Camp Nowhere Read Free Page A

popular counselor at Camp Hawkwood. Even more popular than Priscilla, the girls’ senior counselor, who looks like a supermodel.
    Standing with the fire behind him, his dark eyes moving from face to face, Ramos raised his arms for quiet. “Tonight, I am going to tell once again the legend of Forbidden Falls,” he announced.
    “In a few days, our five senior campers will leave on the two-day trip to the falls. They have heard the legend many times. But it is repeated every year for the new campers, who will have to face the terrors of the falls in the near future.”
    A log split in the fire, sending up a burst of red sparks. A couple of girls jumped, startled by the crack of the log.
    “The story starts one hundred and fifty years ago,” Ramos began. “This forest and lake and all the land for hundreds of miles was controlled by the Onanoga Indian tribe. To this tribe, the falls was a sacred place.
    “It was known as the Pure Place. No one was allowed to bathe in the waters that flowed from the falls. No one was even allowed to step into those waters.”
    In the distance, the bird hooted again. The night air felt heavy and damp. I leaned closer to the fire.
    “During the Civil War, a unit of Union soldiers came to the river,” Ramos continued. “The men were tired and dirty. They admired the steep, raging waterfall. Then they stripped off their uniforms and bathed in the river.
    “They defiled the waters. They dirtied the waters.For the Indians, their Pure Place was destroyed forever.
    “The tribe put a curse on the falls. They gave it a new name—Forbidden Falls.
    “Soon after, the Indians were driven away. They were all forced from their land. The falls continued to roar—with no one to hear it.”
    Ramos shifted his weight and crossed his arms in front of him. His dark eyes flashed in the light of the darting fire.
    “Now we come to more modern times,” he said. “Several years ago, a group of boys from Camp Hawkwood went on a long canoe trip. On the second day, they discovered the falls.
    “They stared in amazement at the steep drop, at the foaming, rushing white water. They didn’t know anything about the falls. They didn’t know about its history—or about the curse.
    “These campers were looking for adventure. For thrills. They decided to take their canoes over the falls. Whooping and shouting and laughing, they braved the white water. And do you know what happened to them?”
    Silence. No one answered.
    “They crashed?” a girl finally said.
    Ramos shook his head. He narrowed his dark eyes. “They disappeared—never to be seen again. Five campers. Twelve years old. Just like you. We don’t know what happened to them,” he said in asoft voice just above a whisper. “They rode their canoes over Forbidden Falls. They splashed into the river below. And they were never seen again!
    “No sign of the boys’ canoes,” Ramos continued. “No life jackets. No clothes. No canoe paddles. No sign of the boys. All vanished.”
    He had been talking so softly, but now he raised his voice. “And here is the strangest thing of all,” he said. “The strangest thing of all. For years afterward, the missing boys’ parents received letters from them—letters about how much they were enjoying camp!”
    Silence. The only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the soft rush of the wind.
    And then I heard a laugh. And recognized David’s high giggle.
    Ramos turned slowly to face David across the fire. “I hope you are still laughing after your trip next week,” he told him.
    Ramos motioned to David with both hands. “Come on. Stand up. Get over here. You, too, Marty.” He gazed around the circle of campers. “I need all five senior campers up here,” he said.
    I knew what this was about, but I still felt a chill at the back of my neck. It was moment-of-silence time.
    The five of us lined up in front of the fire. David and Marty were having a playful shoving match. Ramos quickly broke it