“I really don’t know,” I admitted, trying to quiet my overactive sleuthing brain.
It was a long time before I could get to sleep that night.
“Nancy,” George whispered as she settled beside me on a bench on the edge of the sports field. “I bet you didn’t get much sleep last night.”
I kept looking ahead, watching my campers, who were having a soccer lesson with Sam. “I didn’t,” I agreed. “That mattress was kind of cold.”
“That’s not what I meant,” George scoffed, “and you know it. BESS!” She called across the field to where Bess had wandered. “Bess’s kids have wood crafts this morning,” George explained to me. “They were going to make a picture frame or something? Mine are swimming. I kind of like having these little breaks.”
Bess caught sight of us and jogged over. “Hey, guys,” she said, sliding in next to me on the bench. “Were you talking about the Great Sleeping Bag Heist?”
I cringed.
“We were,” George said, glancing over at me. “Sort of, anyway. I was trying to get Nancy to tell us her theories.”
Bess’s eyes lit up. “Nancy has theories! Awesome!”
I cleared my throat. “Actually,” I said, “I have no theories. I have no feelings about the sleeping bag situation whatsoever . . . except that I would like mine back. I hear they’re passing them out, washed and dried, after lunch.”
Bess furrowed her brows. “What?” she said. “You, Nancy Drew, have no feelings about a developing mystery?”
“It’s not a mystery,” I groaned. Please, let it not be a mystery.
George was giving me major side-eye. “You’re kidding, right?” she asked. “This is a classic mystery. Weird things happen! More weird things happen! Stakes are raised! You guys, I got, like, five hours of sleep last night.” She sighed. “I never realized how much I need my sleeping bag. I may be a little weird today.”
“How would we tell?” Bess asked with a smirk.
George shoved her.
“Someone stole some sleeping bags as a prank,” I said, trying to ignore the feeling that I was attempting to convince myself. “That’s all.”
George shook her head. “Are you serious right now?” she asked. “You’re forgetting how someone tried to drown you in the lake. Or the headlines I found about some tragedy happening here, and then Bella’s weird story about the drowning.”
I looked up at her, surprised.
“I’m not saying I believe Bella’s story,” she said, holding up her hands as though to wave off the idea. “I’m just saying, Google result and creepy ghost legend? Something is going on here. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
I was quiet for a moment. I wished what George was saying didn’t make so much sense.
“What if this is all that happens?” I asked in a small voice. “The sleeping bags disappear, and that’s the last weird thing. Nobody getting pulled underwater. No weird sounds drifting over the lake.”
Bess raised her eyebrows at me. “Do you really think that’s likely, Nancy?”
I sighed. No. Obviously no. Because that never happens when I’m around. “I was going to take the summer off,” I said plaintively, and it came out sounding like a whine.
“Evil never takes the summer off,” George said resolutely, watching the soccer lesson.
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. The summer was going so well so far. No missing pets, no weird threatening notes . . .
“Oh look! It’s Miles! I bet he could answer some questions for us! Miles!” cried Bess. I opened my eyes to see her jumping up and waving over the camp’s codirector. He looked a little surprised, but walked up to us with a polite smile.
“Hello,” he said. “It’s George, Marcie, and Beth, I think?”
“George, Nancy, and Bess,” Bess corrected him cheerfully. “I’m actually a Camp Larksong alum, and when I heard you were reopening, I convinced my two best friends to come with me this summer and be counselors.”
“Oh, that’s great,” Miles said, fingering his scruffy beard. “Yes, Deborah always talks about how important Camp Larksong was to her. How much fun she had those summers.”
Bess kept up the conversation for a few minutes, talking about her favorite Camp Larksong traditions and asking Miles how much he knew about them. Finally, just as I was beginning to wonder where all this was going, Bess tilted her head quizzically.
“The only thing I never understood,” she said, “is why Camp Larksong closed so suddenly. It always seemed like the camp was doing so well.”
