Page 14 of Within These County Lines

“But a while back, there was—”

“Xander,” I blurt.

Her face twitches. “Yes. So, you do know. We’re friends with his mom, Maggie. She gave us her blessing to turn this place into something meaningful. Swimming here at night used to bring Xander some comfort. We want to offer that same peace to other kids going through similar struggles.”

I grind my shoe into the pavement. “And he was never found?”

Sheryl and Kim exchange a look, then shake their heads.

Kim bites her lip. “You try not to lose hope, but . . . it’s hard.”

Sherly rubs her nose. “His mother still struggles.”

Kim clears her throat. “You should go ahead and do your inspection. I don’t think we’re quite ready yet, to be honest, but you can at least tell us what still needs fixing.” Her voice is tight, her eyes glassy. She nods once before turning to Sheryl. “I’m going to get back to cleaning the campsites.”

“Right, sure,” I say. I gather my kit and make my way to the pool, eager to put distance between myself and this conversation.

But as soon as I peer over the pool’s edge, my stomach drops. The water is still only halfway up. Its shade of green has darkened since yesterday, and the surface ripples with an oily film that shifts and twists like gasoline on pavement.

Their work was too good to be true. I wanted this place to be ready, so I could walk away and leave it behind—like I’m trying to do with Murray, Stillwell Trail, the Ardor Tree, and everything else in Penango.

“Nasty, isn’t it?” A boy’s voice cuts through the humid air.

I spin and come face-to-face with Xander Pomers. Our noses nearly touch. I stumble back.

“Do you want a Swedish Fish?” he asks, extending a crinkled yellow bag of candy. Tucked against his side is a thick book: The History of the Dalmatian Dog Breed.

“Xander,” I whisper, pulse pounding. My gaze flicks to Sheryl. She’s sweeping the pool deck, oblivious.

“Everyone’s looking for you,” I say, my voice climbing in pitch. “C’mon.” I grip his shoulder. He stares at my hand like a kid watching a magic trick. “These people miss you . . . and your mom. She’s going to be so excited to see you.” My words rush out between ragged breaths. The thick air constricts around my chest like a tightening thread.

Xander shakes his head. “No, she won’t. I told you—”

“Sheryl!” I yell. “Look!”

Her body quivers with alarm and the broom slips from her grip. She hurries toward us with a creased brow. “What’s wrong with the pool?”

I look at Xander, then back to Sheryl. My shoulders sag. “It’s . . . Can’t you see?”

“See what?” She squints at the green water as Xander, or his ghost, stands directly beside her. “What am I looking for?”

I point. “He’s right . . . here.”

Sheryl shields her face from the sun, continuing to scan the pool deck. But she doesn’t react.

I turn to Xander, my throat tightening. I lower my voice. “She really can’t see you, can she?”

He shakes his head, eyes fixed on the ground.

“See what?” Sheryl presses.

I force myself to swallow. “It’s nothing,” I say. “I thought I saw a dead animal. But there’s nothing here.”

She lets out a long sigh, then pats my back. “You scared me there for a second.” She picks up the broom and returns to the other side of the pool.

“Do you believe me yet?” Xander asks.

“No.” I cross my arms. “Because what you’re telling me is unbelievable.”