The Ghost of Drowned Meadow, page 8
MadMadison: for real prob the best anime film I’ve ever seen in my life
Morgan stared at the post, feeling her stomach churn. Madison had still not responded to any of her texts. She didn’t know why, but clearly her ex–best friend was ghosting her. It was an awful feeling. She knew it was called “ghosting” because the person seemed to disappear. But it also made her feel like a ghost. Like she was invisible and inaudible. Like she didn’t matter.
Then it dawned on Morgan that she had ghosted Joel.
She slowly closed the lid on her laptop and stared at her phone, which lay on her bed. It was too late to reply now, wasn’t it? And anyway, what would she say? There was still that same problem. If he asked why she didn’t want to go, she’d either have to make something up or tell him the truth. Even though she’d lied her pants off to Hannah and Piper, she didn’t want to do that to Joel for some reason. But she also didn’t want to have to tell him that she couldn’t hang out with him because he was killing her social life.
Maybe he didn’t really care. She could be making a bigger deal out of it than it really was.
And maybe Madison had told herself the same thing, so she didn’t feel bad about ignoring Morgan.
Joseph Klaus’s life became much harder after the death of Tillie Koch. The other boys decided that being “discreet” meant they couldn’t all sneak over to the girls’ tents together. So they agreed to take turns, with only a few going each night. Those who remained behind were still anxious and eager to express the “proper behavior for healthy Aryan boys.” And naturally some of them turned to the victim closest at hand: die heulsuse.
He tried to stand up to them the first time. He told them as firmly as he could to leave him alone. They only laughed and punched him in the stomach. Then they dragged him out of the tent and into a nearby wooded area, where they kicked him until he threw up, all the while telling him it was for his own good. If he wanted to survive Der Tag, he would have to toughen up and start acting like a proper Aryan. When they were finished, they would drag him half unconscious back to the tent and toss him onto his bed, where others would stare and sometimes make fun of him. But by then, the pain and fear had left him numb to any further shame.
It was different boys every night, but nearly the same thing happened. As though it was a play they were all rehearsing. Except there was nothing pretend about the bruises he accrued. And there was no one he could ask for help. Tillie was gone. Helen had been transferred to Camp Nordland in New Jersey, where older teens received more intense training and education. There was even talk of her being sent to train with the real Hitler Youth in Germany. So Joseph was all alone.
He had to escape Camp Siegfried. Otherwise he would end up dead, just like Tillie.
For weeks he didn’t know how he would do it. Each day he endured the forced marches, the bricklaying, and the hours of lectures about the great Führer’s plan for world domination. Each night he endured the beatings and mockery.
Then at last he saw it. A delivery truck parked near the entrance. The back was covered with a tarp. He just had to find the right moment to slip away, then hide on the truck without being noticed. When it left, it would take him with it. Where? It didn’t even matter to him anymore. Anywhere was better than here.
The opportunity came at midday. The boys were led on a march with their weighted backpacks. As usual, it was hot and uncomfortable. Briars slashed at their bare arms and legs as they marched through woods and across fields, their empty stomachs growling. They weren’t supposed to show their discomfort, of course, but sometimes Joseph couldn’t help it. And when he showed even a little bit of weakness, it infuriated some of the other boys. Finally, as they hiked along a hilltop under the blazing sun, one of them looked over at the misery written plainly on Joseph’s face and sneered. Then the boy kicked Joseph’s legs out from under him. He tumbled down the hill, his twenty-pound pack pulling him on until he landed with a crunch in a thistle patch.
Joseph could hear their laughter. He heard the adult call down to him, telling him to stop napping. But he didn’t move. The adult threatened to leave him behind. He struggled half-heartedly, but still didn’t rise. Finally the adult gave up in disgust and ordered the group to continue on without him.
Once they were out of sight, Joseph abandoned his weighted pack and ran as fast as he could back the way they’d come. They were more than halfway through the hike, so he had farther to go. But without the pack he practically flew across the fields, making it back to the camp well before the others.
