Maybe I really am an almost-adult. Is that what seals your grown-up fate? Being too hot or too cold?
“Well done, girls,” I say to my group as they play against Cora’s.
Kayla and her group are off with Tia and Mary’s. They’re swimming in the lake, where normal people are in high temperatures. There’s an instructor teaching the campers the butterfly stroke.
We’re in the lake after lunch, and I cannot wait.
Cora calls another point for my team and the girls play on.
Cora blows out a breath and wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. “I’m dying.”
“I know the feeling,” I say, sucking on the straw of my water bottle. “I should have picked a cooler state to be a CIT.”
Laughing, she replies, “Yeah, it’s hot. Stick to the shaded areas and drink plenty of water. As far as I know, we’ve never had anyone suffer sunstroke.”
“The first will probably be me.”
“Take a drink.” She turns to the girls. “All right, great game. Let’s wrap it up and go inside for lunch.”
There’s a collective cheer as we head to the hall for food.
Cora and I follow the girls inside.
We’re a little late. Everyone else is already sitting down. The air-conditioning welcomes me, making the skin on my forearms pebble.
It’s loud, with dozens of conversations merging together to make one big chorus of noise.
The girls get food and head to a table together. Cora and I wait until they’ve gone to get ours. I add some salad to my plate of mac and cheese and sit at the table with Kayla, Tia, Rebekah, Olly and Jake.
“Tomorrow night, we’re going around the lake and into the forest on the other side,” Rebekah tells me, her eyes wide like she’s not at all comfortable with this.
I don’t like it around there, but I say, “Sounds good.”
I look over at Kayla. She has a brilliant poker face, but her anxiety shows physically. She will trip on air or fall up steps. Basically, she turns clumsy when she’s anxious.
Kayla stabs her fork into her pasta, but the fork slides and she flings a noodle into the center of the table.
And there it is.
She looks up and her worried eyes meet mine.
A couple of the others chuckle. No one but me picks up on her nervous energy.
“Slippery?” I ask.
She clears her throat. “Mascarpone sauce.”
She worries about me overthinking and blurting the wrong thing out. I worry about her clumsiness giving us away.
I want to ask her again if we’re sure being here is a good idea.
We’re guilty of a crime that no one even suspects us of.
My parents are superbig on honesty. “The truth always comes out, Esme.”
Cold cases get solved. Not many—2 percent according to TV documentaries I’ve watched—but better technology means criminals are being caught years later.
Could our DNA still be at the scene ten years later?
Unlikely.
7
The next morning is filled with excitement. It’s like the kids think we’re going to Disney World, not hiking.
Kayla and I will be with Cora. I don’t think we’re trusted to take a group off into the woods alone yet.
Despite being a competent map reader, I’m really okay with this. I don’t remember the trails from before. Back then I was messing around with Kayla and the other girls from our cabin.
The campers chow down on breakfast like they’re fed only once a day. I’m sure they eat about as much as the staff.
I’m sitting at a table with Olly and Tia. The rest have finished and gone back to the cabins.
“We have the night off,” I say with a grin.
Tia’s dark eyes light up. Her hair is tied back in another sleek bun today. “Oh yes. Remember, we’re going around the back of the lake tonight.”
“Sure.”
I look out the large window in the hall, my eyes following the dock, then out across the lake to the line of trees that hide a secret.
I gulp down the last of my water and pick up my plate, the half-eaten croissant now unappealing.
“You’re already done, Esme? You’ve barely eaten anything,” Olly says.
“Too hot,” I reply, as if it’s perfectly reasonable to go hiking on a few bites of pastry. “I’ll see you guys outside.”
I dump my food and put the plate on the trolley.
Andy raises one hand as I walk past him. He half covers his mouth, chewing at the same time as he says, “Esme.”
I stop beside him. “What’s up?”
He stands. “Are you feeling okay? I noticed you throwing away your breakfast.”
I blink. Is there anything he doesn’t notice? When we leave camp, I hope he’s not as sharp-eyed.
“Um, I’m fine, just not very hungry.”
“Perhaps you should take something? We’re going to be hiking all morning.”
I nod. “I’ll grab an apple.”
I know he said to keep an eye on the campers and make sure they’re all eating enough and especially drinking enough water, but I didn’t think he would be policing me, too.
Weird.
Andy smiles and moves out of my way. I duck past and leave the hall with a Granny Smith apple in my hand.
Kayla is ready when I get back to our room. She’s sitting on her bunk chatting to Cora.
“Esme, good. We were just going over a few things,” Cora says, leaning against the wall.
“What’s that?”
“You and I will walk at the front of the group; we’ll try to keep them in twos, but it doesn’t always work. Kayla will be at the back.”
“Okay.”
“We need to check their backpacks and make sure they have the appropriate gear: a compass, map, sun hat, sunscreen and water. If we each check bags, that would be great.”
“I think they’re ready,” Kayla says, laughing and nodding toward the sudden noise in the room adjoining.
“Let’s do it.” I grab my bag and we all head into the main bedroom.
The girls are stuffing things into their bags. I go straight to the two bunks right at the end that sleeps the four girls in my group.