The Lake House

by Sarah Beth Durst

Genres: Young Adult; YA Horror

Synopsis

Yellowjackets meets One of Us Is Lying in this masterful survival thriller from award-winning author Sarah Beth Durst.

"Formidably scary, Durst's survival/horror story is the stuff of late-night campfire legends. With three deftly drawn, powerful girls at the center, reading felt like I had found a crew of clever, loyal best friends, even as I stayed up long into the night, trembling with dread." —E. Lockhart, #1 New York Times bestselling author of We Were Liars

Claire’s grown up triple-checking locks. Counting her steps. Second-guessing every decision. It’s just how she’s wired—her worst-case scenarios never actually come true.

Until she arrives at an off-the-grid summer camp to find a blackened, burned husk instead of a lodge—and no survivors, except her and two other late arrivals: Reyva and Mariana.

When the three girls find a dead body in the woods, they realize none of this is an accident. Someone, something, is hunting them. Something that hides in the shadows.

Something that refuses to let them leave.

Release date: April 25, 2023

Publisher: HarperCollins

Print pages: 368

Sample

One

Claire excelled at three things: ballet, homework, and identifying all the ways there were to die in any given situation. Like now, on this boat. She couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it would be to be knocked off the side, hit your head as you fell, and drown.

Less likely: being guillotined by a fishing line.

Also unlikely but still possible: being pierced by shrapnel if the engine exploded.

She fidgeted with her life jacket, touching the three buckles in rapid succession, until she felt reassured they were secure.

I hate boats, she decided.

She also hated airplanes, particularly the minuscule prop planes that felt as if they’d been assembled by a five-year-old with unfettered access to glue. That had been the other option for the trip to the Lake House—itty-bitty prop plane. There were no roads.

“Not a fan of boats?” Reyva asked.

The driver started the engine.

“They’re loud,” Claire said, shouting to be heard. “Like a lawn mower mated with a wood chipper and had a hideous, gargling child.”

Reyva’s lips twitched as if she were considering smiling but didn’t want to commit. Claire wasn’t certain she’d seen her smile once yet. It didn’t seem to be Reyva’s thing.

As they shot across the lake, the boat slapped the water again and again. Each time, Claire bounced off her seat by a half inch. She wrapped one hand around the flimsy metal rail, trying not to make it obvious that she was holding on for dear life, especially in front of the two girls she’d just met and the boy driving the boat.

It’ll be fun, her parents had said, much too cheerfully. Plus, think of how much it’ll help your college applications! You’ll learn new skills, have new experiences, and make new friends! Claire glanced at the other two girls. Friends. She never knew what to say to turn a person she’d just met into one of those, but since the boy driving the boat, Jack, seemed intent on increasing their speed beyond the limits of the speedometer, it wasn’t first on her list to worry about.

Across the boat, not holding on at all, the other girl—her name was Mariana, Claire remembered—took a selfie as her hair blew in the wind. Lowering her phone, she shouted what sounded like, “Porpoise!”

“Can’t be!” Claire shouted back. “There aren’t any freshwater dolphins or toothed whales in Maine. Only Asia and South America.” She winced at herself. Why did she always sound like she’d swallowed a textbook?

Mariana shouted louder. “Not porpoise! Porpoising! The way the boat is bouncing

. It means the trim is set incorrectly. I can fix it.” She tucked her phone into her back pocket as she stood up.

Claire squeezed the rail tighter.

“Sit down, please!” Jack called.

“You have to adjust the trim! Trim up!” Mariana called back to him, but she, to Claire’s relief, sat down.

Jack adjusted the throttle, the engine changed pitch, and the boat’s bouncing subsided. It sped more smoothly over the lake, and Claire relaxed her grip a little. “Hey, thanks!” he called to Mariana.

She flashed him a brilliant smile and tossed her hair, and Claire saw his eyes widen and cheeks tint pink. Good, she thought. He’ll be staring at her now. One less person to notice how terrified she was.

“More useful than she looks,” Reyva commented.

Claire wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she nodded vaguely. She’d only known the two other girls for about an hour—due to the weather, they were all arriving a day late. She was glad it had worked out that way. It was better than arriving late alone. She couldn’t be “the new girl,” singled out, if there were three of them. Reyva or Mariana could take the spotlight, while she blended into the wallpaper. It was the best possible outcome, really—preferable to nearly any other Claire could currently imagine.

“Have you ever been to the Lake House?” Claire asked Reyva.

