenore said, standing without even bothering to make an excuse. She hoped she wasn’t being too abrupt, hoped that the others couldn’t see through her act. 

The worry was for nothing. Ada and Monty didn’t even notice—Ada seemed to be ignoring everything, and Monty was almost in tears, grinning as he wiped his eyes. Berenice and Prospero were arguing. Their overlapping and indistinguishable voices even seemed to cover Lenore’s announcement from most of the others. Morella, sighing, wrung her hands together. Eulalie was frowning deeply, and Pluto looked like he wanted to disappear more than anything.

For a moment, Lenore wondered if leaving was the best option. Just as she opened her mouth—to say what, she still wasn’t sure—she felt a nudge. Duke, still sitting, had elbowed her in the side. “I’ll take care of this,” he said, his tone as easy as if they were simply discussing camp activities over breakfast. “Wouldn’t want you to miss your chance to get away.”

“Thank you, Duke,” Lenore said. The words came out with a breath of relief. Maybe he had known what he was doing all along. Probably not. But maybe. 

Before anyone else could notice or stop her, she bolted from the table and beelined for the hostess stand. Poor Julia didn’t look happy at the idea of Lenore frantically paying the bills for herself and Annabel there at the entrance, but she didn’t protest. Lenore tipped Avaline well on the card bills, slipped Julia a five in cash just to be safe, then charged out the door and straight for her van.

Annabel leaned against it, smiling. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” she teased. “To think, even now that we’re together properly we still have to sneak around and find our stolen moments.”

“I kind of hoped that those days would be over, now that we’re together,” Lenore admitted. She stood in front of Annabel and pushed one of the woman’s curls out of her face. 

Annabel’s smile broke into a full fledged grin, though it kept the teasing edge. “Well, to be fair, we still have to keep our status mostly a secret.”

“Mostly a secret, you say as though the entire camp doesn’t know. I’m certain the directors and Dolly are aware we’re together.”

“We’ve not given them any cause to do anything about it, which is just as good. They can know as long as they choose not to take any action against us. There’s no harm in it.”

Lenore disagreed, but didn’t want to ruin the mood by saying so.

“Now. I suppose the next question is, what should we do now? I would say we could go back inside and get a separate table on the opposite side of the restaurant, but that'd draw attention, and anyway I do believe we both finished eating.”

“Then we continue the night elsewhere,” Lenore said firmly. She walked towards the driver's side door, unlocked the shotgun seat for Annabel, and waited for her to jump in. After a second to put the seat belt on and get settled, Lenore slipped the key into the ignition and started the car.

Annabel smiled. “This is exciting. Almost like being a teenager again,” she joked, as though she weren't merely twenty, just like Lenore was.

“I guess so. I hope it's as fun as that, but something tells me there's going to be problems. For example, Ada and Monty are going to complain that we abandoned them,” said Lenore. She put the van into reverse and began to pull out of the parking lot.

Annabel’s voice was light, almost carefree. “Then let them. They can get an Uber back to camp, they’re hardly stuck.”

“Assuming they have the money for it.” Lenore frowned. Technically if they were well and truly without options, they could call back to camp and Ms. Poppet or Ms. Dolly would likely be sent to retrieve them. Ada and Monty would probably complain about getting left behind, and Lenore might get a firm talking to on Sunday, but it’d be worth it to have the night alone with Annabel.

Annabel didn’t say anything else about the people they had left at the restaurant. She just smiled and leaned over to Lenore as the van continued down the dark, empty road. “So, where to now?”

Lenore thought, but not for long. A suitable answer popped into her head after only a second or two, and she smiled at the thought of it. “A surprise. If you’ll let me.”

“Of course, pet. Nowhere we have to hike, though? I didn’t wear the right shoes for it.”

“Trust me. Of every place we could go right now, this one has the least amount of hiking. Though, for the future, we are in the woods in the middle of the mountains… you should probably assume there’s hiking, even if we leave camp.”

“Duly noted. For now, I’ll hope for the best—and of course, trust your judgment.”

Lenore grinned. “I think you’ll find it’s worth it,” she said. I hope you do, she added silently as she drove down the quiet and shadowy road to one of her favorite places outside of camp.

They pulled up to their destination around ten-thirty PM. Lenore wished she could honestly say she had planned this all along, because there wasn’t much of a way for it to be more perfect.

At this time of night, most people staying at Dreamland Resort had gone back to their rooms or to one of the resort’s bars. It left the shores of the massive Lake Auber open and quiet. The water glistened, reflecting both the light of the stars and of all the fairy lights that hung from the many poles and gazebos surrounding it. Out in the center of the lake were a couple lone boats, too distant for Lenore to identify their kind. Faint, calm music came from speakers that were hidden along the path in bushes and flower beds.

 It was different from camp, all man made and artificial, but still beautiful. Peaceful, without the tourists. As dreamlike as the resort name implied. 

Lenore jumped from the parked van, shut the door, and ran over to open Annabel’s door as well. As Annabel’s eyes grew wide in surprise, Lenore held a hand out, smirking. “Shall we promenade?” she asked, the soft purr of her own voice cut with just a hint of silliness. It was impossible not to, with the reference to a walk that somehow had taken place less than two weeks ago.

“You told me no hiking,” Annabel accused—but there was a lightness to her tone that signified it was a joke.

“I hardly think this counts, Miss Whitlock.”

With a playful roll of her eyes, Annabel slipped her hand into Lenore’s. “That’s fair, I suppose. Then yes. Let us promenade,” she said, an echo of a time not too long before.

For a while, they strolled along the lakeside walkways in silence. The path twisted and turned, made specifically for a pleasing pleasure stroll. At one point, it even took them onto the lake itself via a floating boardwalk that shook slightly as they crossed it. Eventually, soon after they were back on the land proper, they struck up a conversation.

They talked about everything and anything, keeping it primarily lighthearted at first. Favorite colors, favorite foods. What books they were currently reading—perhaps predictably, Annabel was halfway through a classic novel, while Lenore got to talk about the manga she'd recently gotten into. What they wished to be as adults, back when they were little. What they would do if they suddenly became a billionaire, or what they'd wish for if they met a genie. 

The questions gradually became more and more serious, until finally they kept having to stop mid-walk just to think of the answers. Eventually, they found a quiet, dimly lit place under a tree and just stayed there, standing under it as they continued their conversations. 

Sensing an opportunity as one topic passed. Lenore squeezed Annabel's hand. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You've been doing that for quite some time now, pet,” Annabel said with a wry smile.

“Oh. Yeah.” Lenore blushed, then sobered as she asked the thing that had been bugging her for the last few weeks. “Why were you in the freezer, that time I found you there? You weren’t waiting for me, were you? I’ve been trying to puzzle that out—Ada would have known that I was going, but—”

“Ada was simply playing a mean prank. I was there independently,” Annabel said. She closed her eyes briefly, seemingly lost in thought. Then her eyes snapped open once again and she turned to Lenore with a resolute look on her face. “I was having a stressful time. One of the other lifeguards had mentioned that the freezer was a good place to scream. I had no idea that the door would lock behind me. If I had, I wouldn’t have gone in. Or at the very least, I would have been more cautious about it.”

“Oh,” said Lenore.

“What’s the matter, pet?”

She struggled for a moment with how to express her feelings about the situation. Whatever they were, they burned inside of her and made her heart and stomach both twist. “I guess I did sort of think you were just there expecting me to show up. I knew it was bad, but I didn’t realize just how dire it could have been. Not really.”

“It just goes to show that fate is kind to us,” Annabel said with a smile. “When you consider it now, from a distance, it feels rather like a romance, doesn’t it? The sort of thing that happens to those typical lead characters who find each other in any time period, in any universe.”

“In giant industrial freezers too, apparently.”

“I suppose so. I get the feeling that whatever universe we could have found ourselves in, you’d always be the one to save my life.”

Lenore was aware that it was an intense thing to say, all things considered. They’d known each other for only about six weeks, and been dating for exactly one. Even so, it worked. Perhaps it was the magic that seemed to hover in the air around Lake Auber and Dreamland Resort, but such fairy tale ideals suddenly felt completely plausible. 

“I’d do what I could,” she demurred playfully, then—struck by the urge to be the very handsome rogue in the stories that Annabel cited—she brought Annabel’s hand upwards, brushing her lips against it with a smile.

Annabel giggled, letting her hand be kissed. “A charmer, then,” she murmured. “How appropriate.”

“Is it?”

“The rule-breaking anti-hero nearly always is, right?”

“I suppose so. Though I'd like it on record that I can be even more charming when I want to.”

“Oh?” Annabel raised an eyebrow. A challenge, and one that Lenore was more than happy to accept.

She brushed a strand of Annabel’s hair away from her face. Annabel’s eyes were wide, but clearly happy. Underneath the elegant tree and a million twinkling lights, Lenore couldn’t help but feel a sense of rising joy in her heart. Almost acting without thinking, she leaned in, cupped Annabel’s chin gently, and kissed her soft, full lips. 

It was chaste, especially given that there was no one around and especially no campers. Even so, it was perfect for the moment, and Lenore smiled even before she pulled away. Her soul and body alike ached to kiss Annabel again, but they ached in such a way that made her think perhaps it was best to wait until they were back at the tent, well and truly alone in the woods.

