A toxicology report confirmed that the eighteen-year-old was drinking before his death, but his blood alcohol level was below the legal limit. “Even if he was under the influence, that boy could swim faster than anyone in this town,” said Ruthie Dollinger, a classmate since preschool. “Hell, I’ve seen him swim a mile piss-drunk in the winter.”
Other folks are skeptical about the cause of death because of where he was found—inside the bounds of Camp Alpine Lake’s waterfront, according to Ray Levin, 24, the head lifeguard at the nearby sleepaway camp. Levin told police, “He was lying in the water facedown, his clothes tangled in thelap lanes. I found him at 5:30 a.m. with no pulse. It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”
Camp Alpine Lake has had a complicated history with Roxwood over the past decade. A driver to the town’s economy, the camp has become something of a lightning rod in recent years.
“All the folks associated with that place act like they’re better than us,” said Rick Drummond, a cook at Keene’s Diner. “The directors don’t even tip when they come in.”
But the McConnell family insists that their son’s death was an accident and that Camp Alpine Lake has been extremely cooperative, even offering to pay for his funeral and burial. “Roxwood’s a safe town,” his father, Judah McConnell, said. “This is devastating. But there’s no foul play here.”
“It’s a tragedy,” said Dylan Adler, 18, the former captain of the Roxwood High School hockey team. Adler sustained serious injuries after a car accident where McConnell was in the passenger seat but said McConnell was “a real support” throughout the year. “He always said I’d play hockey again,” Adler said. “I’ll spend the rest of my life trying, like he tried to help me through my recovery.”
I turn the clipping over, unable to read any more.
“Goldie?” Jordie calls.
“One second.” I press the heels of my palms against my eyes, trying to regain my composure. How could Heller’s family not want to investigate his death? I’ll never understand it. But I hate what Cal’s insinuating—that something messed up is going onhereat Alpine Lake. Is that why he was here with Heller’s ID? I brush back my hair and shake my head, knowing nothing I can think or say right now will solve this.
I make my way into the camper room, over to Jordie’s bed. “Finally,” she mumbles as she sits between my legs. She leans back so her honey-blonde hair falls into my lap. It’s thick and shiny like Ava’s.Focus on the girls, not on Heller.
I separate Jordie’s hair into a few sections and start to twist it into ropes and weave it over her scalp. Bianca sits cross-legged on her bed next to us, a book in her lap.
“You want one, too?” I ask, but she shakes her head without looking up.
“Where’d you learn how to do this?” Jordie asks.
“Ava taught me one summer,” I say.
Jordie’s quiet and I wonder if that was a mistake, if I should never have brought Ava up at all. But then she speaks. “Ava’s good at hair.”
“She’s the best at it,” I say, but I wonder how she knows that.
Bianca picks at her nails next to us and taps her foot in front of her, unable to sit still. None of the other girls come over to ask the twins what they’re going to wear or if they can borrow eyeshadow. The two of them are alone in this corner of the cabin, a bag of Twizzlers between them. I peek around at their area and spot a photo of them with their parents, a perfect-looking family. I flinch looking at Ava’s dad, Mark. Sucks how one guy can be a scumbag to one kid and a great dad to two others.
You’re not supposed to bring up the kids’ parents. Mellie says it makes them homesick and it’s better to let them mention them first. But I can’t help myself.
“Have you gotten lots of letters from your mom and dad?” I ask.
Bianca looks up. “Yes!” she says. She reaches down to the plastic box beneath her bed and retrieves a stack of envelopes.
“Mom sends us so many boring letters,” Jordie says. “All about her golf games.” She rolls her eyes.
“Dad’s are way better,” Bianca says. “Like this one.” She opens a card and begins to read. “Dearest daughters, How I miss you! I wish I could have taken yo-u with me on my most recent trip to New York. I ate all those macarons you love from that bakery in SoHo and will send some to you soon. We’ll go together after camp.”
Bianca closes the card and smiles, dragging a finger over the pretty flowers on its front. “Dad’s the best.”
I nod in agreement but something gnaws at my insides.My most recent trip to New York.
According to Ava, her dad’sneverin New York. Not even for her graduation.
“Hellooo,” Jordie says. “Earth to Goldie! Are you done yet?”
“Sorry,” I say, taking stock of my work on her head. “There. Perfect.”
---
As soon as we enter the Lodge, I’m greeted by a wave of drugstore body spray and the sounds of bad electronic music pounding from the speakers set up at the front of the stage. All the sofas that are usually in here for movie nights and camp plays are pushed toward the back, where the counselors drape their bodies over them like scarves.
“Goldie!” Imogen calls from the couches.
