We hear the familiar rattle on the gangway. Through the screen door comes Sue’s rear end and then Sara’s back wheels. They turn into the cabin, and behind them the screen door groans closed.

Sue looks grim. “Sara, you better report to your cabinmates.”

“Gladly, Sue.” She has the manner of someone who has just stood up at a banquet to make a toast. “Cabinmates: According to Fearless Leader Bob, we performed the Most Inappropriate Skit in Camp Courage History. And from eight years’ experience in this place, I can tell you that is no small distinction.”

“Sara, don’t be so smart,” Sue snaps.

“Sorry, I was born that way.”

I look down.

“At any rate, I took full responsibility. I told Bob I organized the whole thing. I told him Sue and Carole knew nothing, nothing, nothing. Bob wanted to send me home, but my mother is in Spain, and my grandmother can’t take me till tomorrow. So he’s stuck with me.”

Openly, Margie claps. The others keep silent, but they can’t hide the pleasure on their faces.

“Bob says bad campers should experience the ‘natural consequences’ of our actions. So, he asks me, ‘What is the natural consequence of a skit so inappropriate that it turns visiting Philistines—however briefly—into pillars of salt?’ I say social disapproval. He says, ‘Not enough.’” She waggles her finger like a disapproving kindergarten teacher. Like Mr. Bob. “So I suggest zero points for Talent in the inter-cabin competition. Not enough. So maybe zero points for Camp Spirit, I say. Well, turns out nothing’s enough. We’re so far ahead in cabin cleanup that we’re unbeatable, even without talent or spirit. So Fearless Leader is disqualifying us all together.”

Her flip tone goes cold. “Around here, comrades, the natural consequence of whatever we do is that they do whatever they want. They make the rules. They decide who wins and who loses. They have the power—”

Sue interrupts. “Understand this. What you did embarrassed Carole and me. We looked like we didn’t know what was going on in our own cabin. In front of all those visitors, too. This camp wouldn’t be here without them, or without the telethon. It was cruel.”

“You can’t be serious!” Sara sputters. “Cruel?”

Carole sinks down on one of the cots. “Yes, in a way, I have to agree. They felt so good about this camp. We all did. And now? What should we think? How should we feel? It is—painful—you know?”

Last night I wanted to inflict pain. Now I can barely remember why. How could I want to hurt Carole? Or Sue? How could any of us?

“Look. I can’t worry about the Jaycees or that red-faced Grand Benefactor or any of you. If it hurt, fine. That means we got heard. But it doesn’t matter, really. The show wasn’t for y’all. It was for us. I know we’re supposed to put on a good face and put up with the telethon and all that cruelty, but, hell, I’ve had enough and—”