They couldn't rip things apart fast enough. They overturned the soda machine. They slashed the cushions for the lawn furniture that were stacked beneath the overhang in front of the camp store. They pulled fistfuls of white polyester filler from the gashes. Two of them hurled a metal lawn chair through one of the front windows. Glass shattered, spraying in all directions.

Alec Stryker smashed the sole of his boot against the front door. It sprang open without protest. Gabriel and Lydia stumbled past him, followed by Hollis, who moved with slow determination, seeming to savor each moment.

The store was only one small room at the front of a larger building. A few feet away an old-fashioned cash register, its empty drawer half open, sat on the rustic pine counter. Gabriel Hart stared at it. The drawer made him think of a tongue hanging from a thirsty mouth. He looked away, glad no one was around to hear them break in. Kate Hennessey, who owned the place, and her niece, Gem, were in Virginia at a funeral. Alec had sworn to it. For the moment, anyway, Gabriel forced himself not to think about Gem. If he did, he would bolt for the woods and never stop running.

While the others smashed a display case filled with silver and turquoise jewelry, Gabriel halfheartedly looked around for something to break, finally grabbing the glass pot from the Mr. Coffee machine and smacking it hard against the counter until it shattered. He had to at least try to make it look like he was into the trashing.

Lydia Misurella stood on the other side of the room watching him intently. One by one she pulled postcards of the camp from the card rack and tore them into pieces. The look she gave Gabriel was knowing and intimate. But he turned away, searching for something else to destroy.

Across the room a refrigerator with a glass door stood almost empty except for a few bottles of Snapple and a six-pack of Coke. Gabriel looked around for something heavy. Something to smash into the door. But then a row of T-shirts and sweatshirts, each with the name Stony Brook Campgrounds emblazoned across the front, caught his attention. With one sweep of his arm they were on the floor. He wiped his muddy hiking boots on the shirts, grinding his heels into them, pretending it was Alec Stryker's face. His jaw was so tight it felt as if his teeth might crack.

A few minutes ago Alec Stryker and Hollis Feeney had been like dark shadows darting about the room, pulling shelves from the walls, letting their contents crash to the floor. But when Gabriel looked up from the muddy mess of torn and tangled shirts, Hollis was no longer there.

Gabriel stepped outside, pretending to look for him. It was an excuse not to have to watch Alec and Lydia as they continued to trash the store, and he knew it. He leaned against the front of the building. A heavy white frost had begun to settle over everything. Gabriel's nose and fingers were almost numb. Clouds of his breath circled his head.

Inside the building Alec was laughing. Gabriel heard the shatter of glass and knew Alec had broken the door of the refrigerator. Other sounds---the crunch of metal, the thud of heavy wood---he was not so sure about, and was surprised to discover he did not want to turn around to look.

The woods across the dirt road beckoned him. He had a sudden urge to make a run for it, but he shoved aside any thoughts of deserting the others. In a few minutes they would realize he wasn't in the store and call him. And he would go. He always did. For a brief moment he squeezed his eyes closed, as if he could shut out everything that was happening.

Copyright © 1999 by Joyce McDonald
No portion of this text may be reprinted without permission from the publisher, Delacorte Press,
a division of Random House, Inc.

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