Nightmare (3 page)

“Time’s up,” Haley said, startling Emily so much that she jumped. “I’ll go first so you’ll see how to do it. With all the last-minute rush to get here I didn’t have a chance to draw my rune for today.”

Emily watched as Haley held the box high with her
left arm, then reached in with her right hand and drew out a stone. She glanced at the design, which was like a
Y
with its stem twisted. “Yggdrasil,” Haley said, looking pleased. “It represents a sacred tree from which all life springs and stands for new beginnings.” She replaced the stone inside the box and laid the box on the bed in front of Emily.

“Obviously, I’m supposed to be where I am at this time and place,” Haley explained smugly. “No matter that I didn’t want to come. According to the runes, today is a day of new beginnings for me, which you can see is certainly true. Maybe things aren’t going to be so bad here after all.”

She replaced the stone, stirred all the stones with her fingertips, then again held up the box. “Go ahead, Em. Your turn.”

“No, thanks,” Emily said. “I really don’t believe in all that—”

“If you don’t, you should,” Haley insisted. “Come on. We’re going to be roommates, so in a way our fortunes are tied together. I’m curious about what the runes will tell you, even if you’re not.” She held up the box, moving it close to Emily’s face. “Pick one.”

It was easier to do what Haley wanted than argue about it, Emily decided. She reached into the box, fingering the stones. One had a tiny rough spot at one end. She closed her fingers around it and pulled it out. On one side of the little stone were three black dots, forming a triangle. With the symbol side up on the palm of her hand, she held out the stone to Haley, who made no move to take it.

Her eyes wide, Haley said, “I can’t believe you drew that rune.”

“Why?” Emily asked.

“It’s the Loki rune.” Haley took a deep breath and explained, “He’s the Norse god of evil and treachery.”

Emily wanted to laugh. “Don’t look so worried. I’m not planning to do anything either evil or treacherous.”

Haley just held out the box. The moment Emily dropped in the stone, Haley snapped the lid shut and fastened it. “I know you’re not,” she told Emily. “Drawing the Loki rune doesn’t mean
you’re
going to do evil. It means … well … it’s a serious warning that forces of evil are working against you.”

Emily couldn’t help shivering. But she insisted, “What you’ve told me doesn’t make any sense. A little stone can’t tell my future.”

Haley clutched the box again and looked to each side, as though she expected someone, or something, to be listening. “It’s not the stone, silly. It’s the power behind the symbol. It’s the power of the runes. Don’t ask me to explain how it works. It just does. It warned that you’re in danger, Em. Believe it.”

Emily gulped. “I don’t,” she said. “I won’t.” In the silence she studied Haley’s worried expression. “Anyhow, what could I do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Haley answered, her voice barely a whisper. “But I’ll stick right by your side the rest of today. Tomorrow—” She broke off and suddenly smiled. “Tomorrow, of course, you’ll draw again, and I’m sure you’ll get a much better message.”

“The warning’s only good for today?”

Haley jumped off the bed and put the box on the shelf in her closet. “We don’t know yet. But if you get a new message tomorrow, it means the warning is over.”

Emily wished Haley had never opened her box of runes. Were there really forces of evil working against
her? Had she sensed this herself when she’d been afraid? When she’d had the nightmares?
Don’t be stupid
, she scolded herself.
You can’t take a box of little painted stones seriously. Forget all about this dumb warning
.

Emily sighed, wishing that forgetting weren’t so hard to do.

At last! It’s taken long enough. But now, after all these years, just as I had given up, I have a name to go with the face. Emily Wood. I’d almost stopped hoping to find her
.

Emily Wood. Yes. She exists
.

It was a shock to meet her, even more than I had imagined it would be. Oh, yes. I’d imagined it over and over again during the time in which I tried so hard to discover her identity
.

Then suddenly, there she was, standing in front of me
.

I covered my feelings well when we met. I didn’t show how it had unnerved me. With all the activity and bustle of people arriving at the camp, I doubt anyone would have noticed anyway
.

Did she recognize me? I don’t think so. I’ve never been sure that she actually saw my face that day. I checked the position of those curved marble stairs over and over again. Not until I was at her level could I have been seen, and then the flash from my camera must have blinded her. She may have heard my words, but voices can easily be forgotten. And, after all, it was eight years ago. If she had seen anything, surely she would have spoken up at the time, and she didn’t. She’s hardly likely to speak up now
.

