The Lake

by Natasha Preston

  The pillowcase is empty, aside from the pillow, so I drop it back on the bed and move on. I grip the thin mattress and tilt it, leaning it against the wall.

  Wooden slats are all that’s beneath.

  Okay, Rebekah, where are your skeletons?

  I drop the mattress and remake the bed. She has two drawers, but she shares the small dresser with Tia, so it’s unlikely she would keep anything in it.

  Or it’s the perfect cover. Isn’t there something about hiding in plain sight?

  What would she hide in there, though?

  A voodoo doll of me and Kayla would be a dead giveaway.

  I open the first drawer. There’s a photo of Rebekah with who must be her mom and dad. It’s framed in pink glass, so I don’t know why she wouldn’t display it.

  Why hide your parents?

  I put the photo back down and root through the rest of her stuff. Deodorant, headbands, toiletries, a charger—Kayla and I keep ours in the wall socket—a notebook, wire-bound with doodles on the front.

  Her diary?

  I open the notebook, ignoring the pang of guilt in my gut. The first page has her name drawn graffiti-style.

  I turn to the second page. There’s a doodle of herself, I assume, and another little girl. Rebekah’s good at drawing, her sketches are so lifelike, every pencil stroke is precise. I wish I could draw like her.

  Turning the page again, I almost drop the book. Fire. She has drawn fire. No forest, no campers running away, just fire. Jagged flames take up the whole page. I run my finger over the raised, angry ink.

  This is something.

  Why would she have drawn this?

  I know she’s been burned. I have zero idea of burn victim statistics, but I’m willing to put everything I own on it being higher than one. Rebekah was burned; Lillian was burned. That doesn’t make them the same person. But it does mean they have something in common.

  I think about the flames that night—how vicious they were. If Lillian was burned—and I am pretty sure at this point that she was—and Rebekah is Lillian, wouldn’t her burns be worse?

  My stomach clenches as the memory flashes through my head over and over, like a horror flick on repeat.

  As I start to turn the page, the cabin door creaks. Someone has opened it.

  My heart leaps. I drop the notebook back into the drawer and push it shut.

  “Rebekah?” Kayla calls from outside.

  No!

  Rebekah cannot find me in here.

  I have no reason to be in here.

  Rebekah calls back to Kayla from the doorway of the cabin.

  Kayla replies with a question about going for a walk. I don’t hear Rebekah’s reply because the sound of her opening the door has my pulse racing.

  I look around. The window in the bedroom is big enough for me to climb out of—it’s a fire escape route—but it’s too far away for me to make it there in time, and I certainly wouldn’t be able to do it quietly anyway.

  Her footsteps thud closer.

  I freeze.

  31

  I’m about to be busted.

  I scramble, shoving her sketchbook away.

  Hide!

  Dropping to my stomach, I wriggle sideways under the bunk bed.

  Kayla says something, but her hurried voice sounds quiet from where I am. She’s trying to stall Rebekah. I press my lips together as the door to the bedroom opens.

  Rebekah steps over the threshold. Her gray and pink tennis shoes tread lightly, but they make a ridiculously loud noise in my ears.

  What the hell do I say if she finds me under her bed?

  Her feet pass me, and I bite my bottom lip.

  What is she doing? Please leave.

  Where the hell is Kayla?

  Rebekah sits on the bottom bunk and the mattress depresses, almost touching my head.

  I lie flat, with my head turned sideways.

  Why didn’t Kayla keep her outside? They had looked deep in conversation when I snuck into the cabin.

  Does Rebekah suspect us?

  No. If she did, she would be looking for me.

  I can hear her fingers tapping something. Her phone?

  She’s hiding something.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  She’s calling home.

  Listening to Rebekah talk to her mom feels like a step too far.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” she says, though her voice is low and she sounds anything but okay. “Honestly, I am. Things are just kind of full-on, that’s all….No, I don’t want to come home….Some great friends, yeah…”

  Will she say something about me and Kayla? If she is Lillian, will she say something that gives her away?

  “How’s Dad?…Good. Yeah, I’m using the cream. I never forget.”

  Cream for her burns? Does she use it daily?

  I close my eyes. We did that to her.

  Well, if she’s Lillian.

  “I’m remembering to take my meds, yeah….Yes, Mom,” she says in exasperation.

  Rebekah hasn’t mentioned anything about medication, but then, no one has. It’s not something she needs to share. Still, I am curious.

  Could it be a condition related to the accident?

  “I have to go—we’re about to head into the conference room. Okay, speak soon….Love y’all too.”

  Conference room?

  I hear her tap the screen and then she stands up. I can’t see her, but I think she puts the phone in her pocket, because I don’t hear her put it down.

  I watch her tennis shoes walk past me and leave the room. The door bangs shut.

  I wait until I hear the cabin door close before I slide from under the bed and stand.

