September/October 2014

By Tatum Schutt Illustrated by Phoebe Wagoner “Why are you twisting your earrings like that?” So there I was, trying to keep my voice calm as I laid out my case to my archenemy on her front stoop. “You just have to promise,” I said, hating how my voice sounded so weak and pleading. Jess regarded me like a dead mouse her cat had dropped at her door. “Fine!” she finally spit at my feet, and promptly slammed the door in my face. My shoulders relaxed and I grinned as I got on my bike and rushed away, the warm summer air whooshing by my face. By some evil force of nature, Jess and I had both ended up at Interstock Sleep-Away Camp for the same two weeks, in the same cabin. I had stopped by her house the day before we left to insure it was safe. I hated it when people felt bad for me. The next day I was ready with my duffle when the bus pulled up. I gave my mom and dad one last kiss when my mom pulled me back. “Are you sure you want to do this, sweetie? After what happened, you…” I cut her off before she could finish her sentence. “Of course I do! I love you, bye!” I shouted over my shoulder as I ran to the bus, my duffle hitting the backs of my knees. The doors opened with a swish and I was instantly barraged with the cheerful, bird-like chattering of happy campers. Coupled with it was the smell of lemons and lavender, which was odd, but I shook it off. Maybe someone was drinking lemonade. My face burst into a grin as bright as a supernova as I sat down next to a girl with kinky brown hair and introduced myself. There was no way I would let Jess ruin this for me. *          *          * The drone of mosquitoes filled the air as Nicole, the girl I sat with on the bus, and I anxiously swatted them away. Today was our first archery contest, and everyone was on edge. “Why are you twisting your earrings like that?” Nicole asked curiously. I immediately put my hand down and turned a bit red. I hadn’t realized I had been doing it. “I do it when I am nervous,” I said. Suddenly Jess emerged from the background of girls. “No offense, but they look really old-fashioned,” she said loudly, and I felt my face heat up like a pit of lava as more girls surrounded me. Suddenly I blurted out, “I only wear them because my mom makes me. My grandmother gave them to me, and she has really bad taste.” I laughed meanly. “Is that the same grandmother you’re always quoting?” Jess asked innocently. The obvious answer was yes, and my face felt as hot as a pan in the oven. I looked to Nicole for help, but she was staring intently at the ground. A girl from the crowd said, “Why don’t you take them off? Your mother would never know.” Others from my cabin chimed in, voicing their opinions. “I never thought of that!” I said, faking a surprised expression and shoving the earrings deep into my pocket. I shot terribly, barely making the target. The earrings were a lump of regret and embarrassment pressing against me, like the lump you get in your throat before you cry. When at last the day was over, I threw my shorts on the ground and dove head first into the forgiving folds of the cold sheets. *          *          * The next morning, I awoke before everyone to the eerie sound of an owl calling to its mate. I reached instinctively to my ears before the events of the day before came rushing back like muddy water when a dam breaks. I sat down with a plunk. I couldn’t believe I had lied to my cabin mates just because of something Jess had said. I decided to start fresh and tell everyone the truth about my grandmother and the earrings. I swore that I would never take them off again. I reached into my crumpled shorts pocket to get the earrings. I groped and groped around, but my fist closed around only emptiness. My breathing became more rapid as my heart seemed to rise to my throat. I was shaking out my shorts when reveille was played, signaling everyone to get up. Someone turned on the light and Nicole said, “Cicile, what’s the matter? Your face is all white.” I slowly put my hand up to my ears. “My earrings!” I said. “They’re gone!” Several people groaned. One girl, named Cathy, said, “What’s so important about those earrings anyway? You said yourself, they are really old-fashioned.” I sat down heavily on my bed. When I read this I nearly fell over with shock “Let’s just get this over with. My grandmother, the one I am always talking about, died two months ago. She gave me those earrings three weeks before she died. They were the only thing I had to remember her by.” I looked up and was met with eight pitying looks. Jess was the only one who was not looking at me; she was glaring at her lap. “She made me promise not to tell,” she said spitefully. “Why didn’t you want us to know?” Cathy asked softly. “I don’t like being pitied,” I said truthfully. “OK,” Nicole said suddenly, breaking the soft silence. “Who took them?” she asked, and everyone turned their heads and fixed their eyes pointedly on Jess. “Hey,” she said. “I don’t think the question is who took them so much as what took them.” I let out a little gasp. “Do you mean…do you think it was my grandmother’s ghost?” Jess nodded gravely. Suddenly the breakfast bell rang, breaking the silence like a class full