“It has me! Something has my leg!” she screeched, before suddenly she was jerked downward and her head disappeared below water.
Cece and I both leaped to our feet. Sandy jumped up and dove into the water. I looked around, counting the other girls’ heads in the lake, and was relieved to find them all accounted for, except Nina.
It was probably only seconds before Sandy and Nina reappeared, but it felt like hours. And when Nina resurfaced, she was still screaming.
“Auuuugh! It had me! Didn’t you see it?”
“Calm down,” Sandy insisted. “Nina, calm down and breathe. You’re okay now.”
“I’m not okay!” Nina insisted, shaking her head wildly. “Didn’t you see it?! Sandy?” She sucked in a breath, then went on:
“It was human, Sandy. I could see its shape.” She shuddered. “And its long, silvery-white hair.”
This time Sandy pulled everyone out of the lake. Deborah was called. She appeared with her mouth drawn into a tight line, surveying the area like she was looking at a crime scene.
“All right,” she said finally. “Juniper Cabin, I want you to move on to your next scheduled activity. I’m glad you’re all okay. We’ll talk about this later.”
I shook my head. “Deborah,” I said quietly, “I think the girls are kind of wound up. As am I,” I added, with a nervous laugh.
She cut her eyes at me, no trace of humor in her expression. “And sitting around ruminating on it isn’t going to calm them down at all,” she insisted. “Take them to the crafts barn. Making something can be very relaxing.”
Sandy raised her eyebrows at me. I opened my mouth to argue, but then stopped myself. Clearly Deborah wasn’t going to budge. So I ran over to Maya, who’d spent swimming period writing letters home in the cabin, and asked her to take the girls to the cabin to change, then to the crafts barn while I spoke to Deborah.
“No problem,” Maya said. Her usual cheery demeanor had been replaced by serious efficiency. “Catch up with us when you can, okay?” She led the girls down the path toward the cabins.
When they were gone, I turned back to Deborah. She was watching the lake with an unreadable expression. Then, suddenly, she dropped her head into her hands and groaned.
“Deborah,” I said, feeling like I was eavesdropping.
She lifted her head. “Nancy? Why aren’t you with your bunk?”
I sighed, moving forward. “I asked Maya to look after them for a few minutes. I’m worried about what’s going on at Camp Cedarbark,” I said honestly.
Deborah shook her head dismissively. “It’s not a ghost, if that’s what you’re getting at,” she said, sounding a little annoyed.
“I know it’s not a ghost,” I said, adding silently, Or at least I think it’s not. “But I saw a figure when I was pulled under the water too. What’s going on?”
She pursed her lips and sighed. “The plants?” she said finally.
“I thought you had someone remove all the plants,” Sandy said. She was standing on the other side of Deborah with her arms folded.
“She did,” I agreed. “I thought the plants were removed the day the CITs arrived,” I added.
Deborah shrugged. “Maybe there are still more? I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“Nina was quite insistent that she saw a figure,” Sandy said.
Deborah sighed again, then rolled her eyes. “How would that work?” she asked. “Someone is holding their breath under there? Someone has gills?’
“I don’t know. I’m just telling you what she said,” Sandy retorted.
Deborah turned to her, softening her expression. “You’re a lifeguard. If someone wanted to hang out under the water, not being seen by anyone, and pull someone down—is that possible?”
Sandy seemed to think for a moment, then bit her lip. “It is—well—unlikely,” she murmured.
Deborah moaned again, rubbing her hand over her face. “We spent a lot of money on this camp,” she said quietly. “I can’t shut down the lake. I need this summer to be a success.”
“Deborah, if there is a figure in the water pulling people down,” I said, “it’s probably the same person who stole all the sleeping bags and threw them in the lake. What if someone is trying to sabotage Camp Cedarbark? To keep you from being successful, for some reason?”
Deborah frowned at me. She looked honestly confused. “Why would someone do that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, “but I’m kind of an amateur detective, and I plan to find out.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Secret File
THE NEXT MORNING WE WERE woken up to the sound of rain pouring down on the cabin’s roof. Outside, the ground had been soaked to mud, and tiny lakes and rivers had formed all over the clearing in the middle of the cabins.
Cece groaned. “I was looking forward to the soccer game today,” she said as she pulled a pair of jeans and a T-shirt out from her dresser.
“Maybe it will happen anyway, rain or shine,” suggested Winnie.