  In hindsight, I should have brought my phone with me. That way, I could text Kayla and ask if the coast is clear.

  “Esme?”

  I startle and grip the doorframe, my fingers digging into the wood.

  Kayla opens the door and walks into the room.

  “What are you doing?” I hiss.

  “Don’t worry. The others are walking around the lake.”

  “Why did you let Rebekah come in? I had to hide under the bed!”

  Her eyes widen. “Let her? Let?”

  “All right, all right, you didn’t let her. What happened?”

  “We were talking, and I mentioned that I miss my parents, like you said to, and then she suddenly got up. She told me she was late calling her mom. I tried to stop her, but she was adamant that she needed to speak to her mom that second.”

  I nod. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “You are going to tell me what happened, right?”

  “Yes.”

  We leave the cabin and I close the door, glancing around. Rebekah and Tia are with Jake, Olly, and the others, walking clockwise around the lake.

  Kayla and I head in the opposite direction.

  “Well?” Kayla asks.

  “She sat on the bed. I was under it and she almost hit my head. Then she called her mom. I found out she uses a cream for her burns.”

  “Breaking news,” Kayla mutters sarcastically.

  “Did you expect a full confession? She assured her mom she’s still using the cream and taking her medication.”

  “What medication?”

  “She didn’t say the name. Her mom would already know what it is.”

  Kayla sighs. “All right.”

  “Then she told her mom she had to go because she was needed in the conference room. That’s weird, right?”

  “Maybe she meant the staff cabin and just misspoke.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know, there are so many theories in my mind. Anyway, she keeps her phone on her, even though the rest of us leave ours in our room, and she’s drawing pictures of
herself and a little girl…and one of a fire.”

  “A fire?” Kayla rasps.

  “Yep. I couldn’t tell if it was in the forest, though, so I can’t be sure she’s Lillian.”

  “Who was in the drawing of the fire?”

  “Rebekah and a girl around ten years old.”

  “Was Rebekah ten in the drawing too? Did she look like Lillian?”

  “No, Rebekah was the age she is now.” Maybe she’s not Lillian but her helper?

  “Maybe she knows Lillian? Maybe they’re sisters?”

  I shrug. “I have no damn clue. She said she only has an older brother, but she could be lying. Maybe she has a sister and that’s Lillian. But what are the odds of sisters being burned in different accidents? Probably not that high.”

  “This is so messed up, Esme,” Kayla says as we walk in the stifling heat.

  “We just need to figure out Rebekah’s deal.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “Don’t know.” Why am I always the one who has to come up with the plans?

  “Awesome.”

  “But now we know she keeps her phone on her. Constant contact. But with who?”

  Kayla scrunches her nose. “Esme, what if we’re wrong about her and she’s just regular Rebekah with a burn?”

  “Then we’ll find no evidence and we’ll say a very silent sorry to her.”

  I don’t say it, but I know there is something wrong here.

  We reach the halfway point around the lake; the others are heading toward us. The trees smell like freedom, and for once, the hot air doesn’t prickle my skin. It’s not as hot today, even though the sun is shining away.

  Rebekah smiles freely, walking arm in arm with Tia.

  “She looks very pleased with herself,” Kayla says.

  “Nothing like threatening your newest friends to relieve pent-up stress,” I mutter.

  “It sounds like you’re already sure it’s her.”

  “I’m not sure of anything, Kayla, and I hate that.”

  “Not having a party over here either.”

  I plaster a smile on my face as we reach the others. Since the note incident, Olly and I haven’t spoken much. Things were looking good at first; he’s sweet and supercute. Now…I’m unsure whether he wants to spend time with me or to run away. Maybe he’s just spooked too.

  “Hey, Esme,” Rebekah says. Her smile is normal, but I look deeper. Is it genuine or does she know that I was just hiding under her bed?

  “Hey,” I reply. “Seen anything weird?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “You want to walk back the other way together, Esme?” Olly asks.

  Well, that sounds like he wants to spend time with me.

  “Yeah,” I reply. “Let’s do it.”

  Kayla chuckles under her breath as she walks off with the others.

  I wrap my arms around my stomach as we walk.

  “You freaking out?” Olly asks.

  Only a lot.

  “There’s a weird vibe here, you know?” I say. “All the campers are carrying on like normal, getting excited for everything, and we’re pretending this is the best place on earth. It’s a lot. I’m not sure if we can keep it up for weeks, let alone days.”

  “We might not need to. The cops might find out who it is,” Olly says.

  “They have one report of a trespasser who they think was an ex-counselor. Once they clear the two names Andy gave them, they’ll write it off as someone getting lost on the trail. How much manpower do you think they’re going to put into this?”

  “I’ll give you that. Are you saying we’re out here alone?”

  Sweat breaks out on my forehead. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

  “This feels so wrong, not going to the cops with all the information.”

  “Have you changed your mind?” I ask.

