Chapter 21

As we pull into the fairgrounds, Tai’s eyes widen. I guess there’s a lot to take in for someone who’s never been here before: big muddy trucks parked side by side in the field, people milling in and out of red barns in a row, a giant Ferris wheel spinning, a chain saw buzzing and wood chips flying over at the sculpture contest, the occasional ribbon-decked rider pointing her horse toward the gymkhana arena.

“I’m headed to the tractor pull,” Dad says after we park. He nods toward the grandstand.

“I figured,” I say. It’s Dad’s favorite. “But I think we’ll hit some rides.”

The tractor pull’s never been my thing. The way the engines pop and growl, the smoke billowing into the air, the stench of gasoline. Amos liked it, but I always snuck off to get cotton candy instead. Dad looks down, and guilt stabs: he shouldn’t have to go alone.

But he seems to read my mind. “I’m meeting some guys from work there,” he says. “Pretty sure they already found a spot.” He winks at me. “Have fun. See you for the dairy show in not too long, right?” He checks his watch. “Eleven? But you’ll be heading to the art show just before?”

Dad’s kindness makes my heart ache a little. “Right,” I say. I watch him walk away, his broad shoulders bent.

“You don’t look very happy about the dairy show,” Tai says.

I went to Liza’s last night, but late. I told her I only had fifteen minutes to practice because Dad needed to get going. But I told Dad Liza only had fifteen minutes too. My stomach churned the whole time as I went through the motions with Rascal. I looked at her a little differently. She’s just a baby, but Uncle Mark and Aunt Mary promised that one day she’d be part of their herd. Does that mean she’ll just end up being part of the problem too?

“You’re acting weird, Addie,” Liza said, peering at me through narrowed eyes. Right now, Tai’s giving me the same look.

“I’m fine,” I tell Tai. But I’m not really prepared for the dairy show, and the weight of everything I haven’t told Liza is bearing down. I decide to totally change the subject. “Have you ever had fried dough?”

“Maybe once before, in Coney Island,” Tai says. “This place reminds me a little bit of that, actually. Except it’s a lot less crowded, even though there are more animals around. I can actually breathe.”

Ms. Pierre’s fried dough is the best; she sets up her stand every year, and I never miss a chance to go. Everybody else knows how good it is too, so we have to wait a little bit in line. By the time we get to the front, my mouth is watering.

“Hey there, Addie!” Ms. Pierre says. She’s known me since I was really little; her daughter and I are only a grade apart in school. “How’s it going?”

“Hey, Ms. Pierre,” I say. “I’m good.” It’s funny how that one word can make all the complicated things feel simple.

“What have you been up to this summer?” she asks.

“I’m actually working out at Maple Lake with Mr. Dale,” I say. “And with some scientists, like Tai’s mom.” Tai waves, and Ms. Pierre gives him a warm smile.

But she raises her eyebrows when she looks at me. “The lake, huh?” I know she’s thinking about Amos.

I nod and try to figure out how to squirm my way out of this conversation. Ms. Pierre’s brother and his wife own one of the bigger dairies in town, and I don’t even want to think about the phosphorus on their place.

Ms. Pierre saves me. “Good for you, kiddo,” she says, her voice gentle. “So what’ll it be?”

“Two fried doughs with maple syrup, please. Thanks, Ms. Pierre.” I watch her scoop a few extra fried dough bits into the little paper container.

Tai looks pretty happy when he pops a maple-syrup-drizzled piece in his mouth, closing his eyes in some kind of blissed-out trance.

“Got any Ferris wheels around here?” he asks. His eyes are still closed, which is probably why he hasn’t spotted the huge one about a hundred feet away.

“Let’s go,” I say, laughing. “You can see Maple Lake from the top.”

I’ve turned to lead him in that direction when I literally bump into Darren walking the other way.

“Oh, um—hey,” I say. Darren nods at me, and then at Tai.

“How’s it going?” Darren asks.

“We were just heading to the Ferris wheel,” I say. “Are you and your brother doing the Demo Derby this year, Darren?”

“Yup. Got a good one this year.” Bits of hay stick to his shirt, his boots. He’s been haying, and from the time or two I helped Uncle Mark and Aunt Mary I know it’s hot, sticky work. Endless work.

