Outside the mess hall, I found Deborah, standing and staring at whatever was on the lawn with her hand pressed to her mouth. “Oh no,” she murmured. The campers around her were standing back, pressing against the exterior walls of the mess hall, as though they wanted to be absorbed back in.
I looked where Deborah was looking, and my heart squeezed in my chest.
Flames erupted from the ground. It took me a minute to realize that the flames were coming up in the shape of words. Yes, someone had spelled out something in some kind of accelerant—gasoline?—on the grass, and then lit the letters on fire.
GO HOME!
And the flames were licking toward the wooden mess hall. . . .
CHAPTER TWELVE
Up in Flames
“MILES, GET THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER!” Deborah shouted. I turned and saw the camp co-owner stumbling out of the mess hall. He scrambled back inside, and I felt a little rush of relief.
So Miles was inside the mess hall. Good. Good. If he was at dinner with the rest of us, that meant he couldn’t have lit the fire. Or at least . . . it made it less likely.
A hand suddenly shot out and shook my shoulder. “Nancy!” Deborah cried. “Get the campers back inside the mess hall. We can’t have them running around an open flame. And with them inside, it will be easier to put this out.”
Right. “GUYS!” I screamed, wrapping my hands around my mouth and turning toward the campers. “Everyone back in the mess hall! Come on! Let’s stay safe while the fire is put out!”
The campers began slowly making their way back inside—no one seemed eager to give up their prime viewing spot—as Miles came running out, a huge fire extinguisher in his arms. He pulled the key out and aimed the nozzle at the fire as I waved the campers back into the mess hall. “Come on, guys. Come on. Let’s let the grown-ups handle this.”
Once everyone was back inside the mess hall, the volume soared as everyone began discussing the action outside.
“Who would set that?”
“What did it say?”
“It said ‘Go home!’?”
“OMG, why?”
A small part of me felt like I should be discouraging this kind of conversation, but I didn’t know how. I mean, there were huge flames licking across the camp clearing. Everyone had seen them. There was no denying that something big was going on.
The feeling I’d had at dinner—that maybe all the weird happenings were over, for now—completely disappeared. I felt like I’d been plunged into freezing-cold water after a soothing massage.
Bess began leading her campers over to where Maya and I stood with our bunk. “You saw it?” she whisper-hissed to me. Across the hall, I could see that George and Janie were struggling to comfort several of the younger campers, who’d started crying.
I turned back to Bess and nodded. “Go home,” I whispered back. “That isn’t good.”
I’d filled Bess and George in on my discovery about Harper that morning. “So someone more dangerous than Harper is definitely at work here,” she whispered, too low for any of the campers to make out.
“Yes,” I agreed. “And whoever it is just changed elements—from water to fire.”
Deborah or Miles must have called the fire department, because within a few minutes of all the campers being sent back inside, we heard sirens, and a huge red fire truck could be seen parking in the camp driveway. Most of the fire was out at that point, but firefighters still poured out and began dousing the remaining flickers. Desperate to keep the campers from panicking, the other counselors and I organized a mammoth game of one of the campers’ favorites, Fruit Basket Upset.
It felt like hours before Deborah came back in and announced the fire was out, but it was probably only thirty minutes or so. Her face looked drawn, and she didn’t make eye contact with anyone as she stared straight ahead and announced, “I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to call off the Night Frisbee play-offs tonight. All campers will go back to their bunks and have ninety minutes of free time before lights-out.”
The mess hall erupted in whines and complaints. George’s seven-year-olds all began crying louder—even the ones who’d pulled themselves together in the thirty minutes or so we’d been back inside.
“I can’t believe this!” Kiki said. “We spent all week killing it in Night Frisbee! Now we don’t even get our chance at the championship?”
I patted her shoulder. “Sorry, kiddo,” I said. “Though you could look at it as, now everyone who would have played in the play-offs is a champion.”
Kiki sighed deeply. “No. I wanted to destroy the eleven-year-olds!”
“Maybe Harper can read us some more from her book during free time,” Maya suggested diplomatically. “Kind of like a bedtime story?”
Most of the girls seemed pleased with that idea. By the time we all filed out of the mess hall and headed toward our cabins, most of the grumbling had stopped—in my bunk, at least. But a haze of disappointment lingered over the whole group.