Page 27 of Make Out With A Merman

So I lie. Softly.

“It’s manageable. For now.”

She studies me. “That’s not the whole truth.”

“It’s the truth I need you to act on without evacuating the entire camp.”

Julie closes her eyes, sighs like it hurts.

Then nods. “What do you need?”

“Permission to deploy the anchor stones. The big ones. And to reroute all swim drills to the north curve.”

“Done.”

“And Callie needs to know.”

Julie raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“She’s in it. Whether she likes it or not.”

“Or whetheryoulike it or not,” she mutters.

I ignore that.

Mostly.

Later, I walk the shoreline, checking tide marks. There’s a slick, dark ridge I haven’t seen in three years, left by surge-magic as it retracts. The reeds twitch like they’re breathing.

And I swear, when I kneel at the edge, I hear something humming in the silt.

The same hum from my dream.

It knows I’m watching.

Worse?

It’s watching back.

She findsme near the boathouse, crouched in the grass by the tide ridge, running my fingers through a smear of dark silt that stinks like old copper.

“Hey,” she says, voice softer than usual. “You look like you’re trying to solve the lake with angry touching.”

I don’t look up. “It’s bleeding.”

“What?”

I hold up my hand. Black water drips from my palm. “It’s coming from deeper than before. And it’s old.”

She steps closer, crouches beside me. Her eyes scan the shoreline, the ripple pattern. She’s learning. Fast.

Then she says it.

The obvious thing.

“The lake’s this bad… why don’t we shut it down?”

I meet her gaze.

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