Stranded (3 page)

We were the last ones in the caravan, trailing a good twenty yards back from Wes and Jeremy. Jeremy's orange
shirt vanished and reappeared between the trees like a warning light.
It would be easy to get lost out here
. But the trail was wide and fairly obvious, and we'd seen other people this morning (mostly families). I couldn't imagine the Dodd family going on a trip like this, no matter how much my dad would have enjoyed it. Maybe my mom would agree if we stayed in one of those fancy resort lodges that dotted the shore of Lake Superior. I shook my head, partly to deflect the mosquito. Maybe she would have agreed to that a few years ago, but not anymore.

Chris lead the way, carrying his kayak by himself, so I guess we shouldn't be complaining. He told us last night around the campfire that people would get scarce by the morning of the third day, after we passed the waterfall and got into a really remote area.

I gripped my fingers along the canoe hull and breathed into the burn. If this wasn't remote already, I had no idea what the word meant.

“Stop.” Chloe jerked to a halt, and I almost dropped my end.

“What's wrong?”

“Log.”

“Another one?” I set the canoe down and shook out my arms, rolled my neck back and forth. I had a stash of ibuprofen and had taken three last night, then fallen into a dreamless sleep, a type of sleep I hadn't had in a long time, which was definitely better than the dreams I normally had. Technically I would call them nightmares.

“Okay,” I said, getting a new hold on the canoe. “You go first, and then we'll slide it over.”

Chloe picked up the front and slid it on top of the moss. This log was the biggest one yet, almost waist high, with the diameter of one of those giant semitrailer tires. I wondered how such a big tree could just fall down like that.

Chloe rolled to the other side, and I pushed the canoe to her before climbing over myself.

“That's number six,” Chloe said.

“You'd think they'd have someone out here to clean up the trail.”

“Guess this ain't Disneyland.”

I laughed. “You got that right.”

My shoulders ached. I wanted to sit down, just for a minute. Instead, I looked ahead for Jeremy's orange shirt. I couldn't see it. I couldn't even hear the others, not above the sound of my own labored breathing and grunting. A bubble of panic popped in my chest.
Where did they go?

“Hey,” said Chloe. “I think I finally see some water.”

“Thank God.”

The trail twisted right, and we followed a winding switchback. The path narrowed so tightly our bodies brushed the papery leaves growing beside it.
Better not be poison ivy. Or poison oak. Or poison something.
Through the trees, flashes of silver and blue, then a flash of orange.

Around the last switchback the trail opened up onto a slim pebbled beach. Gusts of air hit my face, like I had just walked
past an air conditioner set on high. The lake was huge, over a mile across. Sunlight bounced off the surface, making me squint to see the far side, which ended in a dark line of trees.

“Welcome to Loon Lake.” Chris smiled when we appeared on the beach. “We'll be heading north along the shore for two miles, going through a little inlet that will take us over to the waterfall.” He pointed his finger up the shore. “You can't see it from here, but there is a nice beach and a place to swim. The water is cold out here but not too bad for swimming. We'll do lunch when we get there.” Chris refolded his map and tucked it into his pocket. “Make sure to reapply your sunscreen before we get out on the water. You can get a burn in twenty minutes, and I don't want anyone keeling over with sunstroke. Wear your hat.”

*  *  *

The lake was a relief from the wooded trail, chilled with the smell of green plants and rusted iron. On the shore I exchanged my boots for Tevas, then waded in and dunked my head completely, cramming my wet ponytail into the baseball cap I'd borrowed from my dad, a faded baby-blue Brewers cap.

“Nice hat,” Isaac said.

“Thanks,” I replied, soaking my bandana.

“It wasn't a compliment.”

I looked at him, his forehead wrinkled with horizontal lines, mouth screwed up in a pucker like he'd smelled something bad.

What's his problem?
“You don't like baseball or something?”
I draped the bandana over my shoulder, debating dunking my entire body, clothes and all, but I was only wearing a light T-shirt. I didn't feel like nipping out in front of a bunch of guys.

“Or something,” he said, sounding annoyed. He adjusted his own ball cap, curving the brim into a tight U with his hands, which appeared to be about twice the size of my own.

