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“No!”

“Do we have to?”

I held up a finger. “In costume.”

The screaming doubled and I grinned. Here we go. Energy. Life. Anything except the suffocating heaviness that had been hanging over camp since Trevor disappeared in that helicopter.

I wanted laughter. I wanted noise. And maybe, somewhere under all that, I wanted four particular boys to feel the terror crawl underneath their skin as the humiliation settled deep.

I’d spotted them within thirty seconds of arriving. Kyle. Brandon. Ethan. And fucking Billy. All of them were sitting together beneath the oak tree like nothing had happened. Like Trevor hadn’t nearly died and they hadn’t been the reason.

They hadn’t looked at me once. Cowards usually became fascinated with their shoes when consequences walked into the room.

“Everyone gets assigned something,” I announced.

Cindy wheeled out two large plastic tubs we used for theme nights. Costumes. Old theater clothing. Ridiculous hats. Vests. Wigs. Ancient dresses donated sometime around the invention of electricity.

I clapped my hands. “Come get beautiful, darlings.”

Kids rushed forward. The mood changed immediately as they dug through the tubs. Someone put on a fake fur coat, despite the ninety-degree heat. Another kid found a cowboy hat. One boy wore fairy wings with basketball shorts. A girl emerged in a sequined jacket and declared herself Elton John.

I pointed at her. “Correct.”

She bowed.

Then Kyle finally approached the bins. Brandon and Ethan followed while Billy stayed behind watching. Slowly and carefully, I gestured to a special box. They already knew. Maybe it was my face. Maybe monsters recognized monsters. Kyle looked inside the first tub that I blocked with my foot. It was empty. Then he reached in my special box and grabbed the Victorian dresses. Old camp production gowns. Floral. Ruffled. One horrifying lime-green number with shoulder pads.

Brandon stared at it. “No.”

I tilted my head. “No?”

“There’s no guy stuff. Stop trying to make us gay.”

“Oh.” I peered inside the box as though this information genuinely shocked me. “Well, shit.”

Ethan folded his arms. “We’re not wearing dresses.”

I smiled. “Why?”

“Because.”

“Excellent argument.”

Kyle looked around. Everybody else was in costume. Counselors included. Mason had somehow ended up in a pirate coat. Darius wore a cowboy hat one of the campers had shoved onto his head. He looked irritatingly good in it.

I turned away.

Brandon lowered his voice. The insult small. Quiet and just for me. “We’re not doing that gay shit, you fucking faggot.”

I smiled wider. “No, sweetheart.”

His face hardened.

“This isn’t gay.” I lifted the green dress from the bin. “It’s polyester.”

A couple kids nearby laughed. Brandon flushed.

I held it out. “Put it on.”