Perhaps Annabel didn’t agree, because after a quick smile, she went right back in. This time, she was the one who had her hands on Lenore’s face, framing her cheeks and twining through Lenore’s hair. She led the kiss, and she led it deeper than Lenore had, but not so deep enough that Lenore worried perhaps some straggler in the resort would see it and embarrass them. This kiss lasted a few seconds longer, ending with Annabel trailing her hands down Lenore’s neck and shoulders. 

“Let’s take these moments as we can get them, hmm, pet?” she teased.

Finding her breath took slightly more effort than usual, Lenore smiled. Quirking an eyebrow up, she bowed. “Anything for you, my lady,” she murmured playfully. 

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

“I think you’ll find my request quite reasonable,” Annabel assured. “Let’s stay here for a few minutes longer. I quite like having the privacy.”

Lenore caught the hint of a grin on Annabel’s lips and matched it. “That I can agree to,” she said. “We can stay here for another hour even, if you want. Or more.”

And so they did.

Chapter Text

The next two weeks passed quickly and fairly uneventfully—or at least, as uneventful as camp could get. There were still plenty of stories that came from the middle of July, starting with Ada's reaction to being left behind at Alessandra's. 

Lenore braced herself for the worst when Ada scurried up to her on Saturday morning as she was raiding the kitchen for breakfast cereal. She wasn't prepared for a confrontation at all. Still in the sweatshorts and hole-ridden tee shirt she'd slept in, plus socks and sandals, she knew she looked ridiculous: an unforgivable crime in the eyes of Ada. 

But Ada seemed barely to notice any of that. She threw her arms around Lenore, squeezing so tight that she popped Lenore's back a little. “I never thought I'd say this, but Lenore, you're the sweetest! What a wonderful surprise!”

“Um. Thanks?” said Lenore, still in shock. Ada was still hanging onto her, and she was grateful that she didn't need her cane at the moment, because if she had she would have surely toppled over. She tried to figure out what Ada was talking about. Was this another part of Annabel's grand plan, a part she'd failed to mention?

Ada stepped back, finally. “I have to admit, I didn't think you had it in you, but you truly did make the night special. Leaving with Annabel saved the evening. The others all left too as soon as they realized you were gone, so Monty and I had the table all to ourselves! It was so romantic. And then to have us take an Uber back—I was worried, but the car was so nice, and the driver even put up some sort of privacy screen a couple minutes into the ride. It was like being in a limousine. I think. Regardless, it was truly the most romantic night of my life, once the drama was over, and it's thanks at least a little to you.”

It was a surprising moment. All that Lenore had actually done for Ada to no credit, and it was the time she abandoned her at a restaurant that Ada ended up thanking her for.  

“Uh, well, glad you enjoyed it!” she said. “Maybe next time you can start the date alone, too.” Perhaps a little mean of her to say, but given how the encounter was going, she was willing to push her luck a bit.

“I think I might just,” Ada beamed, then sobered slightly. “Well, then! I’m off to enjoy my day off. Don’t get a big head just because I thanked you. And you really should change your outfit. You look terrible.”

Lenore narrowed her eyes and was going to say something in response, but with a wave and a skip, Ada was already out the door of the kitchen and probably headed out of the dining room as well. With nothing else to be done about it, Lenore sighed, raked a hand through her hair, and resumed her hunt for the industrial sized boxes of Captain Crunch.

By eleven on that same day, she’d run out of things she wanted to do around camp. Annabel had her day all planned—long swim, followed by a long shower, followed by a touch of light reading in Lenore’s hammock until dinner–—so Lenore was free to track down her friends and lovingly bully them into going to the nearest major town with her. It took about half an hour, but finally they all piled into her van and left camp, intent on shopping and maybe seeing a movie at Dreamland Resort’s quiet little theater. The exertion of finding everyone in the group, combined with the fact that she hadn’t gotten nearly as much sleep as she’d wanted to, was beginning to wear on her, so she pulled over at the first Wawa she saw. 

“I need caffeine,” she explained once she parked, seeing Duke’s curious expression.

She ran into the station store, mixed five different sodas and an energy drink in the largest cup they offered, paid, and walked back out to the car where her friends had elected to wait. As she slid back into the driver’s seat, she could feel Duke’s eyes from next to her. 

“What,” he asked, “is that?”

“I told you. Caffeine.”

“And you’re going to… drink all of it?” He eyed the cup as though it were the incarnation of evil, then began using his hand to try to measure it, first up and down, then the width. He looked like he might have been about to scoop some out with his hand, but she grabbed it away before he could.

“Yeah?” She took a big gulp as if to provide evidence that she was telling the truth.

“ How do you stay so fit?”

“Camp and physical therapy,” she said with another sip. “Next question?”

“My next question is what flavor is bright purple? ”

“Delicious.”

“Delicious is not a flavor, mon amie, ” he said with all the patience and weariness of an adult talking to a toddler.

Lenore suppressed a laugh—it became merely a snort and a close-lipped smile. She took another long drink, then swirled it around like a glass of expensive wine before thrusting it towards Duke. “Here. You tell me and we’ll both know.”

“I refuse.”

“You came to camp because you wanted the American experience. Here’s your chance to prove it.”

Swiftly, like a cat knocking a toy, Berenice reached up from the back seat, grabbed the drink, popped the straw in her mouth, and took a nice, long sip. “Refreshing!” she said as she pulled back. She grinned at Duke as if in challenge, but her next words weren’t directed to him. “Morella, try this!”

Morella blinked in surprise, but took the offered drink. In her hands it looked even bigger. She took a tentative sip, then drew back as her face contorted. “What’s in that?”

“Truly the question of the hour,” Lenore drawled. “But if you figure it out, don’t spoil it for Duke, understood?”

Pluto sighed heavily. “Just try it, Duke. They won’t rest until you do.”

“Fuck no, we won’t.” Berenice’s voice was cheerful. “This shit’s always hilarious.”

With pursed lips and the most reluctant of looks, Duke took the large cup. From this close up, Lenore could see it was about the size of his head, hair included. That wouldn’t be enough to make his delicate sip comical on its own, but combined with the expression of a man going to his death, it certainly did. Lenore repressed laughter as the beverage crawled through the straw and finally hit his lips.

After a second, he handed the drink back to Lenore, his expression somehow horrified, curious, and worried all at once. “Despicable,” he said. “Truly despicable.”

“Did you figure out what the flavor was?” Eulalie asked, leaning over Berenice to ask.

“No,” he said mournfully. “Here, Lenore, give it back. Perhaps I’ll be able to with a second sip.”

Amused, Lenore handed it over. Duke took another sip, longer than the first and with a lot less reluctance. This time, when he pulled the straw from his mouth, he looked a little less disgusted and more disappointed. “I was expecting blackcurrant or grape, but that really does have more of a citrus flavor. Combined, of course, with blackberry and I'd also say something else. Anise, maybe? And… cloves, I think.”

Lenore looked at Berenice, who looked as surprised as Lenore felt. Berenice shrugged, her eyes wide with surprise. Morella and Eulalie looked particularly impressed, and even Pluto snorted as he spoke. “I don’t think anyone actually expected you to be able to tell what was in there.”

Duke shrugged and took another sip before answering. “It's easy enough to do. It's not magic— though even if it was, I could do it,” he added with an impish grin.

“Riiiiiiiight,” drawled Lenore. She held her hands out. “Well, if you’re done with your ‘magic tricks,’ can I get my drink back now?”

“In a moment, mon amie ,” said Duke. 

He took a last, long sip, then handed it back to her. Lenore raised her eyebrow to find that the amount of drink in the clear plastic cup had been significantly diminished from its time in Duke’s hands. 

“I thought you didn’t like it,” she said, her voice half teasing.

“I don’t,” he sniffed, taking a napkin from her glove box and wiping the corners of his mouth.

“Mmmhmm. That’s not what my eyes are seeing, but whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

Duke blushed as the people in the back started laughing. Berenice leaned forward again and punched him gently. “We know your weakness now, don’t we?”

“I don’t like it!” protested Duke. “I simply want to know what’s in it and in what proportions. So I can avoid it. For the sake of my very discerning taste buds.”

“Sure,” said Lenore with a grin she could only describe as wicked. And as she recounted the way she made her drink, she didn’t miss that Duke had gotten out his phone and was writing it down in the notes app. 

Lenore and her friends spent their day off in a pretty standard manner: shopping for things they needed, eating food that wasn’t the carb and protein heavy stuff made in the camp’s giant industrial kitchen, and finding ways to entertain themselves. When it began to drizzle in the early afternoon, Lenore drove them to Dreamland Resort’s giant indoor entertainment area and they decided to catch the newest horror film in its small private movie theater. 

That turned out to be a good decision; the teenager selling tickets knew immediately they were camp staff, and ushered the group in without asking them to pay. Lenore slipped him a ten on the way out as thanks, and everyone left happy.

Later that night, the staffing list went up for the new programs. Lenore had hoped and prayed to be placed with Annabel again, even though she knew that it was almost impossible. As part of the way the camp discouraged relationships, great pains were always taken to make sure people who were rumored to be together were separated. Sure enough, when the list went up, Lenore saw that she was unmoved, placed in the same unit and tent she already was in, but this time with Eulalie. Annabel was across the camp in the yurts with a counselor neither of them could place from name alone.

