“This is more fun than I’d expected,” she observed.
Her comment had been directed at Russ, who was sitting next to her. But Mariah leaned forward, daintily dabbing at her lips with a paper napkin.
“The word ‘fun’ doesn’t begin to describe it,” she observed dryly. “This is just like camp. All that’s missing is an arts-and-crafts counselor, forcing us to make bird-houses out of ice-cream sticks.”
“Maybe we should sing,” Trip suggested. In a fake, high-pitched voice, he sang, “Kum-ba-ya, m’Lord—”
“I have a better idea,” Mariah interrupted.
In the flickering light of the campfire, Laurel could see her hazel eyes gleaming. Something about the peculiar expression on Mariah’s face made Laurel very uncomfortable.
“Let’s play a game.”
“How about strip poker?” Trip’s face lit up.
“Actually,” Mariah said, “the game I had in mind is much more intellectual. Not to mention one that’ll help us all get to know each other a little better.”
Laurel glanced over at Cassie. Her friend looked as nervous as she felt.
“The game is called Truth.”
Russ shook his head. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s easy to learn,” Mariah insisted. “One of us makes a statement, and the others have to guess whether it’s true or false.”
“I still think strip poker sounds like more fun,” Trip said, popping a roasted marshmallow into his mouth.
“Trust me. This game can be
lots
of fun. I’ll start.” Mariah glanced around the small circle. “Okay, here’s my statement. One of the girls in our group has a burning crush on one of the boys, and one of the boys has a crush on one of the girls.”
“Are you talking about the same girl and the same boy?” asked Laurel.
“No.” Mariah smiled wickedly. “That’s the fun of it. What do you think, Cassie? Is that statement true or false?”
“I-I really have no idea,” Cassie sputtered, her eyes fixed on the flames of the fire, just beginning to die down.”
“I’ll take that as a pass. How about you, Russ?”
“I pass.” He picked up a stick and, reaching over, used it to stoke the fire.
“Come on, you guys,” Mariah said impatiently. “Don’t you know how to have fun?”
“I’ll answer,” Trip volunteered. “I’d say the statement is true. Now we can all spend the next four weeks wondering who the mystery players are in your little soap opera.
“Now it’s my turn. Ready?” He paused dramatically before making his statement. “One of the girls in our group is extremely jealous of one of the other girls here. Mariah?”
“I ... you ... the ...” she sputtered. It took her a few moments to regain her composure. “I’d say that’s completely false!”
“Ah, Marian,” Trip said, shaking his head, “you’re taking all this too personally. You’re simply assuming that I’m talking about you. You’re taking all the fun out of the game!”
“I gave my answer,” she replied crisply. “I said your statement was false.”
“Well, it happens to be true.”
“How do you know it’s true?” Mariah challenged.
“Come on, you two,” Laurel interrupted. “I don’t know if this game is supposed to be fun, but it’s not. Let’s find something else to do—or better yet, let’s start cleaning up.”
“No, wait,” Cassie said boldly. “I have one.”
“It’s not your turn,” Mariah insisted.
“It’s still my turn, since you didn’t get it right,” said Trip, “and I gladly relinquish it to the lovely Cassie.”
“Thanks, Trip.” Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, a shy smile on her lips. “Okay. Here goes. There’s a person here who’s determined to ruin the entire summer for the rest of us. Anybody want to take a stab at that one?”
“I’ll make that a definite pass,” said Russ.
“Me, too,” Laurel agreed quickly.
“It’s Mariah’s turn, anyway,” said Trip. “She got the last one wrong.”
“That statement is false,” Mariah said tartly.
“Considering that playing this game was your idea in the first place,” Trip interjected, “you’re not turning out to be very good at it.”
“Maybe you were right.” Mariah rose to her feet. “This game isn’t turning out to be as much fun as I’d thought.”
“Is that it?” Trip demanded, his voice harsh. “Or is it that the truth is simply too hard for you to take?”
“I’m outta here.” Marian was already heading into the woods, toward the cabin.
“Hey, aren’t you going to help clean up?” Cassie called after her.
But she was already gone.
“Here’s a statement,” Cassie muttered. “There’s one very lazy person in this group.”
