45 - Ghost Camp by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead) Page B

the lake behind the cabins. Two small, dark birds glided low
over the sparkling water. No one swimming there.
    I turned to the woods that surrounded the camp. The afternoon sun had begun
to lower itself over the pine trees. No sign of any campers in the woods.
    “Maybe we’re in the wrong place,” Alex said softly.
    “Huh? Wrong place?” I pointed to the sign. “How can we be in the wrong place?
It says Camp Spirit Moon—doesn’t it?”
    “Maybe they all went on a field trip or something,” Alex suggested.
    I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you know anything about camp?” I snapped. “You don’t
go on field trips. There’s nowhere to go!”
    “You don’t have to shout !” Alex whined.
    “Then stop saying such stupid things!” I replied angrily. “We’re all alone in
the woods in an empty camp. We’ve got to think clearly.”
    “Maybe they’re all in that big stone building over there,” Alex suggested.
“Let’s go check it out.”
    I didn’t see any signs of life there. Nothing moved. The whole camp was as
still as a photograph.
    “Yeah. Come on,” I told Alex. “We might as well check it out.”
    We were still about halfway down the hill, following the path through the
tangles of pine trees—when a loud cry made us both stop and gasp in surprise.
    “Yo! Hey! Wait up!”
    A red-haired boy, in white tennis shorts and a white T-shirt, appeared beside
us. I guessed he was sixteen or seventeen.
    “Hey—where did you come from?” I cried. He really startled me. One second
Alex and I were alone. The next second this red-haired guy was standing there,
grinning at us.
    He pointed to the woods. “I was gathering firewood,” he explained. “I lost
track of the time.”
    “Are you a counselor?” I asked.
    He wiped sweat off his forehead with the front of his T-shirt. “Yes. My name
is Chris. You’re Harry and you’re Alex—right?”
    Alex and I nodded.
    “I’m sorry I’m late,” Chris apologized. “You weren’t worried, were you?”
    “Of course not,” I replied quickly.
    “Harry was a little scared. But I wasn’t,” Alex said. Sometimes Alex can
really be a pain.
    “Where is everyone?” I asked Chris. “We didn’t see any campers, or
counselors, or anyone.”
    “They all left,” Chris replied. He shook his head sadly. When he turned back
to Alex and me, I saw the frightened expression on his face.
    “The three of us—we’re all alone out here,” he said in a trembling voice.

 
 
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    “Huh? They left ?” Alex cried shrilly. “But—but—where did they go?”
    “We can’t be all alone!” I cried. “The woods—”
    A smile spread over Chris’ freckled face. Then he burst out laughing.
“Sorry, guys. I can’t keep a straight face.” He put his arms around our
shoulders and led us toward the camp. “I’m just joking.”
    “Excuse me? That was a joke?” I demanded. I was feeling very confused.
    “It’s a Camp Spirit Moon joke,” Chris explained, still grinning. “We play it
on all the new campers. Everyone hides in the woods when the new campers arrive
at camp. Then a counselor tells them that the campers all ran away. That they’re
all alone.”
    “Ha-ha. Very funny joke,” I said sarcastically.
    “You always try to scare the new campers?” Alex asked.
    Chris nodded. “Yeah. It’s a Camp Spirit Moon tradition. We have a lot of great traditions here. You’ll see. Tonight at the
campfire—”
    He stopped when a big black-haired man—also dressed in white—came
lumbering across the grass toward us. “Yo!” the man called in a booming, deep
voice.
    “This is Uncle Marv,” Chris whispered. “He runs the camp.”
    “Yo!” Uncle Marv repeated as he stepped up to us. “Harry, what’s up?” He
slapped me a high five that nearly knocked me into the trees.
    Uncle Marv grinned down at Alex and me. He was so huge— he reminded
me of a big grizzly bear at the zoo back home.
    He had long, greasy black hair that fell wildly over his face.