Lured to the Lake: Shimmering Lake Summer Camp, #2

Laika Wallace

Lured to the Lake: Shimmering Lake Summer Camp Book Two

A Silent Woods story

First published by Laika Wallace with Draft2Digital 2025

Copyright © 2025 by Laika Wallace

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Laika Wallace asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Laika Wallace has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

Second edition

ISBN: 9798230948261

Cover art by snommie.tumblr.com

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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To the real John, Alan, and Aileen.

Contents

Chapter One (Ava)

Chapter Two (Sid)

Chapter Three (Ava)

Chapter Four (Sid)

Chapter Five (Ava)

Chapter Six (Sid)

Chapter Seven (Ava)

Chapter Eight (Sid)

Chapter Nine (Ava)

Chapter Ten (Sid)

Chapter Eleven (Ava)

Chapter Twelve (Sid)

Chapter Thirteen (Ava)

Chapter Fourteen (Sid)

Chapter Fifteen (Ava)

Chapter Sixteen (Sid)

Chapter Seventeen (Ava)

Chapter Eighteen (Sid)

Chapter Nineteen (Ava)

Chapter Twenty (Sid)

Chapter Twenty One (Ava)

Chapter Twenty Two (Sid)

Chapter Twenty Three (Ava)

Chapter Twenty Four (Sid)

Chapter Twenty Five (Ava)

Chapter Twenty Six (Sid)

Chapter Twenty Seven (Ava)

Chapter Twenty Eight (Sid)

Chapter Twenty Nine (Ava)

About the Author

Chapter One (Ava)

The summer sun cooked me through the floor to ceiling windows as I watched my baby brother playing on the living room floor. He pushed a ball around, gurgling excitedly as it knocked into the table, the couch, my feet. He wasn’t really my baby brother, I guess; he was the biological child of my adoptive parents. My real brother, Henry, was outside with Alan, our adoptive dad, helping him cook the special barbecue dinner to celebrate the end of our school year. That’s what they said, anyway. I knew it was for Gwen, our sister, who had improved her marks by two whole letter grades since last year. Henry had lost his report card. I stayed exactly where I had been, like always.

The door to the porch slid open as Alan poked his head in. Are you coming to join us, Ava?

I looked as sorry for myself as I possibly could. I don’t know…

He gave me a lukewarm smile. Those darn summer colds, huh? Well, you’ve got a seat out here if you feel up to it.

Thanks, I said meekly.

Aileen will bring your plate up to your room, if you’d like to head up. She can put Cole down for his nap at the same time.

Behind Alan, I saw Henry roll his eyes dramatically at the mention of the baby.

Cole’s head lifted. Ba?

It’s ball, I said in my baby-talk voice, leaning closer to him.

Alan coughed quietly. Try to keep away from him if you’re sick.

I immediately shot back up. Sorry Alan.

He shut the door. My stomach twisted, even though I knew realistically he wasn’t upset with me. Or at least he wasn’t mad at me. He just cared a lot about his baby; more than he cared about the three of us, in my opinion. It made sense. We were only adopted because they didn’t think they could have kids. That was five years ago, though. Things changed.

I wondered if they’d grown to regret their choice.

When Aileen came inside from the porch, I gave her a sheepish smile before hurrying down the hall, past the adults’ bedroom, Cole’s room, and the bathroom, to the spiral staircase. Upstairs, we essentially had the whole floor to ourselves. There was a balcony that we shared at the end of the hall, a bathroom for us to fight over, and a bedroom for each of us. Aileen and Alan had given up a workout room and renovated a huge part of the balcony to give the three of us private bedrooms. They said it was no trouble, but I’d felt bad since the day we arrived, when I was eleven years old. Henry didn’t care, though; Gwen and I have always done that doubly for him.

