Summer of Yesterday (3 page)

“Perfect, you're with Dina then. Boys against girls,” Marcus says, getting up.

“Hey!” Dina sneers at him. She gets up too and scoots next to me. “No offense, Haley. I know this place better than they do. But this is good. And your looks are bonus. You could get us anything we want. Go ahead, Marcus, give us the list.”

Could get us anything we want?
I register the look on Rudy's face and the sudden interest in Marcus's eyes. I don't really see myself as hot or anything. And it's not like Dina's not pretty too, in a classic sort of way.

I watch them interact, liking how they get along. You can tell they've known one another for a long time. You can also tell that Dina likes Rudy. Marcus may not be as cute as his brother, but he's more in charge, which makes him sort of hot. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two folded sheets of paper. He hands Dina one. “Both teams have two hours, so at midnight we meet back here.”

Whoa. What?
I'm not sure I can stay out that long, but I'm not about to admit that to them. Not when they have free reign over their lives, whereas I answer to a dictator. Speaking of which, a text uncannily comes in from my dad—
Hey what's up?

Dina looks at the list in her hand and smiles. I lean over to peer at it too as I reply to my dad with lots of exclamation marks and smiley faces, so he'll know I'm just fine. There's a long itemized list of things from around the campground, ranging from twenty points all the way up into the hundreds. “What's so funny?” I ask.

“We take turns making this list every time we play. They made it this time.” She looks up at them. “I already told you guys it doesn't exist.” She turns to me. “They actually think there's buried treasure on Discovery Island, out on Bay Lake, but there isn't. I've told you guys, there's a fake pirate skeleton from back when it was open to the public, but that's it. And this . . .”

She points to the number two item, marked at three hundred points—pics from the west end of River Country? “
This
is guaranteed to get you kicked out of the campground forever, so don't even think about it.”

“What's so great about pics from River Country?” I ask. I mean, yes, it was Disney's first water park from when my dad was a kid, but . . . “Wait, I thought that place didn't exist anymore.”

All of a sudden it's as if I've grown an extra two heads. Rudy laughs.

Marcus slaps his arm. “Dude, it's not like everyone knows. Haley, it's been closed for years, but it's still back there. Closed off to the public.”

Dina points into the distance. “It's behind Pioneer Hall, right next to the lake. You can see a little bit from a boat. But these guys want west-end pics, which is from the side you can't see. Not gonna happen, guys.”

“Why will it get us kicked out?” I ask.

She tilts her head at me and my apparently stupid question. “Because it's trespassing. Every fanatic that tries to break in and take pics gets arrested. They're never allowed back in, trust me.” Dina's talking straight to Rudy now. This girl does not want her summer crush banned from returning to her.

“Whatever, don't get your panties in a bunch.” Marcus shrugs. “I just put it there for shits and giggles.”

Dina points to another item right under it. “And we also can't bring back the troll that lives in River Country, because there isn't one. You guys are morons.”

Marcus's amused eyes reflect the campfire's glow. “I don't know, Dina. People say they've seen him lurking in the darkness, feeding on scraps from Pioneer Hall. I think you and other Disney folk are just protecting him because he watches over the place and you feel sorry for him.”

Dina scoffs. “Yes, and the real Seven Dwarfs' house is in your loop too. It's the cute little RV with the seven mailboxes in the back.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. So the rest of the list is doable?” Rudy looks around for approval.

“Let's see. . . .” I read aloud. “A metal bucket from the Hoop-Dee-Doo Revue, a live rabbit—
a live rabbit
?” I look around at their amused faces. “A pool net from Guest Services, a saddle from the Tri-Circle-D Ranch, a swing seat from any kids' playground, and an oar. You guys really go for stolen goods.” Man, my camp's scavenger hunts were all about finding stupid things, like pinecones and shells.

Marcus hands the list to his brother. “Midnight, we reconvene. Losing team buys the other team pizza for the rest of the week plus sexual favors. Ready?”

“You wish.” Dina averts her eyes shyly, but I can tell she might not mind that one.

Rudy runs a hand through his hair. I don't think he even caught on to Dina's expression, because he's too busy checking me out. “So you guys use Dina's cart, and we'll use ours.”

Dina opens a cinched tote bag and distributes four flashlights. Marcus helps his brother to his feet, then claps once. “Are we all ready?”

“May the best team win.” Rudy smiles, then heads off toward their cart.

“That would be us,” Dina says as she leads me away. “They are so going down.”

“It's cool that you guys stay friends every year,” I tell Dina, testing the waters.

