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From the middle of the lake, a canoe began its advance through the darkening waters. Soon, two Indians stepped onto the shore, each carrying lighted torches. Dawn listened as Dr. Ben invited the campers to empty their ashes on the fire.
    Slowly, campers filed forward, shaking out the contents of boxes and bags. Dawn also stepped forward. Last year, she’d scattered hers and Sandy’s ashes onto the pile—Sandy’s had been part of the legacy from her friend’s cardboard box. Now, as she stood watching the ashes flutter downward, tears threatened. Quickly she turned and went to her place on the log.
    The Indians lit the wooden pyre, a war whoop went up, and the crowd clapped and yelled, “To victory!” Then the counselors passed out bags of marshmallows along with roasting sticks, and in no time, the sizzle of melting sugar blended with the smells of night-blooming flowers and pine trees.
    “This is yummy,” Esther said, licking blackened goo off the end of her stick.
    “Hey, Cindy!” Val called. “There’s room for you guys over here!”
    Dawn scooted over to make room for the girls from her cabin.
    “Where’s Marlee?” Cindy asked.
    “Who cares?” Esther said.
    Dawn searched the crowds until she finally located Marlee standing alone by the pier. In the shadows she looked lost, reminding Dawn of a scrawny, dejected cat. Still, she was making no effort to join in the marshmallow roast.
    “Maybe we should ask her over,” Dawn said, pity stirring inside of her.
    “Forget it,” Paige said. “She tripped me when we were coming down the trail.”
    Dawn stared at the one-armed girl. “Are you sure? Maybe it was an accident.”
    “She snatched my scarf off my head,” Fran offered. “And right in front of two guys. I was so embarrassed.”
    “She’s just mean and nasty,” Val said, shoving another marshmallow onto her stick. “Ignore her.”
    Dawn decided that Val was right. If Marlee wanted to join in, she could. It was up to her.
    After a while the fire had burned low and cooled enough for each camper to gather ashes for the following year, and then they returned to their cabins.
    Wearily Dawn prepared for bed, knowing that six o’clock the next morning would arrive in no time, and with it, her first full day as a CIT. She listened to the excited buzz of the girls as she turned out the lights and crawled between her fresh-smelling sheets. Her feet met resistance. She pushed harder, but the sheet didn’t move. Figuring it was somehow wadded up, she shoved with all her strength. She heard the sheet rip as her feet poked through it.
    Dawn lay seething in the darkness. Marlee had remade her bed all right. But the little brat had short-sheeted her.

Six
    D AWN felt as if she’d barely closed her eyes when she heard her alarm clock buzz beneath her pillow. She groaned, shut if off, and stumbled out of bed. Fortunately, the buzzer didn’t wake up any of the campers. Hurriedly, she freshened up and dressed, then headed to meet the other CITs.
    “Remind me to murder Dr. Ben,” Theresa grumbled to Dawn as the two of them and the other sleepy-eyed CITs stumbled into the assembly hall.
    “Morning, Dawn,” Brent said with a grin. “You look pretty,” he whispered in her ear.
    She returned his sunny smile. “Maybe we’d better get going,” she suggested. “We’ve got to serenade ten cabins by seven o’clock.”
    The group trudged outside where the sun was beginning to break over the tops of stately pine trees. They came to the first cabin and began singing. As Dawn heard stirrings from inside, she realized waking up to a song was better than waking up to an alarm buzzer or to a clanging bell from the mess hall.
    About thirty minutes later, all of the campers had been roused, and everyone had quietly assembled beside the lake where Dr. Ben spoke words of hope and encouragement. Dawn studied the campers—some on crutches, some bald, some with partial limbs, some with sores and bandages. It seemed like