Miles nodded, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable. “Well, yes,” he agreed. “Yes, it was—”
“I heard vague things,” Bess went on, “you know, from pen pals and things, after the camp closed. . . . I heard there was some kind of tragedy that happened here.”
Miles grew quiet. He looked behind him, almost as if he expected to see Deborah there, ready to give him direction.
“Well,” he said. “Well.”
“I even found an old article,” Bess said, “in a Google search just the other day, about a ‘tragedy’ happening here. And I thought, that’s crazy, that we never heard about it! I mean . . . how tragic could it have been?”
Miles cleared his throat. “Well,” he said again. “It was . . . It was unfortunate, yeah.”
“What exactly happened?” George jumped in, unable to hide her curiosity any longer.
“Yeah,” Bess said, “was it something to do with the lake? I heard it was something about the lake.”
Miles sighed and looked around again, as though he were hoping to find someone to pull him out of this conversation. But when he saw no one, he hemmed and hawed a few times, then began:
“Well, okay, right, it was the last summer Camp Larksong was open. It was this week of camp, actually—the Best of All Worlds camp. Camp Larksong used to have one too, right?” He paused, and Bess nodded eagerly. “Right. Well, anyway, you know the last night of camp, there’s always been the traditional campout on Hemlock Hill overlooking the lake. This one year, unbeknownst to her counselors or anyone else at the camp, one of the ten-year-old girls snuck out of her tent and went into the lake while everyone was sleeping.” He coughed. “It was awhile before anyone heard her, and though one of the counselors jumped in and pulled her out, she nearly drowned.”
I couldn’t help looking at Bess and George with wide eyes. So . . . there had been a drowning? A near drowning?
“But she survived?” Bess asked, clearly confused.
Miles nodded. “I mean, it wasn’t a great situation. She’d been without oxygen for a long time, and they were worried about brain damage. She was in the hospital for a while, I think. But she ended up okay.”
I bit my lip. So there was a near drowning . . . but no death. That kind of cut Bella’s ghost story up into a hundred little pieces. Living girls can’t haunt. Living girls can’t breathe under water long enough to drown someone else.
“It wasn’t the camp’s fault,” Miles was saying, “but it hurt their reputation, you know? And I think it kind of broke the owners’ hearts. So they closed it.”
Bess took in a breath. “But—”
But she was cut off by a chorus of voices coming across the sports field.
“Nancy!”
“Nancy, check out my passing move!”
“Nancy, where’s Maya?”
“Nancy, what time do we have to be at the mess hall for setup duty tonight?”
“I hate setup duty!”
“I know, but it’s so much less gross than cleanup duty!”
I turned around to see my campers all barreling toward us across the field, pink-cheeked and excited. Did forty-five minutes really go by that quickly?
I stood up. “You guys are done already?”
Kiki, who was in the lead, grinned at me. “Done? Not only are we done, Nancy, but Sam says I’m the most unique soccer player she’s ever seen.”
“I don’t think that was a compliment,” Nina mutt
ered.
“What’s next?” Cece asked brightly.
I glanced back at George and Bess. “Um, I think I’m going to have to take a rain check on the rest of this conversation!” I said with a smile. “It was nice talking to you, Miles.”
George stood up. “I’d better go too,” she said. “Bess’s and my campers will be done any minute.”
Miles nodded. “Nice talking to you girls too,” he called. “See you later!”
All my campers circled around me as we walked back to the cabin for a quick rest before setup duty. They were full of funny, bubbly stories about one another and what had happened during soccer practice. Even Harper, who trailed behind the group with a dreamy expression, smiled when Cece explained how Kiki had yelped and jumped when she saw a bee.
I felt a rush of affection for these silly, innocent girls.
I have to do everything within my power to make sure they’re safe, I thought. Which means I’d better get to the bottom of what’s happening at Camp Cedarbark.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Something in the Lake
“NANCY, LOOK!”
