Prologue

Evil doesn’t exist at Camp Alpine Lake. Not inside the wrought-­iron gate that separates camp from the town of Roxwood, andnot at the waterfront, where far-­out buoys keep us isolated from the rest of New England. Everything here is safe. The tennis courts. The arts and crafts shed. The cabins. The Lodge. Camp is a bubble, made for bonfires and sing-­alongs and friendships formed under the beam of a flashlight.

Even when I was eight and the group leaders would huddle us together on the man-­made beach in neat little rows so we could watch the lifeguards line up in the water to practice safety drills, we knew they were all for show. We were never in danger. Not here.

We’d watch the lifeguards dive in unison, touching the ground beneath the surface, even if it was eleven or twelve feet below. They’d come up with nothing, handfuls of dirt. No harmed child, no limp arm. They’d do this over and over until they reached the end of the boundaries, never screaming in horror. Never fearful that a precious camper was gone.

Even when I became a counselor and was tasked with keeping the children alive, healthy, and well fed, I knew there was never any real danger here. Not on the edges of the forest up by the cliffs where loose rocks threatened to fall silently into the abyss. Not along the ropes course where harnesses always stayed buckled. And certainly not in the lake, where I wore my red lifeguard suit like a superhero’s costume.

But that was before I knew what kind of dark secrets were hidden in the corners of Camp Alpine Lake, out of sight of campers, counselors, and lifers like me, who would give everything we had to keep this place whole.

That was before we learned the truth. About Ava, Imogen, and me—­and how far we’d go to protect each other even after we had been exposed.

Before this summer, Camp Alpine Lake was a haven. An escape from what I could not face back home in Roxwood, only a few miles outside the gate.

But now Camp Alpine Lake is another place where I’ll never feel safe. 

Chapter 1

Now

The summer will begin like it always does, with me wandering the grounds of Camp Alpine Lake alone. It’s the first day of maintenance week, when all the counselors arrive to get the place ready for campers. But I’m the only one who can come early.

No one else gets to experience how the cabins smell like cedar and lemon when they’re empty, not yet filled with other counselors or twelve-­year-­old boys who don’t know about deodorant. How the sun bounces off the lake when there aren’t any swimmers bobbing in the lap lanes. Or how you can stand at the edge of Creepy Cliff and scream, loud and long, listening to your voice echo all across New England.

“This place is your home, too, Goldie,” Mellie has always said. I’ve heard the words enough times to believe them, even though myactual home is right down the road from Truly’s, the dive bar we go to on nights off.

But this summer is different. And Stu and Mellie are the only people at Alpine Lake who know why.

Mom and Dad insist I shouldn’t break tradition. “You can’t let what happened ruin every single thing you love,” Dad says, gripping the steering wheel of our old Subaru as we pull up to the gate. “You deserve to have fun. We’ll see you later at orientation.”

Mom turns around from the passenger seat and squeezes my bare knee. “You’re going to be okay.”

I nod, unable to find words, but I know...