My phone chimes again while my head is halfway inside my car's trunk. I finish shoving the tenting gear in the far back before pulling out my phone and leaning my weight against the bumper.

Braydon: Great evening for fireworks. You got plans?

I haven't heard from Braydon in two weeks. I'm surprised he's reaching out after what happened.

I hesitate, giddy with both anxiety and joy. My mind seems to want to squash the joy.

I'll ruin this.

Still, I start to type a reply when Brianna calls me from the front porch.

"Alison," she says. "The cooler is really a two-person job. Care to help me lift it?"

I glance up from my phone, momentarily glaring at Mia and her friend, Sophie, who sit on the porch swing sipping iced tea. Of course, she wouldn't think of asking Mia. It was hard enough convincing her to go to Devil's Lake with us, plus there's the risk of her ratting us out to her mom. Asking her to lift a finger could put a permanent hold on the entire trip. Still, you'd think—

"I can—" Sophie starts.

But, then Mia says, "Sophie, don't. Alison needs to learn some independence. If we do too much for her, she won't grow. After all, this isn't a vacation. It's therapy."

"But— " Sophie mumbles.

"You can handle it, Alison. Can't you?"

"Uh. Yeah, sure."

I tuck my phone in my purse and head back into the house.

"Who are you texting, anyway?" Brianna says as we head into the kitchen. "I thought you had no one else to invite."

If I tell her about Braydon, she'll never forgive me for going on and on about my lack of friends. Brianna's agreed to go on this camping trip because she's turned me into her project. Mia's going because Brianna doesn't trust Mia enough to keep her mouth shut while we're gone.

I shrug. "No one really," I say. "Just . . . no one."

Brianna lifts her end of the cooler and gives me a sympathetic smile.

"Well, we'll get you meeting some real people. Did you buy the Valerian herb Sophie recommended?"

I lift my end of the cooler a little shakily.

"I don't really know how that'll react with my medication," I say. "Ju—just don't push too much on me, okay?"

"Hey, don't do that. You know, you're going to have to pull your weight on this too, take some real chances. We're not magicians. This whole thing is useless if all you're going to be is a wallflower."

I swallow. "Right."

Brianna smiles just as we start to move forward with the cooler.

Just then, the front door opens, and my aunt bursts into the room with an air of mild irritation as she unbuttons her organic cotton vest.

"My God, you girls are still here? I thought you'd be riding those roller coasters by now."

She pulls off the work formal garment, eying Mia through the open doorway. No doubt she thinks Mia is to blame for our late start. Next, she'll suspect me because she knows Mount Olympus has both a dry and wet park. And, yeah, we didn't tell her the truth. How could we?

"Check-in isn't until three, Mom," Brianna says. "What are you doing home so early?"

Lindsay smiles.

"Eh, I'm guilty, I know," she says. "Took part of the day off. Thought I'd take advantage of a house devoid of teenagers. But lo, my girls think you can't have fun in the Dells before check-in."

"Hi, Ms. Schlender," Sophie says meekly from the doorway.

"Oh Hi, Sophie, dear."

"Mom, we haven't," Brianna starts. "We haven't quite decided on what we're going to do yet. We just got the one reservation, and . . ." She doesn't finish her thought.

Lindsay then turns her gaze to me.

"Oh," she says. "Oh, Alison, you'll do fine." I knew she'd blame me next. "The Dells isn't all water parks, you know. There are magic shows, tours, horseback riding—"

"Yeah, Alison," Mia says loudly from the porch swing. "It's not like we're going to Devil's Lake."

Brianna is suddenly dragging the cooler—and me—out the doorway.

"Mia!" she says in hushed tones to her sister.

But then Lindsay is saying, "Oh, God. Where is my head today? Here. Let me help you with that."

A half-hour later, the four of us are leaving in my little blue Toyota Corolla, its trunk stuffed to its limit with camping gear and four large duffel bags. As we pull out of our neighborhood, Brianna lets out a heavy breath.

"My God," she says. "I thought Mom was going to figure us out for sure. Mia, what were you thinking? She'd never have let us leave if she found out."

"We're not going to the Dells?" Sophie says.

Mia laughs.

"No, Alison has this idea that if she camps out at Devil's Lake all her inner demons will be exorcised."

"That's not funny, Mia," Brianna says. "And it wasn't—"

"Oh, what's the problem?" Mia says. "I was just poking fun at how much Mom still babies her. No harm came of it. We're still all going on this stupid trip, aren't we?"

Upon arriving, the vastness of the State Park makes my heart sink. A canopy of trees cast shadows over the car as we weave around Park Rd. and head to the North Shore Visitor's Center to check in. I realize now my chances of bumping into Philip are slim to none.

We park in the lot designated for campers and head into the main brown building a full two hours before regular check-in. The back wall contains a green large map of the three campgrounds: Quartzite, Northern Lights, and Ice Age. The nearest one is Quartzite and is walking distance from the lake.

