One
Claire excelled at three things: ballet, homework, and identifying all the ways there were to die in any given situation. Like now, on this boat. She couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it would be to be knocked off the side, hit your head as you fell, and drown.
Less likely: being guillotined by a fishing line.
Also unlikely but still possible: being pierced by shrapnel if the engine exploded.
She fidgeted with her life jacket, touching the three buckles in rapid succession, until she felt reassured they were secure.
I hate boats, she decided.
She also hated airplanes, particularly the minuscule prop planes that felt as if they’d been assembled by a five-year-old with unfettered access to glue. That had been the other option for the trip to the Lake House—itty-bitty prop plane. There were no roads.
“Not a fan of boats?” Reyva asked.
The driver started the engine.
“They’re loud,” Claire said, shouting to be heard. “Like alawn mower mated with a wood chipper and had a hideous, gargling child.”
Reyva’s lips twitched as if she were considering smiling but didn’t want to commit. Claire wasn’t certain she’d seen her smile once yet. It didn’t seem to be Reyva’s thing.
As they shot across the lake, the boat slapped the water again and again. Each time, Claire bounced off her seat by a half inch. She wrapped one hand around the flimsy metal rail, trying not to make it obvious that she was holding on for dear life, especially in front of the two girls she’d just met and the boy driving the boat.
It’ll be fun, her parents had said, much too cheerfully.Plus, think of how much it’ll help your college applications! You’ll learn new skills, have new experiences, and make new friends!Claire glanced at the other two girls. Friends. She never knew what to say to turn a person she’d just met into one of those, but since the boy driving the boat, Jack, seemed intent on increasing their speed beyond the limits of the speedometer, it wasn’t first on her list to worry about.
Across the boat, not holding on at all, the other girl—her name was Mariana, Claire remembered—took a selfie as her hair blew in the wind. Lowering her phone, she shouted what sounded like, “Porpoise!”
“Can’t be!” Claire shouted back. “There aren’t any freshwater dolphins or toothed whales in Maine. Only Asia and South America.” She winced at herself. Why did shealwayssound like she’d swallowed a textbook?
Mariana shouted louder. “Not porpoise!Porpoising!The waythe boat is bouncing. It means the trim is set incorrectly. I can fix it.” She tucked her phone into her back pocket as she stood up.
Claire squeezed the rail tighter.
“Sit down, please!” Jack called.
“You have to adjust the trim! Trimup!” Mariana called back to him, but she, to Claire’s relief, sat down.
Jack adjusted the throttle, the engine changed pitch, and the boat’s bouncing subsided. It sped more smoothly over the lake, and Claire relaxed her grip a little. “Hey, thanks!” he called to Mariana.
She flashed him a brilliant smile and tossed her hair, and Claire saw his eyes widen and cheeks tint pink.Good, she thought.He’ll be staring at her now.One less person to notice how terrified she was.
“More useful than she looks,” Reyva commented.
Claire wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she nodded vaguely. She’d only known the two other girls for about an hour—due to the weather, they were all arriving a day late. She was glad it had worked out that way. It was better than arriving late alone. She couldn’t be “the new girl,” singled out, if there were three of them. Reyva or Mariana could take the spotlight, while she blended into the wallpaper. It was the best possible outcome, really—preferable to nearly any other Claire could currently imagine.
“Have you ever been to the Lake House?” Claire asked Reyva.
“Nope. My dad said it’s been closed for years. He was so excited it reopened that he was practically giddy. He said it had always been his ‘dearest wish’ that I attend the beloved retreat where he forged so many precious memories and made lifelongfriends—so dear that he has literally never talked about it once.”
“Both my parents went,” Claire offered. “They said it was aformative experience.”
Reyva laughed. “My dad tossed in that phrase a few times too. I told him I’m already formed.”
“You didn’t want to come?”
Reyva shrugged. “You?”
She’d told her parents of course she’d go. If they thought this was best, then yes, sign her up. There was nothing else to say since it was clear they’d already decided. Obviously, she would have rather stayed home for the summer, no matter how great it would look on college applications. She hadn’t even arrived, and she was already out of her comfort zone. Surreptitiously, Claire touched the buckles on her life jacket again and thought longingly of her bedroom with all her books, and a door that closed everyone out. “I’m not sure ‘want’ is the right word. But it’ll be great.”