“It is.” There's a touch of sadness in her voice, but I won't pry.

We walk to a row of electric carts located behind the gravel pit I parked in. “You play this game every day?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Nah. Maybe twice in a summer. It's become a tradition the past couple of years. You're not going to get in trouble, right? For being out late?”

“I might have to let my dad know where I am,” I say, feeling like a baby for admitting that. “He's more overprotective than a hundred SPF sunblock, but I think I'll be all right.”

“A hundred SPF sunblock!” Dina laughs out loud, and I smile.

I omit any talk of seizures, although technically I'm supposed to let people who are alone with me know about them and what to do in case of one. But I only had one and it was months ago, with no recurrence, so it just seems stupid to bring it up.

“Be totally sure you can stay out before we start.” She unplugs a custom-painted blue electric cart from the charging station, gets in the driver's seat, and turns the key. I get in beside her and hold on as she pulls out. The hot night air suddenly surrounds us, and I revel in the freedom. “Because we're starting with the River Country pics.”

I stare at her. “I thought you said you could get kicked out for trespassing.”

“I said
they
could get kicked out.” She steps on the gas and weaves through the Meadow Trading Post's sidewalks as only a resident would. “But I know this place inside out. My dad works here, remember? They'd slap my wrist at most. And you're with me, so I'll just take all the blame.”

My dad would kill me if he knew what I was doing, but then again, he might think it's cool, since he had a
blast
there when he was little. It's hard to tell. A smile spreads across my face, the first real smile since I left Jupiter. Photos of an abandoned water park would be a kick-ass thing to brag about.

She turns onto the main road and heads for Pioneer Hall and the marina. This is where guests take boats across Bay Lake to other resorts and the Magic Kingdom. We zoom past families walking back to their cabins and others lounging around in folding chairs. Everyone's laid-back, enjoying the clear night.

I wonder how she plans on pulling this off. “Are we going to hike behind Pioneer Hall, get in through the employee entrance, jump a fence, or what?”

“You don't mind getting wet, do you?” There's a sliver—no, a whole slice—of mischievousness in her voice.

Wet?
I shift my gaze from the illuminated road to Dina again. Her hair whips around her face as she drives. Her green eyes light up in the rearview mirror's reflection. Dad wanted me to have fun, right? So fun I will have. I grip my seat with both hands. “Not at all,” I reply.

“Then let's do this.” She smiles and steps on the gas.

three

O
utside Pioneer Hall, a meeting place for Fort Wilderness guests, people stream out of the Hoop-Dee-Doo Revue, a show that's been running since before I was born. All I remember about it from when I was little is a lot of singing, actors prancing around, and metal buckets of fried chicken clanging on your dinner table. Waiting outside are horse-drawn carriages and hayrides. The area is buzzing with activity as we cut through the crowd.

We drive past the buffet restaurant and adjoining pizza place. We're near the marina, where a slew of people are retiring from the parks. Exhausted parents carry their dead-asleep kids on their shoulders, wrist-tied Mickey balloons bouncing in the air above them.

“How are we going to do this with so many people around?” I ask, eyeing a boat out on the water waiting to dock.

“We're not.” Dina turns left at a playground and takes us down a dimly lit road. The farther we go, the quieter it gets, until the sloshing sounds of tied racing boats and paddleboats bobbing against the docks come into the foreground. Even in the dark, I see a near-empty beach to my right. Only a few silhouettes sit there, heads touching. “We have to wait till everyone leaves.”

“And you're sure this is a good idea?” I mean, it's quieter around here, but I still see people, and that means people can see us.

“You don't have to if you don't want to.” She slows down, then stops altogether.

At first I wonder what the heck we're doing here stopped. But then I look straight ahead, and my heartbeat suddenly sinks to my stomach. There, looming in the shadows, is a tall, brown, iron fortress of a wall stretching all the way to the beach on one side and disappearing behind Pioneer Hall on the other. A sign on it shows Goofy in an old-fashioned striped swimming suit:

RIVER
COUNTRY

CLOSED
PERMANENTLY

“We're here.” Dina takes a moment to check her texts. She's probably used to a sight like this, but I've never laid eyes on this wall before and can't tear them away. Something about it, blocking the view of something vast and abandoned on the other side makes me feel really,
really
sad.

“When exactly did this place close?” I ask.

“Like 2001, I think,” she mumbles.

Whoa. It's surreal that the water park my mom and dad were always talking about is still here, just sitting in the darkness for this long. I've never been here, not even as a baby.