“Nope. My dad said it’s been closed for years. He was so excited it reopened that he was practically giddy. He said it had always been his ‘dearest wish’ that I attend the beloved retreat where he forged so many precious memories and made lifelong friends—so dear that he has literally never talked about it once.”

“Both my parents went,” Claire offered. “They said it was a formative experience.”

Reyva laughed. “My dad tossed in that phrase a few times too. I told him I’m already formed.”

“You didn’t want to come?”

Reyva shrugged. “You?”

She’d told her parents of course she’d go. If they thought this was best, then yes, sign her up. There was nothing else to say since it was clear they’d already decided. Obviously, she would have rather stayed home for the summer, no matter how great it would look on college applications. She hadn’t even arrived, and she was already out of her comfort zone. Surreptitiously, Claire touched the buckles on her life jacket again and thought longingly of her bedroom with all her books, and a door that closed everyone out. “I’m not sure ‘want’ is the right word. But it’ll be great.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Both?”

“Fair enough.”

Reyva fell silent.

Claire tried to enjoy the boat ride. Spray spat in her face, and it was refreshing, if she didn’t think about how much bacteria could be in each drop. She made herself take a deep breath. The lake smelled like a fresh-mowed lawn, undercut with the aroma of dead fish.

The trip lasted another forty-five minutes, which officially made this the largest lake that Claire had ever been on. Finally, the boat slowed, angling itself to drift up against a dock, knocking into it. Jack hopped off, secured the lines, and waved at them all to hurry up. He held out his hand to help Mariana, but she jumped from the boat as if she hadn’t noticed.

Claire waited until the other two had disembarked before she joined them, carrying her backpack, which was crammed so full that she felt unbalanced. She wouldn’t have minded if Jack had offered his hand to help her, but he didn’t. He was busy hauling Mariana’s bags onto the dock. Reyva had a similar-sized backpack, but Mariana had a backpack plus two suitcases large enough to smuggle a couple of kindergartners inside them.

With another sunny smile at Jack, Mariana said, “I packed light.”

“You and I have different definitions of that word,” Reyva said.

“I only brought outfits with green in them, in honor of the woodland setting.” Mariana waved her painted nails at the shore.

To Claire, Reyva said, “I can’t tell if she’s serious.”

Following Mariana’s wave, Claire confronted the forest for the first time. It was thick, populated mostly by white pine, spruce, hemlock, and sugar maples. The bark of the occasional white birch tree provided the only break in the lush, dark green. She couldn’t see any hint of a house.

Jack pointed to the end of the dock, where a trail of packed dirt led in between the trees and bushes. “Follow that for a half mile, and it’ll lead you right to the Lake House. The program director, Ms. Williams, will be there to greet you and introduce you to everyone.”

As Jack untied the line, Mariana asked, “You’re . . . not coming with us?”

“Lake House policy. Drop-off only.” He hopped back onto the boat and revved the engine. “Stick to the path, and you’ll be fine.” To Claire, he said, “You won’t need a life jacket.” He held out his hand.

Feeling herself blush, Claire put down her backpack and unclipped her life jacket. She handed it back to the driver. Reyva and Mariana had already tossed theirs onto the boat. She hadn’t wanted to take hers off until she was firmly on land, and technically the dock wasn’t land. It was a wooden bridge to nowhere, supported by narrow poles that were continually weakened by partial submersion in water.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“Enjoy your summer,” he said.

“Aw, you won’t be stopping by? Even to say hi?” Mariana asked.

“Um . . . uh . . . I . . . that is, I don’t . . .” A few of his words were lost as he pushed off from the dock and waved. “I’ll let your parents know you made it safely. See you in August!”

He motored away from the shore.

“I think you scared him off,” Reyva said.

Mariana shrugged. “Boys are fun to scare.”

Reyva nodded. “It’s not not true.”

Claire stared after the girls. She wished she had that kind of confidence. Or any kind. She was fairly sure she hadn’t said anything to Jack except her name and “Sorry.” Oh well. He wasn’t the one she’d be spending the summer with—these girls were.

All of them faced the woods.

“You know, if this were a movie, the soundtrack would shift here,” Mariana said. “Something orchestral, like John Williams. I’m thinking the Jurassic Park entrance theme, as we begin our grand adventure.”

“Can’t be that grand,” Reyva said. “It’s summer camp.”

“‘An enrichment retreat,’” Mariana corrected.

