“Oi,” Meg says, kicking the bottom of my bed. “It’s late, yeah?”
I fumble for my alarm clock, and when I see the time, I sit up straight. “Eight thirty.” I lean over the bed so I can see Meg in her oversize T-shirt and cotton shorts. “What’s going on?”
She shrugs. “I know as much as you do.”
“No group leader alerts?”
Meg points to her bedhead. “Does it look like I got an alert?”
I pull back the curtain in my window, expecting rain or thunder or a natural disaster that would make it impossible for us to have a regular day starting with some undercooked waffles and a dip in the frigid lake. In all my years at Alpine Lake, we only had late wake-up when there was a storm. But when I look outside, it’s bright and beautiful, the sun hanging high in the sky ready for us to come out and finish setting up camp.
Something isn’t right.
Meg hops out of bed to get ready quickly.
I follow her lead, going through the motions of brushing my teeth and pulling on sweatpants, but my brain is spinning. Ava was here last night. No, wait. Ava was heading toward the lake,thenshe was here. And now something is wrong.
As I pull my hair into a high pony, Meg’s walkie comes alive with a soft beep from the nightstand.
“Lodge to all staff. Lodge to all staff.” Stu’s voice crackles over the speaker. “Code dungaree,” he says. “Over.”
“Code dungaree? What the fuck is that?” Meg asks, half-amused. “This man, I swear...”
My throat is like sandpaper. “It means 9-1-1,” I say. “We’ve got to get to the dining hall.”
“Maybe it’s a fire drill or something,” Meg says.
“You’re probably right.” But when I look outside, I see other counselors pulling on hoodies and shoving their feet into flip-flops as they run to the dining hall with a sense of urgency only used for making sure you get the last bus back to camp on a night off. Meg senses it, too, and we follow everyone else. As we get closer to the action, there’s a pit in my stomach, and I can feel Ava’s breath on my neck from last night, her tears damp against my skin.
I’m halfway to the dining hall when I hear my name behind me. “Goldie!”
I turn and find Imogen hustling toward me, her tie-dyed sweatshirt half on and her eyes wide with confusion. “What the hell is going on?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“Have you seen Ava?”
I want to tell her about last night, but Stu bursts through thedining hall doors and motions for us to hustle inside. “Quickly,” he barks, more gruff than usual.
Imogen grabs my hand. Whatever’s going on, we’ll face it together.
When the final counselors enter, Stu shuts the door and locks it, which sends a tingle into my stomach. They don’t believe in locked doors here—only in the bathrooms.
Mellie is up front, pacing back and forth, her ponytail a little off-center and her skin grayer than it should be. Her polo shirt is neatly ironed and her khaki shorts are pleated in all the right places. But with dark circles under her eyes, it looks like she hasn’t slept at all.
“There you are.” Mom’s voice is frantic and there’s a little quiver when she speaks. She comes up behind me and squeezes my shoulder. Dad is right behind her, his shirt untucked and his lips pursed.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
Mom opens her mouth to speak, but before she can, Stu taps the microphone.
“Thank you all for responding so quickly,” he says, all joy gone from his usually sunny disposition. “There is no easy way to say this, but we wanted to tell you all as soon as possible.” The room goes still and Mom grabs my free hand.Where is Ava?
“This morning we found the body of a young man down at the waterfront,” Stu says. Gasps ring out nearby. “But please know, he wasnotaffiliated with Camp Alpine Lake.” Shoulders relax. Throats clear.
He wasn’t one of us.
“He was a local boy and we have been dealing with the Roxwood police all morning to find out what happened,” Stucontinues. “Please note, his death looks like an accident. Drowning. This has nothing to do with the safety of our camp or our facilities. He was not horsing around on any of our equipment.”
