Before Wings (8 page)

Arrows were coming straight at her. With a scream, Adrien ducked behind the nearest straw bale. An arrow thudded into the other side, and she jerked back. Her heart thudded, the whole world squeezed in and out of darkness; she could hear whimpering sounds and a far-off whistle. Then the air grew oddly quiet. There was the sound of running footsteps, and Darcie stepped behind the bale.

“You all right?” She was breathing heavily. “Grouch, did you get hit?”

Adrien crouched close to the ground, arms tight around herself. She couldn’t stop shaking, even when Darcie knelt and hugged her. Everyone had been shooting at her.
Everyone
had been shooting
at her
.

“Some safety procedures,” she hissed.

“It was an accident,” said Darcie. “You took so long, I forgot you were out there.”

“My group didn’t have their arrows. They knew I was
out there. Why didn’t they say something?”

Darcie’s perfume was suffocating. Adrien wanted to pull away but couldn’t. Not yet.

“I don’t know,” Darcie said uncomfortably, “but I’m the one in charge. I’m the one who let them shoot. It was an accident. I’m sorry, Grouch. I really am.”

Darcie’s apology was absolute and so was her hug. Safe and warm inside that hug, Adrien still couldn’t stop thinking about Connor. While she was out looking for her lost arrow, he had rotated to the front of his line for a second round. In that split second before Adrien had realized there were three loaded bows pointed in her direction, she had gotten a clear glimpse of his smirk. He had just caught sight of her coming through the south exit door, and was shifting his bow from a target to her face.

It took Aunt Erin two seconds to notice the scrape on her niece’s upper arm. “You get that at the range?” she asked immediately.

Adrien picked up the till to carry it out to Tuck’n Tack for staff candy hour. “Get what?”

She refused to think about the range. Huge hollow caves still echoed in her knees and gut. Aunt Erin came over and ran her finger over the scrape.

“Ow!” Adrien hissed.

“Arrow burn,” said her aunt. “How’d this happen?”

“It didn’t,” said Adrien. “All right?”

Aunt Erin’s voice was loaded. “You put down that till and talk.”

Suddenly, holding onto the till took on overwhelming significance. Adrien stared rigidly out the screen door. Clouds were building over the lake. “I bumped into a tree branch while I was looking for an arrow. I didn’t even notice my arm until you poked it.”

She kept seeing Connor’s smirk. If she told, Darcie was the one who would get into trouble, not him. It hadn’t been Darcie’s fault. Darcie had hugged her in front of the rest of the staff. She had hugged and hugged Adrien, helped her to her feet and walked with an arm around her, keeping her so close Adrien could feel her heart beat.

Had Connor’s arrow been the one to graze her arm? Had it?

“I’ve got the rest of the afternoon,” said Aunt Erin, folding her arms and parking her butt on the edge of her desk. “And so do you.”

Adrien held onto the till and watched the bare wood floor. The wind grew louder, everywhere in the trees. Aunt Erin switched on the PA. “Darcie Smythe to the office. Darcie Smythe.”

They waited in silence.
I could call Mom and Dad
, Adrien thought.
I could just go home.
But she could feel the clouds building on the lake like a promise. The sound of the wind moved through her as if she was part of its message, leaves lifting and falling inside her, whispering their meanings. The shaky hollow feeling faded and she felt part of this place, older than anything that could happen to her here, just like the trees, the lake and the sky were older than the camp. People were small stories that the wind blew clean, and then they were forgotten. One day, her story would be
blown across the lake and she would be forgotten too. This didn’t frighten her.

A shadow shifted through a patch of light on the floor, a writhing shape that lifted its arms to her, then faded. Adrien glanced at her aunt, but she was staring grimly at the door and hadn’t seen the spirit. She also hadn’t noticed that the clock above her desk had stopped at 1:37. Adrien glanced at the clock on the opposite wall. 3:55.

“Your clock stopped,” said Adrien.

Aunt Erin glanced at it and lost the tight grip she kept on her face. For a moment, Adrien was staring at a face of absolute fear. Then her aunt’s face closed over again. “Acting up, is it?” she muttered, moving toward it as Darcie’s slow footsteps began to mount the outside steps. A slumped figure appeared in the doorway.

