The Goats by Brock Cole Page B

don’t fit in right away. That doesn’t mean that they’re unpopular. Far from it.” he said hastily, misinterpreting
Maddy’s stricken look. “These are often children who are deeply admired. The other children want to make friends with them. Make them a part of the community.”
    â€œWhat did they do to her?”
    â€œSometimes,” Wells continued as if he hadn’t heard the pain in her voice, “sometimes there are boys and girls who are a bit, well, judgmental about their fellows. And some of the other campers might decide, mistakenly, that things could be improved if a boy and girl were put in a situation where they might realize that we are all just people. That there’s nothing wrong, for example, in a healthy interest in members of the opposite sex.” Mr. Wells smirked slightly.
    â€œMr. Wells, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. What did they do to Laura?”
    The man surrendered reluctantly. “Well, they marooned Laura and this boy, Howie Mitchell, out on this little island together. It was to be just for the night. Not very clever, I agree.” He raised his hand before Maddy could speak. “I don’t think any real harm was meant. It’s happened before, back in the bad old days, and I don’t think any offense was taken, usually. I think most kids teased in this way would come back, well, a little proud of themselves, actually. There’s an old tent platform there. It’s perfectly safe. It’s just the other campers’ way of saying, ‘Hey, kids, come on! Get with it!’”

    Maddy felt her heart constrict into a small, painful lump. “That,” she said, “is the most beastly thing I have ever heard of.”
    Mr. Wells looked at her, full of compassion. “Mrs. Golden, I fully understand how this must seem to you. And I admit that for more sensitive children it might not be a good idea. And of course there’s always the possibility of an accident. Swimming accident, or something like that. That’s why I put a stop to this business as soon as I became director. We haven’t had an incident like this in years, believe me. But traditions die hard. Some of the campers here are third generation, if you’d believe it.”
    â€œI was a goat,” announced Miss Haskell.
    â€œWhat?” said Maddy. She thought the woman had said she was a goat.
    â€œA goat. We call the island Goat Island.” She blushed. Maddy understood.
    â€œI’m going to sue you,” she said levelly. “I’m going to sue you and this camp right into the ground.”
    Mr. Wells turned bright red, and his sympathetic expression hardened by a minute degree into something made of wood. “I don’t think that attitude is going to help us, Mrs. Golden. The important thing right now is that we get Laura and Howie back, safe and sound.”
    Maddy looked at him silently over his desk. It seemed strange to her that she had not realized at once that this man was her enemy.

    â€œNow, about the boy.” Wells began to fuss with some papers on his desk, as if the boy were some last, minor detail. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about from that direction. He’s a nice boy. Quiet, wouldn’t you say, Miss Haskell?”
    Miss Haskell agreed. Howie was very quiet.
    â€œNo, you don’t have to worry about that, Mrs. Golden. Howie wouldn’t harm your daughter.” He smiled as if it were, really, only a joke. “He’s about two inches shorter than she is, for one thing. You know girls at that age mature more quickly.”
    Maddy hadn’t worried about the boy hurting Laura. She had never even thought of such a thing. In all her imaginings of what might happen, this had eluded her. She looked alertly from the man to the woman, wondering what other horrors might be concealed.
    She heard Wells explain that they were trying to notify the