The Light in the Lake

by Sarah R. Baughman

  Tai’s already on board, buckling a life jacket. Mr. Dale’s untying the rope that tethers the boat to the dock. As I walk up, he looks at me with worried eyes.

  “You going to be okay, Addie?” he asks.

  I clear my throat. “I’m good.” I put my life jacket on and gesture at the boat wheel, trying to hold on to that warm feeling. “I actually know how to drive a boat. I learned two years ago.”

  “I thought so,” Mr. Dale says. “I was pretty sure I’d seen you at the wheel when you guys went fishing last summer. Do you know how to use Navionics?”

  “Navi—what?” I’ve never heard of that.

  “I’ll show you,” he says, and points to the GPS on the boat. “Tai, you might also find this interesting. Basically, Navionics is an app that provides charts of lakes. You can preprogram your locations and find them using your boat’s GPS the way you’d find an address.” Mr. Dale hits a few buttons and shows us a list of locations around the lake that Dr. Li has picked for us to sample.

  Then he starts the engine and the familiar smell of sharp, sweet gasoline mixed with churning water fills my nose. My heart lifts with the boat as we curve away from the dock. The hull bounces lightly against the waves and I keep my feet steady. I always get the same feeling on our boat, like I’m part of the lake and the lake is part of me.

  The fear that shook my bones has slipped away. I can almost imagine that Amos is standing right behind me, leaning over my shoulder. Mama and Dad should come out here again, I think. Maybe it would help.

  “Addie,” Mr. Dale says as he slows the boat to idle, “would you like to finish driving us to our first location?”

  “Really?” I ask. Mr. Dale smiles and moves aside, gesturing toward the wheel. I step into place and I don’t feel even a little nervous as I guide the boat toward the spot on the GPS. I feel like I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to do. Tai watches with wide eyes.

  “All right,” Mr. Dale says. “Cut the engine and let’s drop anchor. I want to show you and Tai how to collect a sample here.”

  I haul the heavy anchor and watch as it tumbles through the water, first through the clear part I can see, and then into the dark deep I can only imagine, where it takes hold. Mr. Dale lifts three clear plastic bottles out of the cooler and hands one to each of us.

  “So this is called a sample bottle,” he says. “Today’s are already labeled, but you’ll have to do some labeling later on. First, you want to rinse it three times in the water.” He demonstrates by holding the bottle by its bottom, lowering it into the water, then flipping it underwater so it fills. Then he tips it out and repeats the process. “Just in case there’s any dirt or dust in the bottle, rinsing helps clear it out.”

  I dip my bottle down and shiver as my hand hits the cold water. But the lake feels gentle, holding my fingers as I hold the bottle.

  “After you’ve rinsed, then you need to slowly submerge the bottle again,” Mr. Dale says. “Be really careful not to touch the inside of the cap, because you could accidentally contaminate it.” Once he’s filled his bottle, he pours the top inch or two of water back into the lake and tightly twists a cap on. Finally, he puts the bottle into its own plastic bag and onto an ice pack in the cooler.

  “Why do we have to take so many different samples?” I ask. “Wouldn’t the water be the same all over the lake?”

  “Not exactly,” Mr. Dale says. “Different tributaries—smaller streams and rivers—flow into Maple Lake, and testing the water at different points can help us figure out where runoff from different sources might be contributing to pollution. Then we can look at what’s happening higher up in the headwaters to see what people are doing that could cause trouble.”

  After Tai practices taking his water sample, Mr. Dale pulls up the anchor.

  “Wait, that’s it?” Tai asks. “We’re done?”

  “Yup,” Mr. Dale says. “All set.”

  “No way,” Tai says. “I totally want to see more of this lake. It’s pretty cool, actually.”

  “Wait a second,” I say, peering at him through squinted eyes. “Are you saying we’re having fun?”

  Tai smiles and shrugs, surrendering. “Possibly.”

  “I appreciate your interest, Tai,” Mr. Dale says. “I’ll take you guys for a little spin before we head back.” He turns the boat farther north in the lake, away from the biological station.

  Tai cranes his neck up to look at Bevel Mountain’s sharp granite face, plunging straight down into the water, where waves kiss its edge.

