“Technically, it’s not a trip wire if it’s neck height,” Reyva said.
“But a trip wire might be better,” Claire said, thinking about how it would work. “Less noticeable. And the sound of someone falling should alert us, and we can either run or defend ourselves.”
Mariana scooted back from them toward the dock. “Seriously, who are you and why are you this way? This is not normal behavior.” She was still holding her phone tightly.
Claire felt her face heat up in a blush. Her oddness. There it was, being pointed out by a relative stranger—again. But this time, unlike the other 99.9 percent of the time, the situation warranted her intense worry. Whatever way her brain was wired, her thoughts were right for this moment. She was sure of it. “I—I just worry a lot,” she explained.
“I, on the other hand, am a runaway with a checkered past, used to life-or-death situations. I’m hiding out here under afalse name,” Reyva said. And then she gave a snort. “Seriously? I’m exactly like you. Unlessyouare hiding out here under an assumed name, in which case I amnotlike you.”
Mariana scowled at her, obviously not amused. “Convince me to trust you.”
“Please don’t make me do trust falls,” Reyva said.
“No trust falls,” Mariana said. “Just... I don’t know you. Either of you, which wasn’t a problem before—when we were supposed to be atnormalcamp doingnormal camp things. My mom insisted I’d quote-unquote ‘learn new skills, have new experiences, and make new friends,’ but I don’t think any of this is what she meant.”
Funny, that was the same phrase her parents had used—multiple times, actually, in their tag-team monologues about why she must experience a summer at the Lake House.Learn new skills, have new experiences, make new friends.There must have been a brochure. Claire hadn’t seen one, though.
“Also, I don’t like the silence.”
“Might be safer if we’re silent,” Claire said, eyeing the shadowed trees.
They all fell quiet.
Claire listened again to the forest. With the crickets or cicadas or whatever they were, it was louder than her own house at night. There, she was used to the hum of the air conditioner, the tick of her bedroom clock, and the creak of the floorboards as her parents moved about. She wished she were home right now. She wondered what her parents were doing, if they were imagining all the fun things and great new people she was meeting atthe Lake House.
She was fairly certain they weren’t imagining any of those people would be dead.
For once, I wasn’t pessimistic enough, she thought.
At least she could set her stick alarm, for whatever that was worth.
Using the wood they’d gathered for the fire, she laid a lattice pattern at the edge of the forest. Anyone coming out from the trees would have to step on it, and unless they were ridiculously light on their feet, they’d snap at least a few twigs. Or that was the idea.
After a few minutes, Reyva and Mariana joined her. They ventured in between the trees enough to pull out more sticks and branches until they had a moat of debris between their camp and anyone approaching.
It wouldn’t, of course, do anything to help against a person with a gun if they decided to shoot from a distance. But maybe it would prevent them from being surprised by anyone who wanted to sneak closer. If anyone was out there.
Once they’d finished with the sticks, they spread out enough clothing to cushion the ground. Claire rolled up a flannel shirt to be her pillow and then brushed her teeth without water.
“It’s going to be a long night,” Mariana said.
“If anyone needs to pee, don’t go far,” Reyva warned.
“I’m never going to pee again,” Mariana said.
“Okay,” Reyva said. “Everyone makes choices.”
“Never going in the woods either.”
“Considering we’re in a forest, that might be a hard promise to keep,” Claire said. She knew how Mariana felt, though. Every time she blinked, she pictured the burnt house and the blood-soaked body. She tried not blinking. Lying back on her makeshift bed, she stared up at the sky.
Stars speckled the cloudless night. The three stars of Orion’s belt were easy to spot, and so was the Big Dipper. She traced it to the North Star. That was the sum of her knowledge of the night sky. She hadn’t spent much time outside at night. She didn’t regret that. The moon was three-quarters full, but she didn’t know if it was waxing or waning.
She’d never been a night owl. Or a morning bird. Her favorite time was afternoon, preferably a Saturday, with a drizzle outside—the kind of weather where any family outdoor activities or yardwork or whatever would be canceled, and she could have hours to herself. On a rainy Saturday afternoon, you weren’t expected to do anything you didn’t want to do, or be anyone you weren’t. Extra bonus: you also usually didn’t stumble upon burned-down houses or corpses.
“Did anyone make a wish on the first star they saw?” Mariana asked, her voice still a whisper.
Both Claire and Reyva turned their heads to look at her.
