Lake Thirteen (6 page)

“I had trouble sleeping,” I said as the coffee started brewing. My stomach growled.

“Did you kids have fun down at the lake last night?” she asked, giving me a tired smile as she sat down at the small round dining table. She yawned again. “I felt bad about not waiting up at the lodge until you kids got back, but we were all tired…and as your dad has to keep reminding me, you’re not a child anymore. You’re practically all grown up.”

“Yeah, well.” I felt myself blushing. “It was fine down there, I guess. We just hung out and talked, mostly. I couldn’t believe how late we were down there.”
If you only knew, Mom.

“It’s weird, I had trouble sleeping, too.” She rubbed at her eyes. “As tired as I was, I thought for sure I’d sleep like the dead. It’s the weirdest thing, you know—your dad snores, and I can sleep through that. I guess maybe I’m used to it. The Bartletts must have a dog or a cat, I guess. I’ll have to ask them about that.” She yawned again. “And ask them not to call it all night long.”

I was reaching for one of the coffee cups in the cabinet over the sink when she said that, and I froze. “You heard someone calling?”

“Yeah.” She smiled at me. “Pour me a cup, will you?” She shook her head as I passed her a steaming mug of coffee. “I mean, really. I get it, you know—if your pet gets out you want to find it and get it inside. I wouldn’t want mine out all night with all the predators in the woods.” She took a swig of her coffee and sighed in relief. “I sure hope they found Bertie.”

My hand trembled as I filled a cup for myself. “Bertie?”

She nodded. “Was that what was keeping you from sleeping?” She went on as I sat down across the table from her, trying to keep my face expressionless. “I’m going to have to say something to Mrs. Bartlett about it today. I mean, they need to be a little bit more respectful of their guests’ sleep, don’t you think?” She winked at me. “I mean, we’re not paying them a small fortune to stay here so we can’t sleep at night.”

“Yeah,” I replied stupidly. I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

She’d
heard the voice, too. It wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t my imagination—someone had been out in the woods.

But it made more sense that it was one of the Bartletts out looking for a cat or a dog. I’d just heard the voice and worked it into my dream. And this morning, when I woke up, my subconscious mind had played a trick on me—I’d still been dreaming.

I wasn’t going crazy.

“Did you hear it this morning?” I took another drink and kept my voice steady. The coffee was bitter and strong. I generally took creamer and sweetener in mine, but we didn’t have any in the cabin—a previous guest had left the coffee behind.

“This morning?” She gave me a weird look. “No, I didn’t. I told you, it was the middle of the night.” She ran a hand through her curly brown hair, which she always kept cut short. “Did you? Surely they’d found whatever it was by then…Do you mean to say they were out there calling all night long?”

“It was probably my imagination,” I said hurriedly. “I mean, I thought I did, but I was probably still half-asleep.”

“So, how are the kids treating you?” She reached over and placed her hand on top of mine. I resisted the impulse to pull away—that would make her feel bad. “They’re not…there’s nothing I need to talk to anyone’s parents about?” Her eyes took on a steely glint.

“No different, like nothing’s changed.” I shrugged. “It really hasn’t come up much—just a couple of times, really, and when it does, you know, it’s cool. They seem really happy for me.” I rolled my eyes. “No big.”

“You were worried, weren’t you?” She gave me a sharp look. “I know I was. We thought about, you know, canceling the trip, but”—she sighed—“but we can’t protect you forever, and there are people out there who are assholes about gays, you know, like that awful so-called church in Kansas.” She made a face like she’d eaten something sour. “But much as I want to, I can’t protect you from all the ugliness in the world.” She got up and refilled her cup.

We’d had this conversation I don’t know how many times since I’d told her and Dad. I got it, and I also knew how lucky I was. It seemed like there were always stories on the news about gay kids being bullied to the point they’d kill themselves, and my parents wanted to make sure that things never got that bad with me. So they were always checking on me and making sure I was okay—I’m almost certain they were monitoring my Facebook page and my Twitter—but there was no reason. I also knew if I ever told my parents people were bullying me—well, heaven help the bullies.

“Mom, you don’t have anything to worry about.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine, and everyone else is, too. It’s just not a big deal. Yeah, I was kind of worried before we got here, but I should have known better, you know? They’re like family. I just”—I bit my lip—“I just miss Marc. And I hate that I can’t get a signal on my phone up here. I promised I’d call him and I can’t unless I go into town.”

“I know.” She patted my hand. “I wish he’d been able to come with us.”