Annabel took it best, smiling even as she packed her things. “Cheer up, pet, we knew this was going to happen,” she said. “Besides, they can't stop us from visiting. Eulalie is nearly always in the arts and crafts building, isn't she? We can still have our private time.”

“More stolen moments,” Lenore said, her voice barely more than a grumble. “I just wish we could have more than that. Just once.”

“And we will. I promise. For now, let's simply play the game, hmm?”

It didn’t feel like a game to Lenore, but by now she had learned that everything was a game to Annabel Lee Whitlock. She nodded, deeming it better to agree than to keep complaining. Then, suppressing a sigh, she started helping Annabel fold shirts.

The allcamp game in the third camp session was Ravenshead Royalty, a holdover from several decades ago that everyone blatantly refused to let die. The parody pageant pitted one counselor from each unit against another in a competition of beauty, talent, and interview questions, with the overall winner being declared the Lake Ravenshead Prince or Princess. The catch was that the winner was always picked based on who could be the goofiest or make the biggest fool of themself for the entertainment of the rest of the camp, who watched as part of the audience or judging panel.

Lenore's middle school wisps had initially wanted to make Eulalie the representative for their unit, until the woman in question had calmly pointed out she would be more help making costumes and props than actually representing their group. After that, with no other option, all fingers pointed towards Lenore and she found herself the center of a beauty makeover whirlwind. 

At the very least, it was a silly one. Contestants were nearly always themed; in her days at camp, Lenore had helped dress various counselors, turning one into a mermaid, another into a pirate, yet another into an elderly wizard. The strangest theme had been weather—for the talent portion of that year, they’d hot glued gray tissue paper, streamers, and tinsel to a tee shirt and the counselor had spun like a tornado.

This year, the theme was decided the minute Eulalie mentioned Lenore had been on the Hunter team during the Ghost Hunt. 

“She always does a great job, even when she’d rather be doing something else,” she had said helpfully to the gathered group of tweens and teens. “So I know we can count on her to do her best in the Ravenshead Royalty pageant.”

“So she wanted to be a Ghost but didn’t get to… let’s make her a ghost now!” said one of the older wisps, who had taken on a ringleader role of sorts among the others. It was quickly agreed that this was to be the way of it.

Lenore sideeyed Eulalie. “Are you sure you had no ulterior motives there?” she joked.

“Huh?”

“Eula, aren’t you a big fan of supernatural things?”

“Oh!” said Eulalie, brightening. “Yes! But I honestly wasn’t even thinking of that. I do think you’ll look really amazing as a ghost, though. I can’t wait to help the campers make your outfits!”

If Eula wanted to do something elaborate as she’d done for the Ghost Hunt, she was disappointed. The campers spun the theme into horror fantasy in general; Lenore found she was only dressed as a ghost for the “beauty” portion of the competition, where her “ghostly gown” was merely an old bed sheet with holes cut in it for the eyes. She liked the other outfits more; for the talent portion, she wore a witch hat and planned to make blood-red glitter slime, and for the interview she was rather amusingly dressed as a vampire.

On the day of the competition her campers hyped her up in every way middle school wisps knew how—bringing her extra coffee, creating a frankly quite embarrassing cheer for her, and even throwing rice that Eulalie had acquired from Edgar Lodge, like she was at a wedding. Lenore figured she needed all of the help she could get. The other contestants were dressed just as equally silly as she herself was, with campers that wanted them to win just as much as hers were rooting for her. For better or worse, Lenore recognized a lot of her competitors. 

Morella was the first to go up onto the makeshift stage they’d erected in the pavilion. Representing the waterfront staff, she wasn’t eligible to win because the campers hadn’t been involved with her costuming or performance. As always, the lifeguards had gone with an aquatic theme. Lenore wondered if Annabel had helped to make the clownfish-inspired sack dress that Morella was wearing.

Behind her was the representative from the adventure staff, then the kitchen’s contestant, and the person who represented the smaller program areas, like cooking, environmental education, arts and crafts, and sports. Then the admin’s representative—Nurse Dolly, who looked like she was biting back a scowl as she paraded across the stage dressed in a bunny onesie. Lenore had to choke back laughter, and she wasn’t alone. It seemed the only thing stopping the entire pavilion from breaking out into applause was the threat of what would happen if they did.

After that, the tent unit representatives started. Most of them were other counselors that Lenore only knew in passing. The one exception was Will, whose theme seemed to be “other staff members,” as he was very clearly dressed like Ms. Poppet. The real Ms. Poppet, sitting at the judging table, was blinking and blushing, seemingly embarrassed. 

Finally it was Lenore's turn. She was the last to parade onto the stage, and was surprised at the amount of applause she got.  She grinned—the campers couldn't see the smile from under her bedsheet, but who cared?—and tried to float across the stage, making ghostly sounds as she was introduced by Berenice, who was acting as the event's Master of Ceremonies.

There was a brief pause between sections so that the contestants could go “backstage” and change into their talent outfits. The backstage area was actually just a large room attached to the pavilion, with curtains to separate the changing areas for women and men, and a big open common area in the middle. A member of the adventure staff stood to guard the door and make sure that no one came in while they were changing, and also to make sure none of the contestants went on the stage too early.

Lenore was wearing her witch outfit under her ghost sheet, so she had less to do than the others. She managed to convince one of the door guards to let her peek through a crack in the door, and she could see the backs of a group of late elementary school campers. They performed a dance to a bubbly and forgettable pop song, something that seemed long rehearsed and which they’d probably been asked to memorize at the beginning of the week in order to make sure that the audience didn’t get bored. The dance wasn’t very good, likely a result of the fact that Ada seemed to be their counselor… or at least, Lenore assumed that was why she was also up on stage and doing the dance alongside them.

Soon enough, the next stage of competition began. Though they called it the “talent” portion, the only real requirement was to showcase the contestants doing something, usually a very silly thing. As planned, Lenore mixed up slime in a plastic halloween cauldron while dressed like a witch. She stretched it from one side of the stage to the other without it breaking, causing the campers to ooh and ahhh. Impressive, truly, but being impressive wasn’t always the point—sometimes, the funniest and strangest acts were the ones that got the most applause. It was probably for the best that Dolly couldn’t win the competition, for example, as her deadpan rendition of the bunny hop was an absolute hit.

Another brief intermission later, and the interview portion of the event began. The contestants were called up for their questions randomly, with poor Will going first. As he half-stumbled to the center of the stage and Berenice handed him the microphone, Prospero stood from his spot at the judging table and cleared his throat before reading off his question: “If you were in charge of the camp, what would be the first thing you would change?”

The cardinal rule for interview questions in Ravenshead Royalty was not to take them seriously. Funny answers, or at least offbeat ones, were ideal. Under the pressure, however, it was easy enough to forget this and go for an actual answer, and that was precisely what Will did. 

Standing there in an outfit that clearly consisted of clothes borrowed from Montresor, with the world’s worst auburn wig on his head and a toothpick clutched in the corner of his mouth, Will tensed. “I—uh, I guess I’d improve the gluten free selection in the dining hall. I mean, that peach dump cake at dinner last night smelled really good and I couldn’t have any, which was kind of crummy.  Not just literally crummy, either! I just mean that I’d really like to have a different dessert besides the same kind of cookie every day, you know?”

Everyone clapped politely because you couldn’t exactly boo a person mourning their inability to eat the very delicious dump cake, but Lenore shook her head privately. That had been as good as a crash course in what not to do.

One by one, people were called for questions. Lenore was about halfway through, right after a counselor named Kendrick whose theme had apparently been musical theater, as the interview had him dressed like the Phantom of the Opera. As he exited the stage, swishing his cape dramatically, she went on after him and suddenly worried that maybe people would think she was the same character. After all, she also had a suit and a cape… though, crucially, she had no mask and instead had donned the same sort of cheap vampire fangs that Berenice had worn for the Ghost Hunt.

As she got to the center of the stage, Miss Poppet stood up from the judging table and smiled. “Lenore, your question for the interview segment is… where is your favorite place to be here at Camp Nevermore?”

Immediately, Lenore realized how hard it could be to bite back the real answers. She could talk about being in the middle of the lake in a rowboat with the sun beating down on her, or at the top of the high ropes course about to go down the zipline, feeling like she had wings. Every dining hall meal, where she could talk with her friends as she ate. The many secret spots in the woods that she and Theo used to use as their private playhouses. Hell, even the Townhouse, which was as much and more her childhood home as the other houses that Thaddeus Vandernacht owned.

But she stopped herself and kept it light. “After a long day? My cot, obviously,” she said with a cheeky smirk. It was hard to speak through the vampire fangs, but she must have been somewhat intelligible as the crowd laughed at her joke.

After a quick, dramatic bow and flourish, she strolled backstage and waited with the others. She tried to listen to what the other contestants were asked and what their answers were, but it wasn’t easy from behind the thick door. With so many people coming in and out quickly, Lenore couldn’t even manage to get close enough to hear a peep or catch a glimpse.

It didn’t matter, not that much. Soon enough, the doors were opened. It was time for the contestants to come onto the stage. They went single file once again, standing there for all to see and facing the judges, counselors, and campers. Berenice smiled wide as she requested a round of applause for all of the potential Ravenshead Royalty candidates, acknowledging their willingness to be made into fools for the sake of entertainment. 

