Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Have you ever seen anything out here?”
“No, but one summer when Margret and I were probably eleven or twelve, we spent the entire month we were here trying to catch him. We set up traps and hidden cameras, but we never got any proof that he exists.”
“I bet that was a letdown.”
“Yeah, we had big plans for all the money we thought we’d make off the pictures.” He smiles as I laugh.
“What was the biggest thing you were going to buy with the money?”
“A speedboat, or at least that’s what I wanted. I don’t remember what Margret wanted.” He shrugs.
“Poor kid.” I pout for eleven-year-old him, watching him laugh, then scream when something jumps out of the water on my right side. Like any sane person, I dodge to the left to avoid getting eaten by what I’m sure is the lake monster, and the canoe goes with me. When it rocks under my weight, I fly back to the right and latch onto the edge of the boat right before it rolls to the side.
Cold water smacks me in the face as I fall into the lake, and I hear Blake shout my name right before I go under. With my life vest on, I’m not submerged for more than a second before I pop back up. I knock my head on something hard and start sputtering. Kicking my feet, I look around and scream “Blake!” at the top of my lungs.
“I’m here.” He spins me around to face him in the water, his eyes wandering over my face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine.”
“You’re bleeding.” He touches my hairline, and I do the same and look at my fingers, tinged with pink water. “It’s not a big cut, just a scrape. You’re okay.”
“Do you think the monster can smell blood?” I latch onto him and attempt to look at the water below us, which is not clear enough to see through.
“There’s no monster, Everly.”
“You’re the one who told me about the monster,” I cry. “You can’t tell me it’s not real now just because I’m freaking out.” I spin around when something bumps into my back.
“It’s just the lunch bag. It’s okay. You’re okay. Take a deep breath.”
“Okay,” I pant, then drag in a lungful of air, then another.
“Now, I need you to stay calm while I see if I can get the canoe empty so we can get it back to shore,” he tells me, sounding way too damn calm.
“Right, sure. I can do that,” I agree, and he lets me go. Not willing to be too far from him, I go with him, then help him turn the canoe back to upright in the water, which leaves the bottom half of the boat filled.
He looks around, then meets my gaze. “We gotta empty some of this or it’s going to sink under our weight.”
“How are we going to do . . . ?”
Before I can finish asking how he plans on making that happen, he grabs hold of the edge and starts to push and pull it with enough force that the water flies up and over the edge. I join in, pushing and pulling, and my arms start to ache.
“That should be enough.” He stops and turns to me. “Put your foot in my hand, and then I want you to reach for the opposite edge of the boat and pull yourself in.”
I look at his hands, then the edge of the boat that’s now floating a few inches above my head. “How about I give you a boost?”
“Trust me.”
“Fine,” I mutter. Then I put my bare foot in his hand, the flip-flops I was wearing now floating somewhere or on the bottom of the lake. “Ready?” I ask as I grab hold of his shoulders.
“You’ve got this.”
“I’m glad you think so,” I grumble before I dive for the opposite edge of the canoe, catching it with the tips of my fingers. With sheer will, I somehow manage to get a good grip. Then, with Blake’s help, I fall into the bottom of the boat. I turn to help him, but he’s no longer where I left him. “Blake?” I yell and then spin around when he yells back to me.
“Just getting the paddles.” He swims back toward me with both the wooden paddles in his hands. “We wouldn’t get very far without these.”
“Good thinking.” I shiver, taking them from him and dropping them into the bottom of the boat.
“Watch out, baby. I’m coming in,” he says right before he pops up over the side of the canoe like some kind of ninja, and I grab hold of each side of the boat, positive we’re going to end up in the water again. “Do you still want to have lunch?” he asks me, using the end of one of the paddles to grab the soft-sided cooler and pull it up out of the water.