The island was farther away than it looked. Melissa’s arms started to ache, and the canoe had a mind of its own. She abandoned the J stroke and paddled on both sides, switching back and forth every ten strokes as she drew closer.
The forest grew right to the shore. There was no beach, just a jumble of boulders and overhanging bushes and logs. She headed toward a grassy bank that was partly cut away. A dead tree lay half on the ground and half submerged, its silver gray limbs sticking up like the ribs of a sea creature.
One more stroke and she was in the island’s shadow, sliding from brilliant sunlight into a cool green world. She rested the paddle and glided the last few meters through a patch of green lily pads as flat as plates that rustled against the bottom of the canoe.
The water was clear and shallow. She could see the smooth humped backs of rocks and the long ropey stalks of the water lilies shooting up from the muddy bottom. She grabbed a low sweepy branch hanging over the water and pulled herself closer to shore. There was a scraping sound and the canoe bumped to a stop. She would have to wade the rest of the way.
She slipped her legs over the side and dropped into the ankle-deep water. Hanging on to the canoe, she picked her way carefully over the slippery rocks to the bow. She grabbed the rope and tied it to the branch. Then she scrambled up onto the bank.
Melissa grinned, exhilarated at being on an island for the first time in her life. She glanced across at the cabin. Sharlene, looking tiny, was standing on the end of the dock, waving both arms above her head. Melissa waved back.
She gazed around. It would be hard to go very far into the middle of the island. The trees grew close together and a tangle of underbrush, fallen logs and branches covered the ground. Then she realized that she was standing on a rough trail that looked like it followed the shore. She set off to explore, the ground prickly under her bare feet. The trail hugged the lake, gradually curving to the left out of the shade and into the bright sun. It was crisscrossed with tree roots and carpeted with brown pine needles.
Soon Melissa couldn’t see their cabin anymore. Farther down the lake, a tin roof glinted in the sun. This end of the island was swampy, with tall bulrushes and more lily pads. The trail skirted the swamp and swept around to the left again, in and out of dappled sunlight.
In ten minutes she was on the other side of the island. Sometimes the trail disappeared and Melissa had to climb over boulders or around trees that had toppled half into the water, their massive branches blocking the way. She rounded a bend and stopped, her feet rooted to the ground in surprise.
A huge gray rock, as flat as a dining room table, jutted out over the water. In the middle was a striped beach towel with a backpack beside it. A paperback book lay facedown on the rock and a few other books were scattered about.
Melissa had been pretending that the island belonged to her, and she felt cold with shock. It was very quiet; the only sound was a bird chittering somewhere in a clump of willows. She didn’t think there was anyone here but she couldn’t be sure.
She swallowed. “Hello?” she called.
There was no answer. The bird fell silent, as though startled to have its peace disturbed.
“Hello?” she said again.
She waited for a few breathless moments. Then she climbed onto the rock and crouched down to examine the books. She scanned the titles. The Last King, The Warrior’s Triumph, Siege at Midnight, Quest for Fire. The books were thick, like something an adult would read. The covers showed weird monsters and people in armor holding shields and brandishing swords.
Melissa stood up. She had spotted something leaning against a tree at the edge of the forest. She jumped off the rock and walked over to look at it. It was a handmade bow, fashioned from a long stick that had been bent into an arc. The bark had been peeled off and the creamy yellow wood gleamed like satin. There was a piece of string tied tightly from one end to the other.
Was it a real bow? Melissa couldn’t see any arrows. She glanced around, suddenly feeling nervous. Something caught her eye. She stared at a clump of reeds at the edge of the lake, taking a few seconds to realize what she was looking at—the side of a blue canoe.
Prickles shot up her spine. The person who owned all this stuff must be somewhere on the island right now, maybe even hiding close by in the trees, watching her. Melissa spun around and ran back along the trail, scrambling over the boulders and logs. She tripped over a root and sprawled on the ground, feeling a sharp sting in her knee. Shakily she got up and kept running, not stopping until she was back at her canoe.
She stood there for a moment, catching her breath. Then she untied the rope and climbed in, her heart thumping wildly. She hated the thought of someone spying on her. More than anything, she wanted to get away.