“I don’t think Mariah’s lazy,” Laurel said. “She was just upset.”
“Ah, Laurel,” said Trip, slinging his arm around her shoulders. “You’re so sweet. So innocent. Always giving everybody the benefit of the doubt—”
“Not everybody.” Firmly she removed his arm.
“You’re terrific, Laurel. Our own little peacemaker. How would we ever manage without you?” Laughing loudly, he wandered off toward the lake.
Laurel frowned. “Great. The two of them take off, leaving us to do the cleaning up—”
“I don’t mind,” Russ insisted. “I’d rather do all the work than have Trip and Mariah hanging around, making our lives more difficult.” He sighed. “And we’ve still got four weeks left. Four
long
weeks,” Shaking his head, he began picking up plates.
Laurel bent down to help him clean up. She instantly became absorbed in retrieving bits of paper from the ground. It wasn’t until she stood up, her hands full, that she noticed that her best friend was standing a few feet away, simply staring at her. And the look in Cassie’s eyes was anything but friendly.
Chapter Eleven
Over the next few days, Laurel tried to convince herself she was simply imagining Cassie’s coldness. With the team breaking up into pairs every day, she and Russ working together at Dr. Wells’s suggestion, she saw little of her during the day. In the evening, when Cassie and her partner, Mariah, returned, they were all too busy working independently for there to be much interaction. By the time they finished with the day’s work and retreated to their bedrooms, Laurel, like everyone else, was too exhausted to talk.
So she was particularly looking forward to the group’s next foray out into the field together. She hoped that working side by side with Cassie once again would give her a chance to get a reading on her mood.
“Today I’d like you to take the canoes out to that little island at the far end of the lake,” Dr. Wells told them early one morning at the end of the third week. They were gathered outside the cabin, near a decaying wooden picnic table that often served as a makeshift lab in the evenings. “You know what to do when you get out there: use the fish traps and the seines to get fish samples, use the sweep nets to collects insects, gather botanical specimens ... and I think it’s time we started setting animal traps.”
“Oh, no!” Cassie cried. “That’s so mean!”
“There’s nothing mean about these.” Like a salesman launching into a demonstration, Dr. Wells reached under the table and pulled out a big boxlike contraption, setting it on the picnic table.
“Have-a-heart traps,” said Russ.
“Have a
what?”
asked Marian.
“These are live traps,” said Dr. Wells. “That means they trap animals without killing them.”
“We’ll let them go afterward, right?” Cassie asked anxiously.
“We certainly will. All we want to do is find out what’s living in the woods surrounding the lake—and the island in the middle of it. Here, I’ll show you how the traps work. First, you put a mixture of peanut butter and rolled oats on the trigger, like this. Then you find a sheltered place in the brush to put the trap. After you’ve left the area, sooner or later some small animal will happen by and jump at the chance for a free lunch. The next thing he knows, he’s inside this cage ... and we’ve got our specimen to study.”
“What do you expect to find around here?” asked Trip.
“Marmots, tree-climbing squirrels, maybe a snow-shoe hare—”
“This is so exciting!” Laurel said. “I can’t wait to get a close look at all those different types of animals.”
“The downside of these traps,” Dr. Wells went on, “is that every once in a while you get an animal who becomes trap happy. He learns he can get food simply by spending the night in a trap. Once he figures out what a good deal that is, he might spring the trap before other animals are caught.”
“The secret is to keep the traps moving,” said Russ. “Instead of setting them in the same area day after day, pick out different areas.”
“I’ll start loading them into the canoes,” Laurel offered. She picked one up and started heading down to the lake, the others following not far behind.
The routine of packing up the canoes was familiar by now. Expertly Laurel loaded in the trap along with all the usual gear. There were also provisions for the day. Today would be a particularly long day, since the island was close to two miles away. They’d brought along enough food to keep all five of them fortified for a good twelve hours.
‘This canoe’s all set,” Laurel finally said. Smiling, she turned to Cassie. “Are you ready?”
Her smile faded when she noticed how Cassie stiffened.
“No thanks, Laurel. Russ and I have already agreed to go together today.”
