Sequel to the Esterville Series. Rather than giving the class a lesson, Oliver Harper's History teacher, Ms. Fern, takes her students on a journey to Camp Esterville, a place where the fire of '87 began.
There, they meet a charismatic camp counsel...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Minutes after conversating with the ghost, the duo followed in her footsteps as the spirit lead them further away from the lake. Their feet crushed the remains of dead leaves, twigs, and old pine needles, which scattered across the floor.
Trees now covered the cloudy sky, as green leaves showered from the branches and into Amelia's hair, much to her annoyance.
"Ugh," she grumbled, pulling the leaves from her hair. "I don't know why I bother to do my hair in the first place."
"I don't understand why you put your hair down in the first place," Oliver sighed. "I have seen most girls put their hair up."
"Shut up," Amelia snapped. "it's been a decade since I've gone on a hike."
"I know," Oliver said, rolling his eyes. "why do you think I have asked you to be my chaperone?"
"To relive the times I carried your lazy arse up the trees."
"Yeah," he answered with a laugh. "well, except the 'lazy ass' part."
They laughed for a minute, then stared at the back of the female ghost's head.
Amelia whispers to Oliver, "I don't trust that ghost."
"Me too," he agreed. "but she needs our help. She looks confused."
He moves his foot over a growing tree root and continued walking.
"She looks untrustworthy." Amelia scowled, passing a dead rabbit. "I don't understand why you want to help her so badly."
Oliver stares blankly at her. "Do you know what it is like to have someone push you down, call you weak or pathetic when all you did was try your best?"
When the vampire looked down at him, the boy shakes his head.
"Forget it," he mumbled. "I was just asking."
"What's going on?" asked Amelia softly. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
Oliver shakes his head again, thinking she'll laugh at his opinion.
"Olly, I have known you for eight years," Amelia reminded. "I know a shitty liar when I see one."
The teenager cuts his eyes at her.
"What?" the vampire cried. "It's the truth, and you know it."
Oliver's tense glare ceased, as he released another loud sigh.
She's right, he thinks, moving a few feet away from the vampire. I am a terrible liar.
He's always been a bad liar since preschool, probably the time when he accidentally spilled grape juice on the carpet, sheepishly blamed it on a classmate, then later told the truth to a teacher, who made him clean it up during recess.
