WANT TO KNOW A SECRET?

(1)

"Pops!" Somebody was calling me.

"It's Eileen..." Steph said with a disapproving glance my way. Eileen, who was a round, bubbly girl more preoccupied by her friends' well-being than by her appearance, wasn't exactly popular amongst our classmates.

Unlike Steph, I appreciated genuine people. I turned around in my seat and saw the blond girl was running like her life depended on it.

"Pops!" She shouted again when she saw she had my attention. Her cheeks were scarlet and for a second, I worried they might actually burst. I shook my head quickly to get the image out of my mind. Something big was obviously happening.

"What's wrong, Eileen?" I asked once she was within earshot.

"I-It's him..." She managed to say in the midst of catching her breath with both hands resting on her knees.

The blood froze in my veins at her last word and I was already running before she had the time to utter another word.

"W-wait!" She shouted after me. She said something else but I was already too far to hear what it was.

It was Saturday afternoon and most of Brading's fifteen to twenty-year-old kids were hanging out at our local lake.

The closest mall with all the mainstream shops was an hour' drive away from our town, so unless we had a special occasion, the lake was our go-to place whenever we didn't have school or other family obligations.

Brading was situated on the eastern shore of Lake Brandt, which was by far its wildest side with its close proximity to a dense forest that went all the way up Brandt Mount. Only the trickiest trails started from our side of the lake, that was why most tourists chose our neighboring and rival town, Rochester, as their summer destination.

The wealthiest ones, anyway.

Our family campsite was full throughout the summer every year.

We might have only had one pebble beach against their two white sand public ones, but ours was surrounded by the forest which made it the ideal spot for all our parties.

Mr. Harnett, the owner of the campsite that was far enough not to be bothered by the noise, kept quiet about it as long as we left the beach spotless clean afterwards, which we were only too happy to oblige.

Meanwhile, the western shore of the lake was bordered with what Rochester's inhabitants would call chalets when they were in fact three to four levels massive log houses. Most of them had their own private beach but there were also two public sand beaches separated by Rochester Super Playground. This so called playground offered topnotch slides and swings for the kids, two basketball courts, four volleyball courts, baseball cages, a skate park, a laser quest, a bowling, a six screens movie theatre, and a field that could be used to play soccer or football.

Their Lake Brandt Avenue which basically followed the totally developed shore of the lake, was bordered with hotels, luxury shops, upper-class restaurants, ice cream parlors and small cafés to accommodate both the wealthy locals and the tourists.

The southern shore, which divided the two towns in a perfect semi-circle, was also wooded but both mayors had given funds to develop it as a fitness trail, complete with benches and picnic tables.

I'd been sitting at one of those picnic tables on the clearing that opened on our long beach with my friends Stephany Moore and Kelly Jens when Eilleen had turned up.

She'd come from the other side of the beach, the one near the untamed forest, right at the end of the makeshift soccer field, where he and his friends always played one sport or another.