I slide out of the cart to get a better look. The gate is rusted around the edges, like it was meant to be there temporarily but ended up staying much longer. For a second I think I hear people laughing and shrieking on the other side, but the sounds are coming from the crowds way behind me, maybe echoing off the wall.

Dina mumbles something about her phone, but I can't focus on her. It's awful how this sidewalk ends right here. Like, boom, dead end. But you just know it continues on the other side of that wall. Where would it take me if the barrier weren't there? Once upon a time, my parents walked down this same sidewalk when they were kids, yet I never will. I imagine my dad holding Ampa's hand, skipping all the way to the park's ticket booth. My heart aches. The vision fades, and the iron construction wall stares down at me again.

“Did you hear me?”

I turn around. “Huh?”

“I said, creepy, isn't it?” Dina nods at the wall.

“Oh. Yeah.” I know this sounds crazy, but I think it's more beautiful than creepy. Finding a place that no one else cares about anymore. It feels exclusively mine, this little corner of the campground. I want to hide here all seven days.

“Haley, get in. We have to wait on the beach for a bit,” Dina says.

Slowly, I tear my gaze away from the fortress and get back into the cart.

She does a quick one-eighty and heads back the way we came, but we don't go far. She turns left down a short sidewalk leading to the dark beach. I can still see the wall from here, retreating into the shadows. Stopping completely, she pops up. “Get up a sec?” I slide out, and Dina lifts the seat cushion we were sitting on. Inside is a storage compartment with some bungee cords. She rummages to the bottom and pulls out a small Ziploc bag. “Crap. There's only one. I'm going to have to go get another.”

“For what?”

“Our phones go in one so they don't get wet, but we still need another one for the flashlights. I'm going to run to Pioneer Hall a minute and grab a bigger one. You wait here and keep an eye out for the boys, okay?”

“Okay. So I guess you were really serious about getting wet.” I laugh nervously.

“Well, swimming along the lake's edge is the only way to get in without staff seeing us.”

“What should I do if I see the guys?”

“Just text me.” She grabs my phone, enters her number, and calls herself for a second. “I shouldn't be gone more than two minutes.” I watch her run off, and then I'm alone with the softly lapping waves, the iron wall, and the smooching couple down on the sand.

I sit back in the golf cart and prop my feet up. Looking out at Bay Lake, I have to admit, this place is really nice. Ranch Camp has a lake, but it doesn't have soft sand like this, pretty lit-up boats traveling back and forth, or an awesome view of the famous Contemporary Resort across the water like this one does. All staging aside, Disney World is situated on some super-pretty real estate.

Sitting here, I feel my stomach start to tighten. In just a few minutes we're going to break into the famously forgotten River Country. I glance over at the wall. Still there. Still solid. What a waste behind it. A water park just sitting there empty. I place my iPhone into the plastic bag and zip it up.

Through the plastic, I check the time—it's been one minute since Dina ran off—and stick it back in my pocket. No sign of the boys. Twenty minutes since we split up. I wonder what items they've gotten so far. How are they going to pry a swing off a swing set?

Craziness.

My thoughts are interrupted by laughter again. Not people down on the beach laughing, but faraway laughing. And water splashing, like it's coming from the lake itself. Who the hell would be in it at this time? Yes, I know
we're
about to be in the lake, but it's still weird that someone else would have the same idea as us at the exact same time.

I have to see who's making that sound. My sandals fling sand as I trudge down the beach. The romantic couple gets up to leave, oblivious to my presence. I stand on the very edge of the property and listen. Water splashes against the docks; a boat horn goes off far away. I can see the glow from the Magic Kingdom in the sky to the northwest. This is weird. I know I heard laughter. I walk over to the tall iron wall and press against it. Closing my eyes, I try to block out all other sounds.

A mosquito buzzes near my ear. I shoo it away and just stand there, smooth cold metal against my hand. Then a sense of déjà vu comes over me, standing here on the edge of the lake, hearing laughing, splashing sounds, and the pops and whistles of fireworks overhead. I hate déjà vu. I can never remember where I've seen something before, and that totally bothers me. But it doesn't this time. Instead, it's like I know this place. But that's crazy. I've never, ever been to this side of Fort Wilderness. Not only that, but when I open my eyes . . .

There're no fireworks.

I stare out at the dark edges of the water, the shrubs and foliage lurking there, and I can almost imagine the rest of the lake's edge behind this wall. I'm staring so hard, I think I'm going to lose my balance. My heart beats so strong, I can hear it in the stillness. I have to wait for Dina. She's my ticket out in case we get caught.

