Hello from Renn Lake

by Michele Weber Hurwitz

  What is my sister going to come up with now?

  * * *

  —

  The next morning when I wake up, there’s no sound from Jess’s room and her door is still closed. Mom and Dad are already gone. They leave before six every day in the summer. I figure Jess will sulk for a while, so I don’t call her. I grab my cap and a granola bar and start walking to the cabins.

  Main is quiet, the shops aren’t open yet. The flamingos are upright in the Alden’s window, and one is wiggling a little. Mr. Alden is there, trying to position it. I stop as he looks at me and holds up a hand. His palm has worn lines, like the grooves on a seashell. I start to raise my hand too because I know I should, but it falters and drops loosely to my side. Does he know that Mrs. Alden was in the window on my found days?

  A little ping plucks my heart as he keeps attempting to steady the flamingo. I didn’t go to the funeral. Or to their house afterward. Mom and Dad didn’t make me. They let me decide. I went to Maya’s house that day and played with her new kitten.

  Maya’s parents went. Everyone in town did, I think. The cemetery’s off the highway, on a hill as you leave town. Mom’s family is buried there. Every time I pictured people in black gathered around Mrs. Alden’s casket, dabbing their eyes, I stroked the kitten’s soft fur and held him close to my chest. Maya offered to let me take him home for the night. “He could have a sleepover at your house,” she said. I told her thanks, but I was okay, I really was. Besides, Jess is allergic to cats.

  A breeze tumbles a crumpled newspaper page across the sidewalk until it gets wrapped around a lamppost. I stare at the row of flamingos, ALDEN’S GIFTS stamped on all of their necks. Like they’re the property of the store. Like I was.

  They called me the “Alden’s Baby” during the police investigation, in the news stories, and on the flyers.

  No clues emerge in mysterious Alden’s Baby case.

  Officials search for Alden’s Baby witnesses.

  Phone tip line set up for Alden’s Baby probe.

  Alden’s Baby investigation at a standstill.

  What was the person thinking, dumping me here? Not at a fire station, not at a hospital. Who would do that to their child?

  The day of Mrs. Alden’s funeral, after I left Maya’s, I found a small, corked glass bottle with layers of colored sand floating in the lake. A kid must have made it, then lost it. I fished the bottle out, and held it up, the colors glinting in the sun.

  “How did this end up here?” I asked.

  Renn took a moment to answer. How do things end up anywhere?

  Mr. Alden isn’t in the window anymore. The door creaks, starts to open.

  I yank the Renn Lake Rentals cap down so low it practically covers my eyes, then run.

  I could find my way there with a blindfold on. In the middle of the night. With every step, every slap of my soles on the sidewalk, I feel like I’m pushing away the Alden’s Baby. And when I get to the water, that unknown baby evaporates. I’m me, not her, and I have a name.

  I feel the muffled vibrations of people moving around me. I hear fragments of words, but it’s like they’re high up, wrapped inside a cloud. I smell sharps and sweets, sours and acids.

  The bloom. It’s gotten bigger.

  I sense the pulsing of the trees, whispering to each other through their roots.

  But I cannot see them, or the people.

  And my waters are completely…

  Silent.

  I reach the shore, and I’m about to look for a quiet spot to talk to Renn, but a crowd is gathered. Kids and adults, pointing and talking and pacing back and forth. No one’s in the lake. Maya’s there, holding Henry’s and Tyler’s hands, and so is Dad, standing next to…Zach? Zach’s showing him something in his book.

  I weave through the crowd.

  “Annalise.” Dad’s face is crumpled.

  “What’s happening? Why’s everyone—”

  He gestures to the water. I move closer and see a long, wide patch of the same kind of thick algae that was by the reeds but is now near the shore and all around the pier. It goes out to about the middle of the lake. On the far side, by the other shore, I glimpse Renn’s water mirroring the sky. Glassy and quiet. Too still.

  Dad comes up next to me. “I’m afraid this must’ve blown in overnight from that area you told me about.” His voice is scratchy. “I know that can happen.”

