“No, I have a contact I can call,” Andy says.
“Good.”
He smiles and his thin lips disappear. “Great thinking, Esme. You’re smart.”
“Er, thanks,” I reply.
“Get some sleep. And don’t worry—I’ll sort this out.”
He turns and walks away. Don’t worry? Sounds like Andy really doesn’t know me at all. My nan, my mom and I are Olympic-level worriers.
I sneak into the cabin, tiptoe through the main room and climb up to my bunk. My body is heavy and aches. I sink into the mattress and sigh. Every part of me is tired.
“You all right?” Kayla whispers in the darkness.
I left our door wide open so we can see and hear the campers.
“I am, but I don’t think Rebekah is,” I say, keeping my voice quiet. “We should check on her first thing.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Kayla asks.
“I don’t know, but she seems really scared. During the meeting she looked like she wanted to hide, and she was chewing on her lip and staring when we walked back to the cabins. I know that she was bullied in school, and I’ve noticed that when someone disagrees with her, even nicely, she tends to go inside herself.”
“You notice everything, Esme.”
I turn onto my side and am confronted with something that steals my breath.
I stare, unblinking, until my eyes sting and water leaks from the corners.
No.
I suck in air as fear clutches my stomach in a vise-like grip.
Carved into the wall by my pillow are the letters LC.
They were not there before.
I freeze, staring at the letters while anxiety curls in my stomach.
Lillian Campbell.
I lick my dry lips and force my breath to slow down. In for five, out for five.
God no.
She has been in our room, in my bed. I want to jump out of the bunk, run away and never look back.
She was right here.
Nausea rolls my stomach.
Kayla is in bed. Do not freak out.
I reach out, my hand trembling as it gets closer to the wall. My index finger pokes into the rough scratches and loose shavings drop to the floor.
No.
Retracting my hand, I ball it into a fist.
My shoulders hunch.
What do I do now? Someone here besides me and Kayla knows what happened ten years ago. Maybe it’s Lillian, or maybe it’s someone else—someone she told or a witness we didn’t know existed.
Ten years. That’s a long time to carry anger.
“Esme?”
I clear my throat, but I’m unable to look away from Lillian’s initials. It takes everything I have to keep my cool. “Yes, I notice things. And you only notice when cute guys are around.”
“It’s a talent, I have a cute-guy radar. Night, babe,” Kayla says.
Her voice is barely audible over the shrill ringing in my ears.
“Night,” I whisper as my shaking finger curls around the C.
Why am I not telling Kayla about this?
21
In the morning, we’re in the lake. The sun shines brightly through a thin smattering of fluffy clouds. Andy thinks it’s a good idea to keep the campers’ minds off the person in the woods by switching our hike today with the water sports that were scheduled for later in the week.
My fingertips graze the lake’s surface of the water. I know the water is smooth, but all I feel is the rough texture of the carved initials. Lillian has been in our room.
I’m in up to my knees watching my and Cora’s group swim the length of the lake.
On the other side of the lake, four merged groups of boys are having a kayak-racing mini tournament. Andy said the winners will get extra s’mores, but we all know he’ll let everyone have extra.
The inflatable water course is coming out soon. Some of the guys are setting it up.
The atmosphere is somewhat tense. The staff have information that the campers don’t and it’s making us slightly paranoid. Well, it’s certainly making me paranoid.
If I had a dollar for everyone I witnessed looking at the forest, I could buy a beach house in Malibu.
“Keep going, girls, you’re doing great,” I call as they swim back to me. The trained instructors and lifeguards watch closely and occasionally tell one of the girls how to improve their stroke. Bless, some of them still look like they’re drowning.
“Did you manage to speak to Rebekah?” Cora asks, staring ahead at the girls. Or maybe she’s staring beyond them, into the trees. “Kayla mentioned at breakfast that you were worried about her last night.”
“Not yet. She got up late. She seems okay now, though, cheering her girls on in the race,” I say, blinking my heavy eyelids. I’m tired after last night and can barely focus on anything.
I remember how weird Rebekah was at the arcade. And the possible sighting of Lillian outside.
“Good,” Cora says.
“Is it always like this? Not the ‘someone’s watching’ thing, but are there always issues coming from all directions?”
She laughs. “Pretty much. How are you handling it?”
“It’s slightly exhausting, but I’m much better at helping other people with their problems than I am with my own.”
“You can talk about yours with me, if you want.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Yeah, no. I don’t think I’ll be doing that. Talking to Kayla right now feels weird and we share everything. How would she react to the initials on the wall?
Not great.
I shiver at the thought of Lillian creeping up onto my bed and carving those letters. Was she snarling as she dug into the wood? Did she pretend she was cutting into me?
“It’s good to talk, Esme,” Cora tells me.
I clench my jaw. “I agree. I’m fine for now.”
“You’re a fixer.”
“Sorry?”
Laughing, she turns to me. “You fix things for other people, you’re good at it. Unfortunately, that usually ends with neglecting yourself.”
Ugh, really? We’re going there. I can’t have her worrying about me or telling anyone that she has Esme concerns.