“Come in.” Aunt Erin’s voice was even, her pale eyes icy. Darcie took one step through the doorway and waited.

“Explain the arrow burn on my niece’s arm,” said Aunt Erin.

“It’s not—” began Adrien.

“Yes, it is,” Darcie said miserably.

“Adrien kept her mouth shut. Didn’t betray you,” said Aunt Erin. “Not her fault I’m firing you.”

“What?” gasped Adrien.

Darcie blinked hard and stared at the dead clock. Then she nodded and turned to go. “Don’t you even want to hear what happened?” demanded Adrien.

“Want a full explanation,” said Aunt Erin, “but Darcie’s fired just the same.”

Facing the door, Darcie explained. Then she walked
out. The screen door slammed behind her.

“Open Tuck’n Tack,” said Aunt Erin, fixing the clock.

“No,” said Adrien. “I quit. I’m going home.”

“Suit yourself,” said Aunt Erin.

“I’m not
suiting myself
,” hissed Adrien. “I
hate
you. You never give anyone a second chance. Darcie would
never
let it happen again.”

“Could’ve been killed,” said Aunt Erin, her eyes bright. “Don’t get second chances when someone’s dead.”

“I’m not dead!” yelled Adrien. “No stupid arrow’s going to kill me—you know that. I’ll die the way I’m going to die, and nothing’s going to stop it. You could fire a million staff and nothing would stop it.”

“Got nothing to do with it,” snapped Aunt Erin. “Her carelessness almost got someone killed.”

“None of them can shoot,” howled Adrien. “Only Darcie can aim and she wasn’t shooting.”

“Got your arm.”

“Lucky chance.” Adrien stomped the floor. “You make me so
mad
. Give her a break. That stupid archery range’ll be safer than a daycare after this.”

Aunt Erin sat quietly on the edge of the desk. Abruptly, Adrien realized how closely she was being watched.

“You like rooming with Darcie?” Aunt Erin asked.

“She’s all right,” Adrien said grudgingly. “I never knew Robin Hood wore nail polish.”

Aunt Erin cracked a slow smile and rocked once. Head back, she took a deep breath and her face relaxed. “Maybe I was too hasty,” she said. “You find Darcie and tell her to come talk to me.”

“You won’t fire her?”

“We’ll work things out.” Aunt Erin’s eyes had taken on a whole different shade of pale blue. The ice was melting.

“THANKS!” Adrien dumped the till and raced to the door.

“Oh, and Adrien,” called Aunt Erin.

“What?” asked Adrien, turning back.

“You give life a second chance too,” said Aunt Erin.

six

Adrien wandered through the wooded area surrounding the cabins set aside for the older girls. She wanted to go down by the lake, but she could see Connor and a few others ignoring the cloud cover and getting into canoes for a paddle before supper. She was supposed to be working in Tuck’n Tack, but she couldn’t get at the key or the till because Darcie was in the office talking to Aunt Erin. A DO NOT DISTURB sign had been posted on the door.

The mayflies were definitely dying off. It was the last Friday in June and the ground was littered with their brown withered bodies. She pulled seven live ones off her shirt and watched them flutter away. At the start of Training Session, it would have been twenty-five. In just over a week, they
would all be gone.

Voices and laughter were coming from the cabin that was called Prairie Sky. Adrien stopped. These cabins were supposed to be empty until Sunday when the campers arrived, but as she listened, another peal of laughter floated out of a window. Prairie Sky was closest to the lake, the only cabin in this section that she had never stayed in. Still, she knew what it would look like. Each cabin held five bunk beds and several dressers. She had always grabbed a top bunk and spent her week sleeping mid-air, drifting on the ebb and flow of the other girls’ breathing.

The windows were open, airing the place out. Standing on tiptoe, she could just see in. At first there was nothing, just the quiet green light filtering through the trees. Then she glimpsed something in a corner—someone turning, part of her visible, but transparent. It was the girl from the photograph, the one with the beaked nose and the wide laughing mouth. She was laughing now, her voice clear, and then she spoke.

“What would Erin do if she knew we were spying on the guys’ cabins?”

“She’d probably want to come along.” A second girl came into view, also transparent but recognizable with her long red ponytail, tube top and shorts—another of the five girls grouped close to Aunt Erin. “Especially if we picked Spruce Hollow. Sure wish we had Peter Pecker for our counselor. Think he could wear tighter swim trunks?”

