Page 6

CHAPTER 6

The next morning, I hit the shower, rinsing off the fake blood that has dried in my hair and under my fingernails. I wash my hair, deep condition, then detangle it. I’m sans hair dryer in the summer months, so I pack on a bunch of leave-in and let it air-dry. I feel like a brand-new person as I swap places with Bezi and Paige so they can wash up. Soon as we’re all done, I make a beeline to the edge of Mirror Lake.

I lead Bezi and Paige all the way around the east side of the lake. “They were right here,” I say, glancing back at the distance to my cabin. “I swear we saw something.”

“Maybe it was a bear?” Bezi says.

“No. No way,” I say. “It was standing up.”

“Bears stand up sometimes,” Bezi says.

“You serious?” I ask. “We were looking right at it.”

“I didn’t have the best view,” Bezi says. “And it was dark.”

I huff and move closer to the murky water. I peer down into it. I’d heard footsteps and a distinct splash not once but twice. I saw someone. I know I did.

“Check it out,” Paige says.

She’s wandered a little way from us and is staring down at the ground. I join her and peer at the path that circles the lake. There is a long track in the dirt like something heavy was dragged across its surface. The marks in the dirt stop at the lake’s edge.

“You really did see something, didn’t you?” Paige asks.

I nod. I know Paige believes me. It goes against all her rules to try and make an excuse for this.

Bezi crouches low to the ground. “You see this?” she asks. She grabs a stick from the nearby brush and pokes around in the dirt, uncovering a wide piece of gnarled gray plastic. On the ends are reinforced holes, and looped through each one is a short length of rusted chain, caked with dirt.

“What is it?” Paige asks. “Trash?”

Bezi shakes her head. “I think it’s a swing seat. Like the kind we used to have on the playground in elementary school.”

I take the beat-up piece of plastic from her and turn it over in my hands.

“Was there a playground out here?” Bezi asks.

I shake my head. “No. Never. You can’t even be up here if you’re younger than sixteen.” Mr. Lamont had relayed that information to me at some point, but I can’t remember the specifics.

A high-pitched clang cuts through the air. I glance across the lake and see Kyle standing on the front steps of the Western Lodge. He’s banging a wooden spoon against a pot lid and waving at us.

“Breakfast!” he calls.

I toss the shard of plastic and rusty chains into a trash can as we make our way back to the lodge.

Kyle put together some waffles—the frozen kind—and Porter is setting out orange juice and sliced apples on the big wooden coffee table. Everybody looks as exhausted as I feel. I think I got fifteen minutes of sleep after what we’d seen on the shoreline, and when I woke up with Paige’s foot in my back and Bezi’s hair in my mouth, I realized that as much as we enjoyed our little sleepover, we’re way too grown to be sharing beds.

“Where’s Tasha and Javier?” I ask as Bezi falls into the saggy couch and pulls a blanket over herself.

“Probably sleeping in, since they were up late,” Porter says. “I don’t know what was goin’ on over there, but it sounded like two raccoons fighting in a trash can.”

Paige gets irritated all over again as she takes up a spot on the love seat across from Bezi. “I can’t believe them,” she says. “After everything I said. Just callin’ out to serial killers.” She huffs. “Reckless.”

Kyle lowers himself into the love seat next to Paige. “You really believe in stuff like that?”

Paige sighs. “I’m just saying, why chance it? Why do the thing that always leads to somebody getting murdered in the woods?”

I shake my head. “Only in the movies, Paige.”

“Whatever,” Paige huffs. “After what we saw . . .”

“Wait,” Porter says. “What did you see?”

I don’t really want to talk about it, so I give him the short and sweet version. “I heard a splash in the lake; then I thought I saw someone on the shoreline.”

“Really?” Kyle asks.

I nod.

“I thought I saw somebody out there a few weeks ago,” Porter says.

I whip my head around to look at him. “What? Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugs and waves it off. “People be out in these woods, Charity. Animals too. They weren’t there when I checked the next morning. I actually forgot about it until right now. It’s nothing.”

“I still need to know,” I say. “Could have been a trespasser or something.”

“I didn’t want to bother you, and besides, the season’s almost over anyway.” Porter gently touches my shoulder. “Listen, I can see that you’re tired, and I know you’re stressed about the final game and whatever else, but I gotta tell you something.”

I sigh. “What is it?”