He's not much for words, this guy. He's probably a Twins fan
. “Whatever,” I muttered, and helped Chloe put our backpacks in the canoe. When I coated my arms with sunblock, I saw Oscar watching me (or was he looking at Chloe?). I held out the bottle. “Need some?”

“I'm okay, thanks.” Oscar smiled and dropped his gaze, suddenly busy with his life jacket.

“Yeah,” Isaac interrupted. He winked suggestively while twirling his paddle like a baton. “I think he does need some.”

I wasn't talking to you.
I capped the sunblock shut, ignoring him, and shoved it back into my pack.

“What? Aren't you gonna ask if I need some?”

“Nope.” I glanced back, glad to be wearing sunglasses, as if that could hide the expression on my face. “I think you're good.” He had that milky pale skin that looked like it would burn in five minutes, and he also looked like the type of guy who'd rather fry than put on sunblock.

“That's right!” Isaac laughed, before hardening his expression to a leer. “I am.” His voice was a low moan, and he gave me an obvious wink. “I definitely am.”

I think I'm gonna be sick.

Despite the sun, a shiver raced up my spine, and I climbed into the canoe, scooting hurriedly to the front, careful to keep my paddle balanced on my lap as the waves hit the hull with hollow metallic slaps. And with one quick shove from Chloe we were off the rocks, gliding out onto open water. I couldn't help but sigh with relief.

Chloe heard me and agreed. “Now this is more like it.”

I turned around, grateful to be sitting. However long we had to paddle, I knew it would be a huge improvement over portaging. Chloe had her red bandana wrapped around her head, sunglasses on, and a paddle resting on her knees. “I looked online for days at all the pictures, but it doesn't compare to actually being here.”

“I know.” I had to admit it was a pretty good view. I dipped my paddle in, taking a tentative stroke. “I've never been this far up north.”

“Like a whole other country.”

What skills Chloe and I lacked during the portaging portion of the trip we made up for on the water. It was a natural thing for us in the canoe. We seemed to know when to switch our paddles and when I should let her steer, and our matched strokes glided us like an arrow over the surface. This was the part that didn't feel like work.

“What's that thing?” Chloe pointed over my shoulder, and I adjusted my sunglasses, squinting.

“A duck?”

“Nah,” she said. “I saw it dive and come back up way over there. Do you think it's a loon?”

“Well, we are on Loon Lake.” I scanned the flat water. The breeze was calm, the entire surface a perfect mirror of the sky.

The loon rose suddenly, like a miniature submarine breaching the surface, all bright black and glittering white, and so close I could count the speckles on its wings. It had a small silver fish pinched between its pointed beak; its blood-red eye blinked at us with reptilian detachment. I had never seen a bird this close; if I leaned over, I could touch it with my paddle.

The loon swallowed the fish in a slick gulp, and in another blink it was gone beneath our boat, black and white flashes reminding me of a swimming penguin.

I dipped my paddle back in and twirled it like a swizzle stick, my throat itching like I'd just swallowed a spoonful of sand. Something important had happened, but neither Chloe nor I spoke.

We paddled on. Chloe set the pace, maintaining a good distance between the kayak and the canoes, and we went along like that for a long while, enjoying the silence.

When the sun was overhead, we reached the inlet. I jumped out into waist-deep water, shocking myself to breathlessness, but after the long sweaty morning, I couldn't say that the sensation was unpleasant.

“Oooh!” A plunk and screech behind me let me know
that Chloe had just done the same. “That woke me up!”

“No kidding!” I exhaled, letting the cold bite into my legs, and we hauled the canoe up onto the sandy beach. I plopped down next to it, breathing as though I had just finished a race.

“A good swim will help,” Chris said as he watched the rest of the caravan angling toward the beach. Isaac's canoe, I noticed with glee, was last, and a good distance off.

“Great idea,” Chloe replied. “My arms feel like they're gonna fall off.”

“You'll feel a lot better after a dip.” Chris smiled. “Like brand new.” He turned back as Wes and Jeremy glided in, grinning good-naturedly.

“We kept trying to catch up.” Jeremy laughed. “You girls should try out for the Olympics.”

