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.