I shut myself into my room, at the end of the hall across from the bathroom. Curling up on my bed, I held my old stuffed teddy and looked drearily at my things: my laptop and lava lamp on my desk with a pile of my CDs, a box of DVDs on the floor, my huge dresser topped with a collection of candles and pine cones. My walls were painted light pink but the color hardly showed through my posters. I had everything from diagrams on how to gut a fish, photos of huge redwood trees, a couple tourist posters from the gift shop at the park where Alan gave guided tours, posters from my favorite movies, and a couple of posters from concerts I’d gone to. None of that was from before we moved here. The only thing I’d taken with me was my teddy bear, a backpack I’d donated long ago, and the clothes on my back, which I’d grown out of. Aileen had put them aside, along with Gwen’s and Henry’s, to make our Christmas stockings.

I’d completely remade my life here. All of us had. The first four or so years were wonderful, even though they were hard at the start. We each had problems adjusting to living here; Henry had to learn that it wasn’t okay to take out his anger on these parents, Gwen had problems making friends at school, and I had to step out of my comfort zone in terms of being in the wilderness. Now Henry was getting really good at hunting and making traps, Gwen was forming good relationships with her teachers, and I found a love for fishing.

But then we all found out about Cole. There was a rift now, a rift Gwen won’t cross, I can’t cross, and Henry only wants to make deeper. I had no idea how we were going to handle this summer.

A soft knock at the door startled me.

Yes? I croaked.

It’s me, Aileen’s soft voice called from behind the door. Can I come in?

Sure, I said, sitting up.

She walked in with a warm smile, holding a plate of food. She set it down on my desk and asked to sit on my bed with me. I scooted over to let her.

Your cold’s getting you down? she said, brushing her long, blonde braid over her shoulder. We looked so different. It always made Gwen uncomfortable when we went out as a family, with her pitch black hair and round face. Aileen was a little chubby, but her face was long and lean, and Alan was built like a brick house. Henry and I were lanky and awkwardly shaped, with messy brown hair. Us three had the same dull brown eyes, contrasting Aileen and Alan’s blue. But the worst part of it was that here, in a small town, everybody knew everybody, so there was no acting like we were really their kids.

Yeah, I answered slowly, realizing I’d been stuck in thought for a while.

She gave a little chuckle. I can tell. It’s okay. Please get some rest tonight and tomorrow, sweetheart, she reached over to gently squeeze my hand, it would be a shame if you were too sick to go to camp.

My eyes widened.

It’s okay, we’ll talk about that when we get there. For now, just eat what you can and rest.

Okay, I murmured.

She stood up. I love you. Do you want me to come up in a while for your plate, or can you manage on your own?

I’ll do it, I said quickly. I love you too. Thanks Aileen.

She headed to the door, but paused to look back at me. You can call me Mom, you know.

I froze.

You don’t have to, but you’re allowed to.

I had to stop looking at her, and she left without another word. The twisting feeling in my stomach returned.

Ignoring my dinner, I set to packing my bags for camp. There was no way I wasn’t going. I wasn’t even really sick, I was only saying that to get out of doing things with the family since school ended about a week ago. Gwen’s success and my stagnation made me feel like an outcast around them. It wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but I didn’t know what else to do.

I had packed a couple bags of clothes when I realized I didn’t have many hobbies that didn’t involve my laptop, which I didn’t want to bring, or just being outside, so I had nothing else to pack right away. Camp didn’t start until July 4th, two days from now. Sighing, I pushed the bags under my bed.

My door opened with a creak. I whipped around to see Gwen standing there, looking glum.

What’s up? I said curtly but sympathetically, even though I wanted to remind her to knock first.

It’s no fair that you get to stay home from camp and I don’t. I don’t wanna go. She plopped herself down on my bed with a huge huff.

Who told you that?

Aileen said so, she said, crossing her arms. And it’s true, isn’t it? You’ve not even eaten your dinner.

I glanced at it. Between the nervous stomach ache I was getting and the coldness of the burger, I wasn’t very excited about eating it. But I had a point to prove. I picked it up and forced a bite.

Gwen sighed loudly. You’re faking.

What do you mean? I said through a mouthful of food that I struggled to swallow.

