The Legend of the Firewalker (10 page)

Lafonda gripped the steering wheel tightly as she screeched into the adjacent open parking spot. Surprisin
gly, the guy didn’t even flinch or respond to the loud sound. “That’s what that car is!” said Nathan aloud. “He’s driving a Chevy Camaro.”

“I don’t care what he is driving,” moaned Lafonda, quickly springing out of the car. “Excuse me,” she deman
ded, walking right up to the guy. “Do you realize that you almost killed us back there?” The guy didn’t respond, so Lafonda became more infuriated. “Hey!” she demanded, her hands on her hips now. “I’m talking to you!”

Nathan had seen that stance from Lafonda before and knew all too well that the guy didn’t know what
he was in for. Slowly, the dark-haired guy placed one of his suitcases on the ground and glanced once at her from above the rim of his dark sunglasses. His solemn and chiseled face gave way to a smirk before it became a full-blown smile. He casually closed the trunk to his car and adjusted his black leather jacket. “Sweetheart,” he said, removing his sunglasses, “if you’re going to insist on getting behind such a powerful machine, maybe your boyfriend here should teach you how to drive it first.”

“What?” she exclaimed, completely taken aback by his comment.

“Don’t get your pretty face in a knot,” he continued. “I know cars can be confusing for the ladies, but I think I can find some time out of my busy schedule this summer to teach you.” He grinned. “I mean, all you have to do is ask, and I’ll see what I can do.”  

“What?” she cried again.

“Here, I tell you what,” he continued, pulling back his leather jacket and revealing the orange leadership camp shirt Nathan detested. “I’ll be working here this summer as a camp counselor, and you can ask for me at the front desk. The name is Malick.”

“Ugh!” she groaned. “Look, I won’t be asking for you!”

“But your shirt says Stephen Malick,” interrupted Nathan.

“Just Malick,” the tall, slender guy responded sharply. He paused and whispered to Nathan, “By the way, you have my condolences.”

“What — why?” asked Nathan, obviously confused.

Malick gave one last look at Lafonda. “I’m sure you’ve got your hands full with this one,” he said to Nathan, wal
king away.

“Ugh!” she screamed.

“What?” asked Nathan, startled.

“He’s a counselor at camp with us?” she yelled. Nathan stepped back as Lafonda’s hands curled into fists at her sides. He thought her eyes were going to bulge out of their eye sockets. “Ugh! I need to speak with my gran
dmother!”

6

LEADERSHIP CAMP

Nathan awoke to the sunlight that pierced through the t
iny crack in the curtains to his dorm room window. Each night before going to bed, he did his best to come up with a new way to try to keep the sunlight from waking him up in the morning. He tossed and turned several times in bed trying to block out the sun and fall back to sleep before his alarm went off. After several attempts, he gave up and just stared at the ceiling of the all-white room. He was still reluctant, however, to turn off his alarm clock and dreaded every second and every minute that went by because he knew he would soon have to get out of bed.

I don’t know how Lafonda lived in this dorm all last year,
he thought.
Staying here is definitely starting to feel like punishment.

It was the end of the first week at camp, and Nathan a
lready desired his cozy bed at home. He glared at the white walls and ceiling. “And I thought where I stayed last year was bad. Compared to this place, Douglas Hall is way better.” He let out a stifled yawn as he sat up in bed. “I’m actually impressed that Lafonda would even stay here.”

Things were pretty quiet as far as his nightmares were concerned, and he hadn’t had any problems with his hands either. In fact, he hadn’t had a bad dream or a problem with his hands since he left home for camp, but that didn’t stop him from frequently thinking about Leah. Besides the strangeness of it all, he often wondered if she was okay or if she felt alone in all this.

More and more he found himself wanting to reach out to her, to comfort her, or at least to let her know she wasn’t alone, that he too had strange things happening to him. Most importantly, he wanted to tell her that he had dreamed about her and possibly witnessed everything that happened to her that night. He wanted her to know that she wasn’t crazy.

“I can’t let her stay in that hospital. There is nothing wrong with her.” He shook his head. “I know I’m not crazy,” he murmured. “It’s just too much of a coinc
idence between my dream and what happened to her. Now, before I go running off to go rescue her and to avoid looking like an idiot, I need to confirm what Leah looks like. I need to see a photo of her.” He paused. “Lafonda did say there was a photo of her in the freshman yearbook.”

Nathan’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a bouncing ball outside of his dorm room. The sound stopped and was followed by a quick knocking session on the door.

“Jonas …” he said underneath his breath. “Why is he up already and still bouncing that stupid basketball?” He released a long drawn-out sigh. “If I have to tell him one more time to stop bouncing that ball inside, I’m going to take it away from him.”

