Chapter 9
Gwen
Nothing said summer camp quite like sitting on sunburned grass while braiding daisy chains and frowning down at a bowl of what I could only assume were squirrel bones.
The day had started off with rock climbing followed by watercolors in the art hut. Even archery had been pretty un-paranormal, except that I was fairly certain my fellow Flower Moon bunkmates had been using magic to drive their arrows toward the bull’s-eye.
I was just beginning to think that I could handle being a camper until I was told that divination was our next activity, and then we’d all been given charred animal bones to practice with.
“I’m going to get a drink of water,” I announced to the counselor who was leading the class. “Don’t want heat stroke, you know.”
She scrunched her nose at me, her eyes still a glassy, pearlescent white, but allowed me to go with a wave of her hand.
I grimaced.
Maybe there was some etiquette to interrupting a witch mid-divination. I added that to the unending list of things I would have to ask Sabine when we met up at our secret spot after dinner.
If only I had my phone. I was sure these answers were google-able. Surely, even tightly held coven secrets made it onto the internet. I’d been on WitchTok before. Granted, it had mostly been to look at all the hot women . . .
I made it to the mess hall, where giant canteens of water were placed outside in the shade with a sign encouraging us to hydrate and to take a reminder friendship bracelet.
I stared at the blue-beaded bracelets hanging from a rusty nail above the stack of paper cups.
I supposed it wouldn’t do me any harm. I grabbed one and let it settle on my wrist. The beads immediately started rattling together.
“Okay, okay, I’m hydrating, jeez.” I quickly chugged an entire cup of water. The rattling stopped. “Yeah, no thanks.”
I took off the bracelet and hung it back on the rusty nail. That thing going off would scare me worse than those plastic squares they gave you at restaurants to let you know your table was ready. No wonder there were still a bunch of them waiting to be taken.
After becoming sufficiently hydrated, I took in the rest of the camp.
The scorching sun was high, and the humidity was nearly as bad as it was in New York City.
And while it didn’t smell like hot asshole every time I stepped outside, I’d take the stench of the subway over these infernal mosquitoes any day.
I didn’t know what sort of herbs the others were smudging themselves with in the morning, but I needed to take them up on their offer for some next time because the bug spray Mom had insisted on wasn’t cutting it.
The memory of Mom and me packing my bag made my fingers itch at my sides.
I missed my parents.
I missed my room.
I missed my phone and the rest of the world.
What were people doing online? What major celebrity gossip was I missing? Did my followers miss me? Did they wonder what my vague message about being gone for the summer meant? I had so much support for taking a social media hiatus, but . . . what if they forgot about me?
“Just a peek,” I murmured to myself.
I glanced at the circle of witches in the center of the field, but they were all ghost-eyed and unseeing, so I slunk into the forest in the direction of Dagmar’s cabin, which sat proudly on the hill.
I could imagine her standing at the window and surveilling the camp while we all slept.
Luckily, I could hear Dagmar’s shrill whistle from a mile away, and she was currently down by the boat shed supervising a bunch of new campers who were learning the basics of kayaking.
I hastened up her steps, taking them two at a time.
A barn owl sat on a tree branch overlooking the cabin, and it clicked its beak as I approached the door.
I turned and gave it the finger, which I realized was incredibly childish, but I didn’t care.
Everything was annoying me. I was wearing shorts and a flower crown, for fuck’s sake.
I checked the doorknob, my heart racing and my hands clammy as I rotated the handle. My pulse ratcheted up further as I heard the click of the door unlocking. I was about to pull it open when I heard someone behind me clear their throat.
I released the doorknob like it was on fire and whirled around to find Sabine with her arms crossed and her brows lifted. “What exactly are you doing?”
I turned toward the cabin, then back to her in a frantic pantomime. “Is this not my cabin?” I gave a half-hearted laugh and tugged on the neckline of my T-shirt. “Silly me, I must’ve gotten turned around on my way to get water.”
Sabine’s smile widened. “Why don’t you try telling me the truth?”
I placed a hand on my chest in mock offense. “I am telling the truth.”
“Why are you trying to break into the head counselor’s cabin, Gwen?” she asked, and the sound of my name on her lips made my stomach flip.
I stubbornly crossed my arms. “I told you. I got lost.”
“This friend thing won’t work if you’re going to lie to me. Tell me why you’re really here.” I was about to say more when Sabine’s eyes flickered like a cat’s at night, and I gasped, the sudden shift in her countenance so stark that it made my heart race. “Or I can make you tell me.”