The Light in the Lake

by Sarah R. Baughman

  I take a deep breath. “Let’s not go in yet. Can we just stay here for a little bit?”

  “Of course.” Tai sits down on the beach and hooks his elbows around his knees. I sit right next to him.

  You’re really friends with someone when you realize you’re okay being quiet with them. Listening to the sound of water with Tai, I feel okay again.

  When Tai breaks the silence, I know the words have been coming for a while.

  “I talked with my mom earlier,” he says.

  “Yeah?” I try not to let on that I already know—I’m just glad he’s telling me about it.

  “I told her the truth,” Tai says. “About soccer.” His voice sounds calm and strong.

  “What did she say?” I ask.

  “It was actually cool,” Tai says. “She really listened. She told me I was doing good work this summer. She… didn’t say no. To the team, I mean. She even said she wants to watch me play sometime.”

  “Tai, that’s great,” I say. “That seems like a really good start.”

  “It was,” Tai says. “I guess my dad might have been right after all.”

  I’m happy for Tai. Mama and I are probably due for a conversation like that.

  I wish I could sit here forever. But there’s work to be done. I stand up, brushing sand off my legs.

  “Time to face the phosphorus,” Tai says grimly, as though he’s reading my mind.

  When we get back to the lab, lugging the cooler, Mr. Dale motions us into Dr. Li’s office. “Let’s have a quick meeting,” he says.

  Dr. Li, Tasha, and Jake look up from the stacks of papers spread out around them. “Hello there, Tai and Addie,” Dr. Li says. “How did the sampling go?”

  “I successfully collected it without falling into the lake,” Tai says solemnly, clearly leaving out the part about jumping into the lake.

  “Well, thank goodness for that.” Dr. Li squeezes Tai’s shoulder. He looks up at her and smiles.

  What would Dr. Li think about our investigation of the creature? On the one hand, I’m using the scientific method. I just happen to be using it to maybe find something magic too. But even Dr. Li believes that science can’t always explain everything.

  Then I realize Dr. Li’s talking again, and I straighten up in my seat. “… too much publicity,” she’s saying. “But raising awareness will be important.” Mr. Dale is nodding. He looks over at me and Tai.

  “How does that sound?” he asks.

  “Er—” Tai says, clearly stalling. “I’m going to leave this one up to Addie.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I, uh—didn’t hear you.”

  Mr. Dale leans forward. “We’re looking at the last stage in the scientific method,” he says. “What Tai cleverly referred to as Share. Now that we have a solid set of findings, we do feel it’s important to release some of them. It will help kick-start solutions while Jake and Tasha continue pursuing some other hypotheses and monitor locations in the Maple Lake watershed.”

  My mind stumbles until I realize he’s talking about speaking up. All I can do is turn his last few words into a question: “Release some findings?”

  “We’d like to run a piece in the Herald that explores phosphorus pollution,” Dr. Li says. “It could explain different causes, and what people need to do to help the lake. We actually feel it would be powerful for the Young Scientists—both you and Tai—to share your perspectives.”

  My hands clench. The Herald’s the only paper in the county, and it’s a good one too. It’s won awards. Whatever gets printed in the Herald is something basically everyone I know is going to end up reading, or at least hearing about.

  “Will we have to write about the pollution from farms?” I hope Dr. Li can’t hear the tremor in my voice.

  “That would certainly be part of the piece,” Dr. Li says. “It would fit nicely in the section of the newspaper dedicated to ‘Youth Voices.’”

  Mr. Dale steps in. “You’ve seen that section before, Addie, right?”

  Of course I have. Usually it’s someone’s creative writing, or artwork, or an opinion piece or song. One of Liza’s sketches ended up there last year.

  “This would be a great way to wrap up the work you’ve done,” Mr. Dale continues. He looks steadily at me, his voice careful. “As a scientist, Addie, you do need to think about that last step in the process—sharing—and what you want to do with the information you have.”

  I stiffen. Can anyone tell my fingers feel like they’re filled with ice water? Just thinking about attaching my name to an article in the paper makes me want to swim out to Bear Rock and stay there until Dr. Li and Mr. Dale forget they ever asked me to do this whole Young Scientist thing in the first place.

