“It’s fine,” Stevie said, shielding her eyes from the bright morning sun. “Just a prank.”
“Some fucking prank. What happened? They went into your cabin when you were out, or . . . ?”
“It’s sort of more complicated than that,” she said. “We don’t really know when they did it, except it wasn’t while we were asleep. Somehow they did it before and we only saw it when we woke up.”
“What?”
She shook her head. It was complicated even if you were there, looking at it, and felt impossible to explain over the phone.
“Someone’s playing a game,” she continued. “Maybe someone knows about me, about how at Ellingham someone left a message on my wall.”
“I don’t want to keep bringing up what happened last time, but last time? That person was a murderer.”
“This feels different,” she said.
“Oh good.”
“We’re getting some security cameras. I don’t know what happened, but I’m going to find out.”
“Yeah, I hate this,” he said. “How does this keep happening to . . . Scratch that. I know exactly how this keeps happening to you.”
If Stevie was being completely honest with herself—and she preferred not to be—David’s concern felt very good. He was really worried about her, possibly more worried than she was about herself. He cared. It sent warm bubbles of pleasure through her system.
Then a voice broke through the haze of romantic bliss.
“Welcome, counselors!” Nicole said over the loudspeaker.
“Please bring your things to the dining pavilion.”
“I have to get ready and get going,” she said.
“Okay, but text me. Call me. Both. Let me know what’s going on, okay?”
“I promise,” she said.
She couldn’t help but break into a smile as she said it.
When Janelle returned, dressed in a flowing blue sundress, Stevie grabbed her things. The bathroom area was only a few yards away. The toilets and sinks were in a concrete and wood building （with no doors, so the air and flies could get in without difficulty）。 The showers were wooden stalls outside of this main structure, with no ceilings. It was basically a fancy hose in an open box, raised slightly off the ground to allow for drainage. Stevie would have much preferred it if the shower had been flush with the ground, because it seemed like a low, dark space under a shower would be an ideal spot for a family of snakes. Something had to live under there.
She tried not to think about it.
Though no one could see inside, it felt weirdly exposed to be able to see the sky and the trees above her as she undressed and showered. The water wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm either. It was already so muggy that it made no difference. She washed quickly, barely taking the time to rinse all the shampoo out of her hair. There were definite advantages to having short hair you cut yourself—all she needed to do was rub it a few times with her hand to dry and style it. She tugged on a shirt and a pair of black shorts, stuffed her feet back into her flip-flops, and took a leap out of the shower box to make
sure the imaginary snakes couldn’t bite her heels.
When she returned to the cabin, Nate was there, sitting next to Janelle on the concrete step.
“I heard,” he said grimly. “It’s not a party until someone writes you a threatening message, is it?”
“You have your treehouse,” Stevie pointed out.
“I liked it better before you told me this, but yeah, I do.”