The applause was enthusiastic but short lived as Berenice cut them all off to continue her speech. 

“As tonight’s emcee, it’s my pleasure to tell you who our winners are. As always, we have our two runners up and then our Ravenshead Royalty, who will be known to be the most ridiculous person to grace camp during this year’s season, and whose status will bring honor and glory to all their campers. Now remember, with fifteen contestants, only three can actually make the grade. With that, it’s time to announce our winners. Drumroll, please.”

The camp complied. Lenore resisted the urge to drum on her own thighs and instead tried to look dramatically and goofily gorgeous.

“Our second runner up… Dolly!”

That was unexpected. Normally the admin team didn’t even place, but maybe this third place win was the compromise. Still in the bunny outfit, she sighed and stepped forward, looking about as dour as it was possible for someone to look. Lenore could almost feel the barely held back giggles as Berenice held the certificate she won for all to see. Someone must have made it quickly, because in big permanent marker it declared Dolly the “ultimate funny bunny.”

As Dolly received the certificate, she opened her mouth to say something, which Lenore thought probably wasn’t going to be a gracious acceptance. She was interrupted by a flying object that whizzed above the heads of much of the audience before falling just short of Berenice on the stage. After a second of surprise, Lenore was able to identify the object: a carrot.

Dolly’s eyes narrowed, but Berenice managed to quickly sling an arm around her, whispering something that made Dolly take a deep breath. She still looked fit to commit murder, in Lenore’s opinion, but even Berenice’s quiet, choked chuckles didn’t cause her to say or do anything she might regret.

Berenice, for her part, was still chortling when the grumpy Dolly finally stepped into place and the audience quieted. Wiping her eyes, she sobered enough to pick something new up off of the side table where the prizes were kept. She turned back to the audience and began to speak again once she held it in hand. 

“Our first runner up… Lenore!”

Lenore blinked in surprise, then grinned. She stepped forward as Berenice came to meet her with a handmade sash draping it on Lenore’s shoulders, and handing her a bouquet of tissue paper flowers with pipe cleaner stems. As Berenice walked back, Lenore waved to the audience, which was loud and enthusiastic. As she looked out on the campers and the non-participating staff, she was surprised to see so many familiar faces cheering for her. Not just Duke, Pluto, and Eulalie in the back, standing up and screaming for her… not just Annabel, clapping with a huge smile on her face… but plenty of others, some who she only recognized in passing.

For a moment, she felt like the first place winner, and she basked in it. Then, Berenice progressed the ceremony, and Lenore stepped back into her place. Rude as it perhaps was, Lenore barely listened, even as she heard Berenice announce the real winner.

“And finally… our winner, our Ravenshead Royalty… Will!”

That got her right out of her own head. It was almost a surprise, but not an unpleasant one, given his hilarious imitations of the other counselors. Blushing, Will stepped forward to get his tiara and sparkly pink wand. As he bowed to the crowd, his “Monty” wig fell off along with the plastic tiara, and the crowd burst into laughter. He grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Lenore laughed, but then she caught Annabel’s eye once more. Annabel was still looking at her, ignoring Will entirely, and Lenore grinned back. She even managed to miss it when Berenice began to usher the winners off of the stage, not noticing the others were gone until her friend slung an arm around her shoulders and marched Lenore off herself.

Lenore shrugged, but couldn’t bring herself to care much. After all, who could blame her for being distracted by her girlfriend?

On Saturday, Annabel got a care package all the way from her home. Her father had packaged up a big box full of handwritten notes, things Annabel had forgotten and wanted, and tons of British treats and candies. Lenore had been pleased to find that both of them had the same break, a relative rarity. They met in the staff house, which was nearly always empty at one in the afternoon, and dug into the box, exploring its treasures.

“This must have cost him a small fortune to send,” Annabel noted as she measured the sides with her hands. “I hope he doesn’t miss me too much…”

“I’m sure he’s fine without you. This is what you’re supposed to do, right? Grow up and go off on your own?”

“I suppose.” Annabel pursed her lips, but began rifling through the care package with a little more enthusiasm. “There’s so much chocolate here! Lenore, you must have some.”

“This is for you. I can get candy next time we go to the store.”

“And I’m sure it will be sufficient, but it will also cost you money. Besides, I believe you'll find my supply of a higher quality, and I don't mind sharing. Please, take whatever you'd like.”

After a moment of hesitation, Lenore began digging through the box along with Annabel. After a few seconds, she picked out a long, thin chocolate bar with a yellow and purple wrapper on it. Attached was an envelope, small and thin, addressed almost as it would be if it was being sent separately instead of in a huge box. In the center, the addressee was Annabel Lee Whitlock, the address simply “Camp Nevermore, USA.” The return address was more precise and clearly not American. Lenore didn't concentrate on it too long—there was no reason for her to—but the name above it caught her eye as she unwrapped the chocolate.

“Who’s Edgar?” she asked. As she waited for an answer, she bit into the bar of what seemed to be very, very flaky chocolate. Annabel was right; it was good for standard chocolate, higher quality than what she commonly ate but not quite as nice as the fancy squares her mother had always loved. More than serviceable, and enough to accept some more of Annabel’s bounty, as long as she really was offering it.

“Edgar wrote something?” Annabel asked, looking up from another note. Lenore handed her the envelope, and she opened it. After a few seconds, she smiled very slightly, almost reluctant. “That was sweet of him,” she said, then set the note down.

“You don't seem very sure.”

Hesitating a moment, Annabel traced a finger over the envelope. “He's… an old family friend. My childhood best friend, in fact.” Ruefully, she smiled. “That sort of thing was much easier when we were younger and sillier. When we were nine, we even did that stereotypical thing, and said that since he was a boy and I was a girl and we loved each other so, we'd marry when we were older. My father and his parents always thought that was the cutest little vow…”

“They don't hold you to it, do they?” Lenore asked, putting down her chocolate bar. “I mean, you were a kid.”

Annabel frowned, closing her eyes. After a second, she shook her head, just briefly. “Not actually. Though I get the impression that none but me ever quite stopped hoping. Regardless of all of that, Edgar remains a good friend. Not more than that, though. Never more than that.”

Lenore was more than content to let that rest. There were no pangs of jealousy for someone that she almost pitied, though she hadn’t met him. Instead, she continued digging through the package, finding an expensive-looking pale blue sweatshirt at the bottom. She handed it to Annabel, who seemed pleased. 

“My favorite,” she explained. “I left it at home because I naively assumed an American summer camp would be warm. ”

“Well, it is now that it’s July.”

“True, but I told my father that I wished I had this back in June. Oh well!” Annabel said with a bit of a laugh. “It’ll be good for the days I’m in air conditioning.”

There were a few more treasures to be found, including a long letter from someone called “Nessa,” who Annabel explained to be her flatmate and friend , and a long letter from a “Percy” (Annabel rolled her eyes at the mention of his name). There were countless more sweets, some extra spending money, a package that made Annabel exclaim “proper tea!” and even some small trinkets and toys.

Best of all, as far as Lenore could tell, was a travel version of Scrabble. The game had a note attached: “So you don’t get rusty! – your loving Father,” further signed with a smiley face.

Over a half hour had passed before they finished looking through the box. Annabel placed all of the treats that hadn’t been eaten in a lockbox that she placed on a shelf in the staff house kitchen; the rest she put back into her backpack to take to her tent. 

“Thank you for your help, pet,” she said with a grateful smile at Lenore. “I’m glad I had someone to help me sort everything out.”

“Hey, anytime you get a care package I’m happy to help,” Lenore said, half joking. “It’s not like I get them myself, after all.”

Annabel looked like she was about to ask for more details, but hesitated at the last second and simply put a hand on Lenore’s shoulder. Lenore was glad. She didn’t want to go into it, didn’t need to go into it. She was strong and didn’t need pity, and while it was nice to get mail at camp, she could do the same thing as plenty of people did and order something online. It was basically the same thing, right?

Maybe not, but helping Annabel open her own package had scratched the same itch even so. Lenore managed to smile, and kept smiling as Annabel pulled her into a gentle kiss that was just as sweet as British chocolate.

The next time the two of them got to hang out was Tuesday night, when both had the evening free and neither had the pressures of laundry or a shower due. Over dinner, they’d made plans to meet up, excited to grasp the few hours of freedom that they could. 

Lenore was the first to make it to Hammockville, a small and relatively private part of the Camp Nevermore woods where counselors set up their hammocks for the summer, leaving them there for the whole twelve weeks until they basically became part of the scenery. It seemed like every day the little “village” grew larger; though she and other camp veterans had brought and installed their hammocks on day one, newer counselors were still getting their own, usually after being allowed to take a friend’s for a spin. It was almost a necessity, after all. Hammockville naps were about twelve times better than the sleep you could get on one of the cots, and if your hammock was a decent one you could wrap it around you like a cocoon and use your phone without campers seeing.

Lenore had sprung to use some of the allowance her family reluctantly gave her on a two-person hammock. Those were the Rolls-Royces of Hammockville, and she had to admit that getting one had been partially for the status—but only partially. There was a reason they were so coveted, said reason being because there was more room and they also somehow tended to be more comfortable. And of course, now that Lenore was dating Annabel, there was a whole other use for them.

