CHAPTER 11

Here is what some people might see when they see Lake Specter: a lake.

A person not afraid of bodies of water of all sizes might say that, on Lake Specter, sunlight dappled the water’s surface.

A person not dealing with hydrophobia, like Ripley, might note that Lake Specter was full of fuzzy quacking ducklings and graceful geese, which, while vicious in nature, are not really scary, per se.

To a person not afraid of lakes, like April, Lake Specter might look like a lake from a movie with a castle and a princess, the kind of lake frequented by fairy creatures, who might gather to write poetry and eat dumplings made of leaves and giggles (a fairy delicacy).

A person not afraid of water, like Jo, might see Lake Specter as a great place to put a canoe, or an inflatable donut for floating on.

This is not what Mal saw when she saw Lake Specter.

The lake, to Mal, looked vast and ominous, which is a word you use for a place where you think something bad might happen.

When Mal looked at Lake Specter, something deep down below the water’s surface looked back at her, something that would never ever be found.

As quietly as she could manage, Mal sucked in a deep, nervous breath.

“Do you want to turn around?” Molly whispered, grabbing Mal’s hand. “I mean, you know, we found a bunch of your socks. So . . .?”

Mal shook her head. “No, it’s good. I’m fine. Really. You’re having fun, right?”

“Sure,” Molly said slowly.

“Then we’re good.” Mal smiled a quick stiff smile that showed all her teeth.

“So.” Jo looked around. “Now what?”

“Now we observe!” Ripley noted.

“Good call, Rip!” April said, giving Ripley a chuck on the shoulder. “Observe we shall. What do we have here?”

Mal looked at the edge of the water. “Weird reeds reaching up like skinny green fingers, and rocks like grimy jagged teeth. Edge is slippery. You could slip on a rock and maybe slide into the cold water. Water is . . . muddy and dark with a green slime layer on top.”

“Riiight.” April, who had taken out her notebook, paused. “So. Creepy lake? I’m just writing ‘creepy lake.’”

“Also, there’s a bridge!” Jo noted, wandering over to the far west side of the lake’s edge.

Mal would probably want it said that the bridge was a rickety, creepy-looking bridge. But she said nothing.

Molly, upon closer inspection, thought it looked solid enough, an arch built of wooden slats that were admittedly so coated in fuzzy green that it looked like the whole bridge was made out of moss.

“Why is everything close to a lake so SLIPPERY?” Mal moaned under her breath.

Molly put her left foot on the wooden bridge and pressed down. “I’ll go first so you’ll know it’s safe.”

“Does it feel stable?” April asked.

Molly stepped her right foot on the next slat and bounced ever so slightly. “Spongy. But, I think so.”

Molly held her hand out to Mal. “Ready?”

Mal took a careful step, teeth gritted; the bridge felt like an old couch cushion under her feet.

Ripley, as Ripley often does, vaulted over with a quick bounce, followed by Jo and April.

The bridge connected to an island, which was really a cluster of rocks dotted with trees, pines, and bird poop.

“Lots of bird feces,” Jo said.

Feces is a scientific word for poop.

“It is possible this whole island is bird poop,” April said, making a note.

Ripley couldn’t tell if this was supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing.

“It’s fine,” Mal whispered quietly to herself. “It’s an island of poop. In a lake. This is fine. This is fi— HUAH!”

Molly turned around just in time to see Mal flip backward into a thicket of pines.

“Very slippery,” Mal finished, on her back.

“Are you okay?” Molly called out, darting over rocks as she bolted toward Mal.

Mal’s hand appeared from inside the trees. “YUP!”

There was a significant amount of rustling, then Mal’s face burst through the thrush of green needles. “Guess what I found?”

“More socks?” Ripley asked.

“Better,” Mal said, pulling back the branches. “A CABIN!”