  Olly shakes his head, taking a step closer to me as we walk. “No, I just don’t think this is a good option either. You still think staying quiet is the best thing to do?”

  “Yes,” I reply.

  I have to protect the secret I’ve been carrying around for ten years.

  “We need a real break,” he says. “Do you think anyone would be up for taking the trail into town?”

  Laughter bursts from my diaphragm. “Is that a trick question?”

  “You’re not up for it, then?”

  “After last time? And with someone in the woods?”

  Why would he even suggest that?

  “Well, I figure it’s the best time to go. No one would think we’d be that dumb.”

  Because we’re not going to be that dumb!

  “Olly, really?” Why is he even going there?

  Chuckling, he shakes his head. “Not one of my better ideas, I get it. Can we forget I said it?”

  Not really.

  “Totally, it’s forgotten.”

  He really wants us to go back into the forest? That would be crazy.

  “What’s your favorite book?” he asks.

  “What?”

  “I realized we haven’t had much time to talk about random normal stuff.”

  “The Great Gatsby; born June fifth, Gemini; tacos,” I say, and his smile widens. “I don’t know if I believe in God, but I do hope there’s something after. Light blue; I hate sliders because they look like toddler shoes; Britney is still relevant; and Harry Styles should be my husband.”

  Laughing out loud, he replies, “All right.”

  “You go.”

  “It; May seventh; I have no idea about my star sign; with you on tacos; my family is religious but I’m unsure; dark green; sliders are the devil; Britney was hot; don’t want to marry Styles.”

  I laugh, linking my arm through his. It feels like a bold move. Up until now, it’s been him who initiates any physical contact.

  “Where do you want to live after college?” I ask.

  “Anywhere but here. If you could go on vacation anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

  “I’ve always wanted to go to Iceland….” I trail off before I can tell him it’s because of the northern lights.

  My stomach twists. Wait…

  Anywhere but here?

  32

  Anywhere but here. That’s what he said. His exact words.

  Olly told me he lives in Missouri. Why would he say that if he lives in Texas?

  Olly hasn’t noticed the slipup. Maybe he just said it because we’re here now and he wouldn’t want to live in this heat?

  “Iceland because of the northern lights?” He takes a guess at why I want to go.

  “Yes,” I reply. Does he live around here?

  Why the hell would he lie about where he lives? He has a slight Southern accent but not what you would expect from someone from Texas.

  Heat creeps up my neck.

  What is going on?

  Olly could be the one doing all of this. Maybe he is the accomplice.

  I bite my lip as my mind storms with stupid theories.

  Rein it in, Esme.

  My paranoia is so strong that I’m suspecting everyone for little to no reason. Accents! That’s what I’m basing my suspicions on.

  I slip my arm out of his and shudder. “Jake just jumped in the lake.”

  “He’s always in the water.”

  Olly was with us the night of the photos, though, and the time I saw Lillian in the woods. How could he and Rebekah be working together?

  Unless only one of them is in on it and the other is innocent.

  I need to find out where Olly is from.

  And what handy ID lists your home address and state?

  I have to sneak into Olly’s room and find his driver’s license.

  But am I really ready to
go there? I’ve already been through Rebekah’s things. When I came back to Camp Pine Lake, I’d hoped to find a better version of myself.

  “So you’ve only known everyone since we got here?” I ask. “You and Jake seem tight.”

  Olly side-eyes me, and I don’t know whether I’ve said too much.

  “I didn’t know anyone before the beginning of summer. Jake and I are similar. I knew we’d be cool when he told me that Xbox has nothing on PS.”

  Of course.

  “You’re a gamer?”

  “Yeah, but not massively. My brother is eleven and would play all day and night if our parents allowed it.”

  “What’s his name?”

  He replies a heartbeat later. “Daniel. Danny.”

  “Just you and Danny?”

  “Yeah. Just me and him.”

  His posture is relaxed, voice light.

  He doesn’t have a tell. Why doesn’t he squint, croak or look to the left—aren’t people supposed to avoid eye contact when they lie?

  Only that’s not foolproof. My dad says since everyone knows that now, they make sure they don’t do it.

  I wish I’d been more interested in Dad’s work. If he were here, he’d know in a millisecond if Olly was telling the truth.

  “Who do you think is doing this?” I ask.

  “I don’t know, but I think we’re on the right track, that it’s someone who worked here. How else could they get into the locked cabins and know our routines, right?”

  Or they might work here now and be feeding their partner in crime information.

  Olly or Rebekah?

  Or both.

  Or neither.

  Not him.

  I blink hard. This is going well.

  At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if my brain imploded. Just a big boom and that’s the end of Esme.

  “What’s your most-watched show?” Olly asks.

  “Friends. Hands down. My mom watched it when she was younger and starts from the beginning at least once a year. She got me into it.”

  He chuckles. “Here I was thinking you’d say Riverdale.”

  “Probably a close second. What’s yours?”