He looked over to the entrance and saw with relief that the truck was still there. He considered going back to the tent for his few belongings, but decided it wasn’t worth the risk. Instead he picked up a nearby crate and walked as casually as he could, hoping it looked like he was supposed to be loading cargo onto the truck. Not that the few adults sitting at a nearby table drinking beer paid him any mind.
Once he reached the truck, he lifted the tarp, slid in the crate, and then, after one last glance back to the adults at the table, clambered in and pulled the tarp down after him.
The story arc for volume seven of My Secret Dream of a Boring Life was Morgan’s least favorite in the entire series. One of the things she loved most about the series overall was how all the strange and disparate characters from different races and worldviews somehow got along. But in volume seven, their odd, happy extended family fell apart.
It started off as an argument between Zophia and Kosuke, when he realized that in order to conquer the kingdom, she’d had to kill a lot of humans—and worse, that she didn’t feel bad about it at all. Zophia believed she’d done what she had to in order to protect the nonhuman races, and she wasn’t going to apologize for it. Their argument spread across the court, everyone picking sides. Things got so bad that Zophia and Kosuke stopped talking to each other altogether.
After that, Zophia Zye felt lonelier than ever, because now she knew what it was like to have real friends. In her sadness, she went back to being the haughty, cold Night Queen from volume one, but it didn’t feel cool anymore. She’d been through so much and come so far. It just felt like she was taking the easy way out.
Morgan sighed and let the open book fall over her face. She could skip this volume and jump right to number eight. It wasn’t like she didn’t remember what happened. But that felt like she was taking the easy way out too. And she knew that the payoff in eight would feel so much better if she made it through seven.
She was sprawled out on the couch in the living room, so when the doorbell rang, she was the closest person to the front door. By family decree, that meant she had to answer it. She groaned and pushed herself up off the couch, then trudged across the living room to the door.
When she opened it, she was greeted by a blast of heat. Even though it was early September, they were having one of those last-ditch temperature jumps, like summer was having one final hurrah before autumn got serious.
She didn’t know who she expected to be at the door. But it definitely wasn’t Tressa.
“Oh,” said Morgan, straightening up a little. “Hey.”
Tressa grinned. “Hey, new girl. Hot enough for you?”
“You want to come in?” asked Morgan.
“You want to come out?” countered Tressa.
“Huh?”
Tressa pointed across the street to where a large boat sat tied to the dock.
“Is that yours?” asked Morgan.
“Yup. You said you’ve never been wakeboarding, right? Well, today is a perfect day for it and my mom is taking us out. So are you in?”
“For real?” asked Morgan.
Tressa rolled her eyes. “No, we came all this way just to troll you. So can you come or what?”
“Uh … let me check.”
“And change into a swimsuit,” Tressa called as Morgan hurried back into the house.
Her father was in the kitchen, attempting to learn how to bake something. Morgan did not have high hopes for the outcome, since he had never baked anything in his life.
“Dad, can I go wakeboarding with some girls from school?”
“Say what now?” He stared at her, the mixing bowl cradled in one arm, his other hand frozen in mid-stir. She supposed she couldn’t blame him, since she had never asked for anything like this before. “Uh … will there be an adult there?”
“Tressa’s mom.”
“I guess … cool then?” He still seemed a little confused.
“Thanks, Dad!”
“S-Sure …”
She hurried up to her room and got changed into a swimsuit, then pulled her shorts on and a T-shirt over that. As she made her way back down, she called out to her father.
“See you later!”
“Have fun! Be home for dinner! It’s going to be amazing!”
She glanced doubtfully at the doughy substance he was shoveling into a pan. “Er … can’t wait!”
Morgan returned to Tressa, and the two crossed the street toward the dock.
“Hey,” said Tressa. “Sorry about my clueless friends.”
“Oh … I guess you heard about all that with Joel?”