“Oh. Okay.” Laurel blinked in confusion. “How about you, Mariah? Want to share?”
“I’m always a willing partner,” Trip offered.
“Oh, no,” Mariah protested. “If you two pair off, that makes me odd one out. There’s no way I’m going out in one of those things alone. I’ll go with Laurel.”
As she stepped into her boat and Trip into his, Laurel noticed that Cassie had a smug look on her face.
It was another perfect day, the lemon-colored sun slowly making its way across the southern sky, cloudless and a soft shade of grayish blue. For some time now Laurel had been thinking of this place as home. She felt she belonged here. When she was out on the water, she felt united with her magnificent surroundings. She was swathed in a sense of peace unlike any she could remember having experienced before.
They had pushed off from shore and begun paddling across the lake when Trip called, “Hey, Laurel. I’ve got a proposition for you.”
Behind her, Mariah muttered, “What now?”
“A proposition?” She was instantly suspicious, “What kind of proposition?”
“Let’s agree to call a truce for today.”
Laurel’s eyebrows shot up. Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “I hadn’t realized we were in the midst of a battle.”
“I’m only trying to make it easier—”
“Okay, okay. You’re right. And I think it’s a wonderful idea. For the sake of science—not to mention group harmony—today we’ll play it straight. You’ll promise not to come on to me—”
“And you’ll promise to treat me like a colleague, rather than a party boy.”
Laurel laughed. “It’s a deal.”
They had just reached the island when Trip came up to her. “I need a partner for seining. What do you say?”
“Sure,” she replied with a shrug.
“I’ll get in the water, since I’ve got the footwear for it. Even with those rubber shoes of yours, you’ll be much better off staying on shore.”
She took hold of the brown handle he handed her, one end of the heavy fish net that reminded her of the net from a tennis court. Seines were difficult to use. Because they were so large and heavy, dragging them through shallow water to catch small fish was hard work. Still, using one enabled the team to get specimens too small to be caught in the fish traps and to collect fish of all sizes on the spot rather than waiting a day or two to catch them in the traps.
“So tell me,” Trip said as they pulled the net through the water, struggling to move as quickly as possible without tripping over a submerged branch. “How did a girl like you first get interested in the wonderful world of creepy crawly things?”
“To tell you the truth, I can’t remember a time when I
wasn’t
interested in the natural world,” Laurel replied sincerely. “Even when I was really little and all the other girls were playing hopscotch at the playground, I’d be wandering around the grass, looking for interesting bugs.”
“I bet that made you popular,” Trip said sarcastically.
“You’re right. No one could understand why I wasn’t into the same things as everybody else. Least of all my parents. My mother is a great believer in—”
She never did finish her sentence. All of a sudden, something large and unyielding pushed against her. The ground beneath her feet was rocky and uneven, and she was so close to the water’s edge.... Before Laurel understood what was happening, she was knee-deep in lake water.
“I’m
so
sorry!” someone behind her cried.
Leaping out of the water and back onto the shore, Laurel turned around angrily.
“You pushed me in!” she accused Cassie, who was standing a few feet away, holding a sweep net.
“I did not!” Cassie returned. “It was an accident— honest! I saw this really cool-looking butterfly, and I started running after it—”
“It didn’t look like much of an accident to me,” Trip commented. From the mischievous grin on his face, it was impossible for Laurel to tell whether he was telling the truth—or trying to stir up a little trouble, just for his own enjoyment.
“Great,” Laurel grumbled. “Now I’m going to have to walk around with wet feet all day—”
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Cassie insisted.
“It was so careless of you—”
“Maybe if you’d been paying attention to what you were doing, instead of telling Trip the story of your life....”
Cassie’s angry words affected Laurel more strongly than the sensation of sopping wet socks over cold, damp feet. She simply stared.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Cassie insisted. “And if you think I’m going to go around feeling guilty all day, you’re wrong.”
Sticking her chin up in the air, she said, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have important work to do.”
“What’s
her
problem?” Trip muttered after she’d stalked off.
Laurel let out a deep sigh. “I wish I knew.”
Trip picked up her end of the seine and handed it to her. “Come on, Laurel. We’ve got important work to do, too.”