Memoir excerpt

Camp Wabinaki, 1967. I’m lying on my bunk, on my back, in the dark, listening to our counsellor, Monica, read us a story, when she gasps, “Oh! Look! It’s the Cross!”. Monica points to the cabin window and we all wriggle to sit up without unzipping our sleeping bags. Whoa, there is a cross, a cross of white light coming out of the moon. How come I’ve never seen that before? It’s not magic, it’s … spiritual. 

Except. I move my head, and the cross moves too. I tip to one side and that’s when I notice the screen. We’re looking at the moon through a screen. It keeps the moths and mosquitoes from getting in. It’s the screen that makes the light stream out that way, not Jesus.

I have to say something. Because, I think they need to know. To not be fooled. "You guys,” I start, and even though the cabin is the same size as always, my cabin-mates on their bunks suddenly feel very far away. My voice goes small, like a wind-up toy winding down. And then I’m done. There’s no argument. Monica sighs. “Aww, Susan. You spoiled the feeling.”

The next day I see everyone being nicer to Linda B., Linda who has stringy hair, who used to be the outcast. Now, the outcast is me.