“Not and still get into them.” This voice belonged to a girl sitting on a top bunk. All Adrien could see of her were vague swinging legs.

“You think Erin will get into them?” asked the first girl.

There was another peal of laughter.

“She’s sure been watching him,” said a fourth voice, out of Adrien’s line of sight. “I was almost drowning at swim class yesterday, and she didn’t even notice.”

“We should set them up.” Arms outstretched, the first girl spun a thoughtful pirouette. “Then spy on them. I’d give them twenty minutes to complete the dirty deed.”

“You only need three.” Another girl walked into view. The last of the photograph’s laughing group of five, she had short blond-brown hair with obvious highlights, and was pulling on a swimsuit, careless of who watched.

“You only need three, Nat,” said the first girl, stopping her pirouette. “Most people do more than grunt and jump each other, you know. Erin would want time to ... ease into it.”

Giggles erupted. The girl with the swinging legs fell backwards, kicking her legs with glee.

“How would you know?” asked Nat, now fully dressed and fluffing her hair. “I’m the only one here who’s done it.”

“Yeah, you did it,” said the first girl. “But did you enjoy it? That’s what I’d like to know.”

Nat ignored her.

The legs resumed their swinging. “D’you think he’d kiss her first, or would she kiss him?”

“He’d kiss her.” Nat’s reply was automatic.

“D’you think he’d touch her boobs?” asked the legs.

“If they were going to get anywhere.”

Adrien was getting hot and bothered. She hadn’t had girlfriends since she was thirteen, when French kissing had been the hot topic. There had been jokes about groping, but no one had gotten this graphic about what came after.

“D’you think she’d touch his—”

The voices and outlines of the girls vanished, and Adrien whimpered in disappointment. Just when it had been getting interesting. They had been talking about
Aunt Erin
.

“Watching the dead?”

Adrien whirled. Paul stood in the clearing at the front of the cabin, holding a dark brown bottle. She sagged against the cabin wall.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry. That cabin’s haunted. See any ghosts?”

“No,” she said immediately. “I stayed in this cabin once. Nostalgia, you know.”

“Door’s open,” said Paul. “Just walk in and get fully nostalgic.”

“In a haunted cabin? No thanks.” She wasn’t sure why she was lying. For the past three years, everything in her life had been private, separate. She had grown used to holding experiences to herself, the way she had clutched the till in Aunt Erin’s office. Who would she be if she let go?

“The nurse is off until Sunday, so Erin sent me to doctor you.” He produced a package of cotton batting and unscrewed the bottle cap.

“It’s just a scrape,” Adrien said, stepping back.

Paul shrugged. “Erin’s hyper about this kind of stuff. Lose a hangnail, she’ll send you to Emerg. C’mon, I just have to clean it, make sure you aren’t about to croak.”

“What makes you an expert?”

He made a few harsh croaking noises. “On the verge.”

Adrien grinned reluctantly, then slowly extended her
arm. The whole thing felt awkward, the air stiff and uncomfortable, full of echoes:
It’s going to happen, one way or another. That’s an attitude. It’s my attitude that keeps killing me a hundred different ways?

“How’d you know where I was?” She winced as the hydrogen peroxide settled into the broken skin.

“Sniffed you out.” He leaned close, wiping away a trickle of dry blood. “I can do that sometimes.”

“Creepy,” said Adrien. “Aunt Erin says you have a sixth sense.”

“Maybe.” He swabbed the sore area, examining every stinging millimeter. She wanted to pull away from the pain, but his dark hair was tickling her cheek, and her brain was going soft and fuzzy. She wanted to smell his hair, she wanted to brush her lips across it, she wanted ... He looked up, his eyes on her slightly open mouth.

“Whose arrow was it?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Take a guess.”

“A lot of people were shooting.”

“Adrien, you get shot by an arrow
and
you’re seeing ghosts. Something’s going on here.”

Her chin went up and she stepped back. “You don’t talk to me for days, and now you think you can just tell me what’s going on in my life? I told you, I didn’t see any ghosts. And the arrow was an accident.”

“I doubt it.” He stepped forward; she took another step back. “There’s a strange light around you,” he said quietly. “You glow. Like you’re standing in the light from some other place.”