Emilia sat at the front of the school bus, trying to work up a little excitement at the prospect of spending the next six weeks at summer camp. Every summer since turning ten, Emilia had gone to Camp Arrowhead and loved it. Hiking and fishing, crafting and basketball, archery and swimming, six weeks removed from the kids of Parkdale High School was freeing. But after what had happened at the end of school, Emilia couldn’t help but dread the experience.
“Did something happen?” her father had asked when she said she didn’t want to go.
“Can’t I just stay home and sulk like a regular teenager?” Emilia couldn’t articulate, even to herself, why she wanted to avoid summer camp. The idea of being hours from home, made her tense. What if she suddenly didn’t feel like herself again?
“Nope. You met your sulking quota in February,” her father said. He meant it as a joke, but it felt like a rebuke.
“Also, you dodged the question, Mimi.” her mother added.
Emilia had squirmed and blushed, not least of which because her mother had used her childish nickname. Even so, Emilia refused to admit anything happened. She assured them she wasn’t on drugs, hadn’t done anything illegal, and wasn’t being bullied, or at least no more than she could handle. But she didn’t tell them about the change she’d felt. And since she didn’t know how to tell her parents, she told them nothing. Which was how she found herself on a loud, crowded, smelly school bus, driving four hours north to Camp Arrowhead.
Emilia bit her tongue and closed her eyes, letting the miasma of the bus and the rumble of the road distract her from uncomfortable thoughts. She had achieved an equilibrium of mild discomfort when her seat was jarred by someone sitting next to her.
The bus was crowded, and Emilia had only managed to get a seat to herself by sitting at the front where no one else wanted to be. She opened her eyes, irritated. Her new seatmate was short and slight, probably a couple years younger than her, with thick glasses and tousled black hair. His white Camp Arrowhead t-shirt was too big and grass stained. She didn’t recognize him. He peered down the aisle toward the back of the bus.
“You all right?” Emilia asked.
The boy started and flicked a glance at her like he hadn’t realized she was there. “Oh. Um, is it all right if I sit here?” His voice was thick with allergies. He looked back down the aisle nervously.
Emilia shifted to her knees so she could look over the back of the seat. The bus was filled with kids, most of whom she knew or knew of. At the very back was a quartet she recognized but had always managed to avoid. They’d be seniors in the fall. It’d likely be their last year at Camp Arrowhead, unless they became councilors.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” the boy said. “Now they’ll think we’re friends.”
Emilia sat, leaning her back against the vibrating warmth of the metal school bus wall. “Did you do something to piss off the four fiends?”
The boy shrugged and took a labored breath before finally looking at her. His eyes were red and puffy. “Does existing count?” He sat back against the school bus seat.
“I’ve found if you don’t go near them, they won’t bother you.” Emilia said.
The boy shook his head. “My cousin thinks I’m excellent prey. Thanks for the advice though.” He sounded genuine.
“Cousin?”
“Keegan Brand. The pride of my family and bane of my existence.”
Though he looked young based on his size, his vocabulary suggested he was older.
Rather than look over the seat, Emilia looked up at the bus driver’s rearview mirror. They were at the front and she had a good view down the back of the bus, though the mirror shivered and shimmied. The boys she had named the four fiends were looking shifty.
“Is that supposed to reference the hero?” the boy asked.
“What’s that?” Emilia kept her eyes on the mirror. Keegan Brand, the red-haired leader of the four fiends, surreptitiously moved up one seat, squishing the girls already sitting there. The girls protested loudly, but the bus was already loud and the bus driver, Mr. Northam, didn’t notice.
“Your shirt,” the boy said.
Emilia glanced down at her t-shirt. It was bright pink and featured the word “Skyshredder” in block black letters down the right side.
“It’s a band I like.” Emilia’s father had taken her to see them last week, just after school let out. She’d been feeling particularly boyish that evening and had picked a pink shirt just to be contrary. After the show, her father surprised her with back stage passes and she’d gotten to shake Zenith Niall’s hand. The lead guitarist of Skyshredder was a laid back badass and Emilia wished she had a sliver of the woman’s confidence. Zenith had given Emilia one of her guitar picks and Emilia had kept it in the back pocket of her jeans ever since.
“Right,” said the boy. “Skyshredder is the band of Zenith Niall, the Guitarist, and one of the four Heroes of Humanity.”
