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he does. “The witch!” He snorts. “Are you kidding me?”
    â€œShhh,” I hush him. “You’ll wake the camp.” Now my back is up. “Yes, the witch,” I hiss. “I know you don’t believe me, but I know what I saw. It was like Ed said. She was standing in the moonlight at the edge of the lake, looking for her necklace.”
    To my surprise, Sloan stops laughing. “Where?” he says.
    I point down the path. “The clearing. But she’s gone now. She heard me and slipped into the trees. That’s why I was running. I thought she was coming after me.”
    I wait for Sloan to laugh again, but he doesn’t. He’s completely serious when he says, “Show me.”
    I can’t say that I’m thrilled about going back to the scene of the crime, but at least I’m not going alone. If the witch wants to kill me, she’s going to have to go through a big muscular guy to do it.
    My flashlight is on the path where I dropped it. Sloan picks it up, flicks it on and starts wading through the long grass of the clearing. Against my better judgment, I follow.
    At the lakeshore, he waves the beam of light over the sandy earth.
    â€œWhewwwww!” he whistles. “Somebody—or something—was here, all right. Look at this. The ground’s all torn up and there are footprints. A girl’s footprints.”
    I shake my head. “Not a girl. The witch.”
    â€œCome on,” Sloan says, leading me back to the trail. “I’ll walk you to your cabin.”
    We stop at the door. April has left the outside light on, and moths are fluttering around its hypnotic glow.
    â€œAre you going to tell? You know, about the witch?” I ask. The last thing I need is to be the laughing stock of the camp.
    He shrugs. “Not if you don’t want me to. I saw the ground all torn up, but you’re the one who saw the witch. It’s up to you. If you want to tell, I’ll back you up. If you don’t, I won’t say a word.”
    â€œThanks.” I point to the flashlight. “Take it. You can give it back to me tomorrow.”
    I quietly let myself into the cabin and shut off the outside light. I can hear April breathing softly in her sleep across the room. Should I tell her about the witch or shouldn’t I? I have all night to decide.

Chapter Eight
    I can’t get the witch out of my head, so it’s a long time before I fall asleep. When the alarm goes off, I’m not ready to wake up. I look across at April’s bed. She’s not in it. She’s not in the bathroom either. She must already have left for the lodge. Since we usually walk together, I’m sort of hurt.
    I shower and hurry to the shed to get my little red wagon. It’s not there. April must have taken it, but why? Gabe said she should help me clean cabins. He didn’t say anything about delivering coffee. This is something April’s decided on her own.
    â€œHey,” I say when I see her loading up the wagon outside the kitchen, “I can do that.”
    She doesn’t even look at me. “I got it. Cook could use a hand with breakfast prep though.” Then, without another word, she starts for the guest cabins, and I have to jump out of the way to keep from getting run over.
    â€œMorning, Cook,” I say as I walk into the kitchen. “April said you could use some help.”
    Cook looks up from the ham she’s slicing and scowls. “Are you responsible for the shore lunch boxes?”
    I nod. “Yeah. Why? Is there a problem?”
    Cook clucks her tongue and shakes her head. “You could say that. Three of them were messed up. No pork and beans in one. No flour in another. Another one was missing bread. You can’t be making those kinds of mistakes, Bailey. It’s a good thing April looked the boxes over this morning. If they’d gone out like you filled them, there’d be the devil to pay, and