Was I sleepwalking or something? Is that something I do now? Just murder people in my sleep like I have no control? Like how it used to be?
I stop in the middle of the field and take a deep breath. Feel the summer night air on my skin. It’s humid, but a little cool.
I love myself.
Look up at the sky. It’s cloudy. It might rain tomorrow.
I love myself. I didn’t do this. I couldn’t have.
Hear the crickets around me and some kind of animal scuttling through the forest nearby.
I love myself. I’m not a murderer. Not anymore.
Feel the presence in my head.
Wait.
Presence? Since when?
*Chrys, don’t come here.
Elise?
*Don’t come here, okay?
Why?
*He’s dead.
I didn’t do it! I was asleep.
Empty. Disconnected.
I ball my hands into fists, blinking back tears. The summer air feels almost cold now, somehow.
I walk back to the cabin, and climb back into bed quietly. I turn on my side so that I’m facing the wall instead of Remington, who’s still asleep.
I let the tears fall onto my pillow, until the sun rises a couple hours later.
Chapter 13
It’s still early, and quiet. The camp doesn’t start waking up until nine at the earliest. But I just can’t fall back asleep, and I can’t stay here laying on this wet pillow any longer.
I wipe the tears off with my arm. I climb down the ladder and stand in front of my desk. I open the drawer. Gloves. Phone.
I take the gloves and stuff them in the back pocket of my jeans.
It seems like the teens here keep the camp running—cooking, cleaning, laundry, all the chores—based on some sort of schedule in the lounge of the Main House. Since I’m up early, I might as well get started on my chore for the day. Maybe I can finish it before whoever is supposed to work with me even gets up and give them a pleasant surprise and avoid having to be in close quarters with someone else for hours.
I leave the cabin and walk across the field. My heart is pounding, worried someone might come out suddenly, worried Elise might tell me not to come again. But I’m not going to the infirmary. Just to the lounge.
I reach the Main House and go up the creaky wooden steps. I push the door open.
I sigh in relief. I half expected the lounge to be full of kids and adults, all staring at me accusingly. But no.
There’s just a little Latina girl sitting on one of the couches. Her straight, dark hair pools in her lap—must be down to her knees or perhaps her ankles if she stands—and she’s hugging a weird-looking bunny plushie to her chest. It’s a dirty white with small black spots, black ears and black little poofy tail. It has a rip on the side that reveals the white stuffing. A small pink backpack sits next to her on the couch.
The girl looks at me as I enter, a curious expression. But it’s not accusing or suspicious, so I ignore her.
I look at the walls until I spot the bulletin board. I go closer to it. The bulletin board is mostly empty, except for an announcement about the kickball match yesterday and a daily schedule for the week written in a neat bubbly hand-writing.
What is today even?
I scan it for my name instead. On Wednesday, a little box says, “Laundry: Darius, Chrys.” But that’s the only time my name is mentioned. Nothing for me on Thursday, but there is a box that says “Cleaning the Cabins” with only one name in it, whereas the others have two or more. I lean closer. Someone used white correction tape after the other name. On Friday, Saturday and Sunday too, there’s a white strip of tape in a box each.
I peel off the corner of one of the tapes. Capital C. It must be my name.
They erased me from the schedule.
I step back, my breathing ragged.
Am I getting kicked out of the camp?
“Hey miss?” a girl’s voice says.
I look back. The girl is still on the couch, still clutching that plushie.
“Li told me to wait here for a bit,” the girl says. “Do you know when she’ll come back?”
“Li?” I say. “Li is back?”
The girl looks around. “No, she isn’t here.”
“I mean, she’s back at the camp?”
“Oh, I guess so… She brought me here and told me to wait.”
“What cabin are you from?”
“Cabin? I just got here. That’s what I just said.”
“Sorry, kid. I misunderstood.”
The girl blinks at me like I’m a fool.
I go over to her and sit on the couch across from her.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Ana Maria,” she says. “And yes, you have to say the whole thing. Not Ana. Not Maria. Ana Maria. That’s my name.”
I chuckle. “Okay, no worries. I’m pretty good at calling people by their full names, Ana Maria.”
She nods approvingly.
“I’m Chrys. It’s spelled with a ‘y’ instead of an ‘i.’”
“Ana is spelled with one ‘n’ instead of two. Is that important? No. Neither is the spelling of your name.”
“Okay, jeesh.”
She just stares at me.
I point at her plushie. “Cute bunny.”
Her face screws up. “It’s not a bunny. Jesus Christ. It’s a kind of sea slug. Jorunna Parva, you know, a kind of dorid nudibranch. Some people call them sea bunnies I guess, but that’s kind of dumb.”
“Dorid… nudi-what?”
She sighs. “It just means it’s a mollusk that lives in the sea without a shell. You do know what a mollusk is, right?”
“Mollusk. Sure. Snails and things.”
The girl rolls her eyes. “Yes. Snails and things.”
The girl looks down at her sea slug thing and hugs it tighter.
I can hear faint, muffled voices coming from somewhere down the hall, but otherwise, it’s quiet. Ana Maria doesn’t say anything else.
After a bit, just when I was considering to go look for Li, Ana Maria says, “I hear everyone here is gifted too.”
“Yep,” I say.
“I’ve never been around someone else… uh, like me.”
“Yeah,
