The boys here at Camp Green Lake don't have names either. But this is different. Like Sir Lizardkiller, so long ago, she had not had to do anything...the names were not wanted. They were thrown away and replaced.

It's stupid to have a name and not want it.

Incidentally, Sir Lizardkiller was here too. She'd thought he was stupid too, and she was right, but she kept him around anyway. Except with the Lizardkiller part of his name taken away, of course.

Ms. Lou Walker mixes her nail polish. She adds her secret ingredient. The other adults here thought she was mad when she went chasing rattlesnakes for their poison, but she didn't care.

The nail polish glows red as blood. She tips it into a bottle and puts it on a shelf.

Her childhood home had been rebuilt. There was a hammock between the two trees now. Her hammock. There were a few few buildings and more cars.

And far, far more holes.

If she listened hard, she'd be able to hear the boys out on the dried-up lake. They didn't know what they were looking for, they didn't know they were helping right a wrong commited years ago. They just thought they were being punished.

Well, that as well.

She watched them sometimes, just to see what they knew. They didn't know a thing. They didn't know what this place used to be, they didn't know that a man had a knife stuck in him and a woman was killed by lizards in the very place that they now used as a wreck room.

They didn't see the ghosts either.

She did. She saw her grandfather...Charles Walker, the man who once owned this place...her father and her mother. Sometimes Sam. In fact, she saw him all the time. And she knew he was giving her a warning: You weren't in the right, you never were. You don't understand. Your parents destroyed you.

She never saw her sister, so she could only assume that she was still alive. But she didn't want to find her. She didn't care.

The half-of-lipstick tube was in a drawer. She looked at it sometimes. But deep in her heart she wondered. Wondered if Sam was right after all.

She turns to face the window. All she can see is sand. Not the people. Not the buildings. Just the sand.

The bus pulls up outside. Out of it steps a boy with all the curses of the past in his hands.

And she doesn't see him, either.