“So … where was Jill during all this?” Hugo asks.

“I’m trying to tell a story!” Angela says, pouting.

I look up at the moon, the pine needles crisscrossing over it like cat scratches. And then something catches in me. Something familiar. The moon isn’t full now, but then it was.

Something happened by the light of the full moon.

I swallow, but my throat is dry. The sense of déjà vu creeps over me entirely and for a moment I feel like I’m falling. Get ahold of yourself, Ki! I shake it away, steady myself against Justin’s broad frame, and try to concentrate on the flames licking at a charred log in the fire pit.

Hugo smiles smugly and pretends to zip his lip as Angela continues. “Anyway, one night as he’s walking to fetch water, he sees a girl on the other side of the river. She’s crying. He thinks it must be a ghost, as it disappears right away. But then he sees her again, calling to him, always crying and calling to him from the other side of the river. So he follows her. And then he loses sight of her, fetches the water, and goes back home. Every night, he sees the crying girl and follows her, trying to find out what she is, why she is so sad, but every night she disappears, and every night he ends up spending more time outside. His father decides something is going on and so he follows him one night. And as Jack is walking down the path after the girl he hears it. Sleesh … sleesh … sleesh. His father sharpening his ax.”

The shivers again. But why? It’s a stupid story. And Angela’s voice is way too perky and cute to pull it off.

But the moon. That full moon. I can see it now.

And now I can hear the sound of the bucket swinging in Jack’s hand. I hear a body moving through the brush, and the footsteps trudging down that worn path to the river. To the Dead.

Sleesh … sleesh … sleesh.

Now my entire body is alive with tingles. That sound. That slicing sound. I’ve heard it before. Somewhere.

It’s not just coming from Angela. It’s everywhere, all around the woods, echoing in my head.

He looks up. The blade is silver, glistening in the moonlight slashing down through the leaves.…

“He looks around but doesn’t see anyone, so he runs to get the water.”

Why? Why did you … I did everything you asked of me.

Angela pauses for dramatic effect and then whispers, “The last thing he saw was the blade of the ax—”

“Stop!” I say, jumping to my feet. The three of them stare up at me. Hugo has a satisfied expression on his face, like a wuss. I point to a crumpled plastic bag by Angela’s feet. “Um. I mean, are there any more marshmallows?”

Amused, she kicks the bag over to me. Like she knows she scared the crap out of me. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t have, except … “Sure,” she says. “Knock yourself out.”

I grab a handful and snuggle closer to Justin. “That was a lame story,” Hugo says. “I give it a C for creativity.”

Angela says, “What? It’s not creative. It really happened! I read about it in an old book. Ghost Stories of the Rivers or something. Jack McCabe supposedly still haunts the river where he died, with the crying girl he was following that night.”

Their laughs, dulled by the sound of an ax being sharpened, echo in my head. I try to clamp my hands over my ears but it doesn’t help. Justin says something that I can’t hear and Angela nods. “It’s an old legend from around these parts. They say that when you’re about to die, the dead will call to you from the other side of the river. And then when your time is up … they come to take you away.”

Hugo says, “I’ve heard that. Kind of like Charon and the river Styx.”

“Exactly,” Angela answers.

I try to find some moisture in my mouth but it feels like sandpaper. “Um. Can we do something more fun? Maybe sing songs? Fall face-first into the fire?”

“No, wait,” Justin says, oblivious to me. Maybe it’s a good thing that he doesn’t notice what a scaredy-cat I am, because it means I’m playing it off well. But then he says, “I have a good story. One that we told in fifth-grade camp.”

“Fifth-grade camp stories are never good,” Hugo says with his annoying laugh, only this time it doesn’t sound so annoying. In fact, I think I want to kiss him.

“True,” I agree, maybe a little too readily.

“This one is classic,” Justin says. “Trust me.”

“But I thought we could talk a little about the rafting trip tomorrow. You know, so I’m prepared,” I say.

Justin squints at me. I know what he’s thinking. I haven’t wanted to talk about rafting at all, when it’s been his favorite topic of conversation for the past three months. So why this sudden intense interest?

“I am a little nervous,” I tell him. Which is the truth. Plus, it hides the bigger truth: that something really weird just happened. When Angela was telling her story, I could hear all the sounds in my head: the blade being sharpened, the rusty pail swinging as the boy walked. I could see the ax. Well, maybe not the ax, but an ax. But worse than that, I could see the boy lying on the ground, gasping for breath as the blood coursed over his lips, asking, “Why?” I did everything you asked of me, he’d choked out before his chest went still. Angela hadn’t said anything like that in telling her story. She didn’t have to. And yet I knew. It was like I’d been there.

“All right,” Justin says. “It’s Class Four and Five rapids, meaning it’s pretty fierce. But you’ll have a blast. Believe me.”

I suck in a shot of cold air. I’m not really in the mood for anything fierce right now. I want a teddy bear.

He massages my knee. “It’s nothing to be nervous about. Like I said, more people—”

“I know, I know. More people get injured going bowling than they do on white-water rafting trips,” I say.

“Right. And Ange and I have been on this river a hundred times. We know what to expect.”

“Smooth sailing,” Ange says. “Totally.”

It’s true, Angela’s and Justin’s parents have brought them up here, together, at least once a year since they were in preschool. If any two people know the river inside and out, it’s them. Of course, them knowing the river isn’t going to save me if I do something stupid, like lose my balance, which is a pretty frequent occurrence. “But what if I fall out of the raft or something?” I ask. “Does that happen?”

He nods. “Sure it does. Sometimes. Rarely. I’ve been on the river a thousand times and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve fallen out. It won’t happen to you.”

“But if it does?”

“You’ll have on your life jacket. And I’ll keep you safe,” he says, voice firm. “Don’t worry.”

I nod, because I believe him. Justin doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean. He’s a simple guy, which is probably the reason I like him so much. Too many of my friends are in relationships with guys who say one thing and do another. And he’s completely protective of me, always. One day he’ll be a Maine State Police officer, I know. Most people stiffen when they pass a police vehicle because they’re afraid of getting a ticket, but he stiffens because he wants to look responsible in case the future officer in charge of hiring is in that police car and might remember Justin five years from now when he interviews for the job.

Just when I think that my efforts to change the subject have worked, Angela pipes up.

“So, Justin. About that story from fifth-grade camp. I want to hear it,” she says. I no longer love her. She leans forward. “Go ahead.”

I pull my blanket around my body as he begins. I’m hoping I can tune him out. Hoping that he won’t choose now to prove that he has the creativity to be a good storyteller. But it’s almost as if I’m wearing headphones and his voice is being piped right into my ear. And his voice, which is always kind of soothing, drops to this low, breathy whisper that I’ve never known him to possess. “Once there was this kid named Trey Vance. He was walking home from school. He wasn’t a very big kid, smaller than me … maybe Hugo’s size, just average. He was taking the shortcut through the woods and there he saw two boys with their backs turned to him. He knew they were older kids from his school who had given him trouble before, so he meant to walk past them quietly. But they turned and saw him, and they suddenly looked all nervous. A few days later the body of a young girl was found at the same location he’d seen the boys, and Trey realized that the older kids must have killed her.”