The Park Ranger, a woman with thick frizzy graying hair, assures us that our particular site is vacant.

"That's not usual for a holiday weekend," she says. "But those people were in such a rush to leave, you'd think they had seen a ghost."

She laughs, but my cousins and I give her only blank stares, and she stops abruptly. I suppose we're all thinking the same thing. Lindsay would not be happy with us camping at a haunted site.

Then Mia says, taking the receipt from the middle-aged woman's hand, "Hmph. Maybe they had."

Brianna rips the receipt out of Mia's clutches.

"Of course, they didn't," she snaps as she stuffs the receipt into her purse. "There's no such thing as ghosts."

We drive up the weaving road to the Quartzite campground. The campground comes into view as we reach the crest of the hill and start a slight descent.

The entire campground is large, open and spacious, like a golf course surrounded by forest. A few RVs and pop-up trailers are scattered throughout, some decorated with American flags and 4th of July banners.

We pull into site 43 and start setting up camp. The site backs up to the woods and is a short hike from the restrooms. And while Mia sits at the picnic table with her phone, I help Sophie and Brianna pull out the supplies.

"Not bad for a last minute reservation, is it?" Brianna says as we haul out the canvas tent.

"Eh," Mia says. "It's okay. I still think Mount Olympus would have been more fun."

Brianna groans.

"Mia, would you drop the attitude already? We get it. You didn't want to come. Can't you just move on and make the most of this trip?"

And then Mia gets up from the picnic table.

"Fine!" she says and heads to the back of my car. She pulls out one of the small bags and then heads our way, bag on shoulder.

"So, I'm heading down to the beach now. Anyone wanting to join me is welcomed."

I stare at her, suddenly frozen in fear. Right. A trip to Devil's Lake would mean . . . swimming.

"Mia," Brianna says. "We're still setting up camp. We can -"

"Why wait?" her younger sister says. "We can set up camp later. Heck, maybe we can find some cute guys and have them do the work for us."

Brianna lets out a heavy sigh."You're terrible, Mia."

Mia giggles. "I know."

"Fine, whatever," Brianna says, and then she looks toward Sophie in me. "That okay with you two?"

I'm too frozen with fear to answer. Sophie says, "Sure, I'm down with that."

And then the girls are getting up, gathering their thing and walking toward the road.

Somehow, I'm finally able to squeak out, "I'll stay here."

The girls stop and look at me, each with her own expression of judgment in her eye. Mia's got an 'I'm not surprised but seriously?' look on her face. Sophie looks as if it's finally dawning on her why my cousins are always so annoyed with me. Brianna alone takes me aside.

"Alison, this—"

"I just can't go down there," I say, knowing I'm visibly shivering. I hope is sways her even though it's not intentional. "Not yet. Maybe later. After I've -"

"It's not going to get easier," she says.

"It will," I snap, tears almost bursting from my sockets. "It has to. I just - I need to take baby steps, okay?" And I need to find Philip.

As the first tears start their way down my cheeks, she says, "I don't know how I feel about just leaving you by yourself."

I force a laugh. God, I sound insane!

"What's going to happen?" I say. "Someone going to snatch me away so that no one ever hears from me again? I'm 18, not 8."

She hesitates.

"Fine," she finally says. "Stay this time, but make sure it doesn't become a pattern."

Okay, Mom, I want to say, but instead, just say, "Fine. I can do that."

Brianna nods, and then the girls head off together, but not without Brianna turning around and saying loudly, "And Alison, there was no reason to cry about it. You got your way."

Emotions bubble deep within me as they walk out of sight, and then I'm racing to the nearby woods and secluding myself in the green canopy of trees and underbrush. When I feel assured no one can see me, I lean my hand against a tree for support and let out a few audible whimpers.

God! What was I thinking? Did I really think coming here would be easy? My cousins would willingly do their own thing while I happily went on my hunt for Philip? I won't find him. Even if I do, it's foolish to think he has powers.

And yet my mind keeps clinging to the idea of him, mentally begging him just to show up.

When I'm through with the crazy self-talk, I head to the restrooms to clean up my face and reapply makeup. Then I busy my mind with the task of pitching the tent. How hard can it be, right?

The first fifteen minutes I spend looking for instructions. When I can't find them, I try my phone, but the signal is too weak for the internet to move at any more than a snail's pace. Finally, I just wing it.

It's as I'm hammering the first stake into the ground that I'm startled by a familiar voice.

"Need a hand?" he says.

I startle, hit my thumb with the hammer and fall backward onto my elbows.

The rays of the sun slightly obscure my vision as he walks into view, but there he is, looking exactly the way I remember him. Philip Dussault stands above me, the sunlight glowing around his dark hair and laughter on his lips.

He found me.