Devil's Lake

1 - Death Beckons

Today, I might do it . . . or maybe I won't. The day is almost too beautiful for dying. It's pleasantly warm, and a gentle breeze glides over the lake, teasing at my hair.

I'm supposed to be home, greeting my grandparents, thanking them for coming. I'm supposed to feel proud. That's what Aunt Lindsay told me when I suggested not buying the cap and gown.

"Why wouldn't you attend your high school graduation?" she said back in April. "Alison, really. Just because you're not my own daughter doesn't mean I won't pay for things. I want to see you walk. I'm sure you're cousins do too."

I didn't protest. I let her buy what she wanted, tried to put on a smile, pretend for her I was happy. She seems the only person oblivious to just how broken I am. Maybe it's intentional. After all, her brother did try to kill me, and she's in denial about that.

But here I am, sitting in the grass behind the beach, my shoulders cocooned under my beach towel, my eyes fixated on the lake my dad nearly drowned me in.

Seven years . . . almost eight. That's how long I should have already been in the ground. That's how long my parents have been there.

I didn't tell Aunt Lindsay where I was going—not really. She saw me heading out, asked me what I was doing.

"Uh . . . car needs gas," I said.

"I just filled it for you yesterday."

"Your car," I said, quickly grabbing the other set of keys. "Thought I'd make it up to you."

She grinned. She always gives that grin when she thinks I'm turning over some new leaf in social behavior.

"Okay, but be back soon," she said. "I've still got—"

But I didn't stay to hear her finish. I was out the door, on the road, phone off. I don't even know why I brought it.

Devil's Lake. She'd probably have some variation of her own panic attack if she knew I was here. She hates this place, is superstitious about this place. Some dark energy lurking around, attaching itself to people, offering some convenient explanation for what her brother did.

The lake is little more than a dark oval basin between two towering wooded bluffs. Cascading down the sides of the bluffs are large, gray boulders. They look little more than tumbling stones down the side of a cliff, but in truth, most are larger than a person.

Everything about this state park makes me feel small like we've all happened upon Brobdingnag. I half expect to see a giant hand reach over the top of the west bluff, but of course, it doesn't happen.

I've been staring at the lake for over an hour, thinking about what my cousin said to me six months ago.

"Why don't you just do it already?" Mia said to me late one night in December. "Walk into that stupid lake. Go back to where you belong."

I haven't been able to get those words out of my head all semester. Mia's always been a little rude, but not that rude.

And now it feels like time's up. That's what graduation is to me. On your mark, get set, go. Time to be independent, to take care of yourself. And I can't. I don't know how. I'm—

I inhale deeply, trying not to stir tears.

Stop pondering. Just do it.

But her words lowered my GPA, sent me to the principal's office, the guidance counselor's office. They know I'm more broken than ever. They know if I don't change, I'll fail at life.

So do it!

I lower my face onto my knees and shiver.

"Don't cry. Don't cry. Not in public," I whisper to myself.