Seeing me shudder, she groaned and grabbed the plate away from me. Give me that. I’ll eat it. Still unfair!

I sat beside her, tucking my arms around my waist, feeling my ribs touch my arms. It’s just cold, I muttered, and you know how I get when adults get…

She looked at me, afraid.

Nobody’s mad, it’s alright, Alan just got a bit upset with me for being close to Cole while he thinks I’m sick.

She paused. You are sick, though.

I’m not. I only said so because I didn’t want to hang out with you guys.

Hurt painted her face.

I rushed to correct myself. I didn’t mean it that way! It’s just, like, seeing them all happy about your good grades while Henry’s being a jerk, it doesn’t make me feel good. He’s so mad all the time about the baby and now about you doing well in school. I looked at my hands for a second. And I’m kind of jealous that you’re doing better but I’m still barely average.

She looked at me for a long time, her brows knitted, and put the plate down on the corner of my bed. I’m sorry, Ava, she said tearfully. I don’t mean to make you feel bad.

Hey, I never said that, I said, showing her my hand.

She bit her lip and touched my hand lightly before twisting her fingers into her hair. It still isn’t…

Fair? Yes it is. You’re doing well and that’s great. You don’t need to feel bad or bring yourself down for me. We’re different people… Maybe I’m just not… I shook my head. No need to be negative about it, is my point. I’m just sad because I feel like I haven’t improved, not because you have. Seeing it in you and not in myself makes me see how much of a disappointment I am to Alan and Aileen.

She rubbed tears from her cheeks. They said that?

I didn’t respond. They never did, but that’s what their actions, their expressions, their tones tell me.

Well, I’m not disappointed in you. You’re doing great.

I shrugged but I felt my ears get hot. It’s more about Henry anyway, I lied, sort of.

She nodded. I don’t know how to handle him. He scares me, she said shakily. I don’t want him to…

I glanced up at her to see she was trying very hard not to cry. You can cry, Gwen. It’s okay. He’s not going to find you in here.

She broke down.

I let her, quietly moving the plate to my desk and bringing her the tissue box. When she recovered, she frustratedly told me she’d rather be the one failing with friends than succeeding alone. I was about to retort that I had no friends either when she went on about how she’d caught Henry sneaking out of school to drive around with his friends.

That’s why he’s failing, she concluded, grabbing a fistful of her hair. He doesn’t deserve to go to camp! And I don’t want to. I don’t like the outdoors. But you love it, and you need it, that’s why it’s so unfair, Ava.

Oh, Gwen…

She sobbed again. I hummed softly to comfort her and she slowed down a lot faster this time. For a few moments, we sat in silence, staring at my floor.

Are you girls okay up there? Aileen called from downstairs. I heard the water running; she was probably washing the dinner dishes.

Yeah, I called. We’ll be right down.

No need if you’re sick, dear, Aileen said, but I had already grabbed the plate and opened the door.

Gwen gave me a sneaky look and I returned it, putting a finger to my lips. We hurried downstairs and into the kitchen. Henry watched us from the couch where Alan was playing with Cole; our brother was doing his best to ignore them while listening to music through his headphones. Putting the plate in the sink, I politely took over the chore.

Are you sure, dear? You don’t need to do this, Aileen protested.

I smiled at her. I’m sure.

She made a happy noise in her throat, leaning on the counter. And you finished it all too.

A pang of nervousness shot through me. Behind us, Gwen sighed.

How are you feeling? Aileen asked me.

Better, I said, a little too loudly. Much better.

A slow smile crept across her face. Better enough to go to camp with your siblings?

I nodded enthusiastically.

I don’t want to go, Aileen, Gwen said sheepishly, pulling at a strand of her hair. I don’t like outdoors stuff, and I’d rather stay here.

Where there’s just more outdoors stuff? Alan piped up. Come on, Gwen. A change of scenery would be nice for you. Especially after how hard you’ve been working.

And now your sister will be there with you, Aileen said.

Gwen looked at me for help.

Yeah, I’ll be there, I got out in a rush before going back to the dishes.

