The road from the parking lot to camp was wide enough several could walk along side by side, but was too narrow for the vehicles. It was rutted, and occasional rocks stood in the way. Making her way alone put Emilia in a quiet mood. The wood was thin around the edges of camp, allowing for plenty of undergrowth. Damp earth and summer-warm greenery tickled at her nose. She could hear the scamper and flutter of critters in the wood. By the time she emerged into the courtyard, bordered on the left by the Gymnasium, on the right by the Commons, and straight ahead by the Main Hall, she was glad her parents had insisted she go.
The stone box that supposedly held a precious treasure stood prominently in the courtyard, nearest the Main Hall, several feet from the doors. It looked just as Emilia remembered it, smooth grey stone in the shape of a rectangular box with rounded corners.
Emilia approached the box and put a hand on it. For a moment she entertained the notion she’d feel a magical shock when her flesh met the stone, but it was only sunwarm and smooth. A groove ran around the perimeter of the box about six inches from the top, indicating a lid, though there were no hinges. She walked around to the font of the box where it faced the front doors of the Main Hall. Centered horizontally, a few inches below the groove, were four holes shaped vaguely like old style keyholes, worn smooth by age and kids sticking their fingers in them.
“Do you expect to find the treasure this year, Emilia McIntyre?”
Emilia jumped at the voice of Mrs. Fir, owner and head councilor of Camp Arrowhead. She turned to find a thin, short woman with silver hair and a lined face standing near the entrance to the Main Hall. She stood with her arms crossed, expression closed. Mrs. Fir organized the camp, taught crafting classes, and was impeccably fair. Lots of kids thought Mrs. Fir was mean, but Emilia had always liked her.
Emilia shrugged but grinned. “If it’s hollow, a jackhammer should do the trick.”
Mrs. Fir cocked her head. “We tried that once. Broke the jackhammer.”
Emilia laughed, but Mrs. Fir’s expression remained closed. Emilia cleared her throat uncomfortably. After several moments more, Emilia could hear the sound of an approaching crowd. She noticed the clipboard in Mrs. Fir’s hands.
“Is that the cabin assignments?”
Mrs. Fir nodded. “But don’t you want to stay for my introduction to Camp Arrowhead?”
Emilia crossed her arms, copying Mrs. Fir’s posture. She took a breath, focusing on Mrs. Fir’s voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Camp Arrowhead, the ancestral home of my family. My name is Wilhelmina Fir and before we get to the fun and games of summer camp…”
Mrs. Fir’s stoic expression cracked to a smile. “Very well, Ms. McIntyre.” She looked down at her clipboard. “You’re in cabin 12. Your junior councilor is Francine Crabtree.”
Emilia hurried around the large Commons building on her right to a semicircle of squat, cramped cabins each facing inward to a fire pit and mis-matched camp furniture. A few young women, junior councilors for the girls’ side, hung about. Emilia made for cabin 12 on the far left. She met Frankie coming out. Francine Crabtree was a tall, athletic woman with platinum blonde hair, sun-darkened skin, boundless energy, and a lowkey attitude.
“You’re with me this summer, McIntyre,” Frankie said.
Emilia nodded.
“You going to take me up on archery this year?”
Emilia enjoyed a wide variety of activities, especially athletics, but archery made her nervous. Missing a shot on the soccerfield was different than on the archery range.
“It’s perfectly safe,” Frankie said, anticipating Emilia’s concerns. “And it’s awesome. Learning how to fire an arrow is why I’m the confident young woman I am today. You should have seen me when I was your age. I was a nervous wreck.”
Emilia laughed. She couldn’t imagine Frankie Crabtree a nervous wreck.
“I’ll give it some thought.”
Emilia was first to the cabin and claimed her bed, top bunk at the back of the cabin, furthest from the door. It was a small, single room building with a tiny bathroom attached. There was one toilet and one shower for eight girls to share, but at least there were two sinks outside the bathroom against the back wall.
