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    The Shade
    The Shade
    The Shade
    Ebook72 pages57 minutes

    The Shade

    By K.L. Denman

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    About this ebook

    Safira doesn't believe in ghosts, but the girl in her cabin at camp was not a living person, so what was she? Her friend Trinity is convinced Safira's seen a ghost and sets out to discover who the ghost girl is. Safira is too busy dealing with her family to help solve the mystery. Safira has never gotten along with her sister, Mya, and now that Mya's pending marriage dominates the family there seems to be no hope for friendship between them. But when Trinity discovers the death of a girl named Myra, Safira starts to wonder if the ghost-girl has an important message about her own sister.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOrca Book Publishers
    Release dateMar 1, 2008
    ISBN9781554697441
    The Shade
    Author

    K.L. Denman

    K.L. Denman a écrit de nombreux romans pour la jeunesse, notamment Destination Human et Agent Angus publiés par Orca. Bon nombre de ses ouvrages ont figuré aux palmarès des meilleurs livres de l’année, et Me, Myself and Ike a été finaliste au Prix littéraire du Gouverneur général. K.L. Denman vit à Delta, en Colombie-Britannique.

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      Book preview

      The Shade - K.L. Denman

      Einstein

      chapter one

      I’m wakened by a clanking rattle. It seems to be coming from the washstand. I squint across the dark room, past the other girls snoozing in their bunks. From my upper bunk I have a clear view, but I don’t see anything unusual.

      And then there’s this tingling sense that someone is behind me. I turn slowly and meet the hollow stare of…who? I’ve never seen her before. She isn’t one of the campers. She isn’t a counsellor. She’s wearing striped clothing, maybe blue and white. It’s too dim to be certain. Her eyes are huge, but they’re deeply set and reflect no glimmer of light. Or maybe the fall of jagged dark hair across her forehead shadows them? She looks so sad. So unbearably sad. She’s standing near the foot of my bed, her face level with mine, and we gaze at each other. Neither of us speaks.

      An instant later, my mind registers this certainty: She is not of this world. My throat constricts, strangling my scream. The choking sound I manage is no more than a whimper. I yank my sleeping bag over my head and hold it tight. Maybe I pant a little in the utter black of my cocoon. What is she doing? The sweat oozing from every pore on my rigid body itches. Has she come closer? I’m suffocating. Has she gone? I strain to hear something, anything, over the roar of my blood. I wait for a very long time.

      When I can no longer bear the swelter of blind sweat and silence, the not knowing, I peek. Carefully. My fingers climb to the edge of the sleeping bag and inch it down past my eyes. I don’t see her. I tug the cover down further and suck in a breath of cool air. I lift my head, turn it this way and that. Nothing. I stay like this, wide-eyed and tense, until the rising sun brings light and I can sit up. Everything is perfectly normal. I guess I doze a bit, because the next thing I’m aware of is the bell sounding to wake us. I watch the others get up, yawning and moaning. Who wears striped pyjamas? No one does.

      I don’t tell anyone at swim camp about her. I’m not exactly close to the other girls. Sure, I’ve had fun with them, but my dislike of the water has put a fence between us. They are so into it, so focused on improving their strokes. Me? Not.

      Eight months ago, I begged my parents to send me to this camp. Swimming was my world. I used to dream about being a dolphin. But a lot can change in eight months. No, that’s wrong. A lot can change in a moment. Especially if that moment was devastating. The sort of thing that yanks away your identity.

      Back then, my parents came up with the money to pay for camp. When I changed my mind, it turned out they couldn’t get a full refund. My dad really wanted me to go, no matter what. He seemed quite sure it would fix things. I couldn’t get out of it.

      For the first few days, the counsellors were determined to get me to participate. One of them sat with me and talked. Come on, Safira. If you get in the water and just float, I’ll be happy.

      I said, No, thanks. I’m working on my tan.

      She asked if I was sick, did I need to talk to the nurse. She asked if there was a problem with the other kids. She asked if I was afraid. I answered no, every time.

      I told her, I just don’t feel like it. I hate swimming. It’s boring. The smell of chlorine is gross, and it wrecks my hair. I really wish I could have gone to a horse camp, but my parents sent me here.

      Hmm, she said. I know people who ride horses. They say the best thing to do if you fall off is get right back on. Conquer your fear.

      I’m not afraid, okay? And isn’t summer camp supposed to be fun? I smiled at her. Don’t worry about me. I’m totally fine just watching and reading a book.

      She finally backed off. I guess since I participated in all the other activities, she figured I was all right. Maybe she thought I was a brat, but at least she left me alone.

      Anyway. Today is the last day, and everyone is racing around, trying to find their stuff. There’s a lot of fake gagging as filthy clothes are dropped into suitcases. By the time my things are packed, the sad girl seems hazy crazy. Nothing more than a bad dream.

      When my parents arrive to pick me up, I see an eager light

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