  “Looks like a HAB.” Zach is suddenly at our side, blinking rapidly and rubbing one eye.

  My throat gets an instant lump. “What’s that?”

  “A harmful algal bloom,” Dad says quietly. “But we don’t know if that’s what this is.”

  People are circling around the matted green patch and it’s making me dizzy. “There was only that little part yesterday. I don’t understand. How did it get this big? You said the E. coli report was negative.”

  Dad sighs. “Different thing.”

  “Were there some bad storms recently?” Zach asks.

  “Yes,” I say. “There’ve been a lot, actually.”

  “Runoff,” Zach nods. “After a lot of rain, debris gets carried into the lake.”

  “That’s right,” Dad says. “Unfortunately, all kinds of pollutants can wind up in our lake, like fertilizer from farms, pesticides, household chemicals, even pet waste. Then there’s too much nitrogen and phosphorus in the water, and if it’s warm, the conditions are ripe for a bloom.”

  “You can’t see it growing,” Zach adds. “Cyanobacteria are microscopic.”

  Dad takes out his phone. “This has to be reported. Probably tested. I need to call the health department.” He walks away, tapping his screen.

  “Even though it seems like this happened overnight, it’s been building for a while,” Zach says. He picks up a pebble and tosses it onto the algae. It sits on top, caught.

  I hear Dad talking on the phone.

  “Leo and I did a project together in science about…” Zach picks up another pebble but doesn’t throw it. He rolls it between his fingers.

  “About algae?”

  “No,” Zach says quickly, letting the pebble drop. “Nothing. Forget it.”

  “Annalise!” Maya’s walking toward us, with Henry and Tyler. “I texted you. Why don’t you check your phone like a normal person?”

  “Oh, sorry…” I don’t even remember hearing it buzz.

  Henry jabs Zach’s leg with his lightsaber. “Hey, kid!”

  “Excuse me.” Maya taps Henry’s shoulder. “We do not attack people like they do in video games. This is real life.”

  Henry rolls his eyes, then turns to Zach. “I looked up ‘dead zone’ last night on my tablet. This bacteria’s, like, the worst, most powerful, evil force in the universe. And it’s invisible!”

  “That’s about right,” Zach says.

  Henry flips on his lightsaber and lifts it into the air. “But I’m gonna destroy it!”

  “What’s your plan?” Maya asks, smiling.

  “I’m gonna shred it, rip it apart, blow it up!” He makes an explosion sound.

  “Me too!” Tyler says, turning on his lightsaber and waving it around. “Hi-ya!”

  “If only,” Zach says.

  My mouth feels dry and chalky. Questions are bouncing around in my head but can’t make their way out.

  Tyler jumps up and down. “Henry! Isn’t the color like the Hulk?”

  “Yeah!” They slap their palms in a high five.

  Dad says, “Okay, thank you. I’ll spread the word.” He hangs up, then claps. “Attention, everyone! Until the health department can get here, we’re to stay out of the water. I’m going to put up a sign. I’m sure they’ll take care of it soon. We’ll get this under control, folks; no need to be alarmed.”

  “This looks so gross,” Maya says. “A total oy vey! Who’d even w
ant to go in the water?” She takes a picture of the lake with her phone.

  Henry and Tyler run around, flipping their lightsabers on and off, yelling that nobody should move and they’re going to get the bacteria before it gets us.

  Maya looks at Zach. “We haven’t exactly met. I’m Maya. Helping my crazy aunt bring back Yiddish, one oy vey at a time.”

  He laughs. “Hi. Zach.”

  “You’re staying at the cabins?”

  He nods. “With my dad. The novelist.” He rolls his eyes.

  “What’s he written?”

  “Ten pages.”

  “Oh. Cool, though, that he’s trying.”

  Zach shrugs.

  “Anyway,” she says, “I’m sure the health department will know what to do. They must have a machine or something to get the algae off. Or, like, dissolve it?”

