Chapter Twenty-Two
Then
Eighteen Days Before the Fire
It was Val who’d heard the creak on the bottom stair. She’d jolted upright in bed at the sound. Rig slept like the dead, so though she tried to shake him awake, she eventually went to check for herself.
Before she’d had a chance to flip on a light, she realized she wasn’t alone—there was someone dressed all in black, their face shrouded in darkness.
She’d screamed loud enough to wake the entire camp, and they’d shoulder-checked her so hard she’d slammed against the wall.
I’d seen the bruise it left on her shoulder.
The noise had woken Rig, and he’d come downstairs brandishing a baseball bat to find Val hunched on the floor, crying softly in the dark.
But the Phantom was long gone.
After that, my mom and Rig amped up the rules even more. Kids were told to no longer use the restroom at night, not even with a buddy. And although my mom was adamant that we didn’t scare the campers, it was hard to make them understand the danger in a way that didn’t make them afraid.
But somehow, despite everything, I was genuinely happy for the first time in months.
I spent my mornings and afternoons on the shores of the lake, catching Trevor’s eye as much as I could.
I lay awake in bed each night, waiting for the steady sounds of Chelsea’s and Margo’s breathing to start, before I quietly crept out to meet him.
Steph was almost always still awake when I left, armed with a magazine and a reading light, and she’d blow me a kiss as I breezed out the door. There was something addictive about her attention, and her approval. I reveled in it.
Usually, we’d sneak down to the beach for a few hours, dangle our feet in the water.
Tonight, though, for the first time, we’d fallen asleep in his bed.
I’d woken with a start, totally disoriented, then smiled at the memory of the night before.
I’d disentangled myself from him carefully, not wanting to wake him.
He’d looked so deliciously adorable, calm and snoring, that I couldn’t bear to disturb him.
And I couldn’t spend the whole night here; not when his cabin was mere steps away from basically the entire rest of the staff.
Besides, Black Bass wasn’t far. It would take me less than five minutes.
The sky was bright that night, no cloud cover. I made my way through camp quietly, avoiding every leaf or stick on the path, not wanting to wake any campers. All I could think about was Trevor, how good it had felt to wake up with his arms around me.
I heard a thump, and adrenaline flooded me, my confidence disintegrating in an instant.
Shit, I’m going to die, I thought wildly.
It was dark, I was alone, and the Phantom was out here somewhere, waiting.
I thought of that faceless figure clad in all black, who’d knocked Aunt Val to the ground—who may have done even worse if Rig hadn’t woken up.
I was being immeasurably stupid, walking through camp by myself like this.
Not only would Trevor be pissed, but my mom and Rig would be, too.
I stumbled backward, shocked at the sight of a figure falling out the window of Garrett’s cabin. I heard the soft hiss of “Fuck,” then froze.
Because it was a voice I knew.
“Steph?” I whispered, straining to see her in the dark.
She popped up easily, as if she hadn’t just tumbled out of a window. She wiped her hands on her pants as my eyes adjusted, and she came into view. “What are you doing out here?”
I noted her all-black outfit, the hood over her head with the drawstring holding it tight to her face.
Her sigh was long and dramatic, like my simple question was somehow an intrusion, taking her away from an otherwise perfect evening. “What do you want me to say?”
For a long, strange moment, we were in a standoff. She crossed her arms and huffed at the sky, as if the moon and stars had betrayed her.
“Are you—You’re not—Are you the Phantom?”
The question felt absurd to say out loud, but she didn’t laugh. Instead, she leveled me with a stare that seemed to ask, What are you going to do about it?
My mouth went dry as I tried to catch up to what I’d just stumbled into.
Steph Bennett—sparkly, ridiculous, and louder than anyone I’d ever met—was the Phantom of Dread’s Cove. She was the one who’d been wandering around in the dark all summer. Who Kendall had seen outside the bathroom. Who Jeremy and Carter had followed into the woods.
It didn’t make any sense, and yet here she was, not denying it.
I took a small step forward, raising my hands cautiously. “What’s going on? Why—”
“Relax,” she said, but her voice was hard. I flinched like she’d scolded me. “You’re overreacting.”
