She tilts her head up at him, giving up a coy little shrug, like she’s considering her other options for the night. Other plans. She glances at me and slips free of Rhett’s arm, saying softly so only I can hear, “You should come too.”

I shake my head. “No thanks.” I have zero interest in spending a single minute more with these boys.

Rhett slaps Jasper on the shoulder as he stumbles to his feet, laughing, but Jasper shrugs him off. Like he’s embarrassed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go with them either,” I whisper to Suzy, keeping my voice low.

Her eyes sag a little, like she’s tired, or maybe it’s pity I see—she feels bad for me. Nora Walker who has no real friends. “I’ll be back before the sun comes up,” she says, like she wants to reassure me.

But I don’t nod; I feel only a twinge of unease. “I don’t think you should trust them.” Maybe I’m being paranoid, or maybe it’s only because Oliver said he doesn’t trust them. But I don’t want her to go with Rhett, with any of them.

She smiles, lifting an eyebrow conspiratorially. “They’re idiots, I know. But they’re fun and I’m bored.” She gives me a wink and reaches forward to squeeze my hand.

I open my mouth to tell her not to go, but I snap it shut again. She won’t listen to me anyway. And she can do what she wants. She can leave and sleep in Rhett’s cabin and she doesn’t owe me a thing. But it doesn’t stop the gnawing worry that presses at my temples. The hurt at the back of my skull.

I watch them all march off through the snow, down toward the lake, Jasper staggering behind with the empty bottle in his hand. The fire pit smolders—the air tinged with the scent of ash—and I listen carefully to the trees settling back into slumber. Their roots sinking beneath the soil, limbs swaying softly.

And I wonder if maybe it’s only the sounds of the trees that have frightened the boys. If that’s what they hear at night when everything is too quiet—the voices they think haunt them at camp. Or if it’s something else. Something worse.

Something they won’t talk about.

I feel the sinking weight of the cold, of too many questions, and I suddenly don’t want to be out here in the dark—alone. I turn and start for the house, snow blowing in drifts of white.

I’m only a few yards into the tree line when I feel the shiver of someone watching.