The Dollhouse

Chapter 21

VIOLET didn't bring up the recording again.

It gnawed away, another bothersome thing crawling at the back of my brain. I felt so done with the secrets. If everyone wanted to be mysterious, let them. I was sick of the games. 

Nick's plan for a weekend camping could not come at more fitting time.

Trekking through the field in single file, we planned to walk miles away from Haverbrook, past the farming properties, and away from any parents. With a metal water bottle banging on my hip, I had a duffle bag hitched on my back packed with flashlights, matches, food and first aid. I ever dug out an old pair of khaki shorts and sensible boots - so far removed from the feminine dresses and ribbons I was use to wearing.

The fields were endless. Stretching as far as the naked eye could see, the ailing flowers died off as we approached the woodsy areas. The woodland became denser as the lot of us crunched through the fallen leaves on the trail. Nick showed us to the valley he and his brothers had discovered a few summers ago; a stream ran through, hidden by nature.

The hours of vigorous walking left me out of breath. Wiping the sweat off my brow, my lungs filled with the scent of the sweet, untainted environment.

"Heads up, Dawson!" Nick yelled, charging at Betsy at full speed. He grabbed her around the knees, hoisting her over his broad shoulders, pretending to throw her in the water - "Stop it, you moron!" she shrieked, but she grinned.

"I hope we don't have to put up with that for three days," Samuel said, somewhere from behind me.

"Right. Tents. Probably don't want them too close to the bank in case the water rises. Probably not to close to the woods though - you know, in case we get ripped to shreds by black bears."

"Nick," Betsy began to untangle some poles from the bag. "Honestly, you're more likely to be killed hitting one with your car. My Dad once hit a deer when we went hiking on the Fourth of July, and that wasn't pretty. And we ended up in a ditch."

I was pleasantly surprised when Arabella had granted permission for the trip. She had been lighting French vanilla candles in the dining room when I brought up the idea, sidling into the room with my hands behind my back. For a moment my stepmother just listened avidly. Then the impending doom started to set in.

"So there are boys going?" she inquired wearily.

"Well, yes." I knew I had to phrase with delicacy. "But Rudy had been invited too, and I can assure you he'd never agree to anything irresponsible."

Rudy was the golden ticket.

Her features softened. Rudy never got invited anywhere.

Besides, Arabella probably thought we'd get away with nothing if her precious, role-model son was there to police our activities.

We erected the tents in a clumsy fashion. Only a few had real experience with the outdoors, but all seven of us - Betsy, Samuel, Nick, Lorna, Violet and Rudy and myself - ended up pitching the larger tent to prevent collapse. It was a miracle we hadn't wandered off the trail, lost in the still fields and into the night.

"Y'all really are stupid as fuck," Violet said, as a plastic camping table collapsed beside her. Water bottles rolled in every direction. She picked up a disposable plate, shaking the dirt off with a sigh.

"I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted already," I exclaimed.

She suited fresh air. Her bare skin scrubbed clean of any cosmetic products, her brown hair in a ponytail - gone was the luxury of curling irons out here. Rudy, however, adorned her usual clothing style, snagging his professor-esque sweater on a branch. I suppressed a snort.