The Demo Derby is one of the most popular events at the fair. People get old cars and take all the glass out and paint them, and then they go onto this big dirt track and just ram their cars into each other. The one whose car lasts the longest wins.

Maybe it sounds dangerous, but people love it. Darren’s too young to drive, obviously. But he really likes helping his brother get the car ready. I remember going to his house with Amos a couple of years ago and he showed me how his brother had given him a whole section of the car to paint. He looked so proud.

“Hey, Darren,” Tai says. “Addie’s told me you spend a lot of time on Maple Lake, not just for the Derby.”

I look quickly at Tai, trying to hide my surprise. I don’t remember telling him that at all.

Darren turns a little red. “Yup,” he says.

“Well, I think it would be kind of cool to go out in the boat with you,” Tai says. “You could show us some of your fishing tricks, and we could tell you more about the pollution on Maple Lake. Just so you knew what you were looking at.”

Darren’s eyes widen. I wonder when the last time was that someone invited him to hang out.

“Sure,” he says, almost smiling. He kicks at the ground and then says something else so soft I barely hear it: “I used to go out in the boat with Amos sometimes.”

I remember that. Days when I’d hang out with Liza and Dad would take the boys.

“My rod wasn’t very good,” Darren says, a little louder. “Just kind of a cheap old one from a tag sale. Amos always made me trade with him. He said he was getting sick of his rod anyway. He said it bored him to use it every time. He wanted a challenge.”

Darren laughs to himself, then takes a deep breath. Tears blur my eyes.

When he starts talking again, his voice sounds raw, like the words hurt to say. “That rod was super nice. Not the kind of rod anybody would ever get bored using.”

My throat thickens and burns.

Darren swipes a hand across his eyes and looks away. “I always caught a lot of fish on those trips,” he says. “Can’t remember if Amos did. He always spent the whole time telling me how good I was doing.”

That sounds like Amos. It’s not easy, hearing people who also knew him tell stories like that. It probably isn’t easy for Darren, telling it. Or being around me, when it just makes him think about Amos all over again. But at the same time, the story’s like a present. I want to unwrap it slowly and save it forever.

I punch Darren’s home number into my phone and promise to invite him out on the boat sometime. After we say goodbye, Tai touches my arm.

“Darren really misses your brother,” he says.

“I know he does,” I say. “We all do.”

A fire engine bell signals the start of the parade. Tai and I dash across the track before enough antique cars, floats, horses, and kids throwing candy will pass by to block us from the Ferris wheel.

We don’t have to wait long in line, and the wheel starts moving almost before we’re done buckling ourselves in.

“Get ready,” I tell Tai. “The view of Maple Lake’s coming soon.”

I like the way my stomach lurches up with the Ferris wheel, almost like it’s shooting its way toward my throat and leaving that empty, bottomless feeling below. This one’s moving kind of slowly, and Tai cranes his neck around to catch the first glimpse of the lake.

“Hey, there it is!” he says. Then his jaw drops and he nudges me. “Addie. Look.” He reaches up and points down toward the mouth of the Pine River.

Most of the lake looks flat and glassy blue, but when I look over at the river, I see it: the water dark and churning, and a silver shape rising up, then diving down. Over and over.

I know the lake’s so far away, but this shape seems like it’s right in front of my eyes. It seems like it’s rising, rising, getting closer—

I lean back in my seat and grip the edges of the bar in front of us. Before I can look again, we’re swinging back down.

“I think it’ll take us up two more times,” I say. “Look closely, okay?”

“Do you have the notebook?” Tai asks.

I pat my back pocket and little fizzy bubbles start to pop and collide in my head; it’s not there. My brain skitters back to this morning. Darn, I realize.

“I left it on my desk.” I hope Dad doesn’t notice. “Can you take notes in your phone while I describe what I see? If I try to mess around with mine, I’ll get distracted.”

Tai reaches into his pocket for his phone and opens the Notes app, ready to go as the Ferris wheel moves up again and a sliver of Maple Lake starts poking through the trees.