Each bunk bed had simple headboard shelves attached. Emilia unpacked, finding a place for everything on the shelves, then stretched out on her bunk. Her back popped and her shoulders relaxed. She pointed her toes and stretched her arms above her. She’d felt rather boyish, using Mr. Northam’s voice to tell off the four fiends, but now, in the quiet just before summer camp, she felt in between. Neither. Since the locker room incident, she’d tensed at feeling anything but girlish. Just then, however, feeling in between was a quiet calm. She took a deep breath and held it, staring at the white-washed, wood-paneled ceiling, letting her vision fuzz and her thoughts drift and her worries fade.
After a bit, she heard a crowd of voices filtering to the cabins. Soon someone entered and Emilia sat up. She recognized Nadia, an athletic blonde girl.
Nadia waved. “You’re Em, right?”
“Emilia.”
Nadia was followed by Rosa, a quiet girl with dark skin and shy eyes. Then the sisters Cindy and Terra. Cindy was tall with toned arms and grease-stained knuckles. Terra was slim and pale, her gaze far away. Finally was Alexandria, a girl new to Camp Arrowhead. She had long, shiny black hair and was strikingly pretty. Including Frankie, that was seven girls. No one had chosen the bunk under Emilia’s.
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“All right, ladies,” Frankie said, clapping her hands to get their attention. “I’m not going to torture you with any get-to-know-you games. But I do want to go around and have everyone introduce themselves. You don’t have to be best friends, but I hope we’ll all get along. If it turns out we’ve got some personality conflicts, I can see about swapping bunks, but there’ll be no fighting in cabin 12. I’ve got no problem sending people home if it comes to that. Any questions?”
No one spoke up.
“Excellent. My name is Frankie Crabtree. This is my third year as a junior council at Camp Arrowhead...”
Even though she recognized all the girls but for Alexandria from previous years, Emilia was careful to match names with faces as they went around the circle: Nadia was blonde and athletic, Rosa was dark and shy, Cindy was tall and grease-stained, Terra was small and wistful, Alexandria was beautiful and poised.
“As soon as everyone’s unpacked, we’ll go to the Main Hall for dinner, then it’s movie night in the Commons,” Frankie said.
The Commons separated the girls’ cabins from the courtyard just as the Gymnasium separated the boys’. As the girls of cabin 12 made their way along the path around the Commons to the courtyard and then the Main Hall, Emilia noticed a gathering at the stone box.
Mrs. Fir was there, expression impassive, waving students into the Main Hall. When they passed, Emilia could see someone had spray-painted a large, crude penis on the key-side of the box.
Emilia shrugged uncomfortably and looked away. She knew it couldn’t have anything to do with her, but she couldn’t help thinking of the last day of school, of feeling different, of feeling so very masculine in a feminine space. Without thinking about it, she touched the guitar pick through the back pocket of her jeans and felt a little better.
Most of the ground floor of the Main Hall was dedicated to Camp Arrowhead’s cafeteria, easily seating the nearly two hundred kids and councilors. There were several long tables with attached benches and no assigned seating. The kitchen was separated from the cafeteria by a couple long counters with heat trays and a salad bar, all self-served. Students lined up to collect a tray and scoop themselves some food.
Emilia’s experience with cafeteria fare was mixed at best, but she thought Ms. Amy, the cook at Camp Arrowhead for as long as Emilia had been attending, did a great job. She was always friendly, even when kids were rude, and those times Emilia had helped in the kitchen were remembered fondly. The fresh-baked cookies for those who helped were a welcome reward.
Emilia got in line with the other girls from cabin 12. The traditional first dinner of Camp Arrowhead was macaroni and cheese with smoked sausage and sautéed broccoli. Ms. Amy said it was because it was Mrs. Fir’s favorite. There was a salad bar with fresh fruits and vegetables and drink options from milk to lemonade to iced tea. Though neither soda nor junk food was provided, they weren’t banned either, and Emilia knew a vigorous grey market of candy, chips, and soda would spring up before nightfall.