I glanced up from where I lounged on a towel the next morning on the small beach on the lake. Harper leaped off the raft in a perfect swan dive, then reemerged a few yards away, beaming.
“That’s amazing, Harper!” I yelled, clapping. That morning I’d been surprised to learn that Harper was, of all things, a super-talented swimmer. She said she’d been taking lessons since she was four.
Her eagerness to show off her skills wasn’t always going down well with the other campers, though.
“Harper,” Cece complained from her perch atop the raft as the quiet girl climbed up the ladder again. Her voice was loud enough to carry over the lake. “Can you please stop diving off every five minutes? Other people are trying to relax here.”
Harper frowned at her. “I’m just doing what I like to do,” she said. “And you’re doing what you like to do. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is you’re getting me wet,” Cece complained. “Every time you walk from the ladder to the other side to dive. And every time you do that, you send the raft shaking.”
Harper glared at her. “You can’t stop me,” she said.
Cece groaned.
“Maybe you should get off the raft anyway,” Harper suggested. “This is called swim period. Not lie-around period.”
Cece glared. “Are you calling me lazy?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Girls!” The lifeguard, a girl my age named Sandy, suddenly yelled from her chair on the pier. “Stop fighting! Cece, Harper’s right—it’s time to get off the raft. Harper, move along.”
Both girls let out huge sighs and gave each other one last angry look before Harper did another graceful swan dive, and Cece rolled her eyes and jumped off the side, feetfirst.
I lay back and closed my eyes for a few minutes after that. Swim period was one of my off periods—Sandy was supposed to be in charge. Which left me free to relax and daydream. I was writing a postcard to Ned in my head when suddenly a splash of water fell onto my nose.
“Hey!” I cried, opening my eyes.
“Oh, sorry,” a soaking-wet Harper apologized, leaning over me. Water dripped down her wet hair and onto my towel. “I was just passing you on my way to the outhouse.”
“Well, move along!” I said with a smile. “You’re getting me all wet! Shoo!”
Harper chuckled and ran off. I closed my eyes again for a few minutes, trying to get back into my postcard, but I couldn’t concentrate. Swim period would be over soon, anyway. So I sat up to watch the swimmers.
Just as I got settled in a cross-legged position, I heard a scream.
“Auuugh!”
And then there was a splash.
I jumped to my feet, turning my eyes in the direction of the all-too-familiar sounds. Kiki was treading water by the raft, looking horrified. “It’s Cece!” she yelled to Sandy. “Something pulled her under!”
I felt my heart begin to race.
These girls weren’t here for my swim test, I couldn’t help thinking. They don’t know what happened. There’s no way this could be a prank. . . .
Sandy jumped up. “Stay where you are!” she yelled to Kiki, who was holding her nose in preparation to dive under and look for her friend. A stream of bubbles rose to the surface where Cece had disappeared. “I’ll get her!”
In one fluid move, Sandy dove off the pier and slipped through the water toward Kiki. From where I stood on the beach, I lost sight of her under the dark, murky water. I found myself holding my breath as second after second passed with neither Sandy nor Cece reappearing. What happens now? I thought anxiously. Do I go under and try to save them? I’m probably one of the weakest swimmers here. . . .
But just as my heart felt like it might pound out of my chest, Sandy’s blond head crested the surface, and she pushed Cece’s head up above the waterline.
“Breathe,” Sandy said. “Breathe. You’re okay.”
Cece was flailing, obviously panicked. But Sandy kept talking to her in a calm, reassuring voice. “You’re all right. Just calm down so you can get the air in. In, and out. In, and out.”
Slowly the panic left Cece’s eyes and she began to breathe normally. Once she was breathing, Sandy helped her swim to the pier and climb out.
“Are you all right?” I cried, running down the pier to grab Cece by the hands.
Cece nodded. “I’m okay. It’s just . . .” Her eyes teared up. “It felt like something grabbed me and pulled me down.”