I had no trouble recognizing her. Maybe it’s because of that cloud of pale blond, almost white hair. It’s certainly unusual enough to remember. At the time it reminded me of the puffball on a dandelion gone to seed
.

It helped that her face has changed very little from childhood into the teen years. It’s one I’d remember easily even without the photograph to assist me
.

I’ll phone Alice at the center and tell her to send the Carter file by express delivery. Alice won’t ask why, and she won’t snoop to see what’s in the file. Alice never snoops. She is a highly professional secretary. I think she’s simply lacking in basic curiosity. No matter. The photo of Emily Wood as a child is hidden in that file. I’m the only one who has ever seen that photograph
.

If I can help it, I’m the only one who ever will
.

At the light tap on the door, Emily, who stood close by, opened it.

Before her stood the tall guy with the weird wool cap. It had been pulled even farther down over his ears than before. His nose was a little too long and his face too thin. His oversized, faded T-shirt and jeans hung on him as though he were nothing more than a stretched-out coat hanger.
If he had a nickname
, Emily thought,
it would have to be Bony or Skinny
.

His voice wobbled from high to low and back again as he said, “Hi. Maxwell McLaren here. I’m knocking on doors, getting acquainted.”

“I’m Emily Wood,” Emily said.

Maxwell nodded. “Any other mislabeled underachieves around here? Speak up now or suffer the consequences,” he said.

Emily blinked. “
Other
mislabeled underachieves?”

“That’s correct,” Maxwell said. “I, for one, have definitely been mislabeled. I am not an underachiever. I simply refuse to waste my time on subjects which will
be of no use to me in my future, such as math and science.”

Emily couldn’t help giggling. Then, embarrassed, she quickly said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. It’s just that …”

Maxwell didn’t look hurt. He looked pleased. “Any response is better than no response,” he said. “And since you seem to be vitally interested in why I’m not an underachiever, I’ll tell you that I plan to become a highly respected, award-winning, very rich playwright someday. Are you going to dinner?”

Emily blinked, trying to follow the conversation. “Am I what?” she asked.

“Going to dinner,” Maxwell said. “You’ll meet your parents in the dining room. I saw you with them earlier. If you’re ready, I’ll walk over there with you now.”

“I—uh—” Emily threw a quick glance toward Haley, hoping for help, but Haley, grinning wickedly, disappeared into the closet with her last armful of clothing.

Emily took a deep breath as she turned back to Maxwell. “How old are you?” she asked.

“My birth certificate would lead you to believe that I’m fifteen,” Maxwell said. “But my true age is light-years beyond that.”

“Look, Max—”

“Maxwell,” he interrupted. “Never Max. Maxwell is an old family name, and it’s perfect for a playwright. Max is not.”

“Okay, Maxwell, then,” Emily said. “You wouldn’t want me to walk to the dining room with you because then you wouldn’t be able to find what you’re looking for.”

For an instant Maxwell seemed puzzled. “What am I looking for?” he asked.

“What you said—other mislabeled underachievers.”

“Oh, that,” he answered with a shrug. “I’ve decided to end my quest and concentrate on you. You’re not exactly the most beautiful girl in the world, but your frizzy hair reminds me of cotton candy. I like it.”

Emily kept herself from groaning aloud. Her mother was always complaining that her hair was frizzy and wanting her to do something about it, but Emily liked her hair the way it was. She could duck her head, letting a curtain of hair fall around her face, and when she wanted to she could hide behind it. Emily wished she could do that now. She didn’t want to make friends with Maxwell or Haley or anyone else. She wanted to be left alone.

“It’s time to go over to the dining hall,” Maxwell said. “Some people have already left the dorm.”

Emily tried again. “Thanks anyway, Max—uh, Maxwell, but I’m going to dinner with my roommate, Haley.”

Maxwell brightened. “Fine. I’ll walk with both of you.”

Haley appeared at Emily’s side. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Haley Griffin. I heard you say you weren’t really an underachiever.”

“That’s right,” Maxwell said, and he repeated what he had told Emily.

