Esterville (Book 1)

Sneak Peek of Mirror, Mirror

"Since all of you are here," Jake began. "Why don't we start the Camp Esterville tradition, by telling a campfire story?"

"Boo!" Jim moaned, giving Jake a thumbs down.

More laughter sailed out of the campers' mouths until Ms. Fern silenced them using her scolding glare.

"Jim Chang, that is unnecessary!"

"What?" Jim cried defensively. "It is!"

But Jake seemed eager for a story.

He scanned his eyes across the young spectators, whose mouths are stuffed in smores.

"Come on kids," he persisted. "It's just one story—I'm sure that it won't harm you."

But regardless, the kids refused to participate.

Meanwhile, Oliver bit into his treat and swallowed the hot morsel down his throat. The gooey marshmallow felt as though lava sat stiffly on his taste buds; especially the chocolate, which didn't do anything to cool it.

Not only did he hate the melted marshmallow and chocolate, Oliver hated the graham crackers.

They were stale and tasteless; plus, the texture feels like chewing flavorless bubblegum.

 Truth be told, Oliver wanted to spit it out. However, he didn't want to be rude to Jake, so he ate it carefully.

Staring at her s'more, Amelia desired to devour the sickeningly edible, dessert, which Jake prepared for the class.

Reluctantly, she opened her mouth wide, revealing her sharp teeth, and brought the s'more over to her lips, until she sees Oliver shaking his head.

"What?" she asked, gesturing the s'more.

"Isn't this what you humans eat?"

"Yes, but theses s'mores taste like shit." Oliver's words came out in a low mumble, due to the fact that Ms. Fern is watching him.

"It is?" Amelia asked in wonder.

Oliver nodded.

"Okay, but do I have to throw it away?"

"No," he sighs. "just keep it with you until it's time to go to bed." 

"Oh, sure." the vampire beamed.

Holding the untouched s'more with her hand, Amelia studied the fire carefully.

"So, this is where humans have their camping, yeah?"

Oliver nodded again.

"In Manchester, men would go out for hunting deer, raccoon, bear—almost any meat they could find. Meanwhile, the women would stay indoors watching children."

The boy frowned, takes her hand, and patted it gently.

"I'm sorry," he says. "It must've sucked in the eighteenth century."

That's when Amelia shakes her head.

"No, the eighteenth century wasn't the worst," she explained.

"The 20s and 40s are!"

"The Great Depression?" Oliver guessed.

Amelia nods.

"Especially, the bloody World War 2 in 1941. America was practically Switzerland until the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor."

Suddenly, the vampire begins to relax.

"The 50s and 60s were fine—I enjoyed the 70s until the Zodiac Killer showed up. The 80s were okay, but satanic cults..."

Seeing the duo conversing, Jake had squinted his eyes upon the boy's face. He had seen this kid before: he was always seen hanging around his stunning girlfriend, or maybe, his older sister.

Is she new to camp? he asked himself.

Never in his fifth year of counseling did he ever see her face.

And although she is a chaperone, she looks like a teenager. Her youthful face, her British accent, that dazzling smile, it didn't surprise Jake that the girl had a long line of bachelors.

Speaking of Amelia, she and Oliver were inseparable since they got here.

Pale, unusual, and attractive, the duo had lacked social skills, and the energy to play sports. Before Jake set Ms. Fern had told him that Oliver had no father in his life.

His interests are reading fantasy novels, the Bible, and knows several ancient languages, like Greek and Romanian, to which it amuses Jake.

Someday, Oliver would demonstrate his techniques to the counselor.

Maybe this kid can help me put some spirit in Story Time, he thought.

And so, he called on him.

"Oliver Harper?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't you tell us a story?"

The kids stopped munching on their s'mores abruptly to see Oliver staring at his gray sneakers.

It was then Jake noticed the dark shade of pink growing on each side of his cheeks; it was obvious to him that Oliver didn't like attention, and it made him a target to his peers.

"Edgar Allen Poe?" a girl laughed. "You picked him?"

She gestured her thumb to the boy's direction then giggled. 

Harriet, who was sitting on the right side of Oliver, tells her to leave him alone.

"I want to hear him speak, Jennifer," she says.

"And besides, none of us want to do it."

"Why?" Max grunts through his chewed s'more. "Oliver is a total psychopath: he reads creepy books all the time."

That's when Amelia grew defensive. 

"At least he doesn't have the IQ of a drunk party animal."

Max snaps his gaze at Amelia, who smirked proudly at him.

"Ooh!" Max's friends howled. 

"It's nothing personal," the jock says calmly to Amelia.

"He deserves to be in a mental hospital-"

"Mr. Fields," Ms. Fern snapped. "If you say another word, I will give you three weeks' detention!"

Max's arrogant sneer instantly vanish from his face. Humiliation and fear overwhelmed his blue eyes as he pictures himself, sitting in a boring classroom, while his friends win another big trophy.

"I'm sorry Ms. Fern," he mumbled.

Satisfied, the History teacher straightens her posture then gaze Oliver with encouraging eyes.

"Go on, Oliver," she says politely. "Tell us your story."

The young Exorcist searched his eyes among the eager crowd, with the exception of Max and his goons, whose stares made him feel more nauseous than eating one of Jake's s'mores.

"Okay," he sighs. "I'll give it a shot, but be warned: this story has been around for a very long time."

Like a child, Jake claps his hands together then ate another s'more.

"I just love scary stories!" he squealed.

Oliver frowns, then carefully gazes at the dancing fire.

He could see bits of wood devoured by the hungry blaze; its orange glow restored warmth as kids felt protected from the cold breeze.

"This isn't like any other fable you hear from a kid's book. This story takes place at the beginning of Camp Esterville."