“What?” I stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“Your dad and I thought it would be a nice surprise for you, you know, and have Marc come on the trip with us.” She made another face. “I even went over to the Kruegers’ house to talk to his parents about it. The way they reacted, you’d have thought I said I wanted to sacrifice him to the devil or something.”

“You talked to his parents about him coming with us.” I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. They really were awesome parents—but Marc’s…

“We even offered to pay his way, you know.” She shook her head. “I thought his father was going to bodily throw me out of the house! You weren’t kidding about his temper. I just apologized and got out as fast as I could. I won’t make that mistake again.” She blew out a raspberry. “I have to say, I worry about him and his sister with that man in the house with them. Just goes to show, you never know. I always thought he was a nice man.”

“Yeah.” Mr. Krueger was
always
on his best behavior when other parents were around—you know, adults who might call social services on him. It was creepy how good he was at acting like a great guy, which was completely different than how he was alone with his family. He could be ranting and raving the usual way, spittle flying from his lips with every word, and the moment another adult came around he changed, turned into a completely different person, laughing and joking, smiling and friendly. I never had gone into detail about how prejudiced he was to my parents—I just told them he drank too much and had a temper. I’m sure they thought I exaggerated. Parents never believe what kids tell them about other parents. “You didn’t tell them about me and Marc, did you?”

“I promised you I wouldn’t, didn’t I?” She sounded exasperated. “It’s Marc’s business and Marc’s decision when he wants to tell his parents. I don’t think it’s right, I don’t think you boys should be sneaking around and lying to them, but after that meeting…I still don’t think it’s good to keep it from him, but I certainly can understand why he’s reluctant. If that was my dad, I wouldn’t tell him
anything
.” She drummed her fingertips on the table. “Poor, poor Marc.”

I’d worried all summer Mom would say something to the Kruegers. She just couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea that any parent would throw their child out of the house for any reason—no matter how many stories she’d read about just that. She’d been terribly uncomfortable about Marc and me seeing each other without his parents knowing and hadn’t agreed to it until Marc broke down and cried in front of her.

She still blamed herself for making him cry—which, I am not ashamed to say, I sometimes worked to my advantage.

“I can see on your face you’re terrified I said something I shouldn’t have,” she observed. “Don’t worry, I’m not stupid. All I told his parents was your father and I thought it would be nice if you had a friend up here to hang out and do things with—but it’s probably for the best, anyway. I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy myself if I had to keep monitoring the two of you to make sure you weren’t—”

“Mom!”

“I was a teenager once, too, you know.” She went on like I hadn’t said anything. “I remember what it’s like. I just want you to be careful—and there’s no need to rush, you know, you’re still both teenagers—“

“Mom!”
I knew my face was flushing furiously, and I was completely mortified. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

“All right, all right.” She held up her hands. “Excuse me for caring and worrying about my only child. I always forget that makes me a bad person.”

“Mom—”

“Well, after breakfast we’re all going down to the town to do some grocery shopping.” She made a face at her coffee cup. “This coffee’s just not going to cut it, and it seems silly to pay for meals when we have kitchens in our cabins, and that wonderful barbecue pit. You kids are welcome to come with—I think the men are going to see about making plans to go white-water rafting and find out about tours of Fort Ticonderoga and other places of interest around here. I don’t imagine we’ll be going anywhere other than down to town and back up here—there’s plenty to keep us occupied around here for the day, don’t you think?” She smiled. “I can see by your face you kids aren’t coming down to North Hollow with us.”

“We didn’t really talk about it last night.” I replied. We hadn’t.

“Well, why don’t you head up to the lodge and get some breakfast?” They served a buffet breakfast every morning in the dining room—it was included in the price of the cabin rentals. “I’ll start the long process of getting your father out of bed.”

Impulsively I kissed the top of her head, and she smiled.

I ducked back into my room to get my cell phone. I checked it; I’d plugged it into its charger when we’d arrived, and since I didn’t have any bars I’d left it in my room all night. I started to grab my iPad, but decided against taking it. I could always come back for it if I wanted it.

I slid my phone into my shorts pocket and went out the front door of the cabin.

But instead of walking down to the road, I walked around to the back.

Mrs. Bartlett had explained to us that the path into the woods behind our cabin was an actual shortcut to the lodge—when you reached the fork you took the left one and it would lead you out to the parking lot eventually. She didn’t say where the other trail led to, but since the place was primarily a winter sports resort, I assumed it was probably a cross-country skiing trail or something.

