Psychic Summer Camp

Chapter 1

Lincoln Matthews slouched in his desk, cursing his terrible luck as he stared miserably out the classroom window. Thick gray clouds hung low in the sky, blackening as the inevitable downpour they held grew heavier within. The hot summer air was moist and electric with the charge of the coming storm. He took a deep sorrowful breath, exhaling it through his nose as he glanced at the clock on the wall.

Three o'clock.

There was only fifteen minutes left of grade nine.  He should have been ecstatic since it was the first time in years that he wouldn't be stuck at his crazy Aunt Fred's house all summer while his parents went on some 'important' archaeological dig, but there were too many indications that things were not going to go as well as he hoped. For one thing, there was the storm. Call him sentimental, but Lincoln believed that the last day of school should be bright and sunny, warm but not too hot and most of all, short.

And that was problem number two. He was in math class with Mr. Sackridge who felt it was necessary to keep everyone until the bell. This despite the fact that all of the other classes in school had been released early and were now gathered outside waiting for the buses. Mr. Sackridge's idea of a fun last class was to tell everyone they could read a book or talk quietly amongst their friends. But Lincoln hadn't brought a book and he was in no mood to talk, so he had just put his head on his desk and stared out the window. But he couldn't take it anymore. He had to get out of the classroom, even if just for a few minutes.

He raised his hand and waited impatiently for Sackridge to look up. But he was engrossed in some thick, old looking tome and seemed oblivious to the world around him. Lincoln cleared his throat several times, each time getting progressively louder and more ostentatious. He was about to just leave, assuming Mr. Sackridge wouldn't notice anyway, when the teacher, without taking his eyes off of his book said, “Mr. Matthews, please go get a drink so that you are not disturbing the rest of the class.”

Lincoln shrugged and looked at the clock. Ten minutes left. If he took his time he could get a drink, stop by the washroom and be back just in time for the bell. As he left he couldn't help noticing the envious stares of the other students who wished that they were the ones being sent from the room.

The halls were completely empty. Of people anyway. There were some strange lingering odours and so much refuse that it looked as though someone had overturned a garbage can. There were papers, books, banana peels, apple cores, three shoes (none matching the others) and various other questionable items, the most disgusting of which was a pair tighty-whitey underwear, heavily used. Unfortunately for Lincoln he had been so preoccupied with thinking about the lousy weather and how angry he was at Sackridge for keeping them the whole period that he hadn't noticed them until he planted his foot directly upon the filthy things. He was so appalled that he kicked them away, cringing in disgust. As he did, he got a strange notion that he knew who they belonged to; Clyde Olsen, the dirty kid who was always getting picked on.

Though Lincoln never picked on anyone, it was easy to see why people picked on Clyde. He wore the same brown corduroy pants every day and a plaid button up shirt tucked into them. His hair was always messy, like he had not bothered touching it when he woke up in the morning, his voice was screechy and his glasses were so thick that his eyes looked like something from the Simpons. Aside from that Clyde tended to be followed by an unusual scent that seemed to be a mixture of dill pickles and old cottage cheese. Lincoln had always felt a little bit bad for Clyde. All he needed was a shower, a hair cut and some new clothes and he would fit in pretty well. But it didn't seem as though any of those things were coming in the near future for Clyde.

With a shiver, Lincoln walked away from the underwear, second guessing his notion about them belonging to Clyde. Clyde wasn't the only unhygienic person in school, nor was he the most. It wasn't really fair for Lincoln to assume that Clyde would leave such things in the hallway at school. Yet the feeling would not go. He felt certain he was right about it. Moreover, he had the feeling that Clyde would be back for them. He put the thought out with a shake of his head. What a ridiculous thing to think.

He rounded the corner at the end of the hall and stopped at the fountain for a drink. Had had needed to walk past several other fountains to get to this one, but none of them were any good. Low water pressure and lukewarm water. But this one always had god pressure and was so cold it seemed to be refrigerated. As he bent over to drink Lincoln got the distinct impression that someone was sneaking up behind him. He'd barely touched his lips to the water when someone slapped him lightly on the back yelling “BOO!” He finished his drink then turned around calmly, wiping water droplets from his mouth. It was his friend Kyle Dougan. He looked crestfallen.

“You didn't even flinch!” He complained.

“I knew you were there.” Lincoln said.

“Impossible! I was stealthy. Like a ninja! In fact, if a ninja had seen that he would beg me to train him.”

Lincoln shrugged. “Well, you must hang out with some pretty lousy ninjas because I knew you were there.”

“You had better hope they didn't hear you say that.” Said Kyle, looking around shiftily.

