I sighed. “On the hike up here, I was noticing how many people wear Chuck Taylors,” I said. “Sam has them. Maddie too. Deborah even has a pair. What if I—”
“Don’t doubt yourself,” George insisted. “Except about your hot dog, because that thing is about to burn to a crisp. Come on, put her there.”
George picked up a paper plate with a bun on it and held it out to me. I pulled my hot dog in from the fire—it did look a bit well-done, now that I inspected it—and dropped it on the bun. George handed me the plate, then gestured to a row of condiments that had been set up by a tree.
“You had plenty of reasons to blame Bella. Maybe one or two of them could be explained in other ways—but all of them? No. So eat something,” she encouraged me. “Enjoy yourself! You solved the case! Now you can relax and enjoy a freshly roasted hot dog with a stellar view.”
I nodded, slathering my hot dog with mustard and ketchup and moving over to where my bunk had gathered on an overturned log. Soon the happy chatter and jokes of my campers took my mind off Bella, and any of the other crazy events of the week. George is right, I thought as I enjoyed my dinner. The hard part is over—now I can enjoy the little time I have left! The sun setting over the lake was beautiful. And it was hard to ignore what a good time all the campers seemed to be having. They really would have been disappointed if this had been called off, I realized.
But the night wasn’t going to be totally perfect. We’d just finished up our dinner and started roasting marshmallows for s’mores when the sky suddenly darkened, and a huge crash of thunder sounded.
I looked to Deborah, who turned to the sky just as the heavens seemed to open up and rain came pouring down in a gush.
“Auuuuughhh!” half the campers screamed.
“Everyone run to your tents!” Deborah shouted. “Take cover! I’ll put out the fire!”
“You heard her, guys! Come on!” I corralled my campers into a clump and navigated them back toward our tent. Once we got the zippered flap open, we all tumbled in with a groan and scooted over to our respective sleeping bags.
“I can’t believe it,” Maya said, shaking her head. “Was it even supposed to rain tonight?”
“Who knows?” I asked with a shrug. “I haven’t seen a weather report in a week.”
For a few minutes, we just sat in the darkness listening to the rain pounding the roof. The tent seemed to be waterproof, thank goodness, so except for a few small puddles where there were leaks, we stayed dry.
After a few minutes we brought out our flashlights and made a circle in the middle of the tent. Thunder was still crashing every few minutes outside, and lightning would light up the sky.
“It’s so cool,” Cece whispered. “Like nature is having a big argument.”
Harper bit her lips. “I think it’s a little scary,” she whispered.
Maya scooched over and put her arm around Harper. “Don’t be scared,” she said. “We’re all here together, and nothing’s going to hurt us. We should enjoy the show!”
“We should tell ghost stories!” Kiki said suddenly, and several of the girls spoke up to agree.
I glanced at Harper. “Maybe we’re not all in the mood for ghost stories,” I suggested. “Actually, I brought a deck of cards. We could play—”
Harper shook her head and sat up straight. “No, Kiki’s right,” she said. “The atmosphere is perfect for ghost stories.”
Kiki beamed. I glanced at Maya, who shrugged.
“Okay?” I said. “Are we all sure, though?”
All the girls grunted their assent. When I looked Harper right in the eye, she nodded.
“Okay,” I said finally. “Who wants to start?”
“I do!” Nina raised her hand. “This is a ghost story I heard here, actually. It’s perfect because it’s about this camp.”
I sat stock-still as Nina began telling the others about the last year Camp Larksong was in business. How everyone went on the end-of-year campout, right here, at Hemlock Hill. But one of the counselors was acting a little weird. . . .
“Guys!” I said, holding up my hand. “Hold it right there, Nina. I just want you all to know . . . this story isn’t true. Okay?”
Nina looked at me, slightly annoyed. “How do you know that?” she asked.
“Because I know,” I said, hearing that I sounded like a frustrated parent, but not sure how to avoid it. “I . . . looked into it. None of this is true, guys.”
I’d expected that to dampen the campers’ enthusiasm for the tale, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Fourteen eyes widened as seven faces turned curiously in my direction.
“You looked into it?” Katie echoed. “That sounds kind of serious.”