As soon as we get to the top, I train my eyes onto the exact spot by the Pine River where we saw the shape before. Sure enough, the swirling darkness next to the river churns, but now it looks like it’s spreading, creeping farther and farther across the flat blue. Is nobody else seeing this? The people in front of us don’t seem to notice anything; they’re leaning toward each other, laughing about something, not even looking at the lake. I don’t hear anybody behind us exclaiming with any kind of surprise either, as we glide back down to the bottom.

I describe everything while Tai types, and before we know it we’re on our way up one more time. I feel my hands shaking as we crest the top, but when I look at the lake this time, there’s nothing. It’s just blue, with little ripples of white waves poking through.

“Hey,” I say. “There’s nothing there anymore.”

Tai cranes his neck to look. “Huh?” he asks. “What happened?”

“Look,” I tell him. “It’s just—normal.”

Tai scans the lake and scratches his chin. “That’s so weird.”

Too fast, we’re back on the ground again, slowly unbuckling our seat belts, trying to process what we saw.

“We need to go back up,” I say as soon as we exit the gate. “That was just too strange. Do you think we imagined it?”

“I don’t know,” Tai says, “but if you want to go up again, I will. Aside from that one spot at the mouth of the Pine River, did you see anything else that looked weird?”

I shake my head. “Nope. It was just that spot. What’s interesting is… that’s the spot your mom showed me on that map.”

The line seems to move more slowly this time around, but it might just be because we’re so anxious to get back on the Ferris wheel and figure out what’s going on with Maple Lake.

Tai bounces on the balls of his feet, cranes his neck. “This is so crazy and cool,” he says. “I wonder if we’ll see anything different.”

Or anything at all, I think.

We get up to the top, and Tai and I both whip our heads right around to the mouth of the Pine River. At first, it’s just blue. But then, little points of darkness, almost greenish black, start popping, swirling in a widening circle right at the river.

“Here it comes,” I say. Little firecrackers start popping around inside my head, and I take a deep breath so I can keep focusing on the swirls far below.

The dark keeps moving and then, from the center, the silver shape gracefully rises. The tightness in my chest starts to loosen, like a rope unwinding itself. Up the shape comes, and down it dives again into the deep. My heart seems to move with it, beating hard. Whenever the shape dives, it cuts through the dark, and blue circles of water emerge. Then darkness skitters into it until the silver comes back.

I can’t stop watching.

“Hey,” Tai says suddenly, breaking my trance, “are we stuck or something?”

I guess we have been up here for a while.

Almost on cue, a voice crackles through a microphone from the ground. “Uh, ladies and gentlemen,” the voice says, “my apologies, but there’ll be just a slight delay here. Little glitch in the system. Thanks for your patience.”

Her words barely register; I’m still staring across the landscape toward the river. “I want to see what happens here anyway,” I tell Tai.

The silver shape moves away from the Pine River and swirls around the whole of Maple Lake. The little whitecapped waves go still, making room for the shape as it rises up, dives down.

“What do you think it’s doing?” I ask. “Do you think it has to do with what your mom showed me with the topographic map?”

If there really is a creature, is it trying to help Maple Lake too?

“I don’t know,” Tai says. “What do you think?”

I think Amos didn’t understand the whole story. I think maybe I’m starting to.

Watching the dark and the silver and the blue, and the river that looks so tiny from up here trickling down into all of it, I’m so mesmerized that I don’t realize how much more time has passed until other people’s voices cut into my thoughts. “Think we’ll have to climb down?” someone’s saying. “I hope they deliver lunch up here,” someone else says.

Lunch? Wait a second—what time is it? I reach into my pocket and fumble with my phone. 10:50 a.m.

Oh no. No no no. No! I missed the Shoreland Art Show. And I’m supposed to be in the ring with Rascal in ten minutes!

I nudge Tai with my elbow and point to the time on my phone, which, now that I look at it again, is clogged with missed text messages from Liza. His eyes get wide. I know he understands right away, but there’s nothing he can do. This is my fault.

“Here we go, ladies and gentlemen,” the voice from the bottom says, and finally the Ferris wheel lurches down.

This time, Tai and I can’t scramble fast enough to unbuckle our seat belts.

“Follow me,” I say. I grab his hand and start to run.