“Levin asked her to set up the flag on far right,” Imogen says. She sits up and looks around. “There she is.” She points to the dock where Aaron and his friends once were. But they’re gone now. Instead, there’s Ava, hanging a flag from the lifeguard chair, her body stretched out lean and long in the air.
But floating in the water beyond the buoys is an inflatable gray dinghy, powered by a small motor. When I see it, my heart stops. I’d know it anywhere. Heller sits inside the boat, shirtless and tan, sunglasses wrapped around his head. His lightning bolt necklace blinks with the sun. Heller’s laugh bounces off the water and I shiver at its familiarity. Ava doesn’t shoo him away.
“What...” I start to ask.
“Maybe she’s giving him hell after last night,” Imogen mumbles, frowning as she shields her eyes.
Ava steps off the lifeguarding chair and squats down so she’s closer to eye level with him. Her mannerisms are nonchalant and my stomach seizes.What is he saying? Why is he here?
Something splashes in the water nearby and I hear the sound of swimming, of churning water and fluttering feet. Levin slicesthrough the lake toward Ava, his red swim trunks bright under water.
Crap.
Ava takes notice. Her head jolts upright and something changes in her eyes, like she’s remembering where she is and what the rules are, what herbest friendmight think about what she’s doing. Heller smiles politely in his dinghy as Ava stands up straight.
Levin climbs on to Ava’s dock. “Off.” His voice is gruff and loud so we can hear it from here. Water rolls down his torso and he crosses his arms, stern.
“My bad,” Ava says, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. She pushes out her chest a little. I know this move, but a small part of me is happy it won’t work on Levin. She can’t sweet-talk her way out of everything.
“You need to get off camp property,” Levin says to Heller. “You gotta stay outside the buoys over there.” He points to the magical boundary behind Ava.
Heller looks over his shoulder. “I live here, too. The water’s free. Roxwood law.”
I clench my fists, fighting the adrenaline surging in my body.
“Nice try, but you probably know as well as anyone this isnotpublic property,” Levin says. “Stay beyond the buoys or we’re going to have to get Stu and Mellie down here.”
Heller tries to keep cool but he flinches, and something shifts in his eyes at the camp directors’ names. In one swift motion, he pushes off Ava’s dock and paddles away. As soon as he’s past the rope, Heller turns the motor on and starts off toward town. But not before glancing back at me, a look of worry forming on his face.
CHAPTER 10
Then
I said “I love you” first.
The words came out easy, a reflex, an instinct. Like riding a bike or flipping an egg.
Heller had driven to my house on Christmas morning and asked if he could take me for a ride, even though he knew we spent the day in the way so many Reform Jews do—with Chinese takeout and movie marathons. He smelled like cinnamon rolls and bacon and held my hand in the middle of the console as he drove me toward Camp Alpine Lake.
“What are you doing?” I asked. Everyone knew camp was forbidden property. Especially for kids in Roxwood.
But Heller squeezed my hand harder and kept his eyes on the road. We passed the entrance and he didn’t slow.
“Come on, where are we going?”
A smile danced on his lips and he shook his head. Soon we came upon a dirt road, nearly hidden by naked branches. He made a quick left and kept going for a few miles. We bounced over rubble and rocks, and after a while I noticed a rusty sign, depicting a horse, deep within the trees.
“Are these the old Alpine Lake riding trails?”
Heller shrugged, but a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth gave him away. I’d heard rumors about these paths but never found them. Everyone said they were overgrown, impossible to traverse. Stu and Mellie had closed them for good before I got to camp because they were too dangerous. But the oldies said they led to the most beautiful vistas in Roxwood.
Heller parked at the top of a steep hill and cut the engine. When I looked out the windshield, I gasped. All of Vermont lay before us, snow-covered and so white, it was almost metallic.
He motioned for me to get out of the car, and when I stepped down, I saw he was setting up two chairs, spreading a runner out on a card table. He opened a tote bag and pulled out a box of my favorite fudge brownies from Café Cloud and a thermos of coffee.
“Heller...” I said, trying to find the words.
“I stumbled on this while cross-country skiing with Cal last week,” he said. “I knew I had to show you.”
