At what point did water lose its translucence? In that liminality between shore and lake, the water was crystalline, absolutely pure, and when it was still, when the winds were faint and the water below slowed its continuous motion, gazing down at the water's surface was akin to looking through a window. Tiny minnows darted between the smooth, earthy-colored stones; bits of beach glass were visible, particularly those of dark rootbeer-ish color; if there were clouds or birds overhead, they were sometimes reflected, adding a bit of confusion as to what was above and what was below and where exactly the separation occurred. But as one moved farther from land, as the lake deepened, that pellucid quality diminished, bit by bit, not in any particular degrees but in some immeasurable, abstruse manner. A forest became less or more so because tall plantlife attenuated or proliferated; a town became more or less so because buildings and people divided or multiplied; a storm became more or less so because thunderheads broke apart or accumulated. But the clarity of water? Its beginnings and endings were nebulous. What exactly caused it to fade into gloom and murk? By what could it be evaluated?

Oh, surely there were some scientific reason for it, but what did science matter? It was summer, no time for textbook definitions and delineations. Crystal sat, bare toes in the chilly lake, her body perched on a boulder near the bank. She rarely swam. Contrary to the upbringing of most young people in town, Crystal couldn't remember ever being in the lake. She was sure she'd done it--that family-day-at-the-beach sort of thing--back when she was very small. But she didn't remember it.

Lake swimming was unnerving and uncomfortable. First of all, the lake was always cold, always! as if the sun couldn't quite ever affect it, however much it shone, and secondly, there was the knowledge that no matter what anyone said, there most definitely could be killer fish or snapping turtles in there. Jess had grown frustrated many a time over their disagreements regarding lake swimming, but Crystal was stubborn, and she'd managed to find plenty of other things to do during her summer days. Befriending Jeremiah had only vindicated her feelings: he'd told her all about freshwater amoebas that could get up in a swimmer's brain through their nose, and he'd talked about flesh-eating bacteria. Crystal hadn't needed much more reason not to swim in that lake, but that had sealed the deal for her.

In any case, sitting there now, looking out from her position over that calm, cool body of water, she found herself contemplating the oddity of it all, how strange it was that there were no clear boundaries in the lake, even at its permuting edges, and she wondered without having the terminology how many more things were like that, things whose demarcations were too vague, whose structural integrity didn't--could never--dwell in the binary. Were there aspects of the world, of her own self, like that?

As she wondered, Crystal became gradually aware of a certain feeling, a damp discomfort between her legs. Even though it'd happened several times since that day she'd started, it always came as a surprise to her. She was never prepared; she'd never had forewarning or regularity. And for as understanding as Jeremiah was as a human being, she herself couldn't overcome the mortification associated with it--with blood--from there--! It was always horrible, always humiliating. She hated asking her mother for products, even though she'd forced herself to do it. The only time Crystal had ever heard her mother talk of anything related to the female body was in those fleeting moments when the woman was angry or inebriated, when she'd mutter about wishing she'd used protection, bemoaned allowing herself to get "knocked up" too young, thanked God she'd had a hysterectomy after Jess.

Crystal never found the confidence to ask her for more information.

It was such an unwelcome intrusion, every time. That was exactly what it was--an intrusion, an invasion. Even though all of it was trying to exit her body, it shouldn't have been there in the first place. The stuff within that sought egress--that was the invader. She'd never asked for it! She'd never wanted the disquietude and forced concealment! She'd never asked for the implications of womanhood, the inconvenience and humiliation of something she was at an utter disadvantage to control. She'd not asked for any of it, and yet her body had not been made for her; it'd been made for primal reproductive purposes, with no regard to her.

But she couldn't just sit there and fume about the start of another period while letting it go unchecked. She knew, at least, that Jeremiah's sisters would have things at the house.

"Hey! Crystal! They're here!"

Crystal sighed as her friend's words coincidentally drifted out of the thin forest. She wished she'd caught things a little earlier, before Kevin and Heather. She'd have to be discreet. Grudgingly, the girl rose, her tailbone a bit sore from sitting on the boulder for so long, and awkwardly tied her light jacket around her waist (in case) before climbing back up to land and through the trees toward Jeremiah's home.

As much as Crystal didn't want to see the others again, she knew they had no one else to talk to but each other, and she knew, too, that Jeremiah viewed Kevin as some sort of leader, as if the older guy had special wisdom and would guide them all to answers. She herself was skeptical of him, of his intentions, but when Kevin had come over to the dining hall and suggested they get together, Jeremiah's reaction had been predictably conforming, and even she had to admit that things were starting to feel weird. So now here they were, their free Sunday afternoon, meeting at the house of the only one of them who'd been willing to bring them into his world, and apparently, even Heather had been convinced.

No doubt it was due to what'd happened to her friend.

Fortunately, Crystal knew in which bathroom Jeremiah's sisters kept their products, and she managed to take care of her business surreptitiously enough before joining the others on the back deck.