I walked up the path and into the woods.

It seemed perfectly normal, just a wooded mountainside in upstate New York. I saw some butterflies seem to float by. Somewhere in the distance I could hear running water. Birds were chirping and squawking as they flew overhead. It was getting warmer as the sun climbed higher in the sky, and through the branches I could see a perfectly blue sky, no clouds anywhere.

There was nothing scary or creepy about the path at all.

After about twenty yards the path veered off to the right, and then came around a corner where it forked in two directions. There was a weathered wooden sign with the word
lodge
carved into it, pointing off to the left. There was no sign for the other direction, and it seemed to slope downward while the one to the lodge sloped up.

I hesitated there. Obviously, the other path led deeper into the woods, but if there was a path, there had to be a
reason
for the path to exist. And surely if it was a cross-country trail, there would be a sign, right?

Something was pulling me in that direction, something inside me telling me to turn right instead of left.

But then my stomach growled and I remembered how hungry I was. I started walking toward the lodge.

I only looked back twice.

I was on my second plate of food when everyone else showed up.

By the time I came out of the woods at the lodge parking lot, my stomach was growling pretty constantly. I was so hungry I almost felt nauseous. The sun was shining, and at the foot of the long sloping lawn in front of the lodge, Lake Thirteen glittered silver in the bright sunlight. I pulled the door open and walked back inside the lodge’s main room. At the far end, silver heating dishes with cans of Sterno burning underneath were set up, with two enormous industrial style coffee makers—the kind with a black spout you flipped upward to fill your cup. I could smell bacon and sausage and eggs, and my stomach growled even more. I got a cup of coffee and loaded up a plate with sausage and bacon and toast. I stepped down into the dining room and sat at a table next to a window, facing the front door. I scarfed the food down as quickly as I could, and had just sat down with my second plate—this time with a stack of pancakes and more bacon—when the front door opened and both the Stark and Wolfe families came in. I waved as they all made a beeline for the buffet table. I kept eating as the adults sat at a table on the other side of the room, and the kids plopped down at mine. Logan had more food on his plate than I’d had in both helpings. He grunted something I assumed was supposed to be
good morning
and immediately started shoveling food into his mouth.

“Revolting, isn’t he?” Teresa said, taking the seat next to him and making a face. “Imagine having to look at that across the table every morning and every night. And if I’m not quick, he’ll eat everything in sight and I’ll starve.”

Logan smiled at him briefly as he chewed, and flipped her off good-naturedly before going back to shoveling food into his mouth.

“How’d you sleep?” Rachel asked as she unfolded her napkin. All she had on her plate were a couple of pieces of buttered toast. She started spreading strawberry jam on one.

“Not good,” I replied, pushing my plate away. I looked over at the table where the adults were sitting—my parents had also arrived, but their table was far enough away that I didn’t have to worry about them overhearing anything we were saying.

“Nightmares?” Carson poured some cream into his coffee and stirred it.

I nodded and bit my lower lip. “Yeah. They were pretty awful. And I heard someone calling in the woods last night—calling Bertie. I thought it was maybe all a part of the dream, you know, but then this morning my mom said she heard it.”

Logan started making
Twilight Zone
noises until Teresa smacked his arm hard.

I couldn’t help but grin. In the well-lit dining room, with the sun streaming in through the windows and all the voices talking—it all seemed so unreal now. “Mom figured it was one of the Bartletts, looking for a cat or a dog or something.” I shrugged. “But I don’t know. It was the middle of the night when I first heard it—at least if I wasn’t dreaming—and I heard it again when I woke up.”

“They don’t have any pets.” Logan rolled up a piece of sausage in a pancake and poured syrup over it. “I talked to Annie yesterday—”

“Trying to get in her pants,” Teresa interjected, earning a sour look from Logan.

“—and they don’t have any. She had a dog but wolves got it last winter, and she said she doesn’t want to get another.”

“Interesting.” Carson tapped his plate with his fork. “So, what did Scotty and his mom hear last night?” His grin was so smug I wanted to pop his balloon.

“Are you
sure
you weren’t dreaming?” Rachel had finished her two pieces of toast and was fiddling with her phone again.

“It couldn’t have been a dream—like I said, my mom heard it, too.”

Carson looked like a cat who’d swallowed several canaries. “I told you it was ghosts,” he said officiously. He looked over at the table where our parents were talking and laughing. “You’re sure the voice was calling
Bertie
? That’s what it was saying?”

I nodded.

