It’s a difficult thing, to find people that you really don’t know all that well. You scour the class photos on the school wall from way back when. You ask strange and prying questions to the local librarian-cum-archivist. You hassle the folks at the local paper for stories about incidents at a summer camp in 1969. You thumb through the phone book.
Devon
"We have a report on the school’s history due next week, Principal Anderson."
This is the excuse you give when the principal asks as to why you are prowling the halls after school hours looking at all the faces of the past pupils. You squint, for hours, trying to catch a face in the crowds, until you spot him. Devon! You’re sure of it. He made the football team a few years after Mikey inhabited him. His size makes Mikey wince. Big, and wide with a shaved head and a square jaw. Football was Devon’s ticket out of this place, and he left the city a few years later once school was through. He joined one team or another for a few years, earning middling success but never striking gold. He doesn’t live in, and hasn’t been back to, Boulder for a good long while!
Rey
You search and search for any trace of the boy Rey. Nothing. Eventually, you strike upon an idea and you make your way back to the summer camp grounds. Its abandoned at this time of year. Abandoned, save for the solitary light you see on in one of the buildings: evidence of a groundskeeper. You retrace your steps, and find yourselves back at the bunk house you all awoke in. Its cold, and empty when you sneak inside. It looks especially drab on an overcast day. You search the room over and eventually find some names carved into the woodwork.
Robin, Devon, Annie, Andy, Rey - 1969
Robin, Devon, Annie, Andy, Rey - 1970
Robin, Devon, Annie, Andy, Rey - 1971
Robin, Devon, Annie, Andy - 1972
They must have bonded over the experience themselves. Well, the other side of it...
Near the makeshift plaque that marks their 1972 attendance at the camp as a group is a small engraving with Rey's name inside, surrounded by a roughly carved heart with an arrow shooting through it. Its surrounded by, what look like each kids own attempt at, RIPs.
Andy
You manage to track down Andy’s old address having spoken to the lady that manages the desk at the local library. She knew a person who knew a person who knew a Mrs. Chin that lived in Boulder City years back. Having trekked half way across town for the information, you finally reach the place. It’s seen better days. An old beat up junker sits in the drive, and the trash can sits overflowing on the curb.
You make your way up to the door, carefully stepping between the overgrown front garden that has crept into the place previously reserved for the front path to the house. The man that answers looks as poorly as the house does. Mr. Chin, you eventually discover, and a divorcee. He tells you he hasn’t seen his wife or his son in about 15 years, give or take. She took him to the big city to see big city doctors about his brain. Kid kept on talking crazy about feeing like he was outside of his own body. Dad wanted to wait and see. Mom had seen and heard enough already.
The man shares more with you than you might expect. But then you smell him and peer behind into his house. It’s dark, and dingy and the man is clearly drunk just after lunch…
Last he heard, Andy Chin was doing better these days. Worked in some big bank somewhere. Still… he didn’t every come back to see his old dad in Boulder City.
Robin
Robin A. Woodsworthy as Mary Poppins
So reads the caption under one of the photos in the year book of ‘73. Robin, right there, in the lead roll and full costume! But it’s her. Unmistakable. Did anything ever come of such a prestigious breakout role? Not that you could find.
The old drama teacher seems quite bitter about it all when you gently inquire about her. The woman is ancient, and she knows every kid that’s come through this place in the last 35 years.
…Threw it all away. Could have done something worthwhile! Now, what?, she wipes the asses of folks older than me down at St Ann’s?…
Robin A. Woodsworthy still lives in Boulder City.
Annie
Annie didn’t much know how to fight, but she sure did learn quick. Once word got out that Annie had broken a kid’s nose at summer camp in 69, it all went a bit pear shaped for her. Of course, Karen wanted her revenge. One way or another, Annie always took care of business. She ended up getting booted from school a few years later. Self defense, she argued. But the school didn’t see it that way. No matter.
You retrace your steps over the course of the 1988 Christmas. You head back out to old Marge Nelson’s farm. The horse is still there. This time, Mikey doesn’t insult the hosts, and they invite you inside for some snacks and something to drink. As you sit awkwardly in the front room, sipping on lemonade you look around at how the years have accumulated around Marge and her partner, Joan. Paintings, books, newspapers, photographs.
In one of them, you see a far younger Marge and Joan standing outside their new plot of land, years back at this stage. In one such photo you see… a familiar face. An older Annie, scruffy looking in overalls and a plaid shirt, her hair tied up in a messy bun. She carries two great big buckets with her and dropped them at her feet when she posed for a photo with her two employers.
…funny girl, that Annie. Tough as anything. And a damn fine worker… She left us a few years after that. Said she wanted to try make a go of things herself off somewhere that wasn’t here… Can’t say I blame her…