“Yeah. They were like, can you believe she was hanging out with him, and I was like, hello, she literally just told you it was because she didn’t have anything better to do. And that is just sad!” Tressa shook her head. “I didn’t even think about it before, but here we were talking at lunch every day about boating and wakeboarding and all of that, and you’re just sitting there patiently waiting to be invited.”
Morgan gave an embarrassed laugh. “Uh, yeah, it did cross my mind.”
“And we totally missed it!” said Tressa. “But don’t worry. I got you. From now on, we’ll make sure you’re way too busy for your mom to be sending you on dates with Joel Applebaum.”
“It really wasn’t a date,” said Morgan.
“I bet Joel thought it was,” said Tressa.
“R-really?”
“Of course.”
Morgan hadn’t thought about that before, but maybe it was true. He’d invited her to see a movie with him, which for a middle schooler was about as close to a proper date as you could get.
“Oh, wow …” she said out loud.
Tressa gave her a knowing look. “I thought you Brooklyn types were supposed to be worldly.”
“Only about some things, I guess,” said Morgan.
Tressa’s boat was a motorboat rather than a sailboat. It looked like a sleek white dart with a blue awning that covered the cockpit.
“Ahoy there!” called a middle-aged Black woman who sat at the steering wheel. “Welcome aboard, Morgan!”
“Uh, thanks, Ms. Witherspoon,” said Morgan as she awkwardly straddled the open space between the dock and the shifting boat.
“I hear this is your first time on a boat,” said Tressa’s mom.
“Yep.”
“Well, have a seat while we get underway. Tressa, can you cast us off?”
“Sure thing.” Tressa remained on the dock and began to untie the ropes that held the boat in place.
Morgan sat down on a white cushioned seat across from Ms. Witherspoon. Once Tressa had untied the ropes, she stepped on. Her mom pulled some levers, spun the silver wheel, then guided the boat away from the dock and out into the harbor.
There was a cabin below the front, and once they were underway, Piper and Hannah emerged from inside.
“Uh, hey, Morgan,” said Piper. Morgan couldn’t tell if she felt bad about the day before—Piper sort of always looked anxious.
“Okay, landlubber!” Hannah said boisterously, clearly not feeling bad at all. “If you’re going to be a proper Long Island girl, I guess I’ll have to teach you how it’s done.”
Morgan suspected that was probably as good an apology as she was going to get. So she just smiled.
“Cool.”
Ms. Witherspoon guided the boat slowly so as not to cause too much wake for all the other vessels moored around them. After gliding for several more minutes through the crowded harbor, they finally emerged into Long Island Sound and began to pick up speed.
The boat skimmed along the surface, kicking up a light spray on either side. The immense stretch of water before them glittered in the midday sun. When Morgan had looked at the sound on a map, it seemed dinky compared to the Atlantic Ocean. But now it filled her entire vision. She could see nothing else beyond it, and for the first time she thought she might understand the true scale of the ocean. It was beautiful, but also a little frightening in its vastness.
Hannah and Tressa were clearly very comfortable with it all. Once the boat was speeding through the sound, they stripped down to their swimsuits. Then they clambered up to the front of the boat, where they could stretch out beneath the sun. There were small metal railings on either side, so it wasn’t completely unsafe, and Ms. Witherspoon didn’t seem concerned. But Morgan decided to stay in the cockpit with Piper under the blue canopy.
Piper gave one of her anxious smiles and tugged at the sleeve of her T-shirt. “It doesn’t matter how much sunscreen I put on. I always burn.”
“Oh, I totally forgot sunscreen,” said Morgan.
Ms. Witherspoon pointed to a large canvas bag nestled against the seat beside her. “In the bag.”
“Ms. Witherspoon thinks of everything,” said Piper.
“That’s what a mom does,” said Ms. Witherspoon.
Piper smiled again but didn’t respond. There was something about her expression that made Morgan wonder if her own mother wasn’t like that.
“There’s also snacks if you get hungry,” continued Ms. Witherspoon. “And make sure you hydrate. There’s a cooler with waters in the cabin.”
“Thanks, Ms. Witherspoon,” said Morgan.
