I climb into the first boat heading back. As soon as it docks, I bolt for my cabin. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I can take a joke, but what April did wasn’t funny. It was mean.
I crawl into bed and stare at the ceiling. All I want is for sleep to come, but it’s not even in the building. My eyes blur with tears that spill over and slide into my ears.
Angrily, I pound the bed. Why am I crying? Because I was tricked? Because I was the brunt of a joke? Because April doesn’t like me?
It’s none of those things. I’ve been pranked and laughed at lots of times, and April isn’t the first person who hasn’t liked me.
The thing that gets to me is that I trusted her. I opened up to her. I told her about myself—private stuff that I haven’t shared with almost anyone. I thought she was my friend.
But she never was. She never liked me. She called me a princess. She told Sloan my secret, and she said I was spoiled.
Spoiled? Ha! At home, I have chores every single day, and I don’t even get an allowance. I can really use the money I earn at the lodge.
But that’s not the point. April’s had it in for me from the start.
But why? It doesn’t make any sense.
I’m still trying to figure it out a couple of hours later when April comes in. She doesn’t turn on the light. Instead she stumbles around in the dark, bumping into furniture and then swearing like it was the furniture’s fault. What she doesn’t crash into she smacks with the plastic bag she’s carrying. From the way it rustles and clanks, I’m guessing it’s full of empty beer cans. Finally, April makes it to the bed and collapses. The bag of cans clatters to the floor.
I wake to early-morning sun and April snoring. The cabin reeks of stale beer. Since the new guests don’t start arriving until ten o’clock, there’s no rush to get up, except that I need some fresh air. If I breathe in any more beer fumes, I’ll be drunk too.
I shower and dress. April still hasn’t moved. In fact, I don’t think she’s moved all night. She’s sprawled facedown on the bed, fully dressed. There are beer cans spilling out of a plastic bag on the floor—a lot of them. I wouldn’t be surprised if April stays passed out until tomorrow.
I think about getting Gabe. One look at April and she’d be leaving on the next plane. It’s nothing less than she deserves, but—
A light goes on in my brain. Picking up my clock, I smile and set the alarm for right now. Then I stroll over to April’s bed and pull the pin.
Instantly, the whole cabin starts jangling. I flinch, even though I know what’s coming. April’s eyes snap open and her body jerks off the bed. She grabs desperately at empty air, but it doesn’t help, and she drops to the floor in a noisy heap, knocking the beer cans every which way.
“Oh god!” She belches and claps a hand over her mouth. Then she claws her way to her feet and stumbles to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
She’s there for quite a while. When she returns, she has a wet facecloth pressed to her forehead. She looks like the walking dead.
“Headache?” I ask sweetly.
She glares at me. “Why did you do that?”
I frown. “Do what?”
“You know darn well what. The alarm clock.”
I glance at the offending clock. “Oh, that. I guess I woke up early and forgot to turn it off. Sorry.”
She lies down on the bed again and lays the cloth over her eyes.
“Are you sure you should do that?” I say.
“What?” she replies. Her voice is as lifeless as her body.
“Lie down. You might fall asleep again.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Except that you might not wake up for a couple of days, and guests arrive in a couple of hours. It’s going to take you at least that long to get ready.”
April lifts the facecloth long enough to glower at me.
I sit down on my bed, and with the toe of my runner, I send a beer can rolling back to April’s side of the room. “For starters, you need to get rid of these beer cans and air out the cabin—you know, in case somebody lights a match or in case Gabe comes in.”
“Why would he?”
“Because he owns the place?” I clear my throat. “And you might want to think about having a shower and brushing your teeth. No offense, April, but you look like you spent the night in a garbage bin, and you smell like a brewery. Definitely not the image the camp is going for.”
April props herself on an elbow and scowls. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
I cock my head curiously. “I’m just looking out for you.” I smile brightly. “That’s what friends do.”
April starts to roll her eyes, but the effort obviously pains her because she gives it up and flops back down on the bed. “Go away,” she mutters. “You’re making me feel worse than I already do.”
I stand up. “You know what you need? Food. You’ll feel much better with something in your stomach. Some greasy bacon and fried eggs should do the trick, I think. Nothing like a little bacon grease to jumpstart the day. Before you know it, you’ll feel like your old self. I bet you’ll be up to pulling more tricks on me by lunchtime. Heck, you may even want to do your witch impersonation again.” I stroll over to the door. “But then, that’s not really an impersonation, is it?”
When April leaps off the bed, I think she’s going to strangle me, but instead she bolts once more for the bathroom.
“See you at the lodge,” I call after her and let myself out of the cabin.
As I start down the trail, I’m smiling. It feels good to give April a taste of her own medicine. But the feeling doesn’t last. The two of us have to work and bunk together for another month, and that is not going to be easy. In fact, it could get downright ugly. I may have had a laugh at April’s expense this morning, but if her claws come out all the way, I don’t stand a chance.
As the trail opens into the clearing, I look around. The morning sun is dancing on the lodge windows and glistening in the dew on the lawn. Cellophane-winged dragonflies skim the surface of the lake in search of a mosquito breakfast. The camp is still asleep, except for me—and Gabe and Ed. They’re standing on the dock, deep in conversation.
Suddenly I remember that I need to tell Gabe about Dennis Savoy’s telephone call. What he’ll make of it, I don’t know, but I have to tell him. I should probably tell him about April too, but I won’t. She may have broken a rule, but I’m not the lodge police. If she can do her job, it’s none of my business. If she can’t, Gabe will find out anyway.
I hurry toward the dock, but before I get there, Gabe takes off for the lodge. As usual, he’s in a hurry.
“Gabe!” I call.
He looks up and waves but keeps on running.
“Can I talk to you?” I shout after him.
He turns and jogs backward. “Could we do it later, Bailey?” he says. “There’s something I need to do that can’t wait.”
When I nod, he gives me another wave and resumes his run to the lodge.
Foiled again.