He slipped his recorder out of his pocket and waved it at all of us. “Listen to this.” He hit the play button. He’d cued the recording to just before we heard the voice say my name.

But it didn’t sound like my name this time.

“I could have sworn it said Scotty last night,” Teresa frowned.

Carson nodded. “Exactly. We weren’t expecting to hear
anything,
and so when we did, our minds interpreted what we heard as something we were familiar with—we heard Scotty’s name. After all, we were all keyed up from what happened down there—and what Scotty had experienced. So when we heard the voice on the recording, we heard Scotty’s name. That’s why it’s so important to listen again when things have calmed down and—”

“It’s saying Bertie,” Rachel cut him off. “Albert, right?”

“That’s what I heard,” Logan popped the last of his weird pancake-sausage burrito into his mouth.

“So, once the adults head into town”—Carson glanced over at their table—“we should head into the woods and look around.”

“Why?” Rachel looked up from her phone.

“Because that’s where Scotty and his mom heard someone calling Bertie last night,” he said patiently, like he was explaining to a small child. “Whatever the ghost wants us to know, I think we’re going to find in the woods.”

I pushed my chair back. “I’ll be on the deck in a few.” I took my plate and my coffee cup over to the buffet table, where a big gray plastic tub had been set out for dirty dishes. Mrs. Bartlett was standing there, wiping her hands on a dish towel. I smiled at her and headed to the game room, sitting down on the brown couch and pulling my own phone out of my pocket. I pulled up Marc’s contact page and stared at his smiling face for a moment before texting:
Very limited access up here…no bars and having to use wifi to send messages…and limited wifi at that. I miss you.

I sighed and erased the last three words. We always had to be careful with texts and e-mails—Marc’s dad checked Marc’s phone pretty regularly, and we couldn’t take the chance that Marc would be able to delete things before Mr. Krueger got his hands on the phone. I hit send and closed my eyes briefly, then got up and headed out to the deck.

I heard voices from around the corner of the lodge, and a few moments later there was the sound of two cars starting. I turned my head and saw two cars head down the hill—all of our mothers in one, our dads in the other. I slid my phone back into my pocket just as the door opened behind me.

“I still think this is a really stupid idea,” Rachel whined, folding her arms and sitting down on the raw wood railing. “Why mess with this kind of stuff? It never ends well in movies.”

“No one’s making you go with us,” Carson retorted, his face reddening a bit. “And this isn’t a movie, is it?”

She made a sour face. “Smart ass,” she replied, leaning back against the railing. “Just because this isn’t a movie doesn’t mean this isn’t a stupid idea.” She turned to Logan and Teresa for support. “You saw what went on in the graveyard last night. Do you two really think it’s a good idea to mess with this stuff? We don’t know what we’re doing, and much as you want to think you’re an expert, Carson, you’re not. And that makes this a really stupid idea.” She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered a little bit.

“I thought you don’t believe in ghosts.” Teresa took a swig from her bottled water. Her eyebrows came together and she tilted her head to one side. “So what’s the big deal?”

“I never said I don’t believe in ghosts,” Rachel retorted, meeting my eyes. “I said there wasn’t conclusive proof they exist. That’s different.”

I swallowed. The look on her face—I’d never seen her look like that before. She’d been standing next to me at the cemetery, she’d touched my back for herself and felt how cold it had been on a warm and moist evening.

Maybe—
maybe
I hadn’t been the only one who’d felt something. Our eyes met and she looked away immediately.

“It’s going to be perfectly safe,” Carson was saying. “For one thing, it’s daytime—paranormal activity is very rare during the day.” His tone was patronizing. “And, besides, ghosts can’t hurt you physically. The worst they can do is scare you.” He shrugged.

“Famous last words,” Logan joked, a big grin on his face. He widened his eyes and in a hushed, scared voice went on, “Isn’t that what they always say in the movies before something bad happens?” He clapped his hand over his mouth and rolled his eyes.

“You know, there’s no rule that says you always
have
to act like a jackass.” Rachel scowled at him.

He just stuck his tongue out at her.

“And there’s five of us, anyway—if Rachel comes with, that is.” Carson gave her a nasty smile.

She held up her hands. “I never said I wasn’t going to go. I just said it’s a bad idea. You all don’t have to jump all over me.”

“Besides, we’re just going to go look around in the woods.” Carson acted like no one else had said anything, addressing his remarks to Rachel. “As long as we keep an eye out for snakes”—Teresa made a gulping sound at this—“we should be fine. We’re just making sure, you know, that it was just a weird dream, right, Scotty?”

