Watch Your Step (13 page)

“Yes. However, the affectionate exchange must last no longer than two seconds.”

“How will you know if a hug lasts longer than that?” Gabby asks.

Samara leans forward. Her eyes narrow. “Do you really want to risk finding out?”

Gabby gulps, shakes her head.

“Good!” Samara straightens. “Moving on with the rules. You'll be assigned a different chore each day. Every inch of your parents' cabin will be pristine by week's end. Got it?”

We all nod.

“Great! One last rule. After an initial daily greeting you will not initiate or engage in conversation with your families. You're here to work, not chitchat. We've told your parents this and explained the benefits of leaving you alone. After a silent summer, perhaps you'll appreciate the privilege of having people close to you who truly care about how you're feeling and what you're thinking every single day.” Samara gives this a moment to sink in. Then, “Any questions?”

“Yeah,” a male Troublemaker calls out. “When's lunch?”

My classmates chuckle. Samara smiles.

“Austin Lewis, you just earned ten gold—” She catches herself. “Ten demerits!”

“What?”
Austin huffs. “Why?”

“Because good children never ask for rewards.” She motions behind her. “Your supplies are back here. Load up and head out!”

Every Troublemaker dashes toward a line of folding tables. The tables are piled high with sponges, buckets, bottles of bleach, and about a million other cleaning items. One teacher stands behind each table and tells us what to take. Lizzie says I'll need a watering can and trimming shears, which I learn is a fancy term for scissors. She also tells me which cabin my parents are in (#1), and where it is (on a hill to the left of the tennis courts).

Once I'm ready to go, I look around for my friends. We can't talk about what we're really going to do inside our families' cabins in front of everyone else, but I wouldn't mind a few nods or waves so I know we're all still on the same page.

I'll just have to hope they remember the day's real goal. Because Gabby and Abe are already off and running. Lemon must've been the first one to get supplies—and the first to head
for his family's cabin—because I don't see him anywhere. Elinor's still here, but I can't catch her eye because she's talking to Samara with her back to me.

“Don't you have somewhere to be . . .
Seamusss
?”

I freeze, but my skin crawls, as if my name was hissed by a real snake that's now slithering up my arms.

“You know Annika doesn't like dawdling,” the snake adds near my ear.

Mystery. At least I think it's him. It definitely sounds like him. And I feel as uncomfortable as I usually do whenever I'm around him. But he looks different. Probably because I've only ever seen him in head-to-toe black, and now he's wearing white shorts and a white T-shirt.

“Since when do you care about what Annika wants?” I ask.

“Since I've realized just how wonderful a service she provides families,” he says.

“Took you a while.”

“Quick opinions are often wrong opinions.”

“Okay,” I say, and head for the tennis courts.

I'm glad the walk to my parents' cabin is long. I have a lot to think about. Like this weird Mystery encounter. Ike's warning.
Lemon's insistence that everything's fine. Miss Parsippany's last e-mail. What the heck I'm supposed to do with trimming shears.

Halfway to the tennis courts, my K-Pak buzzes. Checking my K-mail, I read and walk at the same time.

TO:
[email protected]

FROM:
[email protected]

SUBJECT:
That's Not All!

Hi, Troublemakers! Miss me yet?

This note is to say what I couldn't during our morning meeting for fear of your families overhearing. And that is: You have homework! To be completed today, in addition to and while you're doing your chores. (You didn't think we'd keep you here all summer without giving you a chance to practice your troublemaking skills, did you?)

So remember that great biology lesson last semester? The one on faking sickness? That taught you several ways to fool your parents into believing you should stay in bed instead of going
to school? Of course you do. That much fun is impossible to forget!

After hocking a whole lot of loogies and holding your breath until your faces turned red and feverish, you guys were masters. Now it's time to up the ante! Rather than playing sick yourselves, your assignment today is to convince one family member that he or she is under the weather. (You may break the no-talking rule for this purpose ONLY.) We'll know you've succeeded when said family member checks into the Kamp Kilter infirmary. Send more than one family member to the infirmary, and you'll earn extra demerits and Kommissary credits. Send NO family members to the infirmary, and you'll earn a boatload of gold stars—and lose a boatload of Kommissary credits.

Good luck, Troublemakers! Do me proud.

—Samara

P.S. Like good children would, you'll receive gold stars for completing your daily chores—which you MUST do. So you'll definitely want to get
into as much trouble as possible to make up for the mandatory loss of credits!

“Seamus!”

My heart skips. I'm climbing a tall staircase up a steep hill to my parents' cabin, and now I stop and look down. Fifteen feet below, Elinor looks up at me.

“Can I come with you?” she asks. “My mom's not here so I don't have a family cabin to clean. Samara said I could pair up with a friend.”

“And you want to pair up . . . with me?”

She smiles. “Is that okay?”

I nod. She jogs up the stairs. When she reaches the step below mine, I take her towel and silver polish to carry the rest of the way.