He points up, and I follow his gesture to the ceiling. Sunlight is slanting through the big rectangular skylight, casting dusty columns of light into the lodge. In the center of the glass is a clearly deceased bird, its neck bent at a weird angle.

“What happened to it?”

“No idea,” says Porter. “But we gotta get it down. It’s nasty.”

“I’ll get the ladder,” I say. “Just wait here.”

Kyle is piling waffles on a plate and Paige is snapping pictures of the big brick fireplace as I leave the lodge and run to the storage shed that’s situated right next to the boathouse. The kayaks and canoes bob on the lake as a light breeze ripples the water’s surface. The morning light makes the lake look so serene. It’s like something off a postcard, but all I can think of when I look at it is the shadowy shape I saw just offshore and the strange figure at the lakeside.

I take the ladder from the shed and drag it back to the lodge, propping it against the side of the building. I grab a stick from the pathway and carry it up. Shimmying onto the roof, I inch myself across to the skylight, where the bird’s broken body is splayed out across the glass.

It’s an owl.

Its large black eyes are wide open and glassy. They stare into nothingness. Its white-and-gray feathers are ruffled, and its talons are curled into tight knots. It’s uncomfortably familiar.

Rob must have had a hundred jobs over the years I’ve known him, and I think he brought home a little souvenir from every place he’d either quit or been fired from. My room is storage for his collection of failures. Reams of paper from his time at the paper mill sit stacked in the corners. Scrap metal from the recycling center is piled in bins under my window. But the worst thing he ever brought into the house were the taxidermic birds. There were some peregrines and kestrels, other birds of prey, but his favorite were the owls. They lined the shelves in my closet and sat perched on every free inch of space on my dresser. They all have the same dead eyes as the one I’m looking at now.

Staring down into the skylight, I see only my reflection. The glass is meant to see out, not in. I look a mess and quickly move to get the owl off the glass. I prod the owl’s lifeless body off the skylight and nudge it down the slope of the roof, where it finally falls over the edge and into the shrubbery below. Disposing of dead animals isn’t in my job description, but I do it often. There is always something dying in the woods or in the lake.

I make my way back down the ladder, and Bezi meets me as I hop off the last rung.

“Where is it?” she asks.

“I knocked it into a bush.”

Bezi’s face twists up. “You just threw it off the side of the roof?”

I interlace my fingers on top of my head and sigh. “I’m sorry? I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.”

She stomps off into the bushes and returns a few moments later cradling the dead bird, bits of leaves and grass clinging to her clothes and hair.

“Gross!” Paige says as she steps out onto the porch. “What are you doing?”

Bezi huffs. “You’re so insensitive. We can’t just leave it in the bushes.”

“Babe,” I say. “It’s—it’s dead. Just leave it out there.”

Bezi looks at me like I’m insulting her personally. “I want to bury it.”

“We’re not having a funeral for an owl, Bezi.” Paige shoves her hand down on her hip. “You have lost your entire mind. Throw it in the woods and come back inside.”

Bezi rolls her eyes and sets the dead bird in the grass just off the pathway.

I put my arms around her, and she leans her head on my shoulder.

“I can’t just leave it,” she says quietly.

I kiss her cheek and pull her close. “It’s okay. I get it.”

Bezi wears her heart right on her sleeve. Her mom’s a veterinarian and her dad was a park ranger. If it flies, swims, or runs on all fours, she cares about it. She cares about everything and everybody even when she shouldn’t, including decomposing owls with broken necks. It’s ridiculous, but it happens to be one of the things I love most about her.

“What do you think happened to it?” Porter asks, peering out the door at the bird’s crumpled body.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Its neck was broken. Maybe it flew into the glass.”

“It dive-bombed the glass?” Porter asks.

“Does it matter?” Paige asks quietly.

Porter shrugs, and Bezi buries the owl in a shallow grave next to the trail before we retreat back into the lodge.

Kyle brings over a plate of waffles and sets them on the table. We all settle in and eat and are nearly done when Javier and Tasha come waltzing through the front door. I avoid eye contact. I’m a little annoyed with her, but she falls onto the couch next to me.

“Morning,” she says a little too enthusiastically.

“Morning,” I say. “Looks like you had a late night.”

“You could say that,” Tasha says, nudging me in the side. She’s got her hair pulled up into a puff on top of her head, and she’s wearing Javier’s T-shirt.