  Mr. Dale’s looking at me, his head cocked to one side. He opens his mouth again, then closes it. Maybe he knows about the ice water—and maybe he knows why it’s running all through my body. You can’t take back what gets printed in the Herald. And it’s in everyone’s living room. Everyone’s. Mr. Dale knows that. If I write an article talking about pollution from farms, the whole county will think I’ve chosen Maple Lake over my family. Have I?

  “Sweet!” Tai says. “When the paper comes out, can we sign autographs? Like outside Teddy’s?”

  My jaw clenches. “I’m not doing it,” I say. I know I’ve been feeling like I want to talk about what’s going on with Maple Lake, but now that I’m hearing how that might actually play out for people I know, people in my family, I’m not so sure.

  “It’ll be okay, Ad.” Tai’s leaning back in his chair, spinning the soccer ball on his fingertip. “We’ve been reading so much about this phosphorus stuff, we can write something up for the paper in, like, T-minus nothing.”

  “Easy for you to say!” My voice shakes. “You’ll just go back to New York City at the end of the summer and forget it. Meanwhile, I actually live here.”

  Dr. Li places her hand on my shoulder, gentle and strong at the same time. “It’s not easy,” she says. “I know it isn’t. Believe me. But think about the end goal. We want to help Maple Lake, and we care about the people who live near it too. There is a way to balance those two desires, but it must start with information.”

  Most of the time, I don’t think about Tai and me coming from different places. Having different lives. Most of the time, it’s enough to just be where we are: on a boat, watching the lake, laughing about something, or just being quiet. But right now, I feel a big space pushing its way between our chairs. And wedged into that space is this single fact: Tai didn’t grow up here. If he had, he’d know that what Dr. Li and Mr. Dale are asking us to do is everything except easy.

  Mr. Dale clears his throat. “Addie,” he says, “I know writing for the Herald feels like a big deal, but we need to raise awareness. It’s a great way to begin working toward solutions. You have a unique opportunity here to really advocate for farmers, and show your support, while still talking about how to help Maple Lake.”

  Tears prick my eyes; even if I don’t write the article for Youth Voices, I want to know what’s going to happen to my family once all of this becomes public. What will these new rules the government could put in place mean for Uncle Mark and Aunt Mary? Will they have to stop farming? Whatever happens, I’ll be right in the middle of it because I was part of this project. We followed the scientific method, but it seemed to move too fast, and I have to decide something I’m not ready for. All I know now is that I have to leave. I run as fast as I can out the door, down the short staircase to the beach.

  The sun’s still hot enough, and the memory of water fresh enough on my skin, that it doesn’t feel totally crazy to leave my T-shirt, shorts, and phone on the sand and walk right into the lake in my bathing suit, up to my knees. Still, my skin prickles with cold. The water’s so soft, curling around my legs. I remember Mama from before, smiling, splashing. Melted is good enough for me. I close my eyes, lift my arms up in a V, and dive in. As soon as I’m under, the cold spreads. But it feels good too, surprising.
It feels like waking up.

  Above me, the water has already closed over the space where I plunged in. Like I was never there. Did you realize that, Amos? I think. Did you know you would just disappear? That you would sink too deep for me to pull you out? Then leave me all by myself, trying to solve your mystery plus another one on top of it?

  I burst back through the surface of the water, suck in air. I’m crying now, wiping water and tears out of my eyes. Underwater, everything was dark. But up here, the sun’s so bright, and it just keeps shining.

  They had to dive in to find him. Thick wet suits and oxygen tanks. A yellow rescue raft hovering on thin ice. Hands pounding his chest. Blue skin. Mama kneeling, wailing. Dad’s face in his hands. I’m so sorry, but we were unable to—My head shaking and shaking, forever.

  I choke on my sobs. Where are you, Amos? I think. You left me all by myself. I can’t stand that he’s gone. That he did something that could make him gone. That I’m standing here in Maple Lake, shivering all alone, with a problem I don’t know how to solve.