"You want anything? Lemonade? Glass of water? My mom makes great lemonade, real lemons and everything. I'd offer you soda, but we don't buy it. How about some pretzels? No? I'll get some anyway!"

Jeremiah, solicitous as ever, scooted around her into the kitchen as she slipped out the door and approached the wrought-iron table where the others sat. If only the sunshiney day, the temperate shadow of the forest, the chirping birds, were more attuned to their cause; the ambience made their concerns seem so much less pressing, and Crystal found herself wondering whether any of it had actually happened, as she'd done many times on the identical beautiful days following their Fourth of July encounter.

But Heather put a stop to Crystal's wishful thinking. The minute Jeremiah returned with a tray of snacks and cups and a pitcher of sloshing popsicle-yellow liquid, the girl said, "They're trying to keep us from talking. I know that's what they're doing!"

"Hold on, hold on." Kevin held up a hand. "You're jumping ahead. Let me just start, okay?"

Crystal noticed Heather dart an icy glance at him, but he didn't seem to see it.

"I meant to say--" Kevin leaned forward, elbows on the table, one foot tapping the pedestal--"that I think you're right. That girl fell off the boat and almost died because you said you told her about what happened. And Jeremiah--when I talked to you, you said they're trying to get you to do some college thing, holding it over your head like a carrot--"

"An internship."

Crystal glanced at her friend, whose hands were in his lap, a sheepish drooping frown on his chin.

"And me, well, they know I can't get in trouble with the police anymore. Been in enough already."

For what? Crystal raised an eyebrow unwittingly. For perverted stuff? Stuff with younger kids? Should she really be sitting in the vicinity of this guy? He was talking to her, she realized suddenly, her mind having wandered. "What? Me? What about me?"

"What have they done to make you afraid of talking?"

Crystal's mind raced. She thought of the peculiar boy, the one who'd befriended her, of the presents he'd given her, of the walk they'd taken after her breakfast shift one morning, back into a special place, a shimmering blue-green glade behind the resort and beyond even the golf course, where he'd shown her how he found the geodes. It was their secret place, where the black earth held too many treasures to count, and . . . and . . . and what else? She couldn't recall anything more than vague notions--

"Did you hear me?"

Kevin hadn't said it unkindly, but Crystal scowled. She flicked up her eyes toward his face. "They haven't done anything."

"Yet," Heather added.

Turning to the other girl, Crystal narrowed her eyes. "So they don't want us to talk. How is that surprising? There's nothing we can do about any of it, all right? So we need to just keep working, let the summer pass, and move on with our lives."

"But I--" Jeremiah paused until the others turned to him. Muttering, he admitted, "I want that internship."

Kevin shook his head. "You can't. You'd be getting it through that counselor's blood. Like those diamonds and stuff, blood diamonds. You can't take it."

"Well, it's the least they can do, right? For what they've done to traumatize us? If they want to give me opportunities, I'm taking them."

"Until you go to that internship and they murder you in your dorm," Heather put in absently.

Jeremiah's mouth opened for a rebuttal, but he thought twice on it and calmed. "I hadn't thought of that."

"They don't want us spreading information," Kevin sighed. "You think they'll let us get away with knowing? They've probably only let us live for now because getting rid of us would look too obvious, especially after we complained to the cops. But it's only a matter of time, right? They'll start knocking us off one by one, to cover their tracks. I bet by the end of summer, we're all dead. No, no. The only thing we can do is try to catch them, try to find some way to get them turned in."

The others had quieted. Crystal glanced from Heather to Jeremiah, somehow absolutely annoyed at the way they listened to Kevin. She knew he was probably right, and yet . . . she couldn't help harboring a grudge toward him, perhaps not just because of her sister. "And what are we supposed to do, just sneak back in and follow them around until we see them being weird?"

"Yes!" Jeremiah assented to her retort. The boy's eyes widened. "We saw them at that casino, right? On Sundays, they always do stuff in that casino at night! I always hear them talking about dances and parties in there. So maybe . . . since that's where they did their nasty stuff on the Fourth--"

"It's where they do all of it! It's what the casino is for--their cult rituals or whatever it is." Lifting his chin almost so he was effectively looking down on the others, Kevin grinned. "We'll catch them again, just like we did the first time."

"I have a camera!"

Crystal looked at her friend. "You do?"

"A video camera! I'll bring it. It can do night vision."

"Excellent," Kevin confirmed. "We'll meet at the snack shack tonight. I have a key. Come after dark, after the golfers are gone. They won't expect it to be open. And you'd better all come. It's all of us they're after, so it's all of us who have to take them on." He nodded, put his arms behind his head, and leaned back as if pleased with himself. "We'll catch these assholes."

A dull ache radiated through Crystal's lower abdomen. Inconspicuously, she pressed her fingers against her stomach. She didn't like this plan, not at all, and not just because it sounded dumb but also because she was sure it wouldn't be the end but only the beginning of something much, much worse.