“Is canoeing even an Olympic sport?” Chloe asked, appreciating the compliment.

“Oh, it is, and I'm sure you'd make the team,” Wes said. “You sure you never did this before?”

“Pretty sure,” Chloe replied. “I must have a good partner.” She poked me in the arm, and I knew then if I'd met her as a kid, we would have been friends. Maybe we still could be.

“All right, who wants to go fishing with me?” Chris asked.

“Not me,” Wes said. “I'm going swimming.”

“Maybe Isaac will,” Jeremy offered, trying to be polite, but the look on Chris's face made me believe I wasn't the only one who didn't like him. Strangely, this revelation didn't make me feel better.

“Maybe,” Chris said, and nodded. He looked like he was two seconds from deciding to go by himself, but then Oscar and Isaac paddled in. From Oscar's expression I couldn't tell if he was exhausted or pissed off. Maybe both. He pulled the canoe up on the sand in silence, grabbed his gear, and trudged up the beach to the campsite, only flicking his eyes at me once, sort of a look of shared commiseration.

“Okay, campers,” Chris said. “Take a swim, cool off, settle down, and I'll be back in a bit with some fish.” He pointed (more like jabbed) a finger at Isaac. “How about you come with me. I don't like fishing alone.” The way Chris said it made it an order, not a question, and he put the tackle box and rods into the canoe before Isaac even had a chance to protest.

“Whew,” I heard Wes mutter to Jeremy after Chris and Isaac had paddled back out. “Dodged a bullet.”

They don't like him either.

“C'mon.” Chloe pulled me up the beach in the direction Oscar had gone. “Let's go swimming.”

*  *  *

The waterfall beat down on my shoulders like a vigorous masseuse, working out the knots and stiffness in a few minutes. I gave my scalp a much-needed shampoo-free scrub, enjoying the feel of icy water coursing over my head.

“Aren't you gonna rinse off?” I really wanted to wash my hair, but Chris said the BWCA had a rule against bathing within 150 feet of water.

“No. I'm good. I . . . ”

“Cannonball contest!” Wes shouted, interrupting Chloe. “Points for biggest splash! Bonus for creativity!” He jumped off the tallest boulder, tucked himself into a ball, and hit the water with a hollow plunk.

“Emma?” Jeremy waved at me. “You in?”

I shook my head and dismissed them with a wave and a smile. “No thanks!” A year ago I would have joined them, but now I waded onto the beach and sat down next to Chloe, who had climbed onto her beach towel and sprawled out to soak up the afternoon sunlight.

“Boys.” Chloe raised her hand to shield her eyes. “They don't change, do they?”

“Some don't.”

Jeremy jumped off the boulder and opened up into something that looked like a belly flop. He hit the water with a painful crack, and Wes responded by laughing like an idiot.

“You got a boyfriend?”

“No. You?”

Chloe sighed. “Not anymore.” She sat up suddenly and examined the tangerine polish on her toenails. “It's probably for the best, though. Starting college in the fall. They say you should be single.”

“I've heard that.” I suddenly did not want to have this conversation. I've never had a boyfriend, and I wasn't going to college in the fall. I wasn't going anywhere. I wanted to
stand under the waterfall. I wanted to submerge myself and scream. I wanted to jump off those rocks like Jeremy and Wes and see how hard I could hit the surface. I wanted to break something so I could hear it shatter.

But I sat there, examining my own pink toenails and feeling as though I already had the beginnings of a sunburn. My skin itched and felt a size too small for my body.

“That one's been watching you,” Chloe said quietly, and I glanced up. Wes and Jeremy were now busy trying to dunk each other—the sight made me ill. “Huh?”

“Not those morons.” Chloe tilted her head to the side. “The one reading over there. The quiet one.”

A worn-out paperback hid most of Oscar's face. He had dived into his book right after a quick swim, but he'd barely said a thing to either of us. Paddling canoes with Isaac hadn't put him in the best mood.

“You think?” I had caught him watching me when I was rinsing off in the waterfall. Definitely looking, but I couldn't tell what he'd decided.

“I know. Been staring at you like a puppy.” She wiggled her toes in the sand, satisfied. “And I
know
that look.”