“Either way, no theme song.”

But Mariana started humming the Jurassic Park theme anyway. As she hit the climax, she marched off the dock with her suitcases and backpack, and Claire hurried after her. She caught up with her at the start of the trail. Mariana had stopped and was staring at the trees with awe on her face. “I’ve been to Muir Woods and seen sequoias and redwoods, but there’s something about this . . .”

“It’s the quantity of trees,” Claire said. “In national parks like Muir, every tree is studied and treasured, visited reverently. But here, there’s miles and miles of forest, and I don’t think anyone’s ever taken the time to pay attention to each individual tree. They’re nameless. Indistinguishable. It makes it all feel . . . overwhelmingly endless.” According to her parents, this was an old-growth forest, which meant it had never been logged. Some of these trees, they said, were hundreds of years old. It had been an oddly intense conversation. Before this summer, she’d had no idea her parents had such strong feelings about the woods of Maine. They’d waxed poetic about it for at least an hour, before launching into their much-more-in-character spiel in which she was made to promise that she would never leave the trails or the grounds.

“So what you mean is, you can’t see the trees for the forest?” Mariana asked, laughing. “Okay, that was a really bad joke. Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

Reyva brushed past them. “We’ll survive. As long as there are no puns.”

Mariana followed her. “The tree-o sets off on an adventure!”

Reyva gave an exaggerated groan and picked up her pace, leading the way. She liked both of these girls already, which was a good start. Maybe, Claire thought, this will be okay. Maybe she could be a new Claire here, a never-before-seen version of herself who

made friends easily and didn’t freak out about every little thing. She’d come home radiating confidence and calm, leaving the old Claire behind, shed like a butterfly’s chrysalis or a molted snakeskin. Hopefully more butterfly than snake, she thought. Certainly, that was what her parents wanted.

The woods closed quickly around them. Light filtered down between the branches, casting everything in a greenish hue. This late in the day, just before dusk, the shadows were thick in the underbrush. Following Reyva, Mariana lugged her suitcases up the path. Behind her, Claire kept to the center of the trail and watched for poison ivy.

Birds chirped to one another, and the branches rustled with the weight of squirrels as they scampered from tree to tree. The trail wound around boulders, and she had to keep an eye on her footing. The dead needles on the trail were slick, and there were plenty of rocks and roots threatening to trip her. The air also tasted much more sour than she’d expected for the Great Outdoors. Shouldn’t fresh air be, well, fresh? she thought.

“Anyone know exactly what we’ll be doing here?” Claire asked. “There was no useful info online, not even a website.” She’d done thorough searches, and not only was there no official website, but there was no chatter about the Lake House anywhere, which was weird—or at least bad business for a camp that was trying to reopen. Of course, it didn’t help that the name was so generic.

Mariana gasped.

Claire reached out, ready to catch her if she’d tripped. “Are you okay?”

“There’s no Wi-Fi,” Mariana said. She’d dropped her suitcases and was holding her phone up toward the sky. “I didn’t expect cell service out in the middle of nowhere, but with the house so near—I should be able to see at least the name of their network, even if it’s password protected.”

“It’s not necessary to password protect their network out here,” Reyva said. “Unless they’re worried about the bears stealing their bandwidth.”

I forgot to worry about bears, Claire thought. Not that she thought they’d steal Wi-Fi, but she wasn’t eager to encounter one. Or a mountain lion. Or a wolf. Maine had all three.

“True,” Mariana said, picking up her suitcases and continuing on, “but we should be close enough to—”

In the lead, Reyva halted.

Claire and Mariana caught up to her and also halted.

Claire felt as if she were plummeting from a plane, or what she’d imagined that would feel like. Distantly, she heard the voices of the others, the cries and the gasps, as they all stared at the clearing with the house—or what should have been the house.

Because the house was not there.

It had been consumed by fire.

Only a blackened shell remained.

 

Two

Of all the potential disasters Claire had imagined, both plausible and far-fetched, this one had never entered her calculations. Yet here it was: the roof had collapsed, half the walls had crumbled to ash, and only the chimney still stood at its full height.

This was why the air on the trail had tasted so sour, she realized. Here by the Lake House, it was worse, bitter, like a wood fire mixed with battery acid. Wisps of smoke rose in tendrils off piles of ash. If there were still hints of smoke, she thought, the fire must have happened recently. She pictured the house ablaze.

“Did they get out?” Mariana asked, dropping her suitcases and backpack. “Please tell me they got out.”