  “So there’s no beach on this side of the lake?” he asks. “Just mountain, all the way down?”

  “The glacier that came through here cut through mountains too,” I explain. “Then it melted. But that’s what makes Maple Lake so cool. Unless you’re in a boat, you can’t really visit this whole side of it, because of the mountain. My brother—” I stop. Shoot. I don’t really want to talk about Amos yet. But I’ve already said it.

  “Your brother what?” Tai asks.

  “My brother liked to row to that side and anchor the boat. Then he used to swing off the tree branches into the water, where it wasn’t rocky anyway.” I try to stay calm, not let anything into my voice. My mind races, trying to think of something else to say. But Tai’s staring hard at me.

  “Used to,” he says. “He doesn’t anymore?”

  Mr. Dale glances at me as he turns the boat. I can tell that if he had Post-its, he’d be slipping me another one. Deep breaths.

  “What? Oh—” I bite my lip. Please don’t cry, I tell myself. “My brother actually died.” The words fly out like little birds and hover in the air. They have their own wings now, and even though part of me can’t believe I set them free, I couldn’t take them back now even if I wanted to.

  “Whoa,” Tai says. “Whoa, I’m—how did that happen?”

  I just shake my head. Mr. Dale turns quickly to look at me again as he lets up on the throttle; we’re getting closer to the dock now. I can tell him if you want, his eyes seem to say. But if anyone should explain about Amos, it’s me. I just don’t want to.

  “Okay,” Tai says softly. “Okay, I—I’m really sorry.”

  I nod. I don’t feel like I have to say anything, which is nice. Tai’s a really easy person to just be with. Still, I feel the weight of glaciers pressing on my heart. I blink back tears.

  Mr. Dale docks the boat quickly, and I hop off to loop the rope around the piling. “Nice work, Addie,” he says, his voice ragged. “You certainly know your way around boats.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “I’ve got to head back to the lab,” Mr. Dale says. “You two are welcome to a lunch break.”

  Tai and I carry the cooler and life jackets inside and grab our lunches from the fridge. Then we head back out toward the same big rock and sit down, spreading napkins on our laps.

  “I gotta say, my friends in New York would not know what to do with this place,” Tai says, gesturing at the lake. Then he looks down at the sand, traces loops in it with his finger. “You probably saw them asking if it was boring here, when I showed you those pictures.”

  “I know why they’d ask,” I say quietly. “But I don’t think it’s boring.”

  “Me neither,” Tai says quickly. He’s blushing. “But I think they just mean—look around. There’s nothing here. I mean, besides a lot of water. Mountains. Trees. That’s basically it. You can stare at one spot forever and it doesn’t change.”

  “If you don’t know what you’re looking at,” I say.

  I look out at the lake, the waves moving and moving. Sunlight dances on the water, sparkles colliding. A loon floating about twenty-five yards out suddenly plunges into the water, tail straight up, then comes back, a silver smelt thrashing in its beak. I point fast, and Tai raises his head just in time to see the loon fly away, beads of water sailing from its wings.

  “That’s not nothing,” I say.

  “True.” Tai crunches an apple. “I think if my friends actually came h
ere, they’d be impressed. It’s different, but it’s kinda cool. It’s super calm. You can like, think.”

  Then this idea just comes up out of nowhere, bubbling into my brain like a fish wriggling up through the deep. “Hey,” I ask, “have you ever gone fishing before?”

  “Not really,” Tai says. “Maybe once or twice on vacation.”

  “Do you want to learn a little more about it?” I ask. “There’s this fishing contest we have here every June. The Maple Derby. We should totally enter.”

  Tai laughs. “Not sure you’d want me on your team,” he says. “The words fishing and competition don’t go together so well for me.”

  But I still feel those bubbles popping up and flying around inside, and I just know that I’m signing us up. I rub my hands together and look at Tai. “That’s not an actual no, though, is it?”

  He smiles. “Guess not.”

  “Besides,” I continue, “you’ve fished before.”

