Chapter 2

This was crazy. Uncertain and frustrated, Camilla clamped her arms tightly over her chest, which raised the tails of her borrowed shirt, which made Gary’s eyes flick to her exposed thighs. The teen boy—her age, Camilla guessed—knew she wore nothing beneath the shirt.

“Can I ask you something?” she said. Autumn in Huntington was warmer than average this year, and many trees still retained their leaves. But every tree in sight had long ago shed its foliage, and even the leaves on the ground lacked color. What really mystified her, however, were what appeared to be leaves from elm trees. She pointed at the ground between them. “You have elm trees here?”

Maggie and Gary looked down. “What?” Gary said.

Camilla recrossed her arms. “In History, in the last couple of weeks, we studied the Chestnut Blight, and the Dutch Elm Disease. I swear those are elm tree leaves, which is just crazy!”

She bent and snatched a leaf off the ground and examined it front and back. The leaves were distinctive in size and shape, oval, with double, saw-toothed margins. Like the preserved leaves she had studied in class, this one was shorter one side of the center vein than the other. This was an American Elm leaf. She’d swear to it.

“What year is it?” she blurted. Immediately, she invalidated the question with a shake of the head, stating: “I’m in Huntington, West Virginia. I’m going home and try to forget all this fucking bullshit! You guys stay here and play in your hole, if you want to.”

Arms clamped over her chest, she strode angrily toward a path leading away from the clearing, heading gently downhill. She obstinately refused to turn her head to acknowledge Gary and Maggie’s confusion.

“That just goes deeper into the Amazon!” Gary called after her in warning. “You don’t want to go down there, Camilla!”

“Fuck you,” she muttered under her breath.

In fact, the path ahead wound downward through thick brambles and tangled bushes, offering occasional glimpses of a meandering stream through thick foliage. Camilla couldn’t place her whereabouts anywhere near Wiltshire Boulevard. How did she get here, and who had brought her? Had she in fact, been raped and dumped in the woods? She burst into tears, hot and bitter. She went to wipe them away with the back of her hand, but jumped, screaming breathlessly at the touch on her right arm.

“It’s me, Camilla--it’s all right.”

She whirled to face the redheaded teen. “Where the fuck am I? How did I get here, Maggie?” She noted that Gary had not followed her down the path in pursuit. “I was naked, Maggie! Naked! What happened to me up there?”

Maggie shook her head and then pulled Camilla tight against her, wrapping her arms protectively around Camilla’s back. “Did somebody do something to you?” she asked in a hushed voice.

Camilla shook her head. “I don’t know,” she sobbed. She was a virgin, and still felt like a virgin, but how could she know for sure? “I don’t understand what’s going on. Tell me what’s going on. I have to know what’s going on.”

Maggie patted her back. “Are you really from West Virginia, hon?”

Camilla nodded miserably.

“Somebody brought you here, then, because this really is Marshall, New Hampshire, Camilla.”

Camilla squeezed her eyes shut tight and moaned, “How did I get here?”

“I guess that’s a question we should ask the police.” Maggie eased her away, holding her biceps. Her look of disgust called that option into question though. “The important thing is you’re okay, and you’re among friends. You are, you know—among friends.” She canted her head, inquiringly.

Camilla sighed brokenly. “I guess so. Thank you. For the shirt and the shoes, and for being there when I woke up.” She burst into tears again. “I don’t know what I would have done if I was alone!” Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she hiccupped loudly. “Can we get out of this fucking place? It freaks the shit out of me down here.” She shuddered violently in the cold air and Maggie wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“I hate this place, too. I really don’t know why we even came down here today. We usually avoid this place like the plague. Ever since--” She grimaced, looking away to the side, and then shuddered almost as violently as Camilla had. “Anyway,” she said gruffly, “let’s go. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the gang, and maybe we can figure out what happened to you.”

The two proceeded carefully up the path, shoeless Maggie in the lead, holding Camilla’s hand. “Are you and Gary...?” Camilla asked, looking for the clearing.

Maggie snorted derisively. “He wishes! Gary’s a retard, but I love him like a brother. I love all the Misfits like my brothers,” she added, glancing up the path to make sure they weren’t overheard. “I’ve hung out with them for five years, for the life of me, I don’t know why. It’s like--”

Gary hollered anxiously down from above, cutting her off. “Mags?”

“I’m coming! I convinced Camilla not to jump in the Winnipesaukee.”

Gary chuckled hoarsely and erupted in bad imitation of some old personality that Camilla didn’t immediately recognize. “Wacka-wacka-wacka! She got off a good one, didn’t she, Ed! What prize do we have lined up for the gentle miss, this evening?”

“Jesus Christ,” Maggie muttered disgustedly. “Enough, Gary!” To Camilla, she said: “He is so hopeless. Please don’t encourage him by laughing at his horrible imitations. And by the way--”

“Winnipesaukee?” Camilla interrupted, wondering why the odd name sounded unexpectedly familiar.

Maggie laughed. “They don’t name anything normal in New England, so they? It’s the stream back there.” She poked a thumb over her shoulder. “It runs through the Amazon and empties into the Merrimack.” She indicated off to their left with her thumb. “You don’t ever want to go swimming in either,” she said, pinching her nose. “Not if you want to ever have babies.”

Gary appeared from around a tall shrub, grinning ear to ear. “We take target practice at the turds as they float by.” He closed an eye and sighted the other along his forefinger as he fired with his thumb. “It’s a little better now than it was five years ago, but not much.” He planted his hands on his hips. “You figured out where you are yet, Camilla?”

Weird as he was, Gary seemed a nice kid, and from the twinkle in his eyes, he obviously liked her. He also tried to conceal his frank curiosity about her nakedness under Maggie’s shirt, and she appreciated that. He kept his eyes where they belonged: on her face.

“So, what do we do?” he asked.

“Take her to your house, I guess.”