CHAPTER THREE

I get a lot of snacks for us, and Beth eats ravenously. I had my doubts about the packed, cold sandwiches at the store, but with the way she devours them, they might just be okay.

By the time, the other kids return, they look brighter. The bus has picked up more kids along the way, so the numbers have increased. A few of them have found their own buddies. My eyes flick toward the boy who had tried to come on to me. He’s sitting in the back with a bunch of other boys, including the one who had name-called Beth.

All of them had seen the incident take place between me and their group mate so they’ve not approached me.

Smart.

But I do see them eyeing Beth, and I scowl at them, making them quickly look away.

Maybe some of us do need this camp.

“So, what do you know about this place?” I ask Beth, curiously. “It seemed like some weird juvenile correctional facility when I looked it up.”

Beth shrugged. “I don’t know. But I do know that you can only send someone through a referral. You can’t just send a kid here. My aunt referred me. Who referred you?”

“I don’t know,” I mutter. “Dolores just got up and declared she was sending me here.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I suddenly recall the strange phone call she got a day before she told me she was sending me here. I had heard my name, and she had almost looked frightened before throwing a look my way and hurrying out of the trailer.

“This place is on an island, right?”

Beth nods. “That’s what I heard. I tried to ask my brother James for a pamphlet or something.”

Her hand goes to cover her bruised wrist, and I have a feeling what might have occurred.

I don’t know what awaits us but now we have no choice but to be patient and see.

***

“Hey.”

I feel someone nudging me.

“Taylor.” The voice sounds urgent.

I open one eye, still half asleep, and Beth’s face is so close to mine that I nearly yell out in surprise.

“What is it?” My heart is pounding.

“We have to get off,” Beth gestures with her head at the other occupants of the bus, gathering their things. “We have to take the ferry from here.”

She’s already pulling me to my feet as I yawn, trying to recall if a ferry was part of the travel plan. I never looked that far.

When we get off, I hiss in dismay, “It’s still raining?!”

The rain isn’t a downpour but an annoying, heavy drizzle. To make things worse, the whole place is surrounded by a dense fog, and it’s cold—cold enough that I pull on my thankfully dry hoodie.

“They should’ve warned us to bring our winter gear,” I scowl. “What is this weather? I hate rain.”

Beth ignores my complaints, pulling me onto the ferry along with everyone else. As soon we get on, I see the vast lake. I rub my eyes, blinking. The fog is covering the lake as well, so it’s hard to see anything but it seems creepy and I’m starting to regret my decision.

But then, Beth takes my hand with her cold hand, and she looks at me. “We’ll be fine, right?”

I swallow back this sick fear inside of me and give her an uncertain smile. “Yeah, of course.”

If something in this fog isn’t waiting to kill us.

I see the same group of boys, who had been sitting behind us, lurking nearby. Their group seems to have expanded, which is probably why the one who had been bothering me in the beginning is eyeing me once again.

Maybe I should have broken his arm.

I turn my back to him, feeling certain that he won’t pull anything ridiculous, not with so many people around. Beth and I stand at the railing, shivering. The back of my right hand is itching. And that makes me nervous.

I always get this particular itch when something bad is about to happen.

When Dad walked out of the trailer that last night, I nearly scratched my hand raw.

Just before I got the news of his death, I had to end up taping mittens to my hands to control myself from digging my nails into my skin.

Right now, I feel terrified as the prickling sensation on my hand intensifies.

“Are you okay?” Beth whispers to me, taking my hand.

As if by magic, the moment her cold hand touches mine, the itching sensation disappears. Shock filters through me, but before I can say anything, the ferry suddenly moves inside the heavy fog.

I’m not someone who scares that easily, but I find myself moving closer to Beth. She lets out an uneasy laugh. “This looks like something out of a horror movie, right?”

“You said it, not me,” I mumble, squeezing her hand.

A heavy silence falls across the deck as students shuffle together in fear. It seems like all of us are equally nervous.

“You don’t think they plan on throwing us overboard, do you?” Beth jokes, but her voice is filled with fear.

“I doubt it,” I try to reassure her, but my free hand curls around the cold and damp steel railing. Just in case.

The fog is thick as the ferry moves through it. I don’t know how much time passed, but Beth’s presence is a comfort, strangely enough. I don’t let go of her hand.

This might be the first time I allowed myself to depend on anyone, even if just for peace of mind.

However, whatever terrifying sight I thought awaited us—perhaps the appearance of the prehistoric dinosaurs—my jaw still drops when the ferry finally moves past the thick wall of fog.

If I thought the lake had been massive before, now it looks like an entire ocean, stretching far and wide, no shore in sight. But there are islands, quite a distance from each other, the furthest being a pinprick on the water from where we’re standing.

My eyes flicker toward the other islands. The mist surrounding the islands is giving them a mysterious appearance but like everyone else, my attention is also caught by the island closest to us. It seems like a dense jungle from where I’m standing. But something about this place is giving me the creeps.

There’s a hint of a memory scratching at the back of my mind, refusing to come forth.

Everyone is busy gawking at this new sight, which is probably why nobody notices the boy creeping toward us.

I notice the movement in my peripheral vision, and my body moves as if on instinct as someone hurls themselves toward me. I move so quickly that I stumble onto the wooden deck.

Just then, I hear a scream and a splash, followed by shocked cries.

Blinking, I grab the railing and use it to support myself and get to my feet.

“Are you alright?!” Beth looks horrified as she helps me up as well.

“Who fell?” I demand.

“That—I don’t know his name—but he was sitting behind us on the bus. He …” she hesitated, “… I think he meant to push you. But I could be wrong.”

I stare down at the churning water below where the boy whose arm I should have broken hours ago is flailing in the water, gasping, and screaming. My eyes are grim, and I watch his companions huddle together, shooting me angry looks as one of them returns with an annoyed-looking man.

The man looks like he would rather be anywhere else right now. He tosses a vest toward the boy, growling, “Swim toward the ladder, you idiot. Nobody’s jumping in to get you. Either come up or swim to the island. Your choice.”

The boy makes the heroic effort and swims toward the rusty ladder on the side of the ferry before pulling himself up.

He’s shaking, his lips blue.

Cheerfully, I offer him my hand, and he doesn’t even hesitate.

My head lowers as I pretend to make an effort to pull him up.

My voice is low, meant only for his ears, “I saw what you tried to do. Next time, I’ll make sure you drown.”