But my mind and body won't listen to reason at the moment.

I don't know how or why—I really can't explain it—but before I can think, rationalize, or anything, I slip out of my sandals and throw myself waist deep into the lake. I have to see it. Whether anyone spots me or not doesn't matter, because I have to get inside—now. I know this place. I push through the water, feeling the slimy bottom, the waving grasses, and God knows what else. I wade toward trees that live in the water—cypresses, I think—and feel the bottom dropping out underneath me, the black waters of the lake rising up to my chin.

What the hell am I doing? Why am I doing this? All it takes is for one person on one of those shuttle boats out there to see me, and it's all over.

I swim quickly in the cool lake, following the curve of the land until the noises grow louder. But it could be me, I remind myself. Sounds travel. People could be laughing anywhere around this lake, and I would hear it. Ahead of me, there's brush and tall grass and some old wooden boardwalk.
The nature trail
. I've been here; I've seen this.

“Haley!” Someone calls me.

I swim faster.
Get to the boardwalk
. The darkness of the lake and the buzzing of a thousand swamp insects remind me that this isn't Disney World right now. These are Florida swamps, and they were here first. My soaked shirt and shorts weigh me down. As I swim, a part of me feels like I'm not actually here. Like I fell into some strange dream where I have no control and I'm being pulled in deeper. Any minute now I'm going to wake up in a cold sweat and find that I'm in our cabin, surrounded by my sleeping family.

There could be snakes in these waters. There could be alligators. There could even be trolls, according to Marcus. The wooden boardwalk is within my reach. Two more strokes.

“Haley!” Louder and clearer this time, but still far away. I think it's Dina, but I can't answer. I can hardly breathe. I reach the nature trail boardwalk and grab on to it.
Got it.
I hoist myself up, but the wooden beam snaps in my hand. It's rotting. In fact, now I can see that most of the bridge is torn down.
Swim alongside it. You'll reach the edge of the marsh, then you can walk through the trees.
I don't know how I know this, but I follow my instincts.

“Haleeeey! Where are you?”

Little by little, I feel the bottom of the lake again with my bare toes. I grab a bunch of tall grasses to pull myself closer to the shore. Something moves past me in the water. A fish or turtle, I hope. The water level drops to my knees as I stand and grab hold of tree roots, branches, and I don't know what else, because I can't see a damned thing.

Dripping wet, standing against the tree, I catch my breath. The air smells of wet grass, rotting wood, and a mustiness I can't quite name. Between gulps of air, I laugh to myself. When did I become a criminal? Part of me wants to cheer over what I just did, but another grasps the stupidity of it. What if I don't make it out as easily? What if there's security in here? How do I explain to the Wilderness Police that I couldn't control what just happened, that it was like River Country was calling me, and I had no choice but to swim toward it? If they don't arrest me on the spot, then they'll stick me in a mental institution.

So. I'm here; now what? I stand there and take it all in.

Crickets chirp all around me in the darkness, and after a minute my eyes adjust. Everywhere I look, there's tall grass, vines, and trees. Deep breath, Haley. Start walking. Slowly. I should probably have my phone ready to take pictures. I fumble inside my pocket and unlock the plastic bag to get it ready. My phone has about ten texts from Dina and another two from my dad—
where r u? hello?
With wet, shaky fingers, I reply—
sitting on the beach watching fireworks. Be there soon.

As I'm sending off the text, another one comes in from Dina, about seeing my sandals and knowing I went in without her, and she's coming after me. Do I answer? I will in a minute. For now I just like the solitude of having this place entirely to myself. But I know it's not a smart idea, considering my medical history, so I start replying to her.

But then, somewhere to my left, twigs snap, as if they're getting stepped on.

Crap.

Forget this. I have to get out of here. I place my phone back in the bag, but I can't swim back again. That took every ounce of stamina I had, and it's made me a little dizzy. I know that all Disney resorts have behind-the-scenes connecting service roads. There has to be one around here somewhere. I'll find it, then get the hell out. If someone finds me, I'll just say I got lost.

At least that's my plan.

Finally, I'm out of the thicket of trees, and the stars hover over me once again. I'm in a wide-open area. The ground I tread is covered in tall grass and a layer of mucky water. For every sloshy footstep, I think I hear another one behind me. It can't be Dina. She couldn't have swum here that fast. So that leaves a Disney employee, a raccoon, or a swamp troll. I speed up and use my phone's screen to illuminate where I'm going.

Darkness, more darkness . . .