  “We’re talking rarely,” Tai says. “But yeah. At least, I like being on the water. My mom’s parents were from this city in China, way up near the border with North Korea. When we go back to visit, she sometimes takes us there, because she used to visit all the time when she was a kid. We go on day trips to this really beautiful lake called Lake Tianchi.”

  “Really?” I ask.

  “It reminds me of Maple Lake because of the mountains.” Tai stands up, brushes his hands off on his knees, and hops over to the soccer ball he left in the sand. He starts working on a few foot patterns, then kicks the ball my way. “They look kind of different than here, but yeah, there are mountains all around Lake Tianchi too. And it’s super cold. There’s actually ice on the lake until, like, mid-June. There might be ice on it now.”

  “Maybe it was made by a glacier too,” I say. I just manage to stop the ball, then kick it back.

  “Yeah, maybe,” Tai says. “I’ll have to check with my mom. She’d know for sure.” He holds the ball still and picks up some small stones, then tosses them into the lake one by one. “There is one difference, though.”

  “You mean like how they’re on opposite sides of the world?” I wish I could go to Lake Tianchi and see it for myself.

  “That’s obviously true,” Tai says. “But that’s not what I meant. I was talking about the monster.”

  “The what?” I feel the back of my neck prickle, like a cold wind’s blowing against it. There’s no wind, though.

  “Yeah,” Tai says. “Everybody thinks there’s this lake monster in there. Of course every year there are these sightings of it. It could be legit. I mean, a lot of people have said that they feel something bump their boat, or they see some strange-looking shape in the water from shore.”

  “Maybe your mom should look into that,” I say. My voice wobbles. I hope Tai doesn’t notice.

  Tai snorts. “Yeah right,” he says. “She doesn’t buy it. If Lake Tianchi had pollution issues, though… Well, she’d be right on that.”

  Amos’s notebook presses into one of my pockets, the tooth another. “What about you?” I ask. “Do you think there could be a monster in that lake?”

  Tai throws another stone, then looks at me. A smile tugs one corner of his mouth up. “I’m open. Never say never, right?”

  I guess not, I think. But I don’t want to tell Tai about the creature yet.

  My phone buzzes; it’s an up-close photo of Rascal, her tongue stuck partway out and curled toward her nose. This cutie says hi, writes Liza. I smile, but my thumb freezes over the screen.

  My mind is stuck on a lake on the other side of the world and the silvery shape that might move through it.

  And I don’t text Liza back.

  Chapter 11

  I can’t stop thinking about Lake Tianchi. I know I shouldn’t use too much data, but I figure I can look it up really quickly on my phone while Mama and Dad get dinner ready.

  A sparkling blue lake fills the screen, ringed by gray mountains. I read that it’s nearly seven hundred feet deep, over twice as deep as Maple Lake.

  And in English, it’s called Heaven Lake.

  I bite my lower lip, scrolling as fast as I can. There’s not quite as much information on the Lake Tianchi monster as I want to find. Some people say there might even be more than one, that they swim together, rippling across the water.

  “Addie!” I hear Mama call. I hit the home button on my phone and shove it under my pillow.

  “Coming!” I say. I open the notebook to a fresh page and record as much as I can remember about the Lake Tianchi monster. I’ll have to go back later when I have an Internet connection and add more notes.

  “Addie, food’s hot!” Mama calls again. I rush out my door and down the hall to dinner.

  “So how’d things go with Rascal?” Mama asks, setting bowls of pasta and sauce on the table. Dad brings in a pitcher of water and we all sit down. From outside, a breeze pushes through the window screen and the curtains flutter.

  “Good,” I say. “She’s really cute. Liza and I fed her and brushed her again. She’s getting used to the halter.”

  “You’ve got a way with animals, Ad,” Dad says. “Guess you got it from me.” He winks in my direction. “I used to love raising those calves.”

  “And Liza?” Mama asks. “How was she doing?”

  “Fine.” I remember laughing together when Rascal tossed her head and knocked a brush out of my hand. It felt good to laugh with Liza, even though we didn’t say a whole lot otherwise.

  But Rascal and Liza were such tiny parts of my day, and I’m wondering if Mama’s going to ask about the bigger part.

  Dad does it for her.

  “Now, what did you say they found in the lake, again?” he asks.