Emilia nodded, but kept her eyes on the mirror. Vernon Fieldstone, a pudgy boy with a smear of dirt down one cheek, followed Keegan’s lead on the other side, squishing the kids in the seat in front to him.
Unlike at school, Emilia had largely managed to avoid bullies at Camp Arrowhead. These boys in particular preferred to spend their time dominating the smaller, slower boys on the soccerfield, strutting and confident, so all she had to do was avoid the soccerfields. Now it looked like her success was coming to an end.
Bryce and Aaron, the remaining two of the four, followed their way up the aisle of the bus. They weren’t especially subtle, but they didn’t need to be.
Emilia looked at the bus driver through the mirror. Mr. Northam was the physical education councilor at Camp Arrowhead and was strict about safety. From soccer to swimming, archery to cross country, he made sure everyone knew and observed the rules. Nearly seven feet tall and broad as any football player, Mr. Northam was a kind, gentle man with a mild voice. Unless someone was being unsafe. Then his voice turned deep and loud and could carry across camp. When Mr. Northam barked a command, everyone jumped and shenanigans ceased.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Emilia had always been good at mimicking voices. So long as she’d heard the voice recently, tone, dialect, cadence, even body language was easily copied. Emilia took a deep breath, concentrating on what Mr. Northam sounded like when he was irritated. She felt it deep in her chest.
“You boys, back to your seats! Now!”
Her impression was spot on and everyone on the bus jumped. No one spoke.
Emilia shrank in her seat, keeping her eyes on the mirror, watching the boys and just a top sliver of Mr. Northam’s forehead. She saw his forehead crease in surprise and his head tilt back to look at the mirror. The four fiends sheepishly made their way back to the rearmost seats. A wave of nervous giggles rippled through the bus. Mr. Northam gave a small nod and refocused on the road.
Slowly, conversation restarted.
“How did you do that?” the boy asked, eyes wide behind his glasses.
Emilia looked at him. She’d almost forgotten he was there. She blushed and swallowed hard. “I’ve just…”
“Are you a parahuman?”
“No. Of course not.” But what if she was? What she’d felt in the locker room wasn’t normal, was it? Had something about her changed? Had this boy noticed? Emilia blushed harder.
“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Honest. You can trust me.”
Emilia shook her head, trying to act naturally, to keep panic from flooding her chest. “I’m not...” Her voice caught.
The boy cleared his throat and nodded. “Right Sorry. I get a little enthusiastic sometimes. I’m really interested in parahumans. It’d be neat to be friends with someone with powers. And you sounded just like Mr. Northam. I mean, exactly.”
Relief flooded her chest. She took a careful breath. “Copying voices is just a trick. Nothing parahuman about it.”
He nodded. “Right. Okay. I’m Theodore, by the way. People call me Teddy, but I wish they wouldn’t.”
Emilia blinked at the boy, bewildered. He was bold for someone who had fled bullies only the moment before and had called her a friend after less than a minute’s acquaintance. Emilia was wary, but didn’t want to push him away out of habit.
“Um. Okay. Should I call you Theodore?”
The boy shrugged. “It sounds kind of stuffy, doesn’t it? I wish I had a cool name.”
“Would you prefer Ted? Or maybe Ed?”
“Like the horse? No thanks.”
Emilia didn’t know what he meant, but moved on. “What about Eddie?”
The boy’s face brightened. “Oh.” He stared into the distance a while, considering. “That doesn’t sound so bad.” He refocused his gaze and offered his hand. “Eddie Brand, parahuman expert. What’s your name?”
“Emilia McIntyre, average teenager.”
Eddie snorted. “Master mimicker, you mean. That wasn’t average by a long shot.”
Emilia looked at the mirror to find the four fiends still in their seats. They were talking and gesticulating and gave no sign they were interested in hassling Eddie. She let herself relax and shook his hand.
“So, you’re a parahuman expert? Does that mean your expertise is because of the Sounder Gene? Are you a parahuman?”
Eddie snorted. “I wish. I don’t have the marker. I just enjoy reading and have an excellent memory. And, if I may, Chloe Sandeaux founded the first parahuman group during the Last Great War. The Achebe-Tanaka Parahuman Marker, colloquially known as the Achebe Gene, is the genetic predictor of parahuman powers.” He looked sidelong at her. “I’m just a run of the mill nerd, nothing parahuman about it.” He grinned.
