They stood on the opposite shore, tiny at this distance, but clearly an adult-sized person in dark pants and a pale short-sleeved shirt. Standing with legs planted slightly apart, hands on hips. Like they were watching her. She peered at them curiously. There was a summer camp across the lake, but by this time of day all the counselors would be corralling the brats into their bunks. It was probably the camp director surveying his kingdom. Jen couldn’t remember his name, but knew he was Tiffany’s uncle.
She waved. The watcher didn’t wave back. A frisson of unease glided down her spine. Tiffany’s uncle would’ve acknowledged her. He was essentially Mister Rogers incarnate. There was something truly unsettling about the watchfulness of this person, as if they were waiting for something.
The two of them stood motionless, facing each other as if in a standoff. Jen didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of retreatingfirst. Also, she didn’t know why, but she didn’t want to turn her back on them.
The watcher finally turned, melting into the trees. Jen gave their retreat the finger and made her way back down the dock to the cabin.
The sun had nearly dipped behind the horizon. She slipped her phone out of her shorts, meaning to turn on the flashlight, and noticed the low battery. Crap. She’d have to remember to charge it later. She’d forgotten how dark it got out here, without streetlights and with the sky blotted out by trees. Creepy McCreepster had freaked her out a little, too, and she twitched at every shadow, expecting them to be standing there. Thankfully, the cabin’s lights were on, and she could see Patrick through the kitchen window. Music drifted from the open screen of the back door. Was that—Huey Lewis? And was Patrickdancing?Trust Patrick to slip immediately into the eighties vibe of the place. He’d always been way too intense about the cabin.
Mikey had abandoned his macho grandstanding, the axe stuck in the sheared tree trunk where he’d been splitting wood. She’d grab a flashlight or lantern—Patrick was sure to have packed them—and start bringing firewood down to the beach.
As if her thoughts of light had summoned it, a glow began to illuminate the path to the main road. Jen strode to the front of the house. Headlights. They were growing larger, but slowly, as if the driver hadn’t quite made up their mind where they were going.
Mikey came out on the veranda, his shirt back on. “Is that Freddy?”
The car came closer, and Jen could see it was too small to be Freddy’s van. She shook her head, pleased. Tiffany and Patrick joined them outside, drawn by the lights and the sound of the engine. They filed down the steps beside Jen to greet the mystery visitor.
Tiffany shielded her eyes from the approaching beams. “Can anyone see who that is?”
“Maybe it’s a renter who mixed up their dates,” Patrick said.
The car finally stopped. The engine turned off, but not the lights. Giddy anticipation thrummed through Jen’s bones. This was it. Gasoline, meet fire.
The car door opened and a girl stepped out.
“Fuck me,” said Mikey.
Jen would recognize that graceful silhouette anywhere. Tall and slim, her Pre-Raphaelite brown tresses now cut to her chin, Carrie Zhao wore the jeans and white tank top she might have sported when she’d played the Final Girl in theirSlashershadow cast. She clutched an army green canvas duffel bag like a life preserver, looking as stunned as the others probably felt, as if she couldn’t believe she’d had the nerve to show up. She said nothing, but Jen wouldn’t have known what to say either if she were in the other girl’s shoes. Other than,Holy shit, is this really happening?
Patrick and Tiffany looked dumbfounded. Mikey’s mouth had gone slack. Jen almost felt a little sorry for him. He’d always carried a torch for Carrie. Hell, everyone had been a little in love with Carrie, Jen included. Even Patrick, and he didn’t like girls. Saint Carrie just had this aura of self-possessedgoodnessthat you couldn’t help being drawn to, in the hope some of it would rub off. As a teenager she’d volunteered at the Cedar Lake seniors’ home, the animal rescue, the food bank. She’d read stories to kids at the library after church on Sundays and helped organize park cleanups. Which had made her fall from grace all the harder.
Everyone stared at Carrie. Carrie stared back. Another standoff, like Jen had experienced by the lake.
And then Jason came out.
The front door squeaked open. “What are you all doing out here?” Jason said, jogging down the steps. “Has Freddy finally shown up?”
Jen amended her earlier thought. No, not everyone had been a little in love with Carrie. Everyone had felt that way, except the one person who’d mattered to her.
Jason halted as he realized who everyone was gawking at.
“Care Bear?” he said.
Carrie’s face blanched as white as her top. She spun on her heel and fled into the woods, her duffel bag bouncing on her shoulder.
Everyone snapped into motion, the spell broken. “What the fuck?” Tiffany said.
Jason rounded on Patrick. “Why would you ask her back here?” he demanded, showing a flash of uncharacteristic anger.
“You didn’t tell us she was coming!” Mikey said, his cheeks blotchy.
Patrick backed away, his hands up, spluttering a confused protest. “I didn’t ask her, really I—”
“Then how did she find out about the reunion?” Tiffany said.
Jen gleefully watched them argue for a good ten minutes before stepping in. As much as she was enjoying the show, she figured she should put Patrick out of his misery. “Everyone, chill. It was me. I still had her email address, so I invited her.”
“Jennifer Emilia de la Fuente!” Tiffany screeched. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
