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Brian’s mouth was dry as bone.
“How long?” Ollie demanded sharply, and this time Brian saw that she wasn’t asking anyone in particular; instead she was looking straight down at the watch on her wrist.
The watch lit up. Coco saw the answer.
00:30:00 and then words, flashing in quick succession.
love.
proud.
The snake bore down. The fog was closing. They were going to make it! No, they weren’t.
Ollie suddenly shoved a piece of paper in Coco’s hand. “I promised I wouldn’t tell,” she said. “He made me promise I wouldn’t tell. But it’s not the end. There’s a chance. Okay?”
Coco stared at her friend in utter bewilderment, just as Ollie twisted around and jumped into the lake.
Coco screamed. She and Brian were on their feet together, Mr. Adler was turning, and all of them were shouting, “Ollie, Ollie!”
Nothing. The water had closed without a ripple over Ollie’s head. Then she rose again; there was a splash and a check in the movement of the swimming lake monster.
Brian hadn’t known he could scream that loud.
They shot into the fog, and they could see nothing.
It was like being in a cloud. Wet. A thick silence fell; Brian could feel his mouth moving, his throat working. He could see Coco doing the same, but no sound came out.
Then the boat slipped out of the fog again. The island had vanished. So had Ollie. But right before that, Brian could have sworn—always did swear, later—that he heard the unmistakable sound of someone laughing.
Out of the fog bank, everything had changed. There were the lights of Orwell, not that far away. The lake was still and quiet and icy cold. It stretched out to a vague unbroken horizon. No island. There was a faint smell of fish and of springtime earth. There was no sign of Ollie.
“Phil!” Brian snapped. “Mr. Adler! Come on, we have to go back, we have to save her!”
He was already digging the tiller into the water, threatening to send them into the lake. He was crying.
“Easy now,” said Mr. Adler. “Brian, what’s wrong?”
“Ollie!” he cried. “Didn’t you see? Ollie got in the water—to keep the snake from getting us . . .”
Mr. Adler frowned. “Brian, I realize it’s cold, and we’re all super stressed, kiddo. Don’t worry. We’ll get inside soon. Wind’s fair for Orwell.”
“I—but.” Coco was staring at Mr. Adler with a horrified incredulity that Brian knew was echoed on his own face. He realized that Coco was holding—clutching—Ollie’s watch in her free hand, along with a ratty piece of paper. Her face was streaked with tears, the same tears that Brian could feel rolling down his own cheeks.
Brian leaned over and said, “What does the watch say?”
alive
Brian felt himself breathe again.
“What’s on the paper?”
He and Coco looked together. The lines were few and quickly scrawled:
He said I can’t tell. So I won’t.
But I bet with a few clues, you can guess.
1) Remember Jonathan?