“It was a rough night for you?” Paige asks sarcastically. “Me, Bezi, and Charity had to share a twin-size bed last night.”

Tasha grimaces.

“I’m gonna write a whole piece on this place,” Paige says as she makes uncomfortable, unbroken eye contact with Tasha. “About how it brings out the worst in people.”

“Like how that one guy with the buzz cut pushed his friend and when he fell stepped on his hand as he was running away?” Tasha asks.

“Yeah,” Paige says as she dials up the fake enthusiasm. “And how one of my best friends put me out of the cabin we were supposed to be sharing so she could spend some alone time with some stank-ass boy.”

“Hey!” Javier protests.

“Sorry,” Paige says. “No offense.”

“Uh, full offense taken?” Javier says.

I can’t tell if he’s mad or just surprised. I bite my lip to keep from smiling, but Porter laughs out loud and doesn’t care who hears.

Javier goes to the recliner and sprawls out, shutting his eyes like he’s going to sleep. On his right wrist is Tasha’s pink hair tie.

“Oh, hell no,” I say. “I don’t care how late you two were up; we got things to do today, and I need everybody on board because it’s just the seven of us.”

“Calm down,” Javier says dismissively. “I’m here. We’re all here. Relax.”

“Don’t tell her to relax,” Paige snaps.

Javier opens his eyes and levels his gaze at her. Paige couldn’t care less. She stares right back at him.

“Okay, okay,” Porter says, patting the air in front of him. “Let’s all take a deep breath. We’re all in this together.” He turns to me. “I know how much this final game means to you. You’re the scream queen of Camp Mirror Lake. But maybe we should call it off. We need more experienced staff, and Felix, Heather, and Jordan decided it wasn’t even worth showing up for.”

I sigh. “We’re booked. A full group. We have to figure it out even if it’s just us.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket. “Unknown Number” flashes across the screen. I pick it up anyway.

“Hello?”

Static crackles across the line. A voice breaks through in choppy fragments.

“. . . signal? Can you . . . hear . . . I can’t . . .”

“Who is this?” I ask. I get up and walk around trying to get better reception, but no matter where I am, I can only get one bar.

“Office,” the voice says. “Office . . . office phone.”

The call drops.

Bezi glances at me. “Who was it?”

“I’m not sure. I think they wanted me to go to the office phone. Everybody stay here.” I glance at Tasha and then at Javier. “Especially you two.”

Tasha grins, and Javier leans back in the recliner and puts up his feet.

I jog down Path #1, past the boathouse and the campfire site. The lake is murky in the light of day, and I turn away from it as I pass by. I can hear the phone inside the main office ringing before I get inside. I race up the steps and get the door open just as the ringing stops.

I snatch up the receiver, pressing it to my ear. “Hello?”

The sound of the dial tone greets me, and I set the receiver back down. I check my cell phone again. Still only one bar and even that keeps appearing and disappearing. The office phone rings again, and I scramble to grab it before whoever it is hangs up.

“Hello?”

“Charity,” a rough voice answers. “You hear me?”

Now that the connection is clear, I know exactly who it is . . . Mr. Lamont.

“Hey, boss,” I say.

“Sheriff Lillard called me. Says you were making trouble.”

“Excuse me?” A little stab of anger courses through me. “Sheriff Lillard is an asshole. Some woman came up here with a gun and was threatening me and the guests. I wanna know how that makes me the bad guy?”

Mr. Lamont sighs into the phone. “He told me what happened. He and I have never seen eye to eye. I’m not surprised he’s blaming you for it.”

“Sheriff Lillard says the woman lives close by. I didn’t know there was anybody that close—did you?”

“No. And I think I would have noticed if somebody was that close. She’s never come around before.” There’s a long pause. “Charity, listen to me. I need you to shut everything down up there.”

“I am,” I say. “I invited some friends up to help me because Felix, Jordan, and Heather are no-shows. We’ll have everything locked up and shut down in a few days.”

“No,” he says gruffly. “I mean right now. No final game tonight, Charity. Shut it down until I figure out how to handle this.”

“What?” My heart sinks. I really want my shot at being the final girl in the last game. I’ve been looking forward to it all season. “What do you mean? We’re shutting it down because some crazy old lady showed up here?”