Claire called, “Hello! Is anyone here?”

“Lucky it didn’t burn down the forest,” Reyva said.

“Not lucky if they didn’t get out,” Claire said, but Reyva was right—if there had been any wind when the place burned, all the fallen trees, the dead brush, and the blanket of pine needles would have lit up and it would have spread. Five log-cabin-like sheds had also been destroyed by fire, but the house and the sheds had been separated from the forest by an airstrip with cracked pavement, a weed-infested tennis court, and a charred lawn as broad as a baseball field. She called again, “Is anyone here? Does anyone need help?”

A flock of birds startled from a nearby tree, but otherwise there was no movement.

Shedding her backpack, Reyva started across the lawn.

“Wait!” Mariana called. “You shouldn’t go in there! It’s not safe!”

Ignoring her, Reyva stepped over the crumbled remnants of the doorframe. Swearing under her breath, Claire also shed her pack, then jogged after her and stepped over the threshold.

Inside—if one could call it inside, since there was no roof anymore—was a pile of debris. Part of the roof was piled on collapsed stairs. One wall, partially standing, had bits of flowered wallpaper, which had been scorched sepia-colored. Charred electrical wires and broken pipes were exposed. A blackened mirror still hung, though several framed photos had fallen. Their glass had shattered, and the photos were shriveled like dead leaves.

“Help me with this?” Reyva asked.

Together, they tried to shift a chunk of the roof. Grunting, they maneuvered a section of shingles and then dropped it. Ash mushroomed into the air, and they fell back, coughing. Claire’s eyes watered. She wiped them and blinked rapidly.

“If anyone’s in here . . .” Claire let the words trail off.

To destroy the house this thoroughly, it had to have been a huge blaze. The smoke would have choked anyone who had been trapped long before

the walls collapsed. Either they made it out, or . . . Or they’re beyond caring if we find them, Claire thought.

Safely beyond the doorframe, Mariana said, “They must have escaped. See?” She pointed to the airstrip. “No plane. They could have taken it, if there was one. Or a boat.”

Claire let out a yelp. “The boat! We have to get it back!” She pivoted and ran out of the house and across the singed lawn. Jack had already been speeding away when they’d begun their hike, but he might not be out of sight yet. . . .

She heard footsteps behind her. Glancing back, she saw Mariana frowning at her feet as she ran. Flying over the trail, Reyva passed her, then Claire. “He’ll be too far away,” Reyva said, but she didn’t slow.

“We have to try.”

“Obviously.”

Then they didn’t speak. They just ran.

Avoiding the rocks and roots, Claire half hopped and half jogged down the trail. She was acutely aware that at any moment, she could trip and twist her ankle, but she also knew that with each second, the boat was speeding farther away.

And it wouldn’t return for weeks.

Don’t think, she told herself. Just run. She forced herself to count her footsteps, every stride, to thwart the litany of What if, what if, what if . . .

They burst out of the woods and ran onto the dock. In the distance, the boat was still visible, but so small that it looked like a toy. Its wake was a V-shaped ripple behind it. Jumping up and down, Claire shouted and screamed, “Jack, come back! Help! Help us! Fire!”

Beside her, Mariana and Reyva yelled and waved too.

Sound traveled well over water. Maybe Jack would hear them; maybe he’d see them; maybe he’d turn the boat around and check on why they’d returned to the dock.

With the others, Claire shouted until her throat ached, but the boat vanished around the bend in the lake, beyond a granite rock face. Gone.

She dropped her arms down. They felt heavy and limp. Her heart was beating hard.

Reyva swore under her breath.

“Exactly,” Claire said.

Reyva swore louder and punched at the air. “He isn’t due back until August.”

“I am aware of that.”

“It’s June.”

“That it is.”

“And there’s no cell phone coverage.”

“Also aware,” Claire said. “And trying not to panic.”

“This isn’t a great situation,” Reyva said.

Yeah, I noticed that too, Claire thought. She looked across the water. In every direction, the shore was choked with trees. There wasn’t a single house visible. Her parents had raved about how secluded this place was, nestled within a national forest, miles and miles from any hint of civilization, but that didn’t seem like a selling

 point anymore. She tried to clear out a corner of her mind to think through the problem logically, as if it were one of the mental puzzles she loved. Standing on the dock, listening to the lake water lick the pilings, wasn’t going to change anything about the situation.

