One

As Evan Rio watched the city disappear through the car window, her stomach growled.

Her parents couldn’t hear the angry sound over the radio, and besides, they were more focused on each other than her. On the whispered bickering they pretended they were hiding from her—­even though they were only a few feet away.

“That was the turn,” her mother hissed to her father.

“I’m not an idiot. It’s faster to approach from town,” he replied, his hands gripping the wheel tightly in a way Evan knew spelled trouble.

“But the drive past the lake is a tradition,” her mom said, hurt breaking momentarily through her irritation.

“We’re not even staying, Moira. I think tradition is off the table.”

Evan lowered her window. The mountain air whipped across her face. The white noise drowned out the low voices and the contempt in them. It had been like this all year, she reflected. Ever since they’d gotten home from the lake last August.

The open window seemed to remind her parents she was there, trapped on this tense, tiny planet with them.

“You hungry, kiddo?” her dad asked. “I have trail mix and granola bars.”

“She’s fine,” her mom answered before she could. “Sue and Jeremiah always make a big dinner. We wouldn’t want to spoil her appetite.”

Evan’s stomach growled again. This time the feeling was sharp. Pointed. Like a physical presence. It took up all the space her fear and sadness could have settled in. She wrapped her arms around herself as if she could hold it close. A teddy bear with teeth.

“I asked Evan,” her father said pointedly. “What do you say, kid?”

“I’m fine,” Evan said, echoing her mother.

“Maybe we could hit the diner in town,” her dad said in a too-­loud, too-­friendly voice. “I remember how much you love their waffle fries, sport.” He didn’t care if she liked waffle fries. He was just competing with her mom. Trying to make Evan choose.

“I said I’m fine,” Evan snapped. Her words were as sharp as her hunger.

“See?” her mom said to her dad.

The resulting stormy silence lasted all the way into the little lakeside resort town of Sonrisa. Evan mapped the tense ridges of her parents’ shoulders from behind. There was a time when they would have held hands. Sung along to the radio. Insisted on stopping for cheesy family photos at every scenic viewpoint.

They didn’t even feel like a family anymore. And Evan was getting dropped off with Billie’s parents. Her dad had made up some excuse about being busy at work, but Evan knew the truth. Her folks could barely stand to be in the same house together, let alone a little cabin.

Evan wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

She didn’t take her first deep breath until they turned into the lakeside resort. Evan’s favorite place in the world. It looked just the same as it had last year, before everything changed for the worse. The trees reached high into the sky, splitting up its perfect blue. Casting cool shade across the little cabins with their stacked-­log walls and bright green doors.

All the best days of Evan’s life had been spent here, romping through the woods in cutoff shorts, diving into the lake when the heat of summer got to be too much. Counting stars on the dock with her two best friends in the world.

It had been a terrible year, she thought as her dad steered the car down the narrow, winding road to cabin fourteen. But she was almost home. Just because her parents weren’t staying didn’t mean she couldn’t have a great summer. In fact, it would probably be better without them.

“Got everything, kiddo?” her dad asked as he eased into the driveway behind the Barnards’ big blue SUV. Next door, cabin thirteen was still shuttered. Evan wondered if a new family would rent it this year. How it would feel to see someone lounging on her mom’s favorite porch swing or hear kids laughing through the windows.

Evan didn’t answer her dad. She saw his eyes dart to cabin thirteen, too, but she couldn’t tell how he was feeling. She could never tell. Anyway, her backpack was in her lap, zipped, with a pillow on top. She was ready to get out of this car the moment the wheels stopped turning.

The driveway’s gravel crunched under her feet as she opened the back of the car. Her worn, star-­covered duffel bag was there—­the same one she packed every summer. Her knees felt a little weak as she hoisted it over her shoulder. She hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. Just a few bites when her vision started to swim.

“I’m just asking if we can try to pretend everything is normal for an hour,” Evan heard her mom say in the front seat. In a hushed tone she was clearly trying to hide from Evan. “I don’t want to get into it with Sue until we know for sure.”

Evan tried not to listen, but her duffel strap got caught under the spare tire in the back. As she was pulling it free, she heard her father’s reply. The loathing in his tone.

“Right, so just don’t mention the gym, or what I found on your phone last summer, or—­”

“Adam,” her mother whispered harshly.

Evan could almost hear her father rolling his eyes. “Oh please. If you think Evan doesn’t already know something’s up, you’re lying to yourself.”

The duffel strap finally came free. Evan wanted to slam the hatch closed. Show them she was still here. But her arms felt weak like overcooked spaghetti. She left it open instead and walked to the top of the driveway, looking out at the trees. The lake. The families all arriving and unpacking and firing up their grills.

Summer at Sonrisa, Evan thought, taking a deep breath of pine-­scented air. There was nothing this place couldn’t fix.

But just as she was about to turn and go inside, she saw something. A shape, moving in the trees. Not a person, it was too big for that. But too slow to be one of the little golf carts the resort staff drove around in. It looked, to Evan’s eyes, decidedly beastlike. Massive. Moving too gracefully for its size through the spaces between trunks.

Evan blinked hard. Goose bumps rippled across her arms even though it was easily eighty degrees outside. When she looked back again, the shape was gone. Had it just been her imagination? Evan wondered.

Wrapped up in her thoughts, she tripped on the strap of her bag and fell backward onto the gravel.

“Evan?” her dad called, running up the driveway. “Are you okay?”

For a second, everything was like it was. Her dad kneeling beside her, tall and broad shouldered and capable. Ready to make anything upsetting Evan go away—­ or at least make it easier to bear.

“I thought I saw . . .” she began. But the time when she could talk to her dad about all her stupid little kid fears was gone. He would be leaving soon, and she needed to get used to being without him.

She expected her dad to press her about what she’d seen, but he was already glancing over his shoulder to where her mom was knocking on the Barnards’ door. His shoulders went rigid again. His gaze drifted back to cabin thirteen, and he only returned his attention to Evan with considerable effort.

“Getting clumsy in your old age, huh?” he asked with a forced chuckle. “You gonna need surgery?”

Evan got to her feet, doing her best to hide the way her legs trembled when she put her weight on them. This time, she didn’t fall.

“It’s nothing,” she said to her dad. “My leg just fell asleep on the drive. Let’s go in.”

Evan didn’t wait for her dad to answer. Her parentless summer started now.