I blanched as a terrible thought struck me. “You pushed Val—”
Steph’s lip jutted out. “I didn’t mean to bump into her; she snuck up on me.
I had to get out of there.” The irony wasn’t lost on me that she was blaming Val for sneaking up on her.
“It was an accident. They weren’t supposed to wake up.
I’m just blowing off some steam, all right?
I don’t have a hot boyfriend to sneak out to meet when I’m bored. And you know I have trouble sleeping.”
I swallowed, the sound noisy and awkward in the dark. She crossed her arms and waited, like somehow, she was the one who’d caught me sneaking out of a window that wasn’t mine.
What was I supposed to do here? Over the past few weeks, I’d morphed into someone new.
A version of myself that had been lying dormant within me, for maybe my whole life.
This Greer was willing to take risks, to fall asleep on the beach with a boy.
To try something, anything. To think about a different kind of future.
Steph had been the one to help me find her.
I’d never felt better, or more real in my life. It was like the world had burst into color, painted in shades of hope and possibility.
If I told my mother that Steph was the Phantom, she’d be kicked out.
Immediately. Margo would leave with her.
It would happen so fast—by tomorrow afternoon, they’d be gone.
The Smallmouth campers would once again be without counselors, and we’d all be up the creek again for the last few weeks of summer.
I’d probably never see Steph Bennett again.
Kicking her out wouldn’t be a fair punishment.
Because this was just Steph. Bubbly, warm, Taylor-Swift-dance-party-with-campers Steph.
She was not some shadowy villain. She was not a vengeful spirit or poltergeist sent to do harm.
No, she was harmless—or she meant to be harmless.
This was all simply an unfortunate manifestation of her insomnia.
Maybe, I told myself, this was actually a good thing. Now that I knew the truth, I could keep an eye on her. Protect her from getting caught and protect the camp from…her.
“I told you,” she said, pulling the hood off to reveal a messy ponytail.
“Summers have always been hard for me. They make me think of my dad. So when I can’t sleep, and my mind races, I just…
” She shrugged. “But I’ll stop. If it makes you feel better, I’ll stop.
Maybe I’ll get into books. Margo’s practically got a whole library crammed under your bed. ”
Though her words had a lightness to them, her gaze felt heavy. For a split second, everything between us felt like it was resting on a razor’s edge.
And for the first time since I’d met her, I had the distinct sense that Steph was lying to me. She wasn’t planning on stopping anything. She was expecting me to take her at her word and go along with it.
Going along with this wasn’t a choice I was sure that I wanted to make. But it also didn’t really feel like a choice at all.
My yawn was loud, manufactured, and felt grating to my own ears. “All right, well, I’m exhausted.” I made myself bark out a short, pitiful laugh, a way to keep the mood light. “I’m going to bed. You coming?”
Steph didn’t smile, exactly, but the corner of her mouth turned up. She looped an arm through mine, pulling me tightly to her side. I was sure she didn’t want me to ask any more questions, so I didn’t.
“We should go to the Barn this weekend, just the two of us,” she whispered, breath tickling my ear. Despite myself, I was elated by her suggestion. By the promise of just the two of us. “Margo’s been so moody lately. I need a night with no drama.”
She was right. Ever since that weird morning in the mess hall, Margo had only gotten more agitated.
She hadn’t apologized to Chelsea, like Steph had promised.
She hardly spoke to either of us. The Smallmouth girls had been avoiding her like the plague—I hadn’t seen her have an actual interaction with a camper in days.
Even Steph wasn’t immune to her ire. Yesterday, Margo had snapped at Steph for asking to borrow her deodorant. That’s disgusting, she’d said without looking up from her book.
“Totally,” I said. Because I was learning. I was different from Margo. I would be exactly what Steph needed me to be. A friend, yes, but also a loyal follower. A foot soldier of her cause, though I didn’t know if she’d ever actually tell me what that was.
I didn’t know if it even mattered, as long as I was walking beside her. As long as she was choosing me.