Nathan hopped out of bed and opened the door to a tall, shaggy-haired teenager.

The boy’s slender frame towered over Nathan as he anxiously looked down at his camp counselor. “Is it time to eat yet?” asked Jonas. He continued to dribble his basketball. “I’m starving.”

“Jonas,” said Nathan, trying not to sound annoyed, “why are you up?”

“What do you mean?” he replied, his inquisitive eyes peeking beneath his curly dark hair. “We have to get up for breakfast.”

“Yeah, but it’s only 6:30,” explained Nathan. “They don’t even start serving breakfast till 7:30.”

“Oh,” responded Jonas nonchalantly. He paused for a moment but quickly began to dribble the basketball more fervently.

“Would you cut that out?” Nathan demanded. “You’re going to wake everyone else up.”

They both paused and turned their heads to the sound of doors opening and closing. Two other campers, Andy Jolie and Hugo Mattingly, wandered sleepily towards them.

“Is it time to head downstairs?” asked Andy. 

“Nope,” responded Jonas, while pretending to make basketball shots in the air. “Not quite time yet.”

“Oh, okay,” nodded Hugo, his big arms barely squee
zing past Nathan and into his room.

“What are you doing?” asked Nathan, clearly annoyed. “Get out of my room and off my bed.”

Another door in the hallway opened as Jonas continued to bounce his basketball.

“If you keep that up, I’m going to take that ball away from you,” warned Nathan.

“Oh, okay,” answered Jonas, instantly stopping and beelining straight into Nathan’s room.

“Uh, where are you two going?” protested Nathan, as Andy followed suit.

“Is it time for breakfast?” asked a new weary-eyed addition to the conversation.

“No!” sighed Nathan, stepping away from his door. “Go back to bed!”

“Back to bed?” the newcomer responded. “But it’s almost seven!”

Nathan sighed again and turned around to face the three overgrown teenagers now engrossed in a convers
ation about IUCF basketball in his dorm room. “Don’t mind me,” he grumbled, while grabbing a towel from the closet, “I guess I’ll get me a shower.”

“Okay,” nodded Jonas, pausing briefly to acknowledge him. “We’ll wait for you. We can all go down to breakfast together.”

“Great!” responded Nathan sarcastically. He huffed. “And this is only week one.”

Later, after his shower, Nathan spotted Lafonda dow
nstairs, sitting at one of the elongated tables alongside the large cafeteria windows. She was seated with some of the other counselors she had become acquainted with since arriving at camp. Oddly enough, besides Jonathan Black, they were all students at IUCF. Also odd was the fact that Jonathan wasn’t at the table this morning.

Jonas and the other campers assigned to Nathan’s floor had already gotten in line for breakfast and now were di
spersing amongst the tables of other campers staying on other floors.

“Nathan!” groaned Lafonda, as he approached the t
able.

He wasn’t the slightest bit surprised by her expression. It was quite obvious to him what was next, as he stared at the sea of orange shirts at the table.

“Where is your camp shirt?” she asked, trying to stifle the demanding tone in her voice. “You know that my grandmother will be upset with you if you’re not wearing your shirt again.”

“I know, I know,” he answered, rolling his eyes. “I plan to put it on after breakfast.”

She glowered at him. “Whatever, Nathan,” she said. “Seems like a waste of time to me to have to go upstairs after breakfast to change shirts.

Nathan shook his head and
moved towards the breakfast line. He loathed wearing the bright orange camp leadership shirt and detested even more that his name was written on it. “Why can’t I just wear my IUCF shirt?” he said to himself. “They were already on the Illinois University campus and almost everyone there was from the school or from the area.”

He walked back with his tray of food and sat down on the opposite end of the cafeteria table on purpose. He glanced over at Lafonda and was surprised that they hadn’t killed each other yet. Nathan returned his gaze to his food and shook his head. He couldn’t understand what Lafonda’s grandmother was thinking when she assigned them to the same group of campers.

“Good morning, Nathan,” said a chipper voice. “How are you this morning?”

He looked up from his plate of pancakes to find a blue-eyed girl with carefully groomed locks of long blond hair staring at him. Everything about her seemed perfect. Not a single wrinkle in her clothing; not a single strand of hair out of place. Nathan was shocked to see how well the bright o
range leadership shirt looked on her. With her long, beautiful eyelashes and rosy complexion, he concluded that she probably made just about anything she wore look good. 

“Are you enjoying your pancakes?” she asked.

“They’re pancakes,” he responded, while taking a couple gulps of orange juice.

“I doubt it if he even remembers your name,” co
mmented the blond-haired guy with the same color eyes standing next to her.