Wringing her hands, Mariana paced back and forth on the dock, as she repeated over and over, “This can’t be happening. Can’t be happening. It’s my fault. All my fault. . . .”

“How is this your fault?” Reyva asked.

“I scared him off.”

“He was supposed to leave,” Reyva said. “It had nothing to do with you.”

Mariana nodded, but it was more like an automatic reaction than agreement. “He’ll come back. Or someone will. Eventually, the director will remember we were on our way here, and she’ll send someone to pick us up.”

“Assuming the director and the others got to safety,” Claire said.

“You mean assuming they’re not all dead?” Mariana said, her voice a half octave higher. She was breathing extra fast.

“Well, yeah,” Claire said. She thought that was obvious. And better left unsaid. She wanted to believe that the house had had spectacular fire alarms, and everyone had vacated in plenty of time, along with all their belongings and any sentimental items, and had flown to the nearest city, where they were enjoying a stay in a hotel with lots of Wi-Fi, but they had to consider all possibilities.

“You know, I thought I was a glass-half-empty kind of person,” Reyva said, “but I think you have me beat, Claire. You’re talking about all of this like, I don’t know, like you’re informing us that you just finished brushing your teeth. You are, how do I say this? Ridiculously resigned.”

Claire winced. “Sorry? I just . . . think we need to face the facts here.” As she inhaled, she tasted the burnt scent that permeated the air. She didn’t know how she hadn’t identified it sooner. It undercut every other odor with its bitter tang. She should have been more alert when they’d docked and not assumed that the bitter scent in the air was just exhaust from the boat’s motor or whatever. If she’d suspected there had been a fire, she could have called back the boat sooner. Or better, convinced Jack not to leave until they investigated. . . .

But how could she have predicted this?

“There’s something else,” she continued. “We have to assume that no one escaped.”

Mariana’s voice was even more shrill. “Why do we have to assume that? I don’t think we have to assume that. Maybe they were injured. Maybe they’re unconscious. Maybe they’re in a hospital, recovering. Or here’s a wild idea: maybe they’re home with their families.”

“Look, it’s just . . .” Claire tried to think of the right words to explain her thoughts. Usually she tried to avoid sharing her internal monologue; it

helped prevent moments like this, when people looked at her like she had three heads. But this was too serious a situation. “It’s getting dark, and the boat is gone. And we have no evidence that anyone but us is here, or has any idea what happened.”

Mariana gasped.

“Bingo,” Reyva said. “She gets it now.”

“We’re on our own,” Claire said.

“But someone will be expecting to hear from one of us . . . or one of them,” Mariana insisted. “When they don’t, they’ll come. I mean, my folks couldn’t have been happier to see me go, but don’t either of you have parents who care?”

Claire was certain her parents did care, often too much, but they also weren’t expecting to hear from her immediately. Jack had said he’d let them know she’d made it safely, and her parents had told her not to worry about calling home often, since they knew she’d be having so much fun.

Hah.

So they weren’t going to be waiting for a call. Sure, eventually, they’d worry. But “eventually” could be a while. And also, a little voice inside whispered, I’m sure they’re happy to have a break from worrying about you.

“Key question for the moment: Will anyone worry before it’s dark?” Claire asked. She pointed to the sky, which was already graying. The sun had sunk behind the granite hills, the leftover glow from sunset was fading fast, and the woods were cloaked with shadows. “We need a place to spend the night, and it should be somewhere rescuers will find us.”

“Back at the house,” Mariana said. “That’s where the airstrip is, and that’s where rescuers will come look for us, when they come.”

If they come, Claire silently amended.

Reyva was looking at Claire. “You said if in your head, didn’t you.”

Claire didn’t reply to that.

“I vote we camp here, near the dock,” Reyva said. “That way, we can keep watch for boats. Signal them before they get away.”

“I should have packed a flare,” Claire said. It could have worked for catching Jack’s attention. Her parents usually kept one in the car, in case of emergency, but it hadn’t been an item she’d thought she’d need for camp. First-aid kit, yes. Flare, no. “We could light a fire.”

“I don’t think more fire is the best idea.” Mariana gestured in the direction of the house.

“If it’s by the shore, someone might see it,” Claire said.

“Or they’ll just think we’re toasting s’mores,” Mariana said. “I really think we should go back to the house and wait for rescue there.”

“If we hear an airplane, we’ll have time to make it back to the airstrip,” Claire reasoned. “But a boat might pass us by and if we’re not down here,...