PROLOGUE
There are many things in this world Cory Matthews hated, but about all else, he hated cleaning. After Topanga decided to refrain from moving to New York after a long, agonizing three day weekend full of debating the pros and cons of relocating, the small Matthews family finally decided to rent an apartment a mere fifteen minutes from the house where Cory had the pleasure of growing up and of getting aquatinted with his environment. This was a good thing, simply because Cory never wanted to leave the coy, familiar town of Philadelphia and frankly, he was thrilled that his wife had come to the same conclusion. However, this arrangement proved to be a not-so-good thing because Amy Matthews was equally as thrilled. This meant that whenever the family matriarch needed help with something such as cleaning out Cory and Eric's old closet to make way for Josh's "big boy clothes" as she had so affectionately put it, she would use Cory's services on one of the few days he was not being subjected to the mundane accounting tasks.
Mr. Feeny and Dean Lila Bolander Feeny were living happily over the fence, just as the beloved teacher always had. Eric, to everyone's surprise, actually made the leap to New York City, leaving in the night with a half-assed goodbye to his parents. Cory didn't even know he was gone until two days later. So, here he was, moving clothes and books from Eric's side of the closet on one of the stormiest days of the year. The rain pounded of the roof and the tree branches were making sinister shadows in the dark gray hue of the outside world. He had finished his own compartment earlier in the afternoon, but his mother wanted everything our and in the open so she could sort it and try to mail it off to Eric. Cory saw this as a blatant coping mechanism, for Eric hadn't called in days or left any kind of mailing address. Amy had instructed Cory to simply take Eric's belongings and put it in the garage for her or for Eric himself to go through, which ever came first. Cory had nodded, a twinge of sadness enveloping him. Not having your brother around is one thing. Not knowing where your brother is was a totally different sensation all together.
There wasn't anything of substance in Eric's compartment. A few old garments were quickly discarded and a few boxes of trinkets had been reverently set aside for Eric or Amy's review. A flash of lightening was followed by a succinct bark of thunder as Cory pushed on the door, meeting some unknown resistance. There was nothing in the closet, but no matter how hard he pressed on the door, he could not get the latch to close.
"This would happen to me…" Cory mumbled, grabbing the knob and slamming the door will all of his force, using his mounting frustration as welcomed leverage. The door closed with a loud sickly cracking sound, as if a chicken bone had been snapped in half. Cory hoisted the box of trinkets onto his shoulders and headed to the garage. He was seconds away for being out of the room when he heard a prolonged falling crash come from the offending closet. He quickly placed the box down on Josh's bed and opened the oak door cautiously. Lightening struck a second time, illuminating the pointed red corner of what Cory assumed was a book. He was right upon further inspection, looking up from where it could have come from. A loose board hung by a splinter. Cory had just enough time to snag the volume and exit through the passage before the board plummeted to the ground and split.
Cory sat beside the now forgotten box of trinkets and gazed upon the thin book. It was obviously a yearbook, titled "Camp Sequoia, Summer 93" in engraved white lettering. A solemn silhouette of an Indian graced the cover, complete with head dress, saluting over a backdrop of some sort of body of water. Cory vaguely remembered Eric being gone for that summer, as well as the summer of '92. It was a little-known fact, buried deep in the family, that during the early 90's, Eric would act out in violent ways and the Matthews, out of desperation, sent Eric to a special rehabilitation camp for troubled children to maybe blow off some steam and to perhaps learn how to interact with his peers in a healthy manner. After the summer of '92, it had helped tremendously. After the summer of '93, Eric's ill temperament had been reduced to nothing. After that summer, Eric had already begun to evolve into what the family had grown to love him as; a happy-go-lucky dunce.
"It's been years," Cory whispered aloud to himself. He flipped through the pages quickly, finding a picture of Eric's cabin. His brother smiled through the page. He had his arm around a thin boy with long orange hair and ice blue eyes adorned in a Led Zeppelin T-shirt. Eric's other arm found solace around another lanky boy with hazel hair to march his hazel eyes. Two girls with light brown hair boy sat at the trio's feet, accompanied by a chubby boy with raven-black hair and eyes deep set underneath his large forehead. Cory chuckled at the children's 90's attire. "Look at the hair! I'll have to show Topanga." He placed the book atop the box and exited the room, giving one last glance to the room he and his brother had shared before finally closing the door.
Although Cory had enjoyed looking at his brother's happy memories, an uneasy question resided in the back of his mind: why had his brother hid the book in the ceiling of the closet?