“Sounds like a plan,” Bess agreed.
We followed the trail—trails, in some places—of footprints across the main camp and into the woods, down the path that led to the lake. The cool breeze off the water made me shiver as we got closer to the beach. While I was starting to believe I’d hallucinated the figure I’d seen—or at least, I really wanted to believe that—the beach still gave me the heebie-jeebies. I’d have to try not to show it when my campers had swimming.
“Oh no,” Maddie moaned as we followed the tracks to the beach. “Please tell me they didn’t . . .”
But they had. The tracks left off just before the water’s edge . . .
. . . And a soggy pile of sleeping bags was visible just beyond the waist-deep water.
“What happened?” Deborah’s voice suddenly came from the path, and when we turned, she sprang out of the woods and onto the beach, her feet clad in bedroom slippers. “Did you find them?”
“I’m afraid so,” said George, gesturing at the sodden pile of nylon and fleece that bobbed up and down with each ripple in the lake.
Deborah looked at the lake and seemed to take in what had happened. “Oh no,” she murmured, shaking her head as she stepped closer. “Who would have done this? Did anyone skip the campfire tonight?”
We were all silent. No one had skipped it, that I’d known of—all the counselors and campers were present and accounted for. But it had been dark, and everyone’s attention had been focused on Deborah, Miles, or whoever was leading the singing or storytelling. It wouldn’t have been hard for someone to sneak away.
I remembered Bella’s flushed cheeks. Did she . . . ? And then I thought of the other counselors who had also been missing when I’d been pulled under in the lake. Sam . . . or Taylor? Could one of them have snuck away from the campfire, too?
“Maybe it wasn’t a person,” Bella suddenly said. While her voice was quiet, it seemed to echo in the silence.
Deborah looked at her, nonplussed. “What does that mean?” she asked.
Bella shrugged, not meeting Deborah’s eye. “Something in the lake just seems to be really angry,” she said. “What with the thing that pulled you down into the water, the thing that pulled Nancy down, the figure she saw. Maybe something’s going on that’s bigger than just some kid playing a prank.”
Bella looked Deborah in the eye then, and something washed over Deborah’s face. Recognition, or anger, or some kind of unwelcome realization that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Deborah met Bella’s stare with her own intense one, and then the moment was over. She looked out over the lake and sighed, like she was accepting something.
“Miles and I will remove the sleeping bags from the lake and have them all washed and dried,” she said in a low voice. “But I’m afraid there’s no way we can have them ready for the campers to sleep in tonight. I’m very sorry, but you’ll all have to sleep on the mattresses provided, and bundle up in your clothes. Tell the campers they’ll definitely get their bags back tomorrow.”
I glanced at Bess and George. It wasn’t a surprise that the sleeping bags wouldn’t be returned tonight, really—I’d suspected as much once we’d found them in the lake. But I wasn’t sure how our campers would take the news. And I was more concerned about Deborah’s reaction.
“If anyone knows anything about how these bags got in the lake,” Deborah went on, “I would ask you to please come and talk to me or Miles, so that we can prevent it from happening again. I understand that some pranking is normal at camp, but a prank on this scale is unacceptable. Got it? Good. Off to bed, everyone.”
She folded her arms and stared into the lake, but it was clear that she wasn’t going to say any more. I looked around at my fellow counselors, and slowly we made our way back to the path and toward our cabins.
Bess poked my arm as we walked along. “What do you think, Nancy?”
I was silent for a minute. I was trying really hard not to think about it. “I don’t know anything you don’t, Bess,” I said finally.
Back at the cabins, we said our good nights quietly, then split up to head back to our respective bunks. I told my wide-eyed crew that the sleeping bags had been taken to the lake—“It looks like someone’s messed-up idea of a prank”—and that we, sadly, would have to make do with the mattresses for now.
“Who would do it?” Cece asked, once we had the lights out and were all lying on our mattresses, trying to snuggle with sweatshirts and jeans. “Who would think that was funny?”
“I really don’t know,” I admitted, trying to quiet my overactive sleuthing brain.
It was a long time before I could get to sleep that night.