With ease, Lenore did the acrobatics necessary to heft herself into her hammock. Even with her hip and leg aching as it did that day, it wasn’t anything too difficult; a lot of the trick was mostly in the arms. Within a couple of seconds she was nestled snug in the folds of fabric, suspended by it in such a way that almost made her feel like she was floating. The view didn’t ruin that illusion; when she looked straight up, all she could see was fabric folds, tree tops, and deep blue sky.

And then, blonde curls, long lashes, and a playful expression. “Comfortable, pet?” Annabel teased.

“More than usual, actually,” quipped Lenore right back. “Care to join me? Experience the wonders of a decent place to rest?”

“I’d like nothing more.”

Lenore anchored Annabel as the blonde woman pulled herself into the hammock. She managed to get in as gracefully as she did anything, which was pretty incredible in and of itself. Lenore had crashed herself and others into the ground many times trying to get into a two person hammock. But like it was nothing, they were next to each other. Annabel laced her fingers between Lenore’s and snuggled into her.

They wouldn’t last long like this, Lenore knew. Even with the sun setting, July was too hot for extended cuddling. But that only made the moments between them more valuable. 

With the sheer power of sapphic stubbornness, the two stayed together until the sky turned an even deeper blue and the stars began to appear in the gaps between the tree branches. As the night wore on and other responsibilities threatened, Lenore sighed deeply. She gently kissed Annabel’s forehead. 

“I liked this,” she said as she pulled back. “I wish we had more time for moments like these. I love camp, but it’s always so busy!”

“And soon it will be over,” Annabel reminded her.

There was a sharp pang in Lenore’s heart at the thought. Soon, it would be back to days cooped up in her bedroom, to long nights spent staring at the ceiling and wondering what she was good for. And for Annabel… well, Annabel would return to the UK and continue her education, a bright period of her life dotted with Scrabble tournaments, cruise ships, and French boutiques. Would Annabel even want her, once camp was over? Could a long distance relationship with so many differences even last?

Though she had just pulled back, suddenly she wanted to clutch Annabel closer. She resisted the urge.

Annabel reached out and stroked Lenore’s face, a smile playing on her own. “I’ll have to come visit,” she said. “And perhaps you can visit me as well. I assume you have a passport?”

Was it still valid? She’d have to check. Even so, Lenore nodded. “Yeah. Maybe… that’d be nice, if it’s possible.”

There was a flicker of concern on Annabel’s face. “You should do more,” she said. “Even if you can’t apply for a university, there has to be something you could do to get out of your house.”

“Like a community college?”

“Perhaps? I’m admittedly not as familiar with the education system here as I’d like to be.”

Lenore thought. Community college… wasn’t a bad idea. There was still time to sign up, and it’d be affordable enough that the allowance her father provided her with and which she’d had nothing to do with but save for five years would definitely cover it. She wouldn’t feel pressed to choose a major, and she’d have access to people who could help her determine her next steps. 

She bit her lip, thinking harder. Part of the appeal was that maybe if she went to college, she would feel like she deserved someone like Annabel… and maybe it’d give them something in common, something that could hold them together for nine months until next summer. But as much as that was part of it, Lenore couldn’t deny that it also felt like there was more. Maybe she could be happier with herself if she was going to school. And if not… well, at least she would know. 

Sitting straight up, a difficult task in the hammock, she looked down at Annabel. Annabel was staring up at her in confused curiosity. “Lenore?”

“I think I have to try,” said Lenore. “I want to go to the staff office. Or Signal Hill. I want to see about college.” She paused, then tacked on an awkward, “Sorry to cut this short. You can stay in the hammock if you want. I don’t mind if you use it.”

But as she swung her legs down and began to hop to the ground, she felt the weight of the hammock shift with her as Annabel did the same thing. “I’ll help, then,” she said. 

“You don’t have to. It’ll probably be boring.”

“As I said, I’d like to be more familiar with the education system here,” Annabel said with a smile. “And anyway, I don’t think any hammock would be as nice as time spent with you. Even if that time is spent on a muddy hill. Or in an office chair.”

It wasn’t just the July air warming Lenore now. She smiled as she linked Annabel’s arm on her own. “Well, if you’re sure, I won’t begrudge the company. Let’s see about this whole school thing.”

Remarkably, school wasn’t the biggest stressor, even after finding a whole list of tasks she needed to complete before enrolling. For a mercy, the list wasn’t too time sensitive. A lot of the things were doable once camp was over, even if it would mean she’d have to rush a bit. She resolved not to procrastinate too much… but at the same time, she didn’t think anyone could blame her if she decided to start her educational journey during a week that wasn’t exactly halfway through the summer season.

Lenore wished that she didn’t feel so nervous about the quickly approaching midsummer reviews. Theoretically, they should be no big deal—the one that actually mattered was the end of summer review, not the halfway point check in. Almost no one had ever gotten fired or even really reprimanded for their performance in July. Its only purpose was to project the direction that the big review would take if you didn't dramatically change your ways.

But of course, that in itself was big. Important. The end of summer review decided if you would be invited to return as staff in the following summer or if you would be blacklisted from the hiring list, usually with no in between. And it was a well known fact that without a dramatic and often difficult change—one big enough for the admin team to notice—the end of summer review rarely differed from its midsummer counterpart, to the point that much of the staff was convinced that they simply copied them over and changed the date. Even so, if Lenore was on her way to being blacklisted, this could very well be the only warning she would get. 

For the week before the review, she could see Ms. Poppet, her direct supervisor, watching her more closely than usual. Rather than spending time in the Townhouse or staff office as they almost always did, all of the admin team seemed to have their eyes on the counselors, sitting on benches around camps or even at the same dining tables with them, listening, interacting, and watching. Occasionally, they might even write something on a packet of paper-- the official review sheets.

As program area directors, Eulalie and Berenice also were swept up in this obsessive note taking and observing that had hit the management staff. Though they were not in charge of Lenore and wouldn't be reviewing her, she found herself sitting a little straighter when they were around, watching her language just a bit more. This lasted until Berenice clapped her on the back. 

“Even if I was your supervisor, I wouldn't give you a bad score for being yourself and being fun, doll,” she said. “Hell, that's what camp’s about. And you're being the antithesis of it right now. Loosen up.”

Finally, on Friday, she was called away from her campers and over to the amphitheater. Ms. Poppet had been conducting her reviews on a bench there, as it was usually rather private. Sure enough, when Lenore approached, she hadn’t seen anyone else on the trail leading to it for a few minutes. Poppet looked up at her, smiled, then gestured to the empty bench seat next to her. 

“On time for once, Lenore?” she said in a voice that was almost chiding. “Well, a pleasant surprise never hurt anyone! Please, come sit so we can begin!”

Being immediately called out for her normal lateness wasn’t a promising start, but it wasn’t as though she had a choice. Lenore held her head high as she walked into the amphitheater and sat next to Miss Poppet. 

“Good thing it’s a nice day, huh?” she said as she sat. “I can’t imagine this would be a good place to hold reviews in the rain.”

“Well, if it rained, I’d probably call people into the staff office, but why waste any second of good weather?” Poppet responded. “I suppose we should count ourselves lucky that the rain hasn’t suddenly started as it tends to, though.”

Lenore tapped on her hip. “It’s not as sudden as you might think.”

“Ah, true!” Poppet said with a little laugh. “Well, do let me know if it’s going to come down today, hmm? I’d welcome any warning to pack up and move before all my review papers get soaked!”

“Will do.”

“And speaking of review papers, why don’t I give you your packet now? I’ve found with camp veterans it’s much easier on everyone if I let you peruse at your own pace rather than sit and explain every category to you.”

“Sure,” said Lenore with a shrug that was much more carefree than she actually felt. And just like that, Poppet handed her a small packet of paper, printed forms stapled in one corner. There were numbered categories, a few to a page. Under each one was a small scale that staff members were rated on: needs work, below average, average, above average, and excellent. Already, Lenore could see some of her results, circled on the first page.

She started reading, taking it in. She examined each of the categories, some normal for summer jobs and some very much specific to camp. Communication, average. Hygiene, above average. Punctuality, needs work. Outdoor cooking mastery was another average, but then leadership and attitude both got a coveted “excellent” rating. More and more categories as the pages went on, and most of them rated average or above average. 

She got to the final category more quickly than she would have thought: conflict management, average. As she returned the package to the first page, Lenore looked at Ms. Poppet in surprise. “You didn't judge me that badly.”

“Is there a reason you thought I would?” the assistant director asked.

Yes. I thought you and the directors hated me. But she couldn't say that, so instead she said, “I just thought that you'd be a little more… critical, I guess. You always seem to say something to me about how I'm performing, even when you don't say something to others. This is frankly a surprise.”

Ms. Poppet frowned. Her eyes flicked upwards as she thought. “Well, I do wish you were more timely, but otherwise I can’t honestly say you’re a bad employee, Lenore. You must understand that I simply desire you to be even better.”

“You do?”

“You’re the remainder of the legacy of Camp Ravenshead. While it won’t ever be the same, I do think it’s important that we respect that legacy.” Poppet’s frown dissolved, turning into a small smile. “Besides! Not a person here could say that you don’t love the camp. I think that’s the most important part of being a staff member.”

