Sixty-Two ☼ Phan

Fifteen

Nobody was in a good mood when we got to the main hall. It was counselor day all over again.

The sun was rising slowly, making the sky a pretty blue ombré. Birds chirped, hidden away behind trees to watch us quietly, living their short lives with nothing to ever worry about more than where to fly and what to eat. I sat down in my normal seat, as did the rest of us. Chris and Peej next to each other. Phil and I. One empty seat between our two duos, and James across from us on the other side. We were all, once again, separated by an invisible line of built up lies and outspoken words. A barricade of the past.

Phil nudged me, and I looked over.

"Where'd you go?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to lie. Say bathroom, my brain told me. Say to get some fresh air. But then I remembered how I was supposed to tell him the truth today. I very well did not want to start that off with a lie.

"I was with James," I said.

He gave me a curious glance, but couldn't, even if he wanted to, ask me to elaborate. The microphone wailed, having everybody cringe in unison. Mr. L didn't even apologize. He looked frantic, almost, as he stood at the podium.

"There's been a slight issue," he said.

We all stared, the majority still half asleep. Chris was awake this time, at least, a dull frown of general pissiness towards the whole affair gracing his face.

"A camper has gone missing," he told us, earning several shocked glances. "Breakfast will be a bit delayed. We are searching right now to find her, but until then I would like all of you to go back to your cabins and stay there."

Everybody waited. Some, I figured, thought this was a joke, and that, any minute now, someone would hop out and yell surprise with armfuls of confetti. But, as the seconds ticked by, tension in the air, nobody did.

"Counselors, keep everybody inside. Thank you."

Mr. L stepped down in conclusion to just about the shortest meeting ever. We stood together, as one confused mob, and headed towards the doors. Nobody talked or laughed, just whispered.

I stopped James with Chris, Peej, and Phil all standing behind me. "Who's missing?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Could you find out?" Peej asked, peering over my shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess I can ask. You guys head back. I'll be there soon."

Curiosity, for the moment, blinded our unsaid, barely existent quarrel. We seemed to forget everything that happpened, from the day Phil tried to kill himself to the day I found out.

"He said it was a girl," Peej noted.

"Who?" Chris asked.

"Mr. L. He said her."

"Yeah, he did." I nodded, having just remembered.

"Do you think it's a kid? Or someone our age?" Phil asked.

Normally, I, as well as, I'm assuming, Chris and Peej, would have been shocked to hear Phil join in on the conversation. But we were all tired and buzzing. There was someone missing, a girl. A person of flesh and bone and blood. That was far more prioritized than silly social standings and suicidal fear.

"It couldn't have been someone our age," Peej said. "Not if she got lost."

"Maybe she just ran off. Or went home."

"What if it's Louise?" I thought to Phil.

He considered it for a few seconds. "I hope not."

Peej and Chris didn't understand, both with equally confused looks on their faces. Phil and I, without exchanging a word at all, decided not to tell them.

We were back at the cabin, what seemed more like a bomb shelter than our living space at the time. Just waiting for the war helicopters to come zooming overhead, planes ready with explosives. Peej went in first, then Phil and I. Last was Chris, looking unsure as to what to do. He wasn't like the rest of us, more of a comedic personality. It was obvious that serious situations didn't really suit him. Like booking a clown for a funeral.

Peej went and sat at the foot of his bed with his bookbag. Immediately he began to work on his summer projects. Phil sat on his bed, too. Chris followed suit with his own, putting headphones in and staring at the wall, faced away.

I sat with Phil. Not sure why I did, when my bed was plenty well. It just seemed like the right decision, what I had wanted to do at the time. Sitting alone was just far too boring. He didn't mind at all, in fact. At first it was just side-by-side, then I easily relaxed and wound up with my head on his chest.

The sun shone in lazily. Birds and insects sang, the temperature wasn't too hot or too cold. It could easily be considered a perfect day if not for the circumstances. It was the type of day everybody waited for all year, the type of day every family brought out the grills and slip 'n slides for.

It felt like hours before James returned. We waited in silence for him. For news, for the bell, for anything to end the surrealistic environment we were stuck in of only thinking about a missing child. Chris looked out the windows several times, so much so that it was plausible that he perhaps even expected to see the S.W.A.T team carrying a little girl from the woods at any moment. I listened to Phil's heartbeat and nearly drifted asleep.

When James did come through the door, he just about gave me a heart attack. It swung open and slammed a little too aggressively against the wall, having all of us jump up and turn with wide eyes. He was standing there, breathing appearing to be hitched, leaning on the doorway for support. I sat up from where I was nestled into Phil's chest.

Had James not been looking the way he did, in such a manner that drew distracted concern, I would have jumped off Phil in embarrassment at the fact I'd curled onto him like a kitten while dozing.

And, believe me, James did not look like a happy camper at all. Quite literally.

"James? What is it?" Peej asked, standing and dropping his book to the floor.

"Do you know who it is?" I asked.

Chris was watching wordlessly, headphones poised in hand, having just taken them out. James made direct eye contact with him, startling all of us into following his gaze.

"What?" Chris questioned, uncomfortable with all our eyes on him.

James breathed out something inaudible, several syllables that didn't conjoin correctly. He looked apologetic, guilty, almost, as if he himself had been the one responsible for that girl's disappearance after all.

"What is it? Spit it out, now." Chris slung his feet over the bed so they were flat on the ground.

Several seconds of silence came back like a mosquito. I was finding it incredibly comical, in the most appropriate way possible, how James seemed to always be the one giving bad news. The one who always sat, waiting, just until the right moment, before swooping down and yanking us all away from our ignorant happy places. Our very own angel of death.

He was suddenly looking anywhere but at Chris, eyes downcasted and searching for something to solve this issue for him. As if a tiny fairy may peer out and snap its fingers to turn back time and stop it all from happening. Chris, on the other hand, was as fearless as a tiger as he stared James down.

"Tell me," Chris demanded, finally sensing the seriousness of what James had to say. It surprised me. Rondald Mcdonald took off the make up every once in a while, too, it seemed.

James met his eye, face solemn but not quite grievous. There was dismay but not enough to portray that it was such a matter that it could end the world, stop it right on the axis from spinning.

For Chris, though, it might actually have.

"Chris," he said quietly. "It's your sister."