4308.274 · September 30, 1988 AD
Harmless
The bus rattles through ochre emptiness, thirty girls trading laughter and contraband lollies, dreaming of midnight feasts and stolen adventures. Mandy promises this will be the best week of their lives. Michelle plots pranks. Rebecca speaks of stars. And Violet watches the land scroll past—vast enough to swallow secrets, vast enough to swallow girls—and tries to believe the knot in her stomach is only nerves. Then the bus stops. And she sees who's waiting by the cabins.
30 September 1988. The road to Silverton.
Twenty-five kilometres of red dust and shimmering heat separate the girls from their week of adventure. The bus sways and rattles, filled with laughter and whispered schemes—who'll raid the leaders' Tim Tams, who'll tell the best ghost story, who'll be first to fall in the creek. Violet lets their voices wash over her, almost believing she's just another girl on just another camp.
Almost.
Then the bus jolts to a halt in a cloud of ochre dust, and there he stands. Mr Clarke. Clipboard in hand, posture watchful, waiting by the cabins as though he belongs here. Their eyes meet across the clearing, and Violet's stomach turns to stone.
Dad sent him along, Mandy explains. Said it was good to have a male teacher around. Someone responsible.
At orientation, Clarke speaks to the assembled Guides about Silverton's fascinating past. Ghost towns. Old mines. Stories passed down through generations. You'll find Silverton is full of secrets, he says, his gaze finding Violet's. Some best left buried.
The girls laugh. They think he's charming.
Violet alone hears the warning beneath the welcome.