  I just want him to be here, and not only because he would know what to do about Uncle Mark, about the phosphorus, about everything. It’s also because times like this—when I need his help—remind me that without him, I feel like half of a person.

  My teeth chatter. Suddenly the cold is too much. I start walking toward shore, the lake pulling against my skin, filling in all the spots where I used to be as I move forward. My feet drag on the sand at the bottom of the lake, fighting the pressure of water.

  Tai’s waiting on the beach, a towel tucked under his arm. He hands it over without saying a word. I don’t want to take the towel, but I feel goose bumps prickling up and down my arms. I wrap the towel around my shoulders and sit on a dead log, my teeth chattering so much they sound like bowling pins falling down, over and over again.

  Tai sits beside me. He’s as still as the glaciers before they started sliding away, changing the face of everything. All I can hear is my own ragged breathing, and the soft whoosh of little waves lapping the shoreline. They sound so gentle, but I know that’s only part of the story.

  “Addie,” Tai says.

  I wipe my eyes with the corner of the towel and look at him.

  His voice softens. “Do you want to tell me how your brother died?”

  I look up at Mount Mann, tall and green, covered in cedar and rock. I picture the glacier pushing its way through, so slow but so strong. Then I picture it melting, drop by drop.

  “He drowned,” I say. “Four months ago. Right here in this lake.”

  Tai nods, like he knew it all along. He doesn’t say anything, but he scoots closer to me on the log and rests one arm over my shoulders. We sit there like that while the waves come in, again and again. I feel a warm squeeze, and I can’t tell if it’s Amos’s or Tai’s arm, pulling me close.

  “You love Maple Lake, don’t you?” There’s a heaviness in Tai’s voice, but it’s not unkind. “You want to be able to swim in it whenever you feel like it, right? Don’t you want your kids to be able to swim in it too?”

  “Of course I do,” I say.

  “Listen,” he says. “You should see China. It’s such a beautiful country, and I love visiting. I want to live there for a while too, someday.” He takes a deep breath and looks out at the lake. “But you wouldn’t believe the water pollution. I think one of the reasons my mom works so hard on fixing it here is so she can maybe get some ideas to help clean up the waterways there too.”

  “Really?” I ask.

  “It’s pretty serious,” he says. “Over half the groundwater in China got a bad rating recently, like it wasn’t fit for human consumption or something. Mom told me.”

  Tai pulls out his phone and taps the screen. “Look at this,” he says, scrolling through pictures. “This is Beijing, the capital of China. My parents lived here for a few years before they moved to the US. We always fly in there first when we go to visit my grandparents, and it’s a pretty amazing city, but there’s also stuff like this.”

  My jaw drops. I see lakes clogged with trash, pools of dead fish.

  “There are so many people in China,” he says. “New buildings going up every day. This is what happens. And now people are trying to backtrack, figure out what went wrong and how to fix it.”

  I shake my head. “I’ve never seen water like that.”

  “And it’s not all like that,” Tai says. “But Vermont’s like this little bubble. There’s barely anyone here—and don’t get mad, I don’t mean that like I did before when I talked about ‘nothing.’ I think it’s beautiful here, and I like the people.” He pokes me lightly on the arm.

  I poke back.

  “But anyway,” he continues, “having lots of space and not many people doesn’t mean you don’t have an impact on the land and water.”

  “I know. I saw the map, but… it just doesn’t feel right. How could a farm like Uncle Mark and Aunt Mary’s hurt Maple Lake?” I say. “Your mom even said it was small.”

  “That just means it might take longer,” Tai says. “You want to be a scientist. Well, scientists stick up for nature. Someone has to.”

  Maybe I can’t do this after all.

  “Your aunt and uncle will want to help,” Tai continues. “If something’s really going on with their farm, or anyone else’s, they will be so on it.”

  “But it needs to be fair,” I say. “Maple Lake matters to them, but the farm does too. And farms are important for this whole state. Remember I told you how hard it is to make a living farming?”

  “Yes,” Tai says. “And I know a lot of dairy farms are being sold because of that. My mom told me.”

  “It’s hard,” I say. “Vermont needs farmers, but the harder we make it to farm, the fewer farmers we’ll have.”

