is fight them, understand? When we fight, everyone loses. See?”
He points to a motivational poster in the room with two dogs snarling at one another. It says, WHEN WE FIGHT, EVERYONE LOSES .
“I didn’t start it, though.”
“That’s not what I hear. What I hear is, you whacked Eric Chin in the head with a metal doll—”
“The miniature! Where is it?”
“We took it along with the rest of your gaming materials, Peregrine. You’re not here to bury your nose in books.”
“No, no, please, I need those back. I’m stuck here for eight weeks!”
“Stuck here? You’re lucky to be here. What you need to do is continue to ice your eye, and we’ll see you tonight at theVillage-Villa square dance.”
“What? I can’t dance!”
“It’s not a dance, it’s a square dance. An introductory social event to meet the girls from Oasis Villa. They come from all the way across the lake.”
“Good for them.”
“You have a problem with girls?”
I don’t answer.
“With that kind of attitude, no wonder. I’ll tell you what you won’t have a problem with, though: fighting. If you do it again—”
And then Dale’s mouth keeps moving but no words come out. I just hear silence—not even the tone of the room—a whoosh of nothing like a glitch in the universe—
“—Peregrine.”
Dale leaves with his ponytail swinging. Sound is back like normal. Maybe I got hit harder than I thought. I shake my head. The nurse raises a finger. “How many fingers am I holding up? Do you know who the president is?”
“May I please have a piece of paper?”
“Why?”
“Just something to write on and a pencil. Please.”
She gives me a handout about acne. I write on a pockmarked face with a camp-issue pencil: Ryu = Eric Chin.
“You’re lucky we’ve been icing your eye, otherwise it would be a huge red lump right now, and tomorrow it would be a shiny bruise,” she says.
I put the acne handout in my pocket. I get up. “Where do they put the things they confiscate?”
“Those would be in Dale’s cabin; I wouldn’t worry about them.”
“I don’t think you understand. I’m getting my miniature and my backpack and I’m going home. I don’t know what this place is, whether you’ve been feeding me medication or hypnosis treatments or what, but you’ve got an empty lake and a welcoming committee of kids who punch you in the face and people who come with a mute button. I’m outta here. And I’m taking my friend Sam with me.”
I open the door and rush out of the room.
21
A GIRL SITS ON A BENCH IN THE WAITING area, knitting, in a baggy sweater and jeans. I’m still pissed off at the nurse but when I see her, I jump behind a fire extinguisher to hide until I can figure out what to say to her.
“Hey! Is someone back there?”
Shoot. She puts her knitting aside; she’s making tiny mittens. She has beige skin and black hair. I can’t guess what wondrous combination of ethnicities has produced her. I step out holding the fire extinguisher.
“What are you holding that for?”
A response comes to mind, a response so perfect I think this whole situation must have been set up by a reality-TV camera crew. That would explain Camp Washiska Lake, actually: the signs for the lawyers, the random encounters and villains, the confusing audiovisual stimuli … maybe this is a reality show!
“I need this because you’re so hot,” I say, brandishing the fire extinguisher.
22
I’D LIKE TO SAY THERE’S A SLIVER OF TIME between when I offer my line and when she responds—some pregnant period when there’s the possibility that she might laugh, or come back with a complementary phrase (“I am ”), but all she says is, “Do I know you?”
“Sorry.” I put the fire extinguisher back. “I guess I could try and play it off like I was trying to be funny, but that was actually the best thing I could think to say.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Perry; pleased to meet you.” I stick out my hand.
“Are you
He points to a motivational poster in the room with two dogs snarling at one another. It says, WHEN WE FIGHT, EVERYONE LOSES .
“I didn’t start it, though.”
“That’s not what I hear. What I hear is, you whacked Eric Chin in the head with a metal doll—”
“The miniature! Where is it?”
“We took it along with the rest of your gaming materials, Peregrine. You’re not here to bury your nose in books.”
“No, no, please, I need those back. I’m stuck here for eight weeks!”
“Stuck here? You’re lucky to be here. What you need to do is continue to ice your eye, and we’ll see you tonight at theVillage-Villa square dance.”
“What? I can’t dance!”
“It’s not a dance, it’s a square dance. An introductory social event to meet the girls from Oasis Villa. They come from all the way across the lake.”
“Good for them.”
“You have a problem with girls?”
I don’t answer.
“With that kind of attitude, no wonder. I’ll tell you what you won’t have a problem with, though: fighting. If you do it again—”
And then Dale’s mouth keeps moving but no words come out. I just hear silence—not even the tone of the room—a whoosh of nothing like a glitch in the universe—
“—Peregrine.”
Dale leaves with his ponytail swinging. Sound is back like normal. Maybe I got hit harder than I thought. I shake my head. The nurse raises a finger. “How many fingers am I holding up? Do you know who the president is?”
“May I please have a piece of paper?”
“Why?”
“Just something to write on and a pencil. Please.”
She gives me a handout about acne. I write on a pockmarked face with a camp-issue pencil: Ryu = Eric Chin.
“You’re lucky we’ve been icing your eye, otherwise it would be a huge red lump right now, and tomorrow it would be a shiny bruise,” she says.
I put the acne handout in my pocket. I get up. “Where do they put the things they confiscate?”
“Those would be in Dale’s cabin; I wouldn’t worry about them.”
“I don’t think you understand. I’m getting my miniature and my backpack and I’m going home. I don’t know what this place is, whether you’ve been feeding me medication or hypnosis treatments or what, but you’ve got an empty lake and a welcoming committee of kids who punch you in the face and people who come with a mute button. I’m outta here. And I’m taking my friend Sam with me.”
I open the door and rush out of the room.
21
A GIRL SITS ON A BENCH IN THE WAITING area, knitting, in a baggy sweater and jeans. I’m still pissed off at the nurse but when I see her, I jump behind a fire extinguisher to hide until I can figure out what to say to her.
“Hey! Is someone back there?”
Shoot. She puts her knitting aside; she’s making tiny mittens. She has beige skin and black hair. I can’t guess what wondrous combination of ethnicities has produced her. I step out holding the fire extinguisher.
“What are you holding that for?”
A response comes to mind, a response so perfect I think this whole situation must have been set up by a reality-TV camera crew. That would explain Camp Washiska Lake, actually: the signs for the lawyers, the random encounters and villains, the confusing audiovisual stimuli … maybe this is a reality show!
“I need this because you’re so hot,” I say, brandishing the fire extinguisher.
22
I’D LIKE TO SAY THERE’S A SLIVER OF TIME between when I offer my line and when she responds—some pregnant period when there’s the possibility that she might laugh, or come back with a complementary phrase (“I am ”), but all she says is, “Do I know you?”
“Sorry.” I put the fire extinguisher back. “I guess I could try and play it off like I was trying to be funny, but that was actually the best thing I could think to say.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Perry; pleased to meet you.” I stick out my hand.
“Are you
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