Before You Go

chapter eight

Leon

2002, Summer Camp, Night One

It's midnight before I'm finally able to escape the cabin. The woods are dark and the sky is covered with thick clouds. Small droplets of rain streak down my face as I follow the uneven path to Lizzie's cabin – the girls' cabin. It's difficult to make my way around the forest without the light of the moon or a flashlight, but I need to find her. I promised I would. Lizzie's hated the dark since before I can remember. And with no electricity or flashlights, she's probably having a panic attack. I'm also worried that the other girls are making fun of her for still being scared of the dark. Yeah, we're seven, but my mom is thirty and she's still scared of spiders. What's the big deal?

I break into a jog, stumbling over knotted roots and ignoring the fear of being caught by the camp's warden. They were specific with the rules – if you're caught outside after curfew, you're gone.

"Caught" is the keyword.

The rain begins to come down a little harder as I sneak along the path, hiding behind the abnormally large tree trunks as I do. I'm not breaking any rules unless I get caught, and I can easily prevent that from happening. My ears are pricked for any sound, my eyes for any movement that's out of the ordinary. So far, it's been smooth sailing, aside from the branches scratching at my arms and the rain beginning to soak through my runners. It's as if no camp leaders or the warden are out tonight.

Lizzie's cabin is on the far side of the camp, closer to the lake and the small clearing where we learned to play bocce ball earlier today.

Behind me, I hear a branch snap. Cold sweat shrouds my forehead and the back of my neck as my mind shifts into overdrive. It would be a bear or a moose or maybe even a cougar. But it could also be something as small as a skunk or a squirrel. Whatever it is, I don't stick around to find out. I break off into a sprint, only stopping when I'm up on the balcony of Lizzie's cabin. The cabins are old and made of large logs. Above me, there's a sign hanging from the peak of the cabin with the number eight on it.

I'm soaked from the rain and cold sweat, but at least I'm safe. At least I made it here for Lizzie. Once I've caught my breath, I head to the back of the cabin to one of the larger windows. Beneath the window is a large pile of firewood, neatly stacked to form the perfect climbing object. Before I do climb atop it, however, I test it to make sure it's stable. If I fell and had to explain to my mom exactly how I broke my arm, she'd lose her mind on me.

When I'm sure the pile of wood can hold my weight, I climb on top of it and lightly knock on the window. Lizzie told me that she had the top bunk bed right in front of the largest window. As the seconds tick by, I become nervous. Where is she? I told her to listen for my knock on the window. The camp warden is going to be making his rounds at any second. If he catches me out here, I'm done for.

Finally, at the right moment, when I see a beam of light streak through the foggy forest, the window opens and I can see Lizzie's round face. Her gemstone-green eyes, both surrounded by her curly blonde hair, are wide and rimmed red. There's a bit of snot leaking from her nose.

"Leon," she whispers, clutching her purple blanket to her chest, "you came."

"Of course I did," I smile. Lizzie moves back so I can climb through the window. As I do, I marvel at how well this worked out. If she had gotten a lower bunk, I don't know what we would have done.

"You're soaked," she sniffles.

I shake my head like a wet dog, which causes Lizzie to smack me. "Leon!" she whisper-yells. "You're getting me all wet!"

"And you're being too loud," I whisper-laugh as I kick off my muddy shoes and put them on the windowsill. "Now move over and share the blanket with me – I'm cold."

Lizzie scoots over a little more and then tosses her blanket over the two of us. She rests her head on my shoulders as we lay down, staring up at the high-vaulted ceiling. It's full of cobwebs and soot.

"Are you okay?" I whisper.

Shaking her head, Lizzie begins to explain to me the horrors she's experienced since our post-dinner s'more feast. "I keep hearing noises," she says.

"Well," I say, poking her in the side. "It is raining."

Lizzie punches me in the arm.

"Ow," I say, rubbing the now-bruised area. "What was that for?"

"For being a smartass!"

I blink, staring at her. "What's a smartass?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "My mom always calls my dad that, though."

"Huh," I say thoughtfully, scratching the back of my head. "I like the sound of that. Smartass." I test the word on my tongue a couple more times before I turn back to her. "Continue on."

Lizzie dives right back into her list of scary things, listing one after the other. "And the cabin creaks every time the wind picks up. I don't know why Mom thought I could stay here. I hate it. I'm all alone here. None of the girls like me. I wish me and you could share a cabin."

I glance at her. She's stopping crying since I arrived and she's still holding my hand, only it's a much lighter grip. I breathe a sigh of relief. I won't have to explain why I have four broken fingers in the morning. I wish I didn't have to leave and head back to my cabin. I would stay here all night if I could.

"I don't want you to leave," she whispers.

"I'll stay here until you fall asleep," I reply. "If I'm not in my cabin in the morning, I'll get kicked out of camp." Even as I suggest my plan to her, I remember the crack I heard in the woods. Hopefully, I'll make it back to my cabin without being eaten alive.

Lizzie nestles closer to me. "I like that idea. But are you sure? You could get in trouble."

"Duh," I smile. "I'm always sure with you, Lizzie. You're my best friend."

Hesitantly, Lizzie rests her head on my shoulder. I watch as she closes her eyes and take a deep breath. "I'm happy you're my best friend. Sometimes, I don't know what I'd do without you."

As she speaks, her voice gets smaller and smaller; she's beginning to sound sleepy. I smile and stare up at the battered ceiling, a proud feeling in my chest. I enjoy being her knight in shining armour almost as much as I enjoy being her best friend.