Sandy, who’d climbed out after Cece, frowned at me. “I heard there was some trouble with the plants at the bottom of the lake a few days ago. Maybe that was it?”
I took in a breath. Sure, that’s the official line—but plants can’t grab you, I thought. “Maybe,” I said in a measured tone, and went back to comforting Cece.
After a few minutes, Cece came to sit with me on my towel and relax while swim period went on. Of course, I couldn’t relax for anything now and sat ramrod straight on my towel, watching the girls. But after a little while, footsteps from the path attracted my attention.
I turned around.
Harper was emerging from the path. And she was still soaking wet.
My mouth dropped open, and even as I hated myself for having the thought, I couldn’t help it.
Harper had been fighting with Cece.
Harper had disappeared a few minutes before the attack and reappeared a few minutes after.
Harper was a very, very strong swimmer—one who could, likely, hold her breath for a long time.
Even as the thought occurred to me, I shook my head in doubt. Harper was a kid, first of all. And she hadn’t been at camp when whatever had pulled me and Deborah down had struck—unless that really had been reeds? And what was happening now was unrelated?
Harper barely paused as she walked past Cece and me on the beach. She didn’t ask what Cece was doing out of the water. She just dropped her towel, barreled down the pier, and jumped in.
It was a few minutes before I realized how off my Harper theory was.
Because suddenly, with Harper paddling around just feet away, Nina started screaming.
“It has me! Something has my leg!” she screeched, before suddenly she was jerked downward and her head disappeared below water.
Cece and I both leaped to our feet. Sandy jumped up and dove into the water. I looked around, counting the other girls’ heads in the lake, and was relieved to find them all accounted for, except Nina.
It was probably only seconds before Sandy and Nina reappeared, but it felt like hours. And when Nina resurfaced, she was still screaming.
“Auuuugh! It had me! Didn’t you see it?”
“Calm down,” Sandy insisted. “Nina, calm down and breathe. You’re okay now.”
“I’m not okay!” Nina insisted, shaking her head wildly. “Didn’t you see it?! Sandy?” She sucked in a breath, then went on:
/> “It was human, Sandy. I could see its shape.” She shuddered. “And its long, silvery-white hair.”
This time Sandy pulled everyone out of the lake. Deborah was called. She appeared with her mouth drawn into a tight line, surveying the area like she was looking at a crime scene.
“All right,” she said finally. “Juniper Cabin, I want you to move on to your next scheduled activity. I’m glad you’re all okay. We’ll talk about this later.”
I shook my head. “Deborah,” I said quietly, “I think the girls are kind of wound up. As am I,” I added, with a nervous laugh.
She cut her eyes at me, no trace of humor in her expression. “And sitting around ruminating on it isn’t going to calm them down at all,” she insisted. “Take them to the crafts barn. Making something can be very relaxing.”
Sandy raised her eyebrows at me. I opened my mouth to argue, but then stopped myself. Clearly Deborah wasn’t going to budge. So I ran over to Maya, who’d spent swimming period writing letters home in the cabin, and asked her to take the girls to the cabin to change, then to the crafts barn while I spoke to Deborah.
“No problem,” Maya said. Her usual cheery demeanor had been replaced by serious efficiency. “Catch up with us when you can, okay?” She led the girls down the path toward the cabins.
When they were gone, I turned back to Deborah. She was watching the lake with an unreadable expression. Then, suddenly, she dropped her head into her hands and groaned.
“Deborah,” I said, feeling like I was eavesdropping.
She lifted her head. “Nancy? Why aren’t you with your bunk?”
I sighed, moving forward. “I asked Maya to look after them for a few minutes. I’m worried about what’s going on at Camp Cedarbark,” I said honestly.
Deborah shook her head dismissively. “It’s not a ghost, if that’s what you’re getting at,” she said, sounding a little annoyed.
“I know it’s not a ghost,” I said, adding silently, Or at least I think it’s not. “But I saw a figure when I was pulled under the water too. What’s going on?”