The Dead Season by Donna Ball Page A

back to camp with Lourdes, Paul bringing up the rear. I couldn’t help noticing that Jess never got too far ahead, and he would glance back every few minutes just to make sure we were still there.
     
    ~
     
    The kids built an impressive bonfire that warmed the ground for yards around and it cast a happy glow into the woods beyond as the sun began to set. It was, unfortunately, too large and too hot for cooking, but they had worked so hard and so enthusiastically making trip after trip into the deadfall to bring back armloads of fuel that, when Rachel pointed out their folly, I couldn’t stand to see their expressions fall once again.
    “Why don’t you just build a separate cooking fire?” I suggested. “You’ve got plenty of wood, and you don’t have to dig another pit. Just line it with some of those flat rocks, and be sure to bury the embers when you’re done.”
    Lourdes and Pete, whose names had come up first in meal prep rotation, looked pleased with that solution, and everyone else was relieved that their meal would not be delayed until the big fire died down enough to cook on.
    But Rachel’s eyes flared with impatience and her tone was tight as she said, “Consequences, Miss Stockton.”
    I was really getting a little tired of that. It occurred to me that if one of the goals of this program was to build confidence, it probably wouldn’t hurt to let the kids succeed at something once in a while. So I replied simply, “Dinner, Mrs. Evans.”
    She turned away without replying, but if looks could really speak, her words would have all had four letters.
     
    ~
     
    The kids ate some kind of lukewarm, pre-packaged goulash that even Cisco sniffed and ignored and gathered around the bonfire as the sun died for an evaluation of the day’s performance. I unfolded a space blanket for Cisco and sat beside him, brushing the burrs out of his coat while he cuddled with his stuffed rabbit. One by one, the kids reviewed the day: the best part, the worst part, the things they could have done better. For Jess, the best part of the day was that it was over, the worst part was dinner, and as for what he could have done better—not a damn thing. That, of course, set the tone, and no one took the exercise seriously after that. It seemed to me that Rachel would have known better than to let Jess start.
    I had finished brushing Cisco and was into a gentle game of tug with his rabbit when Paul said, “Miss Stockton, would you like to comment on what we can all learn from our first day on the trail?”
    Oh, there was plenty I could have said, but I decided it would probably be best to confine my comments to my own area of expertise. So I released Cisco’s toy to him and said, “Okay, sure. There are a lot of things you should have learned today.” I looked around the fire-lit faces of the weary, miserable and disinterested teenagers and said, “The first one is that there is always more than one way around an obstacle on the trail. Think about the animals, the deer and raccoon and bears. They don’t build bridges across streams. They look for the path of least resistance. You should too.”
    The kids seemed to like that—probably because they knew I had been reprimanded for suggesting that they go downstream to cross, instead of building a bridge over the stream. They thought they had gotten away with something, but I wasn’t the one who had made them feel that way; Paul had. They paid a bit more attention now.
    “Secondly…” I fixed a meaningful look on Jess and Pete. “Always pack your own backpack. You boys had everything you own scattered on the ground this morning, you had every opportunity to check the contents of your pack, and neither one of you noticed you didn’t have any matches. What happened was your own fault.” Angel suppressed a giggle and tried to be subtle about elbowing Tiffanie, but both of the boys noticed and scowled.
    Their good mood was gone, but I wasn’t finished. “As for leaving a team