drumbeats seemed to grow louder.
“Maybe it isn’t safe,” Erin said. “Maybe we should stay here.”
“But if it’s Ramos, or someone else who can help us…” Charlotte said.
“Whoever it is might have food!” I exclaimed.
Across the fire, David and Marty stirred. “What’s up?” Marty asked, stretching his arms. “Did someone say food ?”
“There’s a light,” I said. I pointed. “In the distance. We think someone else is in the woods.”
They scrambled to their feet. “Let’s check it out,” Marty said.
“But what if it’s a UFO?” David asked. “What if aliens from another planet are secretly landing in the woods, and they zap anyone who disturbs them?”
“But they might have food !” Marty exclaimed.
“Yeah. Let’s check it out!” David said.
Into the woods. We kept close together. But sometimes the path through the trees was so narrow, we had to squeeze through single file.
Clouds covered the moon, and we had no flashlight. Marty suggested we use my plastic lighter for light. But it wasn’t really bright enough to show the way. And I knew it wouldn’t last long anyway.
We stumbled over rocks and twigs and upraised tree roots. Low branches scratched our faces, scraped against our clothes.
The flickering light grew brighter as we came near.
“It’s definitely a fire,” I said. “A pretty big one.”
Thud…thud…
The drums kept up their steady rhythm. The sound surrounded us as we made our way through the woods.
And then I heard voices over the drumbeats.
The voices bounced off the trees. Echoed through the woods.
Boys’ voices.
I couldn’t make out the words.
The fire glowed brightly ahead of us. The drumbeats faded.
We stepped out of the trees into a broad clearing.
I gasped as I saw small wood cabins. A basketball court. A pile of canoes. A campfire.
Yes. A blazing campfire in a circle between the cabins. And sitting around the fire, a group of campers. Boys. All boys.
“It’s—it’s a camp!” Charlotte whispered. “Yes! Another camp!”
“We’re saved!” Erin cried.
And the five of us took off, trotting toward the dancing fire, moving into the light into the warmth of the tall flames.
At first, the campers didn’t see us. A tall, dark-haired counselor wearing white shorts and a white T-shirt stood before the fire, motioning with his hands as he talked.
“Hey!” Marty called breathlessly as we ran. “Hey!”
A boy on the edge of the circle turned at the sound of Marty’s cry. And his expression turned to horror.
The boy jumped to his feet. He spun around and frantically pointed at us.
“Ghosts!” he shouted. “Look! It’s the ghosts!”
18
Cries of surprise. Startled shouts. The campers all jumped up. The counselor froze, his face red in the firelight.
Ghosts? Why did he call us ghosts? I wondered.
I didn’t have time to think about it.
Silent now, the campers came at us. Walking tensely, spreading out.
I counted at least two dozen boys. They were all dressed in white shorts and white T-shirts.
The shirts had a green symbol on the front. As the campers drew closer, I could see that they were trees. And I could read the words: CAMP EVERGREEN .
“Hey, guys—” I called out.
They didn’t look friendly. Staring at us, not making a sound, the campers formed a tight circle around the five of us.
And then the circle closed in, holding us prisoner.
“We—we’re lost,” I told them. “You see, our canoes are missing, and—”
“Yeah. Our camp is up the river,” Marty broke in.
A man pushed his way through the circle of boys. He was big and wide. His Camp Evergreen T-shirt was stretched tight over a huge stomach that bulged over his shorts. He had a thick, football player’s neck and a round red face topped with prickly, short blond hair.
“Easy, guys,” he said in a booming voice. He stared at my friends and me with little round black eyes. “No problem here.”
He laughed. “These aren’t ghosts,”
“Maybe it isn’t safe,” Erin said. “Maybe we should stay here.”
“But if it’s Ramos, or someone else who can help us…” Charlotte said.
“Whoever it is might have food!” I exclaimed.
Across the fire, David and Marty stirred. “What’s up?” Marty asked, stretching his arms. “Did someone say food ?”
“There’s a light,” I said. I pointed. “In the distance. We think someone else is in the woods.”
They scrambled to their feet. “Let’s check it out,” Marty said.
“But what if it’s a UFO?” David asked. “What if aliens from another planet are secretly landing in the woods, and they zap anyone who disturbs them?”
“But they might have food !” Marty exclaimed.
“Yeah. Let’s check it out!” David said.
Into the woods. We kept close together. But sometimes the path through the trees was so narrow, we had to squeeze through single file.
Clouds covered the moon, and we had no flashlight. Marty suggested we use my plastic lighter for light. But it wasn’t really bright enough to show the way. And I knew it wouldn’t last long anyway.
We stumbled over rocks and twigs and upraised tree roots. Low branches scratched our faces, scraped against our clothes.
The flickering light grew brighter as we came near.
“It’s definitely a fire,” I said. “A pretty big one.”
Thud…thud…
The drums kept up their steady rhythm. The sound surrounded us as we made our way through the woods.
And then I heard voices over the drumbeats.
The voices bounced off the trees. Echoed through the woods.
Boys’ voices.
I couldn’t make out the words.
The fire glowed brightly ahead of us. The drumbeats faded.
We stepped out of the trees into a broad clearing.
I gasped as I saw small wood cabins. A basketball court. A pile of canoes. A campfire.
Yes. A blazing campfire in a circle between the cabins. And sitting around the fire, a group of campers. Boys. All boys.
“It’s—it’s a camp!” Charlotte whispered. “Yes! Another camp!”
“We’re saved!” Erin cried.
And the five of us took off, trotting toward the dancing fire, moving into the light into the warmth of the tall flames.
At first, the campers didn’t see us. A tall, dark-haired counselor wearing white shorts and a white T-shirt stood before the fire, motioning with his hands as he talked.
“Hey!” Marty called breathlessly as we ran. “Hey!”
A boy on the edge of the circle turned at the sound of Marty’s cry. And his expression turned to horror.
The boy jumped to his feet. He spun around and frantically pointed at us.
“Ghosts!” he shouted. “Look! It’s the ghosts!”
18
Cries of surprise. Startled shouts. The campers all jumped up. The counselor froze, his face red in the firelight.
Ghosts? Why did he call us ghosts? I wondered.
I didn’t have time to think about it.
Silent now, the campers came at us. Walking tensely, spreading out.
I counted at least two dozen boys. They were all dressed in white shorts and white T-shirts.
The shirts had a green symbol on the front. As the campers drew closer, I could see that they were trees. And I could read the words: CAMP EVERGREEN .
“Hey, guys—” I called out.
They didn’t look friendly. Staring at us, not making a sound, the campers formed a tight circle around the five of us.
And then the circle closed in, holding us prisoner.
“We—we’re lost,” I told them. “You see, our canoes are missing, and—”
“Yeah. Our camp is up the river,” Marty broke in.
A man pushed his way through the circle of boys. He was big and wide. His Camp Evergreen T-shirt was stretched tight over a huge stomach that bulged over his shorts. He had a thick, football player’s neck and a round red face topped with prickly, short blond hair.
“Easy, guys,” he said in a booming voice. He stared at my friends and me with little round black eyes. “No problem here.”
He laughed. “These aren’t ghosts,”
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