The Curse of Camp Cold Lake

23

“Let go!” I wailed.

I tore myself from her grip.

And tried to blink away the sun.

And stared up at Liz.

Not Della. Liz. Her face twisted in concern.

“Sarah, you’re okay,” she repeated.

“But-” I stared up at her. Waiting for her face to change again. Waiting for her to become Della again.

Had I only imagined Della’s face? Had the streaming sunlight tricked my eyes?

With a sigh, I let her help me into the boat.

I slumped to my knees. The boat rocked up and down. Liz narrowed her eyes at me. “What happened out there?” she asked.

Before I could answer, I heard splashing outside the boat.

Della?

I froze.

No. Jan pulled herself up on the side. She brushed her wet hair off her face. “Sarah-didn’t you hear me calling you?” she demanded.

“Jan. I didn’t see you. I thought that-” My voice caught in my throat.

“Why did you swim away from me?” Jan asked. “I’m your buddy-remember?”

Liz drove me to shore. I changed my clothes and went to see Richard. I found him in his head counselor’s office, a little room about the size of a closet in the back of the main lodge.

He was resting his feet on top of his tiny desk. He twirled a toothpick in his mouth.

“Hey, Sarah-how’s it going?” He flashed me a friendly smile and motioned for me to take a seat in the folding chair across from his desk.

I could see his eyes studying me.

“I hear you had another little problem in the lake,” he said softly. He moved the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “What’s going on?”

I took a deep breath.

Should I tell him there is a ghost girl who has been following me everywhere? Who wants me to be her buddy?

He’d just think I’m nuts, I decided.

“You had a bad shock yesterday,” Richard said. “We really thought that you drowned.”

He lowered his feet and leaned over the desk toward me. “Maybe you went back in the water too soon,” he said. “Too soon after the shock.”

“Maybe,” I murmured.

And then I blurted out the question that was really on my mind. “Richard, tell me about the girl who drowned here.”

His mouth dropped open. “Huh?” The toothpick fell onto his lap.

“I know that a girl drowned in the lake,” I insisted. “Can you tell me about her?”

Richard shook his head. “No girl ever drowned at Camp Cold Lake,” he said. “Never.”

I knew he was lying.

I had proof, after all. I had seen Della. And talked with her.

“Richard, please-” I begged. “I really need to know. Tell me about her.”

He frowned. “Why don’t you believe me, Sarah? I’m telling the truth. No campers have ever drowned at this camp. No boys. No girls.”

I heard a soft sigh behind me.

I glanced back at the open doorway-and saw Della standing there.

I jumped to my feet. And pointed. “Richard!” I cried. “The girl who drowned! She’s standing right there! Don’t you see her?”

Richard raised his eyes to the doorway. “Yes,” he replied softly. “I see her.”