As they walked down the hall, Emily envied Haley’s ability to talk with a guy she had just met. Emily found it hard to make conversation with any of the guys at school, including those she’d known since kindergarten. But when they met up with some of the others who were staying in their dorm, Haley stopped to talk to them, and Emily was forced to talk to Maxwell.

“So, are you writing a play now?” she asked him.

“Not right now,” Maxwell answered. “At the moment I’m walking with you to the dining hall.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “You know what I meant.”

“How can I know what you meant when
you
didn’t even know what you meant?”

“What are you talking about?” Emily asked.

“You didn’t want to know about my play. You were just making conversation.”

Emily looked down at her feet, which were crunching on the gravel path. She didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t have to.

“I come from a family in which you don’t write plays, you play baseball and football and soccer,” Maxwell continued. “Oh, yeah, and I shouldn’t forget swim team. My big brother follows the family pattern and comes home with trophies. I don’t. I don’t even come home with straight A’s to make up for it. So to my parents and teachers I’m an underachiever. Mislabeled, of course.”

He looked down at Emily as he held the door to the lobby open for her. “How about you? Have you got any older brothers to bug you?”

“No brothers. Only two sisters, both older, and they do come home with straight A’s.”

“And you don’t?” Maxwell asked.

“There you are, darling,” Emily heard her mother call.

“See you, Maxwell,” Emily said, relieved that she didn’t have to answer the question. She wasn’t Angela. She wasn’t Monica. She was
Emily
. Why couldn’t anyone understand that?

Mrs. Wood stepped up, resting an arm around Emily’s shoulders, and soon she had introduced herself and Emily’s father to Haley and Maxwell, and their parents.

Some of the faces of staff members floated into view again as they stopped to speak. Emily realized that she was going to live with them for the next six weeks, so this time she tried to put names with faces and remember them.

Dr. Kendrick Isaacson himself … thick mane of white hair … smooth tan … dark, piercing eyes … teeth too white and perfect to be real.… He makes me feel like a bug on a microscope slide
.

“It will be my ultimate satisfaction to see Emily and the other young people here strive for their highest potential,” Dr. Isaacson announced to Emily’s parents.

“Wonderful!” Emily’s mother responded.

Emily suspected that Dr. Isaacson would make this same announcement over and over to every parent in the room. Did it really mean anything?

Dr. Lorene Anderson, the director’s assistant … tall … slender … narrow-eyed, intense look on her face.… Is she always so supercharged when she talks about the center, or is she putting it on for the parents?

“I’m an ardent fan of Dr. Isaacson’s teaching methods,” Dr. Anderson said to Emily’s parents. “I’ve worked with him for years, and I’m eager for Camp Excel to succeed because we will all share in its success.”

As Mrs. Wood murmured agreement, Dr. Anderson added, “Dr. Isaacson is on his way to becoming a major name in the field of education. Since you live in Dallas, you must be familiar with his work.”

“We’ve never lived in Dallas,” Mrs. Wood said. “We live in Houston.”

Dr. Anderson smiled. “Please forgive me,” she said. “I’ve obviously mixed you up with the Drake family. So many new faces and names to learn all at once.”

Gary Anderson, math teacher … Dr. Lorene
Anderson’s husband. He’s fairly good-looking for a guy who’s obviously over forty, but the stink of cigarette smoke clings to his clothes. Mom read the rules aloud, so I know that smoking is forbidden on camp grounds. Mr. Anderson must sneak off now and then for a smoke. I wonder where
.

“You’ve met my wife,” Mr. Anderson said. “This camp’s all she’s been able to talk about for months.”

“Have you worked with Dr. Isaacson long?” Mrs. Wood asked, and Emily wondered if her mother had also suspected that Mr. Anderson lacked his wife’s enthusiasm for this summer job.

“Longer than some of the others,” he answered. “That’s how Lorene and I met—at the center.”

Gail Comstock, history teacher … short brown hair, pug nose, and a face splashed with freckles. Wide smile. Does she ever get tired of smiling?

“I like working with kids,” Mrs. Comstock said. Even though she seemed to be speaking to Emily’s parents, her gaze never left Emily’s face. “I expect the best of them, and I’ve always got an ear for their problems, if they want to confide in me.”