* * *
—
Later in the night, I wait until the girls leave for the campfire before reclining in my bunk with the meager collection of snacks from my backpack. Gnawing absently on the granola bar, I open the book Vivian had left behind.
On the first page, I see a date written in her hand.
The first day of camp. Fifteen years ago.
This is a diary.
Vivian’s diary.
I suck in a breath, exhale it back out, and begin to read.
June 22,
Well, here I am, back at Camp Nightmare for another six weeks. I can’t say I’m thrilled to be back, unlike The Senator and Mrs. Senator, who were ECSTATIC when I told them I wanted to spend the summer here and not slutting my way through Europe with Brittney, Patricia, and Kelly. If they only knew that I would absolutely love to be in Amsterdam with those bitches, sucking face with some stubbled douchebag wannabe deejay just for the weed.
Everyone seems to think I adore this place. That couldn’t be further from the truth. It creeps me out. It has ever since I first got here. There’s something not right about it.
But here is where I need to be. Just for one more summer. As they say in those shitty movies The Senator likes to watch, I’ve got unfinished business. But will I finish it? That’s the big question hanging over this whole summer. Before I left, I asked it to Katherine’s stupid Magic 8 Ball that she loved so much. All signs pointed to yes.
In the meantime, tomorrow I’ll get the pleasure of hearing F give that goddamn speech for the umpteenth time. It’s so pathetic how she goes out of her way trying to sound folksy when the rest of us know she’s worth a billion dollars. You are not fucking fooling us! At least, not for long.
Nat and Ali are here, of course. Fourth camper to be announced. I hope that bottom bunk stays empty. It’ll make things easier for all of us, but mostly me. If not, I’ll settle for Theodore. I’d sleep on top of him any damn day of the week. My God, he’s looking fine. Don’t get me wrong, he’s always looked fine. But I’m talking FINE. Worthy even of a dozen lame exclamation points.
!!!!!!!!!!!!
Pull it together, Viv. Don’t get distracted by all that fineness. You’re on a mission. Theo isn’t part of it. Unless he needs to be. Sweet Jesus Lord I hope he needs to be.
Update: It’s after dinner. No fourth camper has arrived. Fingers crossed she never does.
Update #2: The fourth camper just came in. A new girl. Time to either terrorize her or befriend her. I haven’t decided which one it’ll be.
June 23,
Today I showed New Girl the ropes. Someone had to. This place is not for the faint of heart.
New Girl has a name, by the way. It’s Emma. Cute, right? And she is. So young and innocent and shaky. Like a newborn kitten. She reminds me of when I was that age, mostly because, underneath that My Little Pony exterior, I think she might actually be a bitch in training. She stood up to me last night, which took major ovaries. I was duly impressed. No one has stood up to me since Katherine died. I missed that feeling of being put in my place. It’s tough being the only alpha female in the pack.
But, like Theo’s divine handsomeness, I can’t let New Girl distract me too much. Mission first. Friendship second. You-know-who learned that the hard way.
At least I got to roam a little bit after archery. I scoped out all the places I haven’t looked yet, including the Big L. I almost made it inside before Casey caught me sniffing around the place. With any other counselor, I would have tried to sneak in anyway. But not her. She’s weirdly devoted to this place. I mean, a former camper coming back as a counselor for two summers in a row? I can’t think of anything more pathetic.
My guess is she’s obsessed with Theo. It’s obvious she’s got the hots for him. She throws herself at him every chance she can get. Last year she caught me flirting with Theo and got all huffy, like she fucking owned him or something. Ever since, she’s been dying to get me kicked out. Hence the extra attention I receive during cabin check.
Like I said—pathetic.
June 24,
On her second night at camp, poor Emma had her VERY. FIRST. PERIOD. She woke me up last night with blood on her fingers like Carrie White. I felt so bad for her. I remember my first period. It was awful. I swear, the only thing that kept me sane was Katherine, who’d been through it all by that point. And where was Mrs. Senator, you ask? Gone, of course. Oblivious. She didn’t even know I was menstruating until the maid told her six months later.
So I did for Em what Kath did for me. Which means, in Carrie terms, I’m Sue Snell in this scenario. Wait, I guess that actually makes me the gym teacher. No, I refuse to be that bore. I’m sticking with Sue.
She survived.
June 26,
I almost drowned this afternoon.
Well, pretended to drown, which isn’t quite the same thing. It wasn’t planned. I just spontaneously decided to do it. Still, I deserve an Oscar for that performance. Or at least a Golden Globe. Best Performance of Drowning by a Regional Champion in the 100-Meter Butterfly. The gulping-down-lake-water part sucked, though. There’s probably some creepy water-borne microbe swimming in my stomach as I write this. But it was worth it. I got the reaction I was looking for.
While I’m on the subject of drowning, let’s talk about Franny’s husband for a sec. Don’t you think it’s strange that a dude who almost made it to the Olympics drowned? I sure as fuck do.
June 28,
Holy shit holy shit holy shit.
I made it into the Big L. At last! I went during lunch when I knew all the campers and counselors would be in the mess hall and F and her entourage would be dining on the back deck. That gave me enough time to slip in through the front door without anyone noticing. And wow, was it worth the wait. I knew F was hiding something in there. And, sure enough, she was. Several somethings. I managed to steal one before Lottie caught me in the study. She acted all cool about it, but I think she was seriously pissed to find me there. And now I’m freaking out because she’s going to tell F. I just know it.
Not fucking good, diary.
My reading is interrupted by a sudden, startling rap on the cabin door. I’d fallen so far down the rabbit hole of Vivian’s thoughts that the real world melted away, unnoticed. Now it’s back, making me look up from the page and call out in a trembling voice, “Who is it?”
“Emma, it’s Chet. Is everything okay?”
I slam the diary shut, stuff it under my pillow, and take a quick, calming breath before saying, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
The door opens a crack, and Chet peers inside, his hair a swoosh over his eyes. He pushes it away and says, “Can I come in?”