  “The thing is, if you skim a bloom, you could spread the toxic bacteria, make it worse. It’s not a quick fix.”

  She tilts her head. “Toxic bacteria? Okay, science is my worst subject, but I don’t think you should go around saying that before we know if it’s true. You’ll scare people.”

  Maya’s using her class president voice. Last year, she started the RL Café at school—a place we could hang out on Friday nights. She raised money, planned the once-a-month events, and oversaw a committee. Everyone loved them, even though they grumbled that Maya was bossy about every single detail.

  Zach peels off his contacts and squints at the water. “I was just trying to help.”

  “Yeah, I get that. And thanks. But let’s just see what they say.”

  I can’t listen anymore. I walk away from them, and all the people who are murmuring and talking to Dad. Everything blurs into the background as I go as close as possible to the lake without touching the algae. Seeing the green pierces my heart and makes my head hurt.

  I remember so clearly the first time I heard Renn. I wasn’t startled. It seemed perfectly normal that I could hear a lake. As I got older, I knew it wasn’t exactly normal. I didn’t tell anyone that I still talked to Renn. Would the magic stop if my secret was let out into the world and I tried to explain it to Mom or Dad or Jess, or even Maya? No, this was something to keep private.

  I kneel down, whisper. “Renn.”

  No answer.

  “Renn?” I say a little louder, my heart pounding.

  Nothing.

  “Can you hear me?”

  An awful, deafening, terrifying…

  Silence.

  Terrible words are hovering, hanging by their necks in the air above me.

  They drop down and stick to me, like the algae.

  I hear Annalise call.

  I try, but I am unable to answer.

  Why can’t I hear Renn?

  Has the bloom affected Renn’s voice?

  Zach’s words come rushing back to me: Unable to support life. Dad said we have to stay out of the water. But what about the fish, and the turtles and frogs? How can they stay out of the water?

  Something touches the edge of my shoe and I look down. It’s a key, attached to a flat metal circle. Faded letters are etched in script on the circle: RENN LAKE RENTALS. We don’t have keys like this anymore. It must’ve been dropped into the water a long time ago. The room number on the key is hard to make out; there are just two curved lines left.

  This isn’t a coincidence. Renn sent me the key. Just like the arrowhead. But why?

  The key and the metal piece have specks of green. I probably shouldn’t touch them. I hunt for something to wipe them off with and grab some leaves. I make a sandwich with the key between the leaves and pick it up carefully. I’ll clean the key at the office.

  I repeat what I told Renn yesterday. “Don’t worry,” I whisper. “We’ll do whatever we can to make you better. I promise.”

  No reply, not even a ripple.

  There’s a group of people surrounding Dad, firing questions at him.

  “When will they inspect the water?”

  “What do they think it is?”

  “This is our vacation. What are we supposed to do if we can’t use the lake?”

  “My son was in the lake yesterday! I mean, he showered off, but—”

  “So was my daughter! Should we be worried?”

  Dad’s face is even more crumpled. They’re not letting him answer.

  I walk toward Maya, who’s loading things into her backpack. “I guess we’re not going to hang out here today,” she says. “You guys want to go to the park?”

  Tyler shrugs. “Yeah. Okay.”

  Henry groans. “The park is boring.”

  “Not today.” Maya puts a finger over her lips. “I heard there’s buried treasure.”

  Tyler’s mouth drops open, but Henry narrows his eyes. “Really? Who told you that?”

  “It’s a secret legend. Not that many people know about it.” Maya elbows me, then whispers, “I think I’m getting this whole babysitter thing. You just have to make stuff up.” She shakes her phone. “By the way, this is a convenient device for keeping in touch with your best friend when you’re not with her.”

  I smile.

  She hugs me. “It’ll be fine.”

  “I hope so.”

  She grins at me. “Blimperfly!”

  “Yeah…I know…”

  “Okay, I can’t believe I’m actually going to quote my parents, but here goes: ‘There isn’t a problem that can’t be solved.’ ”

  “Aren’t they usually referring to cavities?”