I forced a smile on my face. “Yeah. I mean, this is just to make me feel better so I can sleep tonight.” I took a deep breath and stood up. “So what are we waiting for?”

Teresa walked over to the door. “Let me get us all some bottled water,” she suggested. “It feels like it’s going to just keep getting hotter, and we don’t know how long we’ll be exploring, right?”

Once she came back out and passed everyone a perspiring bottle of cold water, we walked through the lodge to the door leading out to the parking lot. Mrs. Bartlett and Annie were clearing away the buffet, and Logan paused for a second, looking over at Annie before Teresa shoved him and he started walking again. We went back outside and crossed the parking lot to where the path emerged from the woods. I didn’t look back, just kept walking until I reached the tree line. I stopped and looked back. They were all standing on the pavement, hadn’t even started heading down the path across the lawn. “Are you coming? Or do you want me to do this by myself?”

One by one, they started up the path. I stood aside and let them pass me, falling into step with Rachel in the back. “You sure you’re okay?” I asked her, keeping my voice down. Logan and Carson were leading the way, Logan talking and laughing loudly the way he always did. “You seem—”

“I didn’t sleep well.” She brushed a lock of hair out of her face and didn’t look at me. “I’m tired and not in the mood for Carson’s bullshit, if you must know.” She gave me a brittle smile. “I probably should have just stayed in bed.”

I didn’t say anything.

“No, I didn’t have bad dreams, if that’s what you’re wondering.” It was like she was reading my mind. “I just couldn’t fall asleep. I don’t know why. Last night was just creepy, okay?”

“You didn’t…” I fumbled for words. “Last night…”

She stopped walking and gave me an angry look. “I didn’t feel anything, okay?” Her voice shook, but her eyes were determined. “Nothing. Do you understand me?”

Her vehemence startled me. “There’s nothing to be afraid of—”

“Not a goddamned thing.” She started walking faster, catching up to Teresa, and they started talking animatedly.

I stood there for a moment before starting to walk again myself. Logan and Carson were waiting at the fork, Logan leaning on the sign. When they saw me coming, they headed down the path leading deeper into the woods.

After the fork, the path started going down a slight slope. The trees formed a canopy of limbs over our heads, so we weren’t in direct sunlight even though the blue sky was visible through the thickly knit branches from time to time. It was quiet in the woods, other than the slight hum of insects and the occasional chirping of birds. There were also some big rocks embedded in the dirt in places. The rocks were covered with green moss, which was kind of slippery, and I found myself having to grab for branches or tree trunks occasionally when my feet slipped and started to go out from under me.

The forest was beautiful, pristine and still and green. Every so often a bird would soar by just overhead, heading from one tree to another. In places, the growth of bushes and fledgling trees almost hid the path from view, and I had to push branches out of the way to get through. The majority of the trees closest to the path were small and young, the trees getting bigger and thicker the farther they were from the path, and it occurred to me that the path must have been much wider at some point, more like a dirt road than the narrow path it was now. Every once in a while, we had to climb over a rotting fallen tree, beetles and other bugs crawling along the surface of its brittle, fragile bark. But the air was so fresh and clean, with the scent of flowers I couldn’t identify and pinesap and maple. I turned and looked behind me, and there was no sign of the road or anything other than forest. We walked into a small clearing at one point, and I saw a deer, frozen in place and staring at us before it turned and bounded away, disappearing into the trees in a matter of seconds. There was a small creek lazily twisting through that clearing, so narrow it was easy to step over and so shallow and clear I could see the rocks on the bottom.

I stepped over and followed the others back into the woods. I pulled out my phone and started taking pictures of everything—the trees, bushes, moss—one after the other, as quickly as my phone could snap. I was starting to sweat a bit, the underarms of my T-shirt getting damp as I slapped at mosquitoes and horseflies when they landed on my bare skin.

I don’t know when the feeling really started, to be honest, but I went around a curve and saw an enormous tree just off to the side on the right, whose trunk split into two enormous branches jutting up toward the sky about five feet over my head, other heavy branches shooting out of the separated trunk. There was a knothole in the trunk, maybe about a foot below where the trunk split. As I raised my phone to take a picture—

—I was looking into the knothole, and it wasn’t far over my head but only just above my eye level, and the path was, in fact, a lot wider, and there was a folded piece of paper inside the tree, and I was filled with joy as I grabbed it and pulled it out, unfolding it—