My limbs feel shaky as I push myself up. I curl up the necklace so it’s completely hidden and hold it tight within my fist.
The skeptics in Roxwood have to be right.
I put one foot in front of the other and make my way back to the sand.
My brain can’t make sense of anything, and I watch the lifeguards race around the waterfront, tying up sailboats and throwing kickboards in the shed. I look around for Ava and Imogen but they must already be heading up the trail.
“Get in,” Levin says. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat of a golf cart, his striped senior staff shirt growing damp in some spots. His bare foot is on the pedal, ready to take the road to upper camp.
I look down and see I’m already drenched and my towel is starting to drip. I shuffle in beside him and look around to see if anyone else needs a lift, but all the lifeguards are gone. It’s only Levin and me.
“Bloodroot, right?” he asks, when we get on the gravel.
I nod and turn my head back toward the waterfront. Wind blows the flags every which way and the water looks choppy and rough, like a whirlpool is spinning beneath the surface. If onlythe weather was the most dangerous thing about this place. I hold Heller’s necklace tighter in my palm.
Levin’s knuckles are white, grasping onto the wheel tightly. His face is full of worry, cloudy and far away. If he’s telling the truth about how he found Heller, maybe he would know why the necklace was here. Maybe he pulled him up on the sand.
“You found him in the water?” I ask, my voice barely audible above the storm.
Levin keeps looking forward.
“Did you touch him? Bring him up on dry land?”
“Not supposed to touch a dead body. You learned that in first aid class, too.”
Rain plunks down all around us and my vision goes blurry, realizing Hellerwason camp property. Maybe, just maybe, Jordan Adler was here, too.
“Did you see anyone else here that night?” I ask. “A boy around my age? Greasy hair? Built like a linebacker?”
Levin looks at me out of the corner of his eye and grunts.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Is that a yes?”
“It means I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”
“Why?”
“Because I said I wouldn’t.”
“To who?”
Levin’s quiet. I look at him then. There’s only six years between us. In that time, he’s lived whole lives, gone to college, learned how to command a classroom full of freshmen. And yet he chooses to come back. To spend his time here, caring about campers and staff. Even after all his Alpine Lake friends went off and gotjobs in finance or consulting or big law, Levin is... here.
“Who did you promise you wouldn’t talk about this?”
Levin pulls up onto the grassy knoll outside Bloodroot, which is now slick with mud. “Meg, okay?” He shakes his head. “She’s worried about you, says this is hitting you really hard. I’m doing what she asked.”
“But—”
“Drop it, Goldie,” he says. “Do you know what this kind of questioning could do to a camp like this? It’s a scandal. The fact that his death was deemed an accident so quickly is a gift. Don’t you see that? So don’t ask me about Heller again, okay?”
The rain is coming down hard and a few kids are spinning in circles on the lawns, laughing like their faces are about to fall off even though their clothes are soaked right through. But I can only look at Levin, the coolness in his face, the stoic expression. There’s nothing to do but get out of the golf cart.
He takes off without saying goodbye.
“That Levin?” Meg rushes outside, holding her poncho close to her stomach. “That arse didn’t even say hello.” She looks at me, soaked, and points to the door. “Get inside, you nut!”
Reluctantly, I dash into Bloodroot and leave my towel on the porch. The girls are electric, rushing around the cabin, preparing themselves for the best rain day ever. There are decks of cards, pillow forts, jacks, coloring books, and markers strewn about the floor. A group of girls in matching tie-dyed sweatshirts have taken over the back corner playing MASH, while Bianca and Jordie are sitting with Caroline, their heads bent over a plastic box of beads and string.