  Maya holds out her palms and raises them up and down. “Cavities, lake. A problem’s a problem. Am I right?”

  “C’mon, Maya.” Tyler tugs her shorts. “I want to look for the treasure.”

  She picks up her backpack. “Let me know if anything else happens. Like, you know, a gruesome swamp creature rises from the water.”

  “Not funny,” I say.

  She slings her backpack over one shoulder. “Hey, wanna help me put up posters for the Fourth of July Fest? It’ll cheer you up.”

  “Now?”

  “No, whenever my parents get them back from the printer. You know they’re chairing the fest this year?”

  “Yeah, sure…”

  Henry sprints ahead, yelling for Maya to hurry. Tyler barrels after him. Maya waves to me, then races to catch up. “Wait for me, please!”

  Holding the leaf-key sandwich gingerly, I head toward the office. Zach slips out from behind a tree and falls into step with me. He’s wearing his glasses.

  He looks at the ground as we walk. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about all this.”

  “It’s not your fault.” I sigh, glance at him. “Did you give up on the contacts?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Why do you want them? They don’t seem to be working out very well.”

  “I thought when I start high school…forget it. It’s stupid.”

  “I think you look fine in glasses. And they’re cool. For a while, Maya was wearing glasses even though she didn’t need them.”

  He shrugs, points to the leaves. “What’s that?”

  “An old key washed up.” I carefully take off the top leaf and show him.

  “Now, that’s cool. I love stuff like that. My dad has hundreds of old record albums. And matchbooks from restaurants. Sometimes, he takes them out and tells me stories about the places.”

  “Good to know he’s not always inside a cabin.” Zach’s laces are loose again, and one still has that little green splotch. “So are untied shoes your signature look?” I joke.

  “What’s the point of tying them? They’ll just untie.”

  “You could do double knots.”

  “The last thing I need in my life is more knots.” He suddenly jogs toward his cabin. I call his na
me, but he quickly opens the door and disappears inside. What did I say?

  Mom and Vera are in the office, going over the list of guests. Vera says “Hi,” in a low, scratchy voice, then coughs.

  “Good morning,” Mom says. “Vera’s still getting over that bad cold, so can you and Jess do the cabins today?”

  My sister’s rearranging the caps on the rack in rainbow order. She’s wearing a sundress, a sequined headband, and long feather earrings.

  “Sure. But did you hear what’s happening with the lake?”

  Mom nods sadly. “Dad texted me. And I saw it earlier. We’ll see what they say.”

  I go into the office bathroom and wipe off the key with a wet paper towel. When it’s clean and dry, I slide it into my pocket. I’ll show Mom later at home. I motion to Jess. “Ready?”

  She puts the last cap on the rack, then follows me to the supply closet. I hand her a stack of clean towels. “You’re better?” I ask.

  “I suppose I’ll live.”

  “You’ll find another audition.”

  She makes a pouty face. “For a movie being filmed in Wisconsin? Not likely.”

  We drag out the laundry bin and the vacuum. I knock on the first cabin. No answer. I knock again to make sure no one’s there, then open the door with the office key.

  Jess glances around the room. “Man, these people are messy.”

  There are clothes on the floor, towels piled on the bed, and several open boxes of crackers on the dresser, crumbs spilled everywhere. She gathers up the towels, then dumps them into the bin. I start making the bed while she vacuums, pretending she’s dancing with it. I guess she will live.

  We go from cabin to cabin, exchanging towels, changing sheets, straightening up. When we knock on the door to Zach’s cabin, a man with stubble and dark circles under his eyes answers the door. He’s wearing rumpled sweats and a stained T-shirt.

  “Oh, hi,” I say. “Do you want your room cleaned?”

  He waves us away. “Not right now. I’m in the middle of something.”

  “Fresh towels?” Jess holds up a couple.

  He takes them, says thanks, then shuts the door. Zach wasn’t there.