“Not… the kids?” Lenore said.

“Well, of course the kids too. And they love you, something that was very obvious throughout my observations. So! With that in mind, I'm pleased to inform you that I'm rating you a satisfactory counselor in general, with your point of improvement being time management and your best qualities being your passion and engagement with the campers.”

That was some of the best news that Lenore had heard all day, but she still worried a bit. She didn't quite feel out of the woods yet. “Are you going to recommend I return next year?” she asked cautiously.

Considering, Poppet tapped her chin. “Well, recommendations aren't submitted until the end of the summer after your end of camp review. Of course, I don't want that to make you feel worried. What I will say is that if you keep up the good work in the back half of this summer—and if you work on being where you’re expected on time rather than several minutes late—I’m certain you’ll be asked to return,” Poppet finished, enthusiastic as ever. “We can’t afford to lose someone like you, so I’d even go so far as to bet on it!”

Lenore felt sure that the relief was clear on her face. “Thanks, Ms. Poppet. That helps.”

“And I'm glad that I could help,” said the assistant director with a friendly firmness. “If you ever do need anything, I want you to feel that you can come to me or any of the members of support staff. For now, however, if there's nothing else, you're free to return back to your campers. Have a wonderful day, Lenore!”

And so July passed. The month was a haze of heat and happiness. Lenore wouldn’t have thought that anything could bring her down if not for the one thing that loomed over her like a specter. 

Try as she might, she couldn’t avoid the past, which haunted her very simply: in the form of a date on her calendar.

Chapter Text

Lenore knew what day it was before she even opened her eyes. 

It should have been sad—no, it was sad—but there was something more about the morning. It felt like being transported back in time. Everything was the same. Waking up in the canvas tent, feeling the broken cot springs inside her thin mattress… the chill of the air, the smell of the woods… the birds chirping. The distant thunder, rolling. Just like every day at camp, but specifically like the very day she both wished to forget and feared she would.

She was sad. Terribly so. But somehow, not devastated. Not yet, anyway. 

She rolled out of bed, threw on the first tee shirt and pair of shorts she could find, then headed to the dining hall. For breakfast, she sat across from a staff member she’d never talked to before—Annabel and Duke both had open seats, but she ignored them. Even if they didn’t know what today was, they’d know immediately something was wrong. She couldn’t deal with the questions, being forced to elaborate. She just had to get through the day. That was it.

She downed two mugs of coffee, cut with all the milk and sugar she could get her hands on. Once breakfast was over, she snuck into the kitchen and took a two liter of Mountain Dew from the staff fridge. She poured all that would fit straight into her Nalgene. The color mixed with the color of the translucent orange bottle, making it look an awful shade of brown. Anyone would be able to tell it wasn’t water, so she threw it into her backpack, which made the contents fizz angrily for a few seconds.

Then, before she went to start the day with her campers, she slid into the dining hall bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. “Just be normal,” she ordered herself. Like it would work. Even from a simple glance, she could see the dark circles under her eyes and the weary pallor of her face.

Hopefully the kids wouldn’t. They probably would. But hopefully they wouldn’t.

She forced herself to smile and marched out of the bathroom, through the dining hall, past the front doors, and onto the front lawn. Her wisps were waiting for her, monitored by Morella—she had apparently seen them alone and opted to keep an eye on them until Lenore got back rather than rush to the waterfront. This was a problem—the look of concern on her face said she knew something was up. Worst of all, Morella had been there, five years ago. If she knew something was up with Lenore, she could figure out what it was with relative ease.

For a second, Lenore wondered if she could get away with running into the woods. That used to be what she did all the time, back when she was a camper. No one ever stopped her, bar once—what were they going to do, tell the owner’s daughter that she couldn’t go where she wanted? She’d sometimes get a talking to whenever she got back to camp, but it was hardly ever more than that. But that truth of the past was the very thing that stopped her in the present. She had responsibilities, and she didn’t have special privileges. Besides, she was an adult now, and she knew better. She knew all of the horrible things that could happen to a person in the deep woods, all the ways they could—

She took a deep, staggered breath. No. She didn’t have to think about it, even if all roads of thought seemed to lead there. With another deep breath, Lenore put on her best game face, walked up to Morella and forced a smile. “Thanks for looking out for these guys while I was delayed, Morella. It’s sweet of you.”

She might not have had to be so forced; Morella seemed distracted. As soon as Lenore was close enough, Morella nodded. Her eyes kept darting towards the lakeshore, where the waterfront staff seemed to already be gathering. If Lenore had strained her eyes, she probably could have picked out Annabel, had she cared to. 

Today, it seemed that Morella cared to do so more than she did, from the way she barely took her eyes off the beach. “It’s no trouble,” the redheaded lifeguard said, seeming a little flustered, “but if you’ve got them now, I’ve got to be going! Sorry to rush off, but we’ve got a meeting first thing and—”

“Yeah. You have to get to it,” Lenore said, not sure whether she was relieved or… maybe disappointed? She waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ve got the kids. Don’t miss your meeting because of me.”

With a grateful smile, Morella tore down the path towards the beach. Lenore took a swig from her water bottle. The way the fizz and bubbles from the Mountain Dew almost burned her throat made her stop and think of her mother, who had all but destroyed herself with alcohol in the weeks and months and probably years after Theo’s passing. Though this wasn’t a mind-altering substance… or wasn’t any more than caffeine usually was… Lenore pursed her lips, screwed the lid back on her Nalgene, and shoved it away.

Turning to the campers in front of her, she tried to summon energy. Any energy. The smallest amount. It was enough to force a smile that she knew would be obviously off—but better than no smile at all, she figured. She clapped her hands together once. 

“Alright,” she said. “We’ve got environmental education first. You guys lead the way to the Science Shack and I’ll take caboose.”

If anyone picked up that it was weird that their counselor wasn’t the one showing the way, they had the sense not to say anything. The group started off, and true to her words, Lenore followed behind them.

Above Camp Nevermore, the clouds grew darker.

The day passed like a dream, though not a good one or even a memorable one. It passed in a daze. Lenore read off the schedule, made sure her campers got where they needed to be, kept enough of an eye on them that nobody died, and tried her best to hide how shitty she felt from anyone who would care.

Lunch was the hardest part of this. Again, she avoided all of her friends, this time by hiding near a large bookshelf and strategically picking the table to sit at and when to sit down. By the time she’d positioned herself in an unpopular spot in the back, everyone who might have joined her already had a seat and no way of backing out. If there had been any doubts about this being an intentional choice she’d made this morning, they must have been thoroughly debunked now. She could feel the eyes of her friends and girlfriend on her for the entire meal, and did her best to ignore them.

Lenore’s daily two hour break was immediately after lunch. She wished she didn’t have to take it. At least being around the wisps kept her busy and on her feet, which distracted her from being too sad.

Perhaps a smarter person would have found another distraction for the two hour period of off time that counselors were given, but Lenore was upset and curious and didn’t feel very smart. She stormed down to the staff office, connected to the wifi, and started doomscrolling through social media. 

By nature of apps spying on users for advertising purposes, it wasn’t uncommon for Lenore to see several ads for Vandernacht Leadership Retreats, Inc. They were as soulless as her father seemed to be sometimes—an image of suited men shaking hands in a cabin, or under a tree, or by a campfire. In the old days, there used to be plenty of television commercials too, all shot in the dining hall of Camp Ravenshead. Whether it was the sale of the camp or the move away from television and into streaming that caused those to end, Lenore didn’t know.

But the still images continued on all of her profiles, one showing up within minutes of her logging on. Angrily, she stared at it for a long moment. Then, almost against herself, she tapped the image on the screen and let herself be taken to the company’s profile.

Whoever the newest VLR social media manager was seemed to be doing a decent job. It looked like they were posting daily; Lenore scrolled down idly and saw several videos, a ‘now hiring’ advertisement, a picture of the ‘graduating class’ of their latest workshop, and a tee shirt giveaway.

Of course, there was nothing about the tragedy. That made sense. Acknowledging someone had died on one of the properties you once touted as the ideal corporate retreat would be bad for business. Even so, the lack of recognition made something churn in Lenore’s gut. Theo deserved better than to be erased from everything like he never existed. He’d been loved, terribly loved, and people had said as much. Why were they so afraid to acknowledge he was gone?

Even a text from her mother or father would have made Lenore feel better. She knew they wouldn’t reach out—they never did, not unless she’d personally disgraced the family or gone to them first, like she was preparing to do for FAFSA information—but even so, she checked. Nothing. Maybe they thought it didn’t matter.

Maybe they blamed her still and couldn’t so much as think about their daughter on a day like this, even if said daughter was the most screwed up over Theo’s death out of everyone in the Vandernacht family.

In a burst of emotion, she threw her phone down. The case, battle-tested and rugged enough to survive any camp activity that Lenore could hope to throw at it, allowed the phone to bounce harmlessly on the uneven hardwood floor of the office. She watched it ricochet and slide to the other side of the room, then stared at it for a second, wondering if it was even worth it to have a phone if she was only ever going to see lies and avoidance on it. After a second of lamentation, she decided that unfortunately, she still had to have one, and started rising from her chair to pick it up.

Before she could, a long, elegant hand plucked it from the floor first, dusting it off almost disdainfully. 

