Deep Betrayal

going on? Has anyone seen—”
    Brady froze and put his arms out to stop the others from going any farther. I watched as his mind worked to come to terms with what he was seeing.
    I stepped in before Jack could say anything more. “I found him here,” I said.
    Serious Boy trained his eyes on me.
    “How did he get here?” asked Brady. “What the hell happened?” Eric covered his mouth to hold back the dry heaves.
    “I warned you about this,” Jack said, wiping the remaining tears from his cheeks. Bits of pine bark clung to his sweaty face.
    “Shut up, Jack,” Brady said. “Bear, maybe? I told him not to have snacks in the tent.”
    “Oh, wake up!” Jack said. “The body’s too clean for a bear.”
    “Show some respect,” Brady said. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.” He looked over his shoulder at a tall blond guy in a Marquette sweatshirt. “Get on the radio, Mick. Call the Coast Guard. Jack, give me that blanket of yours. We need to cover him up.”
    Jack handed off the blanket and stalked down the beach. I watched him go and saw, beyond him, my father’s face barely above the waterline, watching from the dark water. “Calder,” I said, turning, but he’d disappeared, leaving just as silently as he’d arrived.
    Over the next few minutes, the rest of the campground was alerted and gathered solemnly on the beach. The other kids displayed a combination of fear and curiosity. No one knew Connor well enough to cry; rather, ashen expressions were the norm. Eric, Connor’s roommate, sat beside the body until the Coast Guard arrived.
    Serious Boy kept his distance from me, just as he had the night before, but his pale blue eyes never left my face. That is, until the other Cornucopia boy dragged him away, saying, “Let it be. One should be enough,” and giving me an icy glare that froze me to the core.

20
FATHER’S DAY
    T he next day after Mass, Calder and I sat in a sunny park across the street from the Bayfield Police Station. It was quiet here, and I was glad for that. Early-morning sun streamed through the trees. Two coffee cups stood in the grass between us. This morning I’d opted for Calder’s double espresso in lieu of my usual caramel mocha latte. Calder read to me from my anthology of Victorian poets, trying to distract me from morbid thoughts, but it was tough going considering the material he was working with.
    After a few minutes, he turned the page and began torecite from one of my favorites—the one that always made him roll his eyes. This time he used a funny voice, mugging and preening, as he read Tennyson’s “The Merman”:
I would be a merman bold ,
I would sit and sing the whole of the day;
I would fill the sea-halls with a voice of power;
But at night I would roam abroad and play
With the mermaids in and out of the rocks ,
Dressing their hair with the white sea-flower .
    I knew what he was doing. But trying to make me laugh wasn’t going to work. Nothing could take my mind off Connor.
    Calder had explained to me, months ago, how mermaids hunted. Somehow, the way he explained things, it sounded almost excusable. Now having seen the wasted remains of their hunt, it was impossible to think about. More terrifying than the inescapable memory of Connor’s vacant, milky eyes was the knowledge that he wouldn’t be their last.
    Calder slipped into Hopkins’s “Epithalamion” without me noticing he’d turned the page.
 … there comes a listless stranger: beckoned by the noise
He drops towards the river: unseen
Sees the bevy of them, how the boys
With dare and with downdolphinry and bellbright bodies huddling out ,
Are earthworld, airworld, waterworld thorough hurled, all by turn and turn about .
 … Here he feasts: lovely all is! …
    “Lily? Are you listening?” I looked up without an answer. “Where’s your head at?” Calder asked. “You’re so distant.”
    “It’s Father’s Day,” I said. “And Dad’s not—” But before I could finish my thought, tires squealed around the corner and screeched to a stop punctuated by car doors slamming. Across the street, Gabby and Mr. Pettit hurried from their van toward the station.
    “I wonder what that’s about,” I said.
    “One guess,” Calder said. “Come on.”
    I staggered to my feet, and Calder dragged me across the road. He paused in front of the building, lifting his chin and cocking his head to listen. Then he pulled me around the left side of the building and back toward the third set of windows,