Last year, Emilia had been in cabin 7 and while no one had been overtly rude, they hadn’t gotten along either. It wasn’t that they didn’t like each other, but all the other girls had friends in other cabins. Emilia spent much of that summer alone. She couldn’t have said yet what the girls of cabin 12 would be like, but found herself pleased when they sat together for dinner.
Frankie, Nadia, and Cindy kept up a playful chatter. Rosa was painfully shy, and Terra had a faraway look. Alexandria had a quiet voice but when she spoke, the others quieted to listen.
Emilia didn’t have much to say and let their conversation, and the babble of the cafeteria, wash over her as she ate. Which is probably why she noticed immediately when Mrs. Fir stood and walked to the back wall of the cafeteria where announcements were made. Mrs. Fir didn’t call for attention. Instead, she waited and the cafeteria slowly fell silent. She put her hands behind her back and stood straight. She didn’t look angry; instead she looked irritated.
“Perhaps, in a world of superheroes, and villains, and magical histories, a mysterious stone box at summer camp seems silly. Normally this would be the part where I’d welcome you all and explain the history of the box. But, this evening, I am simply too annoyed.
“Some of you might think it funny to deface Camp Arrowhead property. If so, I invite you to leave. To the rest of you, I hope your next several weeks are fun and rewarding.” She looked about to say more, then stopped, nodded once, and returned to her seat.
A murmur filled the cafeteria.
Eventually, Alexandria leaned in to the others of cabin 12. “So, what’s the story of the box?”
“Somebody spray-painted a giant penis on it,” Terra said. It was the most she’d said to the group. The other girls stared at her, and she blushed and cleared her throat. “Sorry. That’s not what you meant,” she whispered. Everyone within earshot giggled. Terra blushed and Cindy, her big sister, rubbed her back in comforting circles.
Frankie cleared her throat. “According to Mrs. Fir, this land has been in her family for over one hundred years. Maybe more. This house used to be a sort of farmhouse. Or maybe a ranch house? They kept livestock and raised horses but didn’t grow crops. Anyway, one day her grandfather, or maybe her great-grandfather, somebody came out of the main house here to milk the chickens—”
Rosa snorted a giggle. “You don’t milk chickens.”
Frankie shrugged and winked. “Whatever. The point is the stone box was just sitting there. No one knows how it got there. This was before the Last Great War. I think. Before parahumans became such a big deal. Nobody could explain it and nothing they tried opened it.
“This great-grandfather character touched the box and had a vision. According to Mrs. Fir it was the only time he ever experienced or exhibited parahuman ability. He said the box needed to be protected until one day the right person would open it and claim the treasure within.”
“What does that mean, the right person?” Nadia asked.
Frankie shrugged. “No idea.”
“And what about those four keyholes?” Cindy asked. “I’ve always wondered about that.”
Frankie nodded. “According to Mrs. Fir her great-grandfather said they were connected somehow, like a group.”
“A group of four,” said Alexandria. “Like the four elements?”
“Or the four seasons,” said Nadia.
“There are four directions,” Cindy added.
“Four horsemen of the Apocalypse,” Rosa said, tone less shy, more solemn. “And four gospels: Lee, Lucas, Shelly, and Tolkien.”
“John, Paul, George, and Ringo,” said Terra. “The four Beatles.” Again, the girls of cabin 12 looked at the diminutive, dreamy-voiced blonde and she blinked at their attention, then smiled and they all laughed.
“Anyway,” said Frankie. “That’s basically it. It’s all a big mystery and those of us who’ve been around a while assume it’s just an old family story. Either way, people ought not be spray-painting it. Besides, like Mrs. Fir said, with parahumans and magic, there are weirder things in the world.”
After dinner, the sun was low in the sky, but summer evenings took their time at Camp Arrowhead. Emilia knew it would be an hour or two before true nightfall. As campers wrapped up dinner and returned their trays to the kitchen, Emilia decided to join the others for movie night. She didn’t always participate in movie night, the movie selection was a bit antiquated, but the other girls of cabin 12 all wanted to, and the idea of gathering in the big living room of the Commons felt cozy.
When they left the Main Hall, they saw someone had covered the defaced stone box with a big beige tarp.