“Do you mind?” Prospero demanded. “Some of us are trying to utilize the office for our work, and we could do without your little tantrum.”

“It’s a public office,” Lenore snapped back. She pulled herself up to her full height and stepped up to be nose to nose with the camp’s financial director. She held her hand out for her phone, but he didn’t return it.

“For those who want to use the internet on their breaks. It’s not a party room. And it is not a rage room, contrary to what you seem to believe.”

“I let my temper get the better of me for five seconds, Prospero. You would too.” If you had gone through the same thing I had, even you couldn’t retain your prissy perfect composure.

“Unlikely,” said Prospero, still holding the phone away from Lenore. 

Lenore moved as quick as her hip would allow to snatch the device away. She walked to her backpack and shoved it into the front pocket so he couldn’t grab it back from her. He likely wouldn’t, but she’d learned not to let Prospero surprise her. 

He still managed to, somehow. After she'd sat back down and leaned her head back to stare at the wooden ceiling, he spoke once more, soft enough that she almost didn't register it. “It might be better if you take this back to your tent. As you said, this is a public office, and you clearly need a private moment.”

“Sorry, are my emotions making you uncomfortable?” she retorted almost without thinking. 

As she did, she snapped her head back to look at him. At first, he seemed calm, almost… understanding? Sympathetic? God, no. At best, she was imagining it and that meant she was going kind of nuts. At worst, it was real, and she probably was already nuts. 

Either way, the expression on his face faded once she spoke, becoming one of utmost frustration. Prospero pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Yes!” he said. “I'm extremely uncomfortable with this, given that you refuse to say what's wrong and instead are throwing things across my office and frankly, being generally unpleasant. If you were to use your words and express your feelings in a more adult fashion, then perhaps—”

Laughing bitterly, Lenore stood once more so she could face Prospero equally. “So now I'm supposed to talk about my feelings with you, then?”

He didn't flinch. “It's up to you, but you could. I am an area director at camp. While I might be more comfortable dealing with the financials, my position as a leader dictates that staff can come to me with issues, be it work related or personal. And while I won't lie and say it's my favorite aspect of the job, I'll happily admit that I prefer being told and helping to find a solution to… whatever this is.”

“And you really don't know why I'm upset? Not an inkling?”

“If it's because I asked you to break up with Annabel, I did that as a friend of hers and not as a member of leadership staff. In addition, she assured me that if I helped to distract your table at your botched dinner date, that you would call it even.”

Had Lenore not been so upset, that might have caught her attention, but instead she simply shook her head incredulously, trying to ignore the emotion rolling and bubbling in her gut, her throat, her very heart. 

“Five years ago today, my brother died, Prospero. I don't care about what you did or didn't do. Not next to that.”

Prospero stiffened for just a second, perhaps caught off guard by Lenore’s bluntness. Good, she thought. Maybe it would teach him something.

But after a second, he softened again. “My condolences,” he said.

That surprised her, but she pressed on. “And as you've demonstrated, no one even cares enough to remember him except for me,” she said. “Every little thing any of you so called leaders brings up about the past is about how awful I was as a child, or how the camp was too wild and it’s so much better now! Everything about the past is wrong, it seems! And you want to tell me you’ll listen? When you’re part of the problem? When you just want to come to this wild place, this place my brother loved and died for, and—I don’t know. Tame it!“

Lenore could feel her eyes burning—from anger or tears about to fall, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t going to figure it out either, too distracted by a little voice in her head, telling her this was unfair. Most of the people at Camp Nevermore had never met Theo. What were they meant to do, plan a memorial?

Yes. Why not? This stupid, awful camp wouldn’t have existed without him. If it weren’t for his actions, it would still be his home. Our home.

“May I speak bluntly, Lenore?”

“Sure.” It didn't seem there was any choice but to let him.

“Then here is my thought. I'm very sorry for your loss. It clearly affected you deeply. Even so, you’re being childish about it,” Prospero said flatly, though not cruelly. “The rebranding and changes aren’t some petty thing that was done specifically to inconvenience you. Nobody cares about you personally enough to do that. Look, it's hard to hear but—you should be grateful. Without the changes, nobody would ever come here anyway.”

What? Her anger halted from pure shock. Was he serious? She wanted to punch him, hit him with her cane, something. She couldn’t. She felt frozen.

Prospero sighed and rubbed his temples. “You're smart, Lenore. Think about it for just a few seconds. You know how this goes. Once someone dies at a camp, there’s investigations and news. Kids pulled out. They don’t come back the next summer.”

It was true. But it hurt. Like a hole in her chest, it hurt.

“Even after the rebrand, it was hard to get people to return. They had to hire me the next year to try to manage the finances. To make it work. Though of course, you likely wouldn't know about any of that because you didn’t come back either.”

That was different. That was her brother. Her family.

She hadn’t had a choice, anyway. Didn’t he know she hadn’t had a choice? Didn’t he know she’d been broken, in all the ways a person could be broken? That her family had been broken too?

If Prospero knew, he didn’t care. He merely continued on, his gaze somehow both emotionless and sympathetic at once. “When all else fails, you sell. You rebrand. You change the name, change the brochures, and hope nobody remembers that a boy got crushed under a tree. You scrub any involved names from the deed, from the website. You crush any inkling that the camps are the same.”

No. This wasn’t a good thing, it wasn’t what he was saying, it wasn’t—

“It's hard to hear, but you should be grateful.” Prospero tilted his head up, looking down at Lenore from horribly grave eyes. “If you love this camp so much as you say you do. Your father and the directors? They saved it. Without them, this would be another abandoned property, barely worth anything. Remembered for how your brother ended. Merely that and nothing more.”

You should be grateful.

Lenore couldn’t take it anymore. Her eyes narrowed, and she went to snap at him, to tell him everything he was wrong about, everything that was wrong with him, and where exactly he could go. 

But a hand on her shoulder stopped her. A long, dark, horrifyingly tender hand. “Maybe you should listen, mon amie,” Duke said, his voice low and grave. ”You’re not yourself today.”

“How am I supposed to be?” she hissed, turning on him. She didn’t stop to wonder when he had gotten into the office; it didn’t matter. “You’ve known me for less than two months, Duke! You don’t know who I am outside of this place! You can’t say anything about who I am! Do you even realize what today is?” 

How long had he been there, watching her? A flush of embarrassment began to mix with her already complex feelings. Her heart felt like it might explode. 

Duke nodded. He knew, Lenore understood from the action and the sympathizing—no, pitying—look on his face. He knew. But he didn’t understand. He proved that much when he continued. 

“Your loss is tragic, my friend, no one is arguing that. And of course the changes might be upsetting. But if they kept the camp alive for others to enjoy… well, I should say that I’m glad that I got to be here now, to meet you. We are in a living, breathing place instead of an abandoned memorial.”

“And doesn’t Theo deserve a memorial?” Lenore spat out. She barely recognized any conscious thought behind the words. It was as though she’d been possessed by some kind of spectre, her lips moving by some uncontrollable force. “What makes you better than him, that you get to enjoy the land and he gets to be forgotten?”

“Not forgotten!” Duke said hastily. “No one is forgetting him, Lenore. But he’s gone, nothing we do is going to bring him back. So why not enjoy what’s been built here?”

“Why should I get to enjoy anything, when I was the one who killed him?”

Duke froze for a second. The only movement was his eyes, which went big and round. Lenore felt a distant flash of regret; she had assumed he knew the full story, but now was guessing that he didn’t. The regret morphed into horror. Some part of her had been certain that Duke had been friends with her despite the knowledge of what she’d done. Finding out it wasn’t so made everything so much worse. 

She could barely stand to listen when he spoke again, quietly and soothingly. “I’m sure that’s not true, mon amie. You’re in a fuss right now, that’s all.”

The words were horribly familiar. She couldn’t help but think about the weeks after the accident—the time in between getting out of the hospital and getting shipped out to live with her cousin. In the interim, the main dining room of the Vandernacht family’s fall and winter home had been set up like a sickroom, since Lenore was unable to get to her childhood bedroom on the third story. This was tragic for everyone due to its central location and its place right next to Thaddeus Vandernacht’s home office. Lenore heard every detail of the camp’s sale and begged for her father to cancel it.

How many times had he turned away from her, eyes stony and cold, and dismissed her? 

You’re hysterical, Lenore. Quiet yourself, or I will.

Stop this foolishness. You’ve proven your actions are selfish, dangerous, and borderline insane. You have no say in family business.

I called your doctor and told him about your tantrums. He agreed that you’ve suffered some sort of break from the trauma. The sooner you realize that you aren’t thinking clearly, the better. For all of us.

You’re clearly delirious. That god-forsaken camp killed your brother, Lenore. Or are you admitting it was your own fault? Would you absolve the land by taking responsibility?

You’re in a fuss. Frenzied. That’s all. I’ve requested you be prescribed some sedatives. Perhaps they’ll help.

In her haze of memories, Lenore barely even realized she’d grabbed her bag and stomped out of the office until she heard the screen door slam shut behind her and felt the wind on her face. The rush of cool air brought her somewhat back to her senses and activated something within her like a drug. This was nature, and nature was what she needed. Not callous people or painful memories. She needed the sounds of the woods, fresh air in her lungs, the distant sounds of animals, and most of all, to be alone. 