“I think I'm safe.” Lincoln said.

“'Kay so, why are we still here?” Kyle asked. He had Ms. Holmes for his last period. Clearly she was smart enough to see that there was no point in keeping the students full period on the last day of school.

Lincoln sighed. “I have Sackridge, remember?”

“More like Sack-I'm-an-idiot-and-won't-let-people-go-early-ridge.” Kyle said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Indeed.” Lincoln said, nodding.

He started back down the hall, but instead of going back to class he turned toward the washrooms. He didn't want to go back to class and just sit for the next eight minutes. Kyle followed him.

“Why don't we just leave?” He asked. “You're already out here and there's less than ten minutes until the bell.”

“Sackridge said that if anyone tried to get out early he would drop their grade a whole letter. That would put me low enough to have to write the exam.” The school was on a system where grade nines were only made to sit exams if they had not achieved a high enough grade over the year.

“Are you serious?” Exclaimed Kyle, thrusting his hands in the air. “What is his problem?”

“I like the way amoebic dysentery rolls off the tongue. So I'm going to say that.” Replied Lincoln.

“That is a good word.” Kyle said sounding impressed. “Well, I guess it's two words actually, but either way, I don't think that's his problem. Though maybe it is and he's the owner of that underwear in the hallway. Did you see that?”

“Yeah.” Said Lincoln, his mouth falling into a disgusted frown. “Unfortunately I did.” He absently kicked at the air with his soiled shoe.

“Pretty gross, eh?” Said Kyle.

Lincoln nodded. “Do you know who they belong to?”

Kyle shrugged. “Could be anyone's I suppose. 'Cept mine. I keep my tighty-whiteys white.”

Lincoln groaned. “Life was better when I thought you wore boxers. And better still when I didn't have pictures of you in your underwear dancing through my head.”

“Am I a good dancer at least?”

“I wish I could say yes.”

They arrived at the bathroom and Lincoln went in. So did Kyle.

“You have to go too?” Lincoln asked with one upturned eyebrow.

Kyle shook his head. “No, I'm just following you.”

“Well okay,” began Lincoln, “but I'm going to shut stall door and you can't follow me in there.”

Kyle made a sad face and batted his eyes repeatedly. “Oh please can I come?”

Lincoln scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Well okay. But it's an eyes only affair. No touchy.”

Kyle immediately began making retching noises. “Okay. This has gone far enough. I'm gonna wait for you in the hall.”

“Goodie.” Said Lincoln. He closed the stall door and Kyle left.



When Lincoln emerged from the bathroom he caught Kyle quietly talking to himself, as though rehearsing lines or preparing to deliver bad news to his parents.

“You okay?” Said Lincoln.

“Huh?” Kyle said, spinning to face Lincoln. “Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Are you okay?”

Lincoln furrowed his brow. “Fine thanks. Just noticed you were talking to yourself is all. Thought maybe you might have gone crazy while I was away.”

Kyle shook his head with a force somewhere between vehement denial and false casual denial. “Just talking out loud is all.”

“I see.” Said Lincoln, not taking his gaze off of Kyle who was looking progressively nervous and uncomfortable. “You look like you're hiding something.”

“Me?” Kyle said with a chuckle. “Hide something? Like what?”

“I'm not sure. But if you weren't you probably would have just said so, and your eyes wouldn't be taking up half your head.” He paused staring at Kyle's chest. “And you wouldn't have an elevated heart rate.”

“Holy smokes! You can tell when I have an elevated heart rate?

“I can when you tell me you do.”

“I never told you that.”

“Well, you didn't deny it either. And when I suggested it you looked like I brandished an axe at you. So I'm feeling pretty confident that your heart rate is up. What are you hiding from me?”

Kyle's mouth fell open and he shook his head slowly from side to side. “You're like Sherlock Holmes.” He said with amazement.

“Well you're not exactly Moriarty.” Said Lincoln. He looked at the clock on the wall above the lockers. It was eleven after three.“Keep your secret for now. I have to get back before the bell. But I expect you to tell me whatever it is after school.”

Kyle made a pitiful attempt at looking nonchalant. “I told you, there is nothing going on.”

Lincoln raised his eyebrows. Kyle was a terrible liar, but when he did try to hide something it was usually bad news. And that would fit right in with the rest of his day. He shook his head. “See you in five.”

Walking back to the classroom Lincoln tried to think of anything that Kyle could possibly want to hide from him, but came up with nothing. As he rounded the corner into Math Hall he passed Clyde Olsen, who gave a furtive nod before casting his eyes to the floor and speed walking away. When Lincoln looked the underwear was gone.