“If this is your first time on a boat, I want it to be a good experience,” she said.
They cruised through the sound for a little while. The sun shone down brightly from the clear blue sky, but the canopy shielded Morgan from direct light, and the ocean breeze blew strongly through her hair. She was surprisingly comfortable.
“Does your family have a boat?” Morgan asked Piper.
“Yeah,” she said. “But it’s, like, a serious racing boat.”
“I don’t even know the difference,” confessed Morgan.
“Oh …” Piper looked surprised, like she’d assumed everyone knew the difference between a “regular” boat and a “serious racing” boat. Then she smiled, but this time it was more relaxed and confident than usual. “Well, this is a powerboat, and my dad’s is a sailboat, which wouldn’t be great for wakeboarding. A large sailboat also needs a crew of people. When we take it out, it’s all hands. You can’t just hang out like this. You have to help out, and you have to know what you’re doing, or it can be dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” asked Morgan.
Piper’s expression became serious, and even more self-assured. “Sailing is fun, but you always have to be safe. My dad says that even the saltiest sailor shouldn’t take the sea for granted. If you get sloppy or stop paying attention, you could fall overboard, and that might be it for you. The sea is a cruel mistress, he always says. And if you’re not careful, she’ll take you.”
“R-Really … ?” Morgan glanced out at the rippling waters that surrounded them. There was nothing else in sight. No lifeguards or floats, and no land. How deep was it out here?
“But don’t worry!” Piper patted her arm reassuringly, as if only now realizing that what she said might be freaking Morgan out. “We’ll be safe. I promise!”
“You got that right,” said Ms. Witherspoon as she slowed the boat down. “And everybody’s wearing life jackets, no complaints.” She gave her daughter and Hannah a hard look, then raised her voice to make sure they could hear her. “That goes double for the danger twins.”
Tressa waved her hand in acknowledgment and Hannah heaved a dramatic sigh. Morgan wondered if they were wearing life jackets for her sake, or if this was a regular argument with Tressa’s mom.
“Okay, this looks like a good spot,” Ms. Witherspoon decided, although to Morgan it didn’t look any different from the previous ten minutes of open water. “Jackets on, everyone.”
The bright yellow life vests were stored under the bench at the back of the cockpit. When Morgan put hers on and clipped the front shut, it felt uncomfortable and a little cumbersome. She could understand why Tressa and Hannah weren’t thrilled about wearing them. But Morgan also found its bulk reassuring.
“I’d better go first, to show the new girl how it’s done,” asserted Hannah.
“You mean so you can show off,” said Tressa.
Hannah didn’t seem shamed by that at all. “Same thing.”
The wakeboard looked like a surfboard, except shorter—only about four feet long. There were what looked like rubber boots fastened to the board to keep the rider’s feet in place. Hannah sat down on a narrow platform on the back of the boat, or the “stern,” which Ms. Witherspoon said was the proper name for the rear of the boat.
Tressa handed Hannah the wakeboard and she fastened her feet to it. Then Piper handed her a long rope with a handle attached to the end.
Once she was all set, Hannah slid into the water. She bobbed up and down on the surface, kept up by her life jacket and the wakeboard, and gradually drifted away from the boat.
“Hannah, you ready?” called Ms. Witherspoon.
Hannah positioned herself so the board was between her and the boat, then gripped the rope handle with both hands.
“Ready!” she called, and gave a thumbs-up.
Ms. Witherspoon pushed on a lever and the boat began to speed up. Morgan watched as Hannah, her knees bent, slowly rose on the board. At first the board was still perpendicular to the boat, but once she was fully standing, she twisted so that it was pointing forward. She gave a thumbs-up again. Ms. Witherspoon nodded and increased the boat’s speed.
“Oh, right,” Tressa said. “Morgan, give a thumbs-up whenever you want my mom to speed up, or a thumbs-down if you want her to slow down. And if you want her to stop, go like this.” She made a back-and-forth cutting motion in front of her neck.