Yes, that was it. She needed to be alone; it was exactly what she deserved, after all.

But Duke didn’t seem to get the memo. The squeak of the screen door alerted her to his presence. “Lenore, mon amie, I—” he started, sounding hurt and desperate and like he didn’t have a clue what to say.

Well, she’d spare him the choice. Lenore didn’t even look at him. “Duke, I don’t want to hear it. Just leave me alone.”

“I’m not going to do that, Lenore, not when you—”

Fine. If he wasn’t going to listen, then she had to take matters into her own hands. She pressed a finger into her hip as though that could test it for stability. It didn’t matter; even if there had been pain, she knew what she had to do if her friend wouldn’t simply let her be.

Like it was a precamp drill, she dropped her backpack on the front porch of the office without a word of warning. Then, she ran desperately for the solitude of the woods. 

She didn’t hear her name. She should have. Once it became clear she wasn’t coming back, the trumpet should have blown, the staff should have assembled, and there should have been people looking for her. Calling out to her. She would have ignored them, of course, but it wasn’t about that. It was about missing persons procedure, and how the fact that it wasn’t being followed felt like another confirmation that the directors didn’t know how to run a camp well. 

Or perhaps it was just like Duke and the closet all over again. Had someone explained this away to the directors as a prank?

Or did they just say that Lenore was having a tantrum?

She raced through the woods, past trail markers and benches, past landmarks and streams that led back to the lake. Without a clear path, it was almost impossible to go in a singular direction, as was wise. The trees blocked her and made her twist her course. It only took a little to go around one tree, but it added up. 

Stop, said her common sense. The sooner you stop, the easier it’ll be to find your way back. Or the easier it will be to let others find you.

But something more powerful whispered the opposite. Run, it said. You don’t want anyone to find you. You’ve been alone for five years now; it’s how you’re supposed to be. That’s your curse, to be alone.

And so she ran, until any trace of the main camp faded. Until the ground below her was untouched by people. Until the only things she could hear were her own breath, her feet hitting the ground, the wind whistling through trees, and the sound of plants moving behind her, twigs snapping, the kinds of sounds made by nearby animals. 

Finally, she reached where she was going, or at least, thought she did. A small clearing in the woods, equally natural and unnatural in nature. As she walked around, she confirmed that this really was the place. In the northernmost part of the clearing, there it was—a large, dead tree with bark stripped from it and a huge chunk missing. Lenore stared at it impassively. She almost couldn’t believe the remnants of the thing still stood. Her father had certainly had the power to take it down. They’d managed to remove its missing bit along with Theo’s body, after all. 

Then again, they’d had to, in order to get her out from under it.

Standing there, literally under the shadow of one dead thing and figuratively under the shadow of another, she tried to process everything all at once. Theo’s death, her own injury. Her parents’ dismissal. The camp’s sale and rebranding. Years spent alone in a distant room. Returning to the one place she still considered home, only to find it changed. The anniversary. 

The fact that every single person in the world had moved on from Theo. Every single person except for Lenore.

It was too much to bear, or at least to bear all at the same time. 

Mutely, she lowered herself onto the ground by the tree and curled into a ball, feeling helpless, and cried.

For a long, long time. Until the sky had darkened to match her heart. Until there were no tears left.

When finally she couldn’t cry anymore, she looked up.

She felt as though she’d cried so much that she might dry up and become a prune of a woman. I don’t think I’ve cried like that since I was little. Not even at Theo’s funeral. I must look like a child.

And, she considered, she might have acted like one too, even if she did have reason. With the acknowledgement came a sense of foolishness. I shouldn’t have come out here. At least not as I did. It was impulsive of me.

A glance at her watch confirmed this. There were only about twenty minutes left in her break. If she ran back, she could probably make it before she was going to get in trouble, at the very least. Maybe she hadn’t been as stupid as she thought.

Lenore stood—or tried to. As she pulled herself upwards, she felt a sharp pang in her hip, thigh, and knee. It settled into a bad ache, the normal ignorable pain amplified by the coming storm. She reached for her cane automatically and realized her mistake all at once with some amount of horror. No, she’d been wrong. She had been exactly as stupid as she thought.

When her cane wasn’t needed, it was kept folded into its carrying case, where it could safely survive being thrown around in her backpack. When she’d run into the woods, she had dropped her backpack on the steps so she could go faster. She’d left her phone, her water bottle, and she’d also gotten rid of the very thing that provided any amount of the independence she sought. Technically she could walk without an aid, but she’d be too slow to escape the storm that was clearly coming. Unstable. Trapped. 

Caught in the very conditions that had killed her brother before her very eyes, and only good for watching it all play out again.

If she had any tears left, she would have started crying again. Instead, she leaned against the tree that had killed her brother, balled her hands into fists, and started smashing her fist into the moss covering the ground. “Fuck!” she cursed. “Fuck all of this! This—it’s always—”

“Always what, pet?”

Lenore snapped her head up. Not that she needed to, when the voice and words told her exactly who it was. 

“Annabel,” she said, and her voice was full of relief until she realized what this meant. The horror struck her. She wanted to run once more. But no. She couldn’t. Not when that was what caused so many problems in the first place. 

“Annabel, go away,” she said, hating her voice for sounding so unconvincing.

Annabel smiled. Slightly, diplomatically. Reassuring. It wasn’t a smile that inspired happiness, but rather one meant to calm. 

“I’m not leaving without you,” she said. “If you need to stay out here longer, that’s fine. I’ll sit with you. If you’d prefer me at a distance, then I’ll sit at a distance. But I won’t leave you alone like this. Think of the scandal! We are supposed to be a couple, after all.”

“That’s what you care about?” Lenore forced herself to demand, ignoring the obvious: Annabel was putting on a show. Hiding, so delicately and carefully, her true feelings on the matter so as not to overstep or insult. A perfect socialite comfort.

And Annabel’s response was more of the same. “Of course I care for you as well,” she said evenly. “We’re together, aren’t we? And I’m happy to support you, pet, but I did learn to wait until invited.”

Lenore aimed a glare at Annabel, but it was half hearted. “Fine. Come on over,” she said gruffly. “Come join me at my pity party.”

Primly, Annabel picked her way over to Lenore, stepping over the twigs, branches, and rocks that littered the clearing. “There,” she said as she settled delicately on the ground beside Lenore. “Was that so hard?”

What was hard, Lenore wanted to say, was trying not to snap. Or worse, break down again. She flushed at the thought that Annabel had observed what Lenore thought to be private moments of madness. 

“Why are you out here?” she asked, perhaps a bit more brusque and rude than she meant for it to be.

“For you,” said Annabel. She made it sound obvious, which it probably was. “I was worried about you, so I was trying to find you even before you came out here. Someone had seen you in the staff office, and when I got there, Prospero and Duke were standing outside with your backpack. They looked horrified, so naturally I got worried. Prospero told me what happened, and so I went after you.”

“Just you?”

“Prospero was insistent that you needed space and that I was making a mistake. Even Duke seemed convinced of it. I am here despite all reason, not because of it.”

Lenore tried not to show that this almost made her feel more miserable. Yes. she’d needed space, that much had been true. If everyone had been out looking for her, of course she would have hidden. But to have everyone refuse to come after her sparked a new pain. Even if it was well intentioned, as it seemed to be, some immature part of her felt like a child who had been left out of a game. 

She tried to swallow back the emotion and asked, “Do the directors know?”

“Prospero said there was no reason to tell them, provided we returned before your break concludes,” Annabel said. “He also said that if that couldn’t happen, he was under an obligation to inform them.”

A time limit. With her hip burning and a storm rolling in, now she was racing against a clock, and one she couldn’t win against. “I’m doomed,” she said.

The sky rumbled, as if in agreement. Lenore looked up. It was greyer and darker than it had been all day; she hadn’t realized just how doomed she was. Opening her mouth to speak, she was interrupted by a not-quite-distant sound of thunder. “We don’t have much time. Ten minutes at most. Likely less.”

“Then we have to go back to main camp now,” said Annabel firmly.

Lenore hesitated. She didn’t want to tell Annabel the truth if Annabel hadn’t already realized, but there was no other choice. “I don’t know if I can get back without my cane right now. It was in my backpack…” 

Nodding, Annabel pursed her lips. “And you threw it down, and then I neglected to pick it up and bring it along with me. Both understandable actions, if unfortunate in the moment... we’ll simply have to work around it. Could you lean on me and use me to support you?”

“It’d be slower than walking even without my cane.”

“But less painful?”

“Yes.” She’d given this explanation a million times, but she couldn’t remember ever giving to Annabel, come to think of it. “My cane takes some of the weight so I don’t have to put it all on my body when it’s hurting. Often, that pressure makes the pain worse, so it’s a relief. It’s also why I can go so fast with it when I really need to. It’s not allowing me to do anything I normally can’t, all it’s doing is keeping me from having to stress the injury. People don’t seem to know that, and then they think I’m faking when they see me run with it. But that’s because I’ve been using it for a while; I’m used to it, and it’s meant to give me that support… in all the ways leaning on your shoulder isn’t.”

“I don’t want you hurting, pet,” said Annabel. “The sky might be gray, but that’s hardly proof that a storm will start in a matter of minutes. We can go slow and deal with the rest as it comes.”