The cabins by the lake were picturesque, but what else did they have going for them? They were old buildings, built in the thirties to house Japanese soldiers; they were freezing in winter and hot in summer, indifferently drafty in spring and autumn. The kids never really talked about how much they hated it. They acclimated or engaged in ineffectual rebellions day-to-day as kids will, and harbored sullen resentments close to their hearts.

It was like summer camp, only nobody ever left. Nobody had ever gone home, except that one kid last year and nobody believed he’d really gone home (except Gooly, who was eight and would believe almost anything). Sinister rumors abounded.

The boys were in one set of cabins and the girls in another. If the proctors had been less indifferent, there might have been more fooling around. But it hardly seemed worthwhile. The boys proctor, Mr. Kim, was usually drunk in the woods, and the girl’s proctor, Mrs. An, was visibly frightened of the children, and an easy target.