  “Harmful algal blooms,” I explain. “They’re apparently really bad.”

  Mama stops chewing. “What?” she asks.

  “Harmful algal blooms,” I repeat. “They’re these plants, kind of, but—”

  “I know what they are.” Mama shakes her head. She looks almost nervous. “It doesn’t make sense. That lake’s always been so clean. Are they sure about the blooms? Where did they find them, anyway?”

  I didn’t know Mama even knew what harmful algal blooms were. She told us so much about how Maple Lake came to be a lake, and about the trees and plants that grow around it and the fish that swim in it, but she never told us about those. It’s weird to hear her talking about the same kind of science I’ve been studying.

  “They were by the boat launch at the biological station,” I say. “But there are other places that we’re supposed to check too. The lake just looks clean. Something’s going on.”

  “What do you think it is?” Dad asks.

  “Not sure.” I shrug. “Something’s got to be coming into the lake from somewhere, though.”

  Mama looks up from her plate, and her look suddenly changes. Her eyes have this pretty shine to them, like sparklers on a dark night. “You know what can sometimes happen?” she says, then keeps going before we can respond. “Construction projects can create a lot of runoff. The Walmart went up two years ago, and that new string of condos on the shore—couldn’t that be something?”

  I’m frozen stock-still, just listening to Mama say more about my work at the biological station than she’s said to me in weeks. I’m afraid if I move, she’ll stop. She nods to herself.

  “Construction,” she says. “Something to look into for sure.”

  All her brightness and talking fills me with something I barely knew I was missing anymore. “Mama, do you think—” I start. Then I close my mouth fast. There’s no way this is going to work.

  But Mama’s listening.

  I get brave. “Do you think you—maybe want to walk the trail?”

  Mama sighs. “The Mount Mann trail,” she says. She knows that’s the one I mean. It’s the one she always walked with Amos, the same way she always skipped stones with me.

  At least she’s not angry. She’s something else—sad. Maybe just tired. Th
e wrinkles around the corners of her eyes look so deep, like ruts in a road.

  “We don’t have to go all the way up,” I say. If I could just get her on the trail, where she always used to go, maybe—just maybe—she’d start coming back. The Mama Before. “Just to the lookout. That would be enough.” I’m talking too fast, trying to get all the words out before she can say no. But I can feel the silence coming back, the sparklers fizzing away to darkness.

  Dad clears his throat. “Be good for you maybe, Laura,” he says.

  Mama’s shaking her head. “I don’t think so.” But then she touches one finger to my wrist. I freeze, hoping she’ll leave it there. For a moment she does; then it slips away. “Maybe later.”

  “It’s okay,” I say. Too fast again, but the words keep tumbling, trying to cover up the ones I shouldn’t have said. “No problem—I’m really busy anyway. Mr. Dale wants us to keep researching all this stuff about the lake. I’ll go to the library so I can use one of their desktops. I think they’re only open another hour, though, so I’d better head over. You don’t have to drive me, Dad—I’ll bike.”

  Dad opens his mouth, but I push my chair back and take my plate to the sink before he can say anything. I squeeze the tooth for good luck.

  “Take your phone!” Dad calls as I open the door.

  Once I’m out, I just concentrate on the pedals of the bike, my feet pushing up and down, up and down. I listen to my breath. I push my front tire into one of the ruts on our dirt driveway, wobble back and forth a little. Mama’s “Maybe later” loops in my mind. I see her eyes, glistening and empty. Forget the trail, I tell myself, but even when I close my eyes for a second, the bike moving underneath me, all I see is the hard-packed ground that twists up, up to the lookout where Maple Lake spreads out underneath.

  Liza’s face swims into my brain too, her eyes hopeful as she hands me her folder of drawings. I see her reaching for my hand, singing “Happy Birthday” with the rest of the family around the table at Aunt Mary and Uncle Mark’s.

  But those pictures of everybody I know best make me feel suddenly closed in, hot, like I’m shut in a tiny box with no way out. I just want to go back to the biological station, where I can dive into my questions and my research with Tai, who never knew Amos. Who met me before he knew that I’m supposed to be part of someone else.