Mr. Lamont grumbles something unintelligible into the phone before continuing. “The sheriff is not so subtly hinting that I could be sued.”

“For what?” I ask, anger bubbling up. “We have waivers in place so people can’t sue us.”

“This woman wasn’t a guest,” Mr. Lamont says. “I don’t know if I believe what Sheriff Lillard is saying, but he’s made it clear that he doesn’t mind making things difficult for us. I don’t know what his angle is, but I can’t afford a lawsuit and I need to figure out how I’m going to handle this. Shut it down. Call me when it’s done. And Charity . . .” He trails off.

“Yeah?” I ask, trying hard not to let the disappointment show in my voice.

“That woman who came up there, what did she say to you?”

I slump down on the stool behind the desk. “She was just yelling and waving that gun around. She made it sound like this was her property and that she knew something about it that we don’t. She said, ‘If you knew what I know.’ What does that even mean?”

Mr. Lamont’s heavy sigh pushes through the phone. “I don’t know, but this is absolutely ridiculous. It’s always something.” There’s a pause. “Listen, I know how much you look forward to the final games. They’re always the highlight of our season, but this is serious. Go ahead and close it down, refund the guests. Try not to be too upset. Give me some time to sort this out. We’ll be back on track next season. Don’t you even worry about it.”

The phone clicks, and the line goes dead. I stare at the receiver in my hand for a solid ten seconds before I hang up.

I grab the guest register and call the people who’d made their reservation for that night. They’re pissed and they attempt to take it out on me, cussing at me, telling me I ruined their plans. I politely tell them that their deposit will be refunded, then hang up. I’m not in a customer’s-always-right kind of mood. I trudge back to the Western Lodge and sit next to Bezi.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

I look around. Javier looks like he’s actually asleep, and as Paige follows my gaze, she promptly gets up and kicks the side of the recliner. Javier bolts awake, confused.

“Listen,” I say. “That was Mr. Lamont on the phone. He says the final game is canceled.”

“What?” Kyle asks. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I already called the guests and let them know not to come up. I guess Sheriff Lillard called Mr. Lamont and told him we were the ones making trouble with that lady.”

“Ummm,” Porter says. “She’s the one who brought a gun up here!” He stands and angrily crosses his arms over his chest. “Sheriff Lillard took that chick to get breakfast. He wasn’t concerned, so why would he call Mr. Lamont at all?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “But it doesn’t even matter. Mr. Lamont wants it shut down.” I sigh and lean back on the couch. “We can move our stuff in here. That way we can shut down all the other buildings. Save kitchen for last. It shouldn’t take us that long if we all pitch in.”

Bezi interlaces her fingers with mine and squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to the final game.”

I always look forward to the last game, but closing down a day early means I’ll have to head home a day early, and that’s the last thing I want.

“It’s okay,” Tasha chimes in. “It’ll be like a big sleepover. It’ll be fun.”

“You gonna kick us out of here, too, so you and Javier can have the place to yourselves?” Paige asks.

Tasha bum-rushes Paige and wraps her up in a bear hug. “Don’t be mad at me. I love you, and if you be nice to me, I’ll let you tell me some scary stories in front of the fireplace.”

Paige tries to act like she’s still mad but gives up almost immediately. Her and Tasha are like sisters. They can’t stay mad at each other for too long, and Paige can never pass up an opportunity to share her encyclopedic knowledge of scary stories.

“I’m gonna tell you a story that’ll make you want to sleep with one eye open,” Paige says. “And it’s about this place.”

I glance at her. “What do you mean?”

Paige presses her lips together. “Let’s just say I did a little digging before I came up here, and there are some really messed up stories about Mirror Lake.”

Tasha lays her head on Paige’s shoulder. “Sounds like a plan. Just as long as you’re not mad at me anymore. Honestly, I should have booted him, not you.” She rolls her eyes, but Javier is too busy trying to go back to sleep to notice. Tasha waltzes over to him and snatches her hair tie off his wrist and slides it onto her own.

“I think we can shut down all the staff and guest cabins today,” I say. “We’ll leave the showers, kitchen, and main lodge for tomorrow. Then all that’ll be left is locking everything up and closing the office and control center. Everybody pitches in. We get it done and get home. Deal?”

“Deal,” says Kyle. “I’m ready to get up outta here.”

“Same,” says Porter. “Let’s go.”