“I’m Angela,” she announced cheerfully. “Angela Gre
ystone.”

Nathan took a bite of his pancakes. “No, I reme
mber,” he stuttered, while covering his mouth. 

“Yeah, right,” contributed Lafonda from across the table.

Angela smiled. “We met earlier this week,” she continued. “And this here is Alan Donovan.”

“Right,” Nathan responded with a nod. He paused and stared at the two of them before continuing. He couldn’t get over how they looked like the female and male ve
rsions of each other. “Are you guys twins, or something?”

“No, we’re not related, but we get that all the time,” said Alan. “It’s because of our innate fashion sense.”

Nathan let out a stifled chuckle, barely avoiding spitting out his orange juice. “Your what?” he asked with a grin.

“Our innate fashion sense,” repeated Alan. He had a si
ncere look on his face. “We were just born knowing what looks good together. It’s a gift.”

Nathan sat in silence while staring at Alan and then su
ddenly started laughing hysterically. “You’re not serious, right?” he asked.

“Never mind Nathan,” said Lafonda. “He can’t even r
emember to wear his leadership shirt in the morning, let alone know anything about style or fashion.” She paused to glance down the table and glared at him. “Isn’t that right, Nathan?”

“Yup,” he responded sarcastically, “you’ve got me all figured out.”

Normally, he wouldn’t readily agree with her, but he was too distracted by the sudden appearance of Jonathan Black. Since the beginning of camp, Jonathan had appeared more and more tired and wasn’t the carefully dressed and punctual person that Nathan assumed he would be after meeting him the night of Lafonda’s birthday party at the Devaro Mansion. Nathan was so curious as to why Jonathan was late picking up his group from leadership classes and why he looked so disheveled, that he was willing to wave the white flag to Lafonda.

“Well, there goes my counterpart,” remarked Erin Rosales.

Nathan knew Erin because her father was the chief of police for Cahokia Falls, and although they had attended the same high school, they really hadn’t spoken to each other until Spanish class the previous semester. He was surprised to learn from Lafonda that Erin had decided to be a counselor at Leadership Camp this year. They’d been friends in high school, and Lafonda had encouraged her to sign up to be a counselor at the end of previous semester.

“Your partner may not like to wear his leadership shirt, Lafonda,” Erin smirked, “but at least he doesn’t stand you up or have you and your group waiting. Yesterday, I had to e
scort our group of campers back to the dormitory from classes by myself.”

“Good morning, Erin,” said Jonathan, taking a seat next to her.

“Nice of you to join us,” she responded, pushing back her tray of food and crossing her arms.

“I am so sorry,” said Jonathan immediately in response, “I promise to do better next time.”

“Next time!” she huffed, while tossing back her shoulder-length brown hair. “You try escorting fourteen teenagers by yourself and see how you like it.”

“Uh, actually,” interrupted Jonathan, while repositio
ning his square-rimmed glasses on his nose, “you mean sixteen.”

Erin stared at Jonathan blankly with a red face while ev
eryone else at the table waited to see if she would explode. Jonathan paused for a moment and then took a dry gulp. “See, actually, there are ninety-six kids at camp this year,” he continued slowly. “A group of eight boys and eight girls for each set of counselors.”

“Okay,” responded Erin. “And what does that have to do with you being late all the time?”

Nathan listened intently for the answer to that question, and so did everyone else at the table. Jonathan opened his mouth to start saying something, but instead turned to look at Nathan. 

Nathan was startled.
What? Why is he looking at me?

“Nothing,” Jonathan answered softly. “I just lost track of time, reading.”

“Reading?” said Erin. “You’re just tired and late all the time from reading?”

“Well, that might be close to the truth,” Nathan chuckled to himself. He really couldn’t imagine Jonathan Black up to anything else but reading.

Everyone else at the table looked like they had drawn the same conclusion and had begun to lose interest in the conversation.

“Well, and where exactly are you reading?” asked Erin more forcibly. “The guys on your floor say they can’t find you after lockdown in the evening. They say they knock on your door and you never answer.”

“They must be mistaken,” stuttered Jonathan.

“Ah, give it a rest!” rang a new voice to the convers
ation.

Everyone at the table turned their heads to find a smir
king Stephen Malick walking past them to sit at one of the smaller tables alongside the window.

“He’s cute,” perked up Angela.

“How can you tell?” asked Lafonda, sounding slightly annoyed. “He always has his sunglasses on.”

Angela grinned. “I like the sunglasses. It makes you da
ydream more about his cute brown eyes. Plus it adds to his bad-boy image.”

“Bad-boy image? Cute brown eyes? Please don’t add to his psychosis!”