Deep Betrayal

CAMPING
    L ater that afternoon, Gabby, Jack, and I threw our camping gear into the Pettits’ Sun Sport. I found a seat at the stern. The only reason I was excited to go was that Calder had promised to meet me there, although I couldn’t imagine how that was going to work. There was no way he’d sit around a campfire with Jack—even if it was easier to stomach Jack’s moods in the dark—and we couldn’t risk Jack publicly accusing Calder of being a merman.
    Gabby untied the bowline knot and held the line as Jack backed their boat away from the slip. At the last possiblemoment, Gabby stepped from the dock onto the side rail as Jack shifted from reverse to forward, and we pulled away from the marina.
    I watched uselessly as Gabby scampered around the deck, pulling in the white rubber bumpers, and tightening this or loosening that. She gestured for me to stand and she lifted the lid of my bench seat, exposing a deep storage unit. She dropped two bumpers inside the compartment and was about to close the lid when she paused.
    She reached inside and pulled out the sleeve of a jetblack wet suit. She tapped Jack on the shoulder and showed it to him, yelling over the engine, “Why is Dad’s old wet suit in here?”
    Jack shrugged and furrowed his brow. He left the wheel for a second to stuff the rubber suit back into storage. He closed the lid and jerked his head at me to sit down again. Which I did gladly, because the boat was rising and falling over the ferry’s wake in spine-crushing jolts.
    Jack threw the throttle into a higher gear and raced the twelve miles to Manitou Island, cutting the lake between Madeline and Basswood. I wanted so desperately to see if I could catch a glimpse of Maris and Pavati’s campsite on Basswood, but I didn’t dare look.
    Jack wanted to get up to Manitou fast. He said he didn’t want to set up camp in the dark. I wondered if he just wanted to get there in time to make an appearance and then ditch us first chance he got. I mentioned that theory to Gabby. She only said, “So what if he does? At least we got a ride out.”
    By the time we arrived, a dozen people were there. Blueand green tents spotted the campground. Two other boats were anchored offshore. Jack killed the engine and pocketed the key. He opened another storage unit and pulled out a cinder block with a long heavy chain.
    “What’s that?” Gabby asked, reaching for it.
    Jack knocked her hand away. “I lost the anchor,” Jack said. “I had to make a homemade one. Don’t tell Dad.” He glanced furtively at us as he attached the chain to a metal loop at the back of the boat and dropped the block, which made a deep sucking sound as it went under.
    Gabby pulled off her sweatshirt and stuffed it in her duffel bag.
    “So we swim the rest of the way in?” I asked.
    “Go for it, if you don’t mind hypothermia,” she said, “but I’m catching a ride.” She pointed toward shore. Brady Peterman was rowing out to us in a dinghy.
    By the time the sun set, there were around twenty kids in the campground. Most of them had graduated from Bayfield High School with Jack, although a few were from Cornucopia, including one whom I recognized as Serious Boy from the woods. I didn’t have to wonder if the recognition was mutual. He sat directly opposite me across the campfire, and he fixed his eyes on me, following my every move. It was like those creepy portraits in haunted houses with the eyes that shifted. I leaned left, his eyes went right. I leaned right, he narrowed his eyes and whispered to his friend.
    I tried to end the war of stares by moving my chair closer,but it didn’t help. “Stay away from him,” the other Cornucopia boy said. I wondered if he had been one of the other baseball players I’d seen in the woods with Serious Boy, but I couldn’t recall his face.
    “Excuse me?” I asked.
    “You heard me,” said the boy.
    “No, I’ve got this,” said Serious Boy.
    “Lily,” I said, extending my hand. Serious Boy looked at my hand without taking it. He stood up quickly and walked away from the circle. The other boy followed, putting his hand on Serious Boy’s shoulder.
    I moved back to my original spot and listened while Jack’s former classmates traded stories about their freshman years at UW and Marquette and Notre Dame. Jack poked at the fire with a long stick, now charred and smoking. When Serious Boy returned, Jack and he exchanged a few words. Serious Boy’s friend decided to cozy up to Gabby.