  I just didn’t know how difficult this would be.

  My phone pings, and my stomach clenches when I see it’s a text from Liza.

  Two more weeks! she writes. You coming over to practice with Rascal tonight?

  I know I should, since the fair’s coming soon, and maybe seeing Rascal would clear my head. But I can hardly stand the idea of going to the farm right now. Telling Liza and her parents about the phosphorus or not telling them sound equally awful.

  I know my response isn’t great. But it’s all I can manage.

  Maybe, I write.

  Chapter 21

  As we pull into the fairgrounds, Tai’s eyes widen. I guess there’s a lot to take in for someone who’s never been here before: big muddy trucks parked side by side in the field, people milling in and out of red barns in a row, a giant Ferris wheel spinning, a chain saw buzzing and wood chips flying over at the sculpture contest, the occasional ribbon-decked rider pointing her horse toward the gymkhana arena.

  “I’m headed to the tractor pull,” Dad says after we park. He nods toward the grandstand.

  “I figured,” I say. It’s Dad’s favorite. “But I think we’ll hit some rides.”

  The tractor pull’s never been my thing. The way the engines pop and growl, the smoke billowing into the air, the stench of gasoline. Amos liked it, but I always snuck off to get cotton candy instead. Dad looks down, and guilt stabs: he shouldn’t have to go alone.

  But he seems to read my mind. “I’m meeting some guys from work there,” he says. “Pretty sure they already found a spot.” He winks at me. “Have fun. See you for the dairy show in not too long, right?” He checks his watch. “Eleven? But you’ll be heading to the art show just before?”

  Dad’s kindness makes my heart ache a little. “Right,” I say. I watch him walk away, his broad shoulders bent.

  “You don’t look very happy about the dairy show,” Tai says.

  I went to Liza’s last night, but late. I told her I only had fifteen minutes to practice because Dad needed to get going. But I told Dad Liza only had fifteen minutes too. My stomach churned the whole time as I went through the motions with Rascal. I looked at her a little differently. She’s just a baby, but
Uncle Mark and Aunt Mary promised that one day she’d be part of their herd. Does that mean she’ll just end up being part of the problem too?

  “You’re acting weird, Addie,” Liza said, peering at me through narrowed eyes. Right now, Tai’s giving me the same look.

  “I’m fine,” I tell Tai. But I’m not really prepared for the dairy show, and the weight of everything I haven’t told Liza is bearing down. I decide to totally change the subject. “Have you ever had fried dough?”

  “Maybe once before, in Coney Island,” Tai says. “This place reminds me a little bit of that, actually. Except it’s a lot less crowded, even though there are more animals around. I can actually breathe.”

  Ms. Pierre’s fried dough is the best; she sets up her stand every year, and I never miss a chance to go. Everybody else knows how good it is too, so we have to wait a little bit in line. By the time we get to the front, my mouth is watering.

  “Hey there, Addie!” Ms. Pierre says. She’s known me since I was really little; her daughter and I are only a grade apart in school. “How’s it going?”

  “Hey, Ms. Pierre,” I say. “I’m good.” It’s funny how that one word can make all the complicated things feel simple.

  “What have you been up to this summer?” she asks.

  “I’m actually working out at Maple Lake with Mr. Dale,” I say. “And with some scientists, like Tai’s mom.” Tai waves, and Ms. Pierre gives him a warm smile.

  But she raises her eyebrows when she looks at me. “The lake, huh?” I know she’s thinking about Amos.

  I nod and try to figure out how to squirm my way out of this conversation. Ms. Pierre’s brother and his wife own one of the bigger dairies in town, and I don’t even want to think about the phosphorus on their place.

  Ms. Pierre saves me. “Good for you, kiddo,” she says, her voice gentle. “So what’ll it be?”

  “Two fried doughs with maple syrup, please. Thanks, Ms. Pierre.” I watch her scoop a few extra fried dough bits into the little paper container.

  Tai looks pretty happy when he pops a maple-syrup-drizzled piece in his mouth, closing his eyes in some kind of blissed-out trance.