Kids.
I totally forgot in twenty-four hours we’re going to have to care forchildren. I can’t think about that now. I have to get through the hour, the day. I have to find Mom and Dad. I have to know what happened.
When we get to our cabins, Imo gives my arm a little squeeze and skips back to her bunk. I walk inside slowly, trying to focus on the tasks in front of me: Change into swimsuit. Go down to the waterfront. Clean the buoys. But the truth smacks me in the face.Heller is dead.
I pull on my bathing suit, shivering as a breeze comes through the window. I climb up onto my bed to close it, but when I do, I get a whiff of something.
Blueberry.
Ava.
Shewashere last night. Where is she now?
“Goldie!” Imo calls out from the porch. “Come on, let’s go.”
I pull on a hoodie and grab my towel, still wet from last night’s skinny-dipping. When I push open the door, I see her standing on the grass, wrapped in an Alpine Lake sweatshirt, holding a Styrofoam cup of coffee from the 7-Eleven a few miles down the road.
“Where’d you get that?” I ask.
Imogen nods behind me. “Don’t worry. She got one for you, too.”
I turn around to see Ava standing there, dressed in a bathing suit and drawstring cotton shorts sitting low on her hips. A towel’s wrapped around her neck like a scarf. She holds out a plastic to-go cup. “Iced vanilla with whole milk. Just the way you like it.”
She looks untouched, unbothered, like nothing strange has happened. “Thanks,” I say, taking the cup. “You went off campus this morning?”
Ava shrugs. “I was up early,” she says. “Saw Aaron jogging and he let me take his Jeep.”
Imo smiles, grateful, and takes a sip from her plastic cup. “I didn’t know you drive stick,” she says. “He’s got that old Wrangler.”
Ava nods. “Don’t you?”
Imo shakes her head. “Nope.”
I shrug. “Never learned.”
Ava checks her watch. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”
We start down the trail and I want to say something—anything. Less than twelve hours ago I decided to tell them the truth about Heller. But now... I don’t even know where to start. Thankfully, there’s no time because Imo asks about Ava’s twin sisters, Jordie and Bianca, coming up from Palm Beach tomorrow.
“Little brats,” Ava says. “Mom said I have to be nice to them, even thoughthey’rethe reason my dad no longer has a 212 area code.” She sighs and puts on a high voice, imitating her mother. “If you’re not kind to Jordie and Bianca, then your father willnotpay for Wesleyan and youknowthatcannothappen.”
Imogen laughs, but it’s hollow.
We all know why Ava loves camp so much. Here, she doesn’t have to be a Cantor. Her family’s reputation doesn’t precede her like it did at Excelsior Prep, where there’s a Cantor Library and a Cantor scholarship. She doesn’t have to worry about seeing headlines about her parents’ divorce settlement inPage Sixor hear the Excelsior parents whispering about her stepmother at the nail salon. At Alpine Lake there is only Ava, the one Cantor in all of Vermont. Until now.
“Can’t believe they’re in Bloodroot,” Imogen says.
“Maybe you can spy on them and tell me all the weird shit they do,” Ava says, elbowing me in the stomach. “Or if they divulge any secrets about the evil stepbitch.”
Ava wiggles her eyebrows, but for the first time, I can’t read her. Not directly. Why is she pretending like she wasn’t in my cabin last night? As if we didn’t fight at dinner?
Imogen yawns but then snaps her mouth shut fast.
“Late night with Tommy?” Ava asks in a knowing voice.
Imogen groans. “Guilty. Found him after skinny-dipping.”
“That’s the third night this week.” Ava pulls at the ends of her hair and it’s obvious she’s annoyed. “I thought he was a plaything.”