Gwen sighed, defeated. Okay. Can you help me pack when you’re done, Ava?

I nodded.

Alan reminded Henry that he needed to pack too, so he stormed off to his room. Aileen then had a quiet talk with her husband while Gwen waited for me to finish. I purposefully took a long time. When I dried my hands, she didn’t look at me, and she only spoke once we were in her room.

You’re supposed to be on my side.

I am, Gwen. I’m trying to help you.

How is this helping me? I told you I don’t want to go.

Would you rather be stuck here all summer without any friends?

She shoved clothes wordlessly into her bag for a moment. Rather here than some random island in the middle of the woods.

You don’t know you won’t make any friends there, I tried to argue.

She rolled her eyes. You sound just like Alan and Aileen.

I couldn’t counter that. You’ll have me, anyway.

You’re not my friend, she retorted, looking up at me through her bangs, you’re my big sister.

I’m on your side either way, I said. Now stop just stuffing clothes in there. Roll them up first, it’ll give you more room.

Chapter Two (Sid)

The wind offered little relief from the dry July heat as my sister and I marched through the long grass to the creek at the edge of our property. I hated having to pull my socks all the way up, it made my leg hair itch, but it was easier than sticking a lighter to my ankle to coax out a tick. Genette didn’t have to worry about socks with her knee-high converse, but she complained loudly about all the little rocks and bumps in the earth hurting the soles of her feet.

The green blades of grass tickled my arms, and the stiff goldenrod stems brushed past me as we walked. There were swathes of sunflowers and milkweed interspersed with the flattened deer beds in the field.

A few paces ahead of me, Genette swore and jumped to the side.

What’s up? I asked, freezing.

Thistle, she said, rubbing her arm. Big sucker too. Why do we walk through the tall grass again?

I followed her new path, looking out at the field adjacent, which bordered our neighbor’s property. The grass was never taller than a couple inches, since the village kids used it as a soccer field. My uncle was riding on the tractor right now, mowing it. He waved at us with a smile.

Tradition, I answered. And John’s always in the way.

Genette mumbled something about reminding her to rip out the big thistle plant later.

We came to the creek’s edge and stood in awe of its dark water, a smooth surface hiding a raging current. The cattails and lush grass rustled as frogs frantically hopped into the water. Twigs and leaves swirled down the creek’s path, disappearing into the shadow of the metal culvert. An old board provided a ramp for us to climb onto the culvert’s spine and cross to the other bank. From there, we set out into the woods. Branches skimmed over Genette’s leather jacket, but snagged on my tank top, leaving fine pink scratches on my skin. I winced whenever they nicked a bug bite. The buzzing of bugs got louder as the ground started to give way to spongy earth, leaving arched roots as the surest footholds.

The trees back here weren’t as grand as the ones in the woodland behind our other neighbor’s wheat field. Instead, they resembled knotted hair, almost too thick to get through. I remembered when we first moved here from Genette’s parents’ house, she took John’s machete to the thicket and cleared out a den for us. That’s how we found the old cow fence.

It stretched as far as we could walk in both directions, eventually getting stuck in a tree before the dirt path between our land and the wheat field. It was completely rusted. There were three rungs to it, the highest being right in the middle of my belly. We figured we could climb it if we shimmed up a post, but the barbs were still sharp, and we worried too much about slicing open our thighs. Whatever hid back there wasn’t worth a risk like that.

Besides, all that lay beyond was a swamp and a decrepit farmhouse. And we both knew what Grandma said about the swamp.

As the temperature began to drop with the setting of the sun, we crossed back over and walked through the mowed field. Raccoons lived in the old, unused well, so we didn’t want to chance meeting one in the long grass. From there, it was just a short jaunt up a gentle incline to the driveway. The field and the farmhouse were separated by a line of truly massive trees that sounded like the ocean when the wind blew through their heavily furnished boughs. The clunky red van sat in front of the house, which was a long bungalow. On the other side was a strip of garden and the neighbor’s white picket fence.

We walked inside and took off our shoes in the