Emilia grinned back. “Pretty impressive.”
“I’m glad you think so. Usually when I geek out about parahumans, people laugh at me.”
“Really? Parahumans are cool.”
“Sure, but people who can name every parahuman ever documented by year of appearance, or by power set, or alphabetically by last name… we’re nerds.”
Emilia shrugged. “Impressive nerds are still impressive.”
Eddie looked away. He cleared his throat as though looking for something to say, then fell silent. The babble and rumble of the bus filled the space between. Emilia was fine with silence, but Eddie shifted uncomfortably.
“So... um... do you think anyone will open the box this summer?” Eddie asked.
Emilia rolled her eyes. The rumors about the stone box in the courtyard of Camp Arrowhead were longstanding. The large stone box stood just outside the entrance of Camp Arrowhead’s Main Hall. Mrs. Fir, head councilor and owner of Camp Arrowhead, claimed it had been on her family’s land for a hundred years. Maybe two. At the beginning of every summer, she told the story of how her great-great-grandfather had discovered the stone box, how he’d had a vision of its importance, and sworn to guard it.
Or something like that.
“If the treasure is so valuable, why not just take a jackhammer to the stone?” Emilia said. “If it’s that important to guard it, why invite a bunch of kids to its hiding place every summer?”
Eddie blinked at her, frowning in thought. It made him look especially serious and especially young. “Well, how did the box get there then?”
Emilia shrugged. “I assumed it was a boulder in the vague shape of a chest and someone took the time to square it off and drill four key-shaped holes on one side. Like an art project.”
Eddie frowned harder, then nodded. “I suppose that does make more sense.” He sighed, clearly disappointed.
Emilia felt bad. “It’s still a neat story. And, who knows, maybe a parahuman has something to do with it?”
Eddie brightened a little. “Maybe. But you don’t have to patronize me, Emilia. Now that you point it out, it’s obviously a gimmick.”
The bus transitioned from paved road to gravel, signaling they had nearly arrived. A few minutes later, Mr. Northam parked the bus in the gravel parking lot and before the bus could erupt into chaos, stood and turned. The noise immediately quieted. Amid eye-rolling, Mr. Northam reminded everyone to pick up their bags from the luggage truck, that they were responsible for their own gear and their own laundry, and so on and so forth.
Emilia patted the backpack at her feet. A few years ago, she’d figured out that five pairs of shorts, five t-shirts, two pairs of jeans, two pairs of pajama pants, one swimsuit, and two towels fit easily into one backpack. She stuffed the remaining space with as much socks and underwear as she could manage. It meant she had to do laundry once a week, sometimes more, but she didn’t mind. The laundry room in the basement of the Main Hall was clean and well maintained. With her hiking boots tied to her pack on the right and her toiletries in a zip bag clipped to the left, Emilia traveled light.
When Mr. Northam was done describing the basics of Camp Arrowhead, everyone piled into the aisle. Emilia slipped behind Eddie and they were first off the bus. Emilia strapped her backpack on and was set to hike to the main part of camp, but Eddie waited with the others for the luggage truck.
What would happen to Eddie if she left him alone? Not that he was her responsibility. And with Mr. Northam’s eyes on the gathering there was no way the four fiends could do anything to the smaller boy. One of the best parts of summer camp was being left to her own devices. She could craft or fish, hike or swim, shoot baskets or take a nap. And though she got along with the kids at camp, she never felt required to work with or wait for anyone.
But she couldn’t leave him without someone to watch his back. It didn’t feel right. Not just because he was small and nerdy, but because he’d liked the nickname she’d suggested, because he’d asked about her t-shirt, because he’d said he’d like to be her friend.
Surely making friends with a stranger required more than that.
But she waited, so maybe not.
As the luggage trucks arrived, Mr. Northam organized the unloading. Emilia kept her distance. She lost sight of Eddie in the scrum for luggage, but Keegan Brand was easy to keep an eye on as he was taller than most everyone else. He and his buddies pushed their way through to the front of the group where Mr. Northam noticed and put them to work unloading trucks and lining up bags. They couldn’t hassle Eddie if they were working under Mr. Northam’s direction.
Emilia hesitated. She wondered if she should keep waiting. She wondered if Eddie would even want her to. What if he hadn’t meant he wanted to be her friend? What if he’d think she was silly for waiting? After another several moments, Emilia turned and made her way toward camp.