Newly energized, I climb the remaining steps like they're flat on the ground and not stacked at an eighty-five-degree angle. Every few seconds I glance behind me to make sure Elinor's okay. And every few seconds, she smiles and makes my heart beat even faster.

My chest stays warm and mushy all the way to the top of
the hill, across the large front yard, and onto Cabin #1's wide front porch. With Elinor by my side, I don't think it can feel any other way.

But then I lift the heavy silver KA knocker. Tap it against the door. And feel my heart harden the instant Dad answers, sees me standing there—and slams the door in my face.

D
o we have the wrong
cabin?” Elinor asks.

“Nope,” I say. “That was my dad.”

“He looked like he thought you were a ghost. Or a burglar.”

“He did.”

“Why?”

“That's what we have to find out.”

I step to the left and peer inside a large window. Curtains are pulled across the glass inside, but there's a sliver of open space between them. It's just wide enough for me to see Dad drop to
his knees by the living room table and quickly gather whatever's on it. Then, arms full, he jumps up and flees the room.

“Should we knock again?” Elinor asks.

The door flies open. “Seamus!” Dad exclaims. “Elinor! What a pleasant surprise! Please come in!”

Elinor and I exchange glances. She steps through the doorway first. I follow.

“You have a lovely cabin,” Elinor says once we're all inside.

She's right. We're standing in the huge living room, which has hardwood floors, a cathedral ceiling, and a two-story fireplace. Each wall is different. The one facing the lake is made entirely of glass, so even standing on the other side of the room it feels like you're floating on a cloud. Another is made of multicolored rocks. Another features water streaming from the ceiling to a long, narrow pool on the floor. The last is made of twisting, tangling tree branches. The room looks like a hip indoor forest.

“Would you like to sit?” Dad asks. “Can I get you something to drink?”

After that hike up the hill, I'd love a glass of water. But we have a job to do. And the sooner we get to it, the sooner we can figure out why Dad's acting like I'm a houseguest instead of his son.

“Actually,” I say, “do
you
need something to drink? You look a little warm.”

Dad's face freezes. “I do?”

“Your face is red. And kind of sweaty.” Spotting a thermostat on the rock wall, I walk over and check the temperature. “Sixty-five degrees. That's pretty cold. The air-conditioning must be working. And you're wearing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt.” I turn around. “What do you think, Elinor?”

She stands before Dad and holds up one palm. “May I?”

“Um, well, what—”

He gives up on trying to form a sentence when Elinor presses her palm to his forehead. She turns to me, eyes wide.

“He's burning up,” she says.

“He is?” I ask.

“I am?” Dad asks.

“Wildernitess,” I say, thinking fast. “It's a sickness. A serious one. That you get in the woods.”

“Like poison ivy?” Elinor asks.

“Worse. It sucks your energy. Zaps your appetite. Turns your muscles to mush. It's really common in people who are used to being in houses and malls and cars—and then are suddenly dropped
in the middle of a forest. It's like their bodies' way of rejecting fresh air.” I raise my eyebrows at Dad. “And it starts . . . with a fever.”

“You're right,” he says.

I pause. “I am?”

“He is?” Elinor asks.

“Yes!” Dad bustles around the room, grabbing his wallet from the coffee table, his penny loafers from the mat by the door. “I've been feeling a bit off but thought it was just the excitement of being on vacation. I didn't consider that I might be coming down with something—but it makes sense! I'd better get checked out before it gets any worse.”

He snatches the lanyard holding his Kamp Kilter ID and key card from a hook on the tree-wall and starts to open the front door.

“Wait,” I say.

Dad stops, one foot in the living room, the other on the porch.

What are you doing? Why are you lying? What are you hiding?

Who are you and what did you do with my real dad?

I swallow down these questions and go with another. “What about Mom? Wildernitess is highly contagious. Maybe she should get checked out too?”

He shrugs. “Your mother's already out. I'll be sure to talk to her about it later!”

“That was easy,” Elinor says when he's gone. “He didn't even ask why we were here.”

“And he left us alone in the house.”

She pauses. “Isn't he usually the normal one?”

“Compared to my mom?” I nod. That's what I'd told Elinor once last semester. Because back then, it was true.

“Do you think she's rubbing off on him?”

This is an interesting question—and one I haven't considered. I already know that Mom loves Kilter and wants me to be as bad as I can be. I still don't know
why
, but I do know that. Is it possible that she told Dad about Kilter's real purpose? And somehow convinced him that I should be a professional Troublemaker?

I'd like to share these thoughts with Elinor but don't. She doesn't know that Mom knows about Kilter. I've been tempted to tell her and my other friends, but I don't want wondering about her to make them wonder about me. After almost losing them all when Mom revealed I was a murderer (before I knew I wasn't), I can't risk that again.

“I have no idea,” I say instead.

“Do you think we should've kept him around a little longer?” she asks. “To see if he said or did anything strange?”

“He said and did a lot in the few minutes he was here.” I tell her what I saw before entering the house, and how I want to find what Dad was trying to hide.