The Year the Lake Gave Something Back

“June, if you don’t get out of bed right now, I’m going to pour this entire glass of water on your head.”

I opened one eye. Priya was standing over me, already dressed, her dark hair pulled back in that perfect way she had that made her look like she’d stepped out of a catalog. She was holding a glass of water. She was not bluffing.

“You wouldn’t,” I said.

“I would. I’ve done it before.”

“You did it once. Freshman year. And I cried.”

“You cried because you were hungover, not because you were wet.” She set the glass down on my nightstand, which was cluttered with old receipts and a half-eaten granola bar and about six different lip balms. “It’s 7:42. Chapel starts at 8:00. You have eighteen minutes.”

I sat up. The room was cold, the way it always was in early September, before the heating kicked in. Our window faced the lake—Priya had claimed that side of the room freshman year because she said she “needed the light,” which was a lie, because Priya hated natural light. She just wanted the view. I’d let her have it because I didn’t care. Or I told myself I didn’t care.

I looked at the lake now. It was doing that thing again. The thing where it looked like glass at 6 AM, completely still, reflecting the sky so perfectly that you couldn’t tell where the water ended and the air began. It was beautiful in a way that felt almost aggressive. Like it was daring you to look away. I’d been standing at this window for twenty minutes before Priya woke up, just watching it, trying to figure out what it was about the lake that made me feel so weird.

It’s not like I believed any of the stories. I’m not that kind of person. I don’t believe in ghosts or curses or magic or whatever. But there’s something about this place—this school, this lake, these old buildings with their ivy-covered walls and their creaky floors—that makes you start to believe things you shouldn’t.

“Are you listening to me?” Priya said.

“I’m listening.”

“You’re staring at the lake again.”

“I’m not staring. I’m looking.”

“That’s the same thing.”

I finally got out of bed. The floor was freezing. I hopped over to my dresser and pulled out my uniform—navy blazer, white button-down, plaid skirt, the whole ridiculous outfit that made us all look like we were attending a school for young British aristocrats instead of a boarding school in northern Minnesota. I’d hated the uniform freshman year. Now I barely noticed it. That’s what happens when you wear the same thing every day for three years. It stops being clothes and becomes a kind of skin.

“Did you hear about the watch?” Priya asked, sitting on the edge of her bed and scrolling through her phone.

“What watch?”

“The one the lake gave back. Some freshman found it this morning. On the dock.”

“People find things on the dock all the time. It’s probably just lost.”

“No, June. It wasn’t lost. It was given.” She said the word like it meant something. Like it was capital-G Given.

I knew what she meant. Everyone at this school knew what she meant. The lake had a reputation. It had been giving things back for as long as anyone could remember—lost photographs, wedding rings, a child’s toy that someone had dropped in the water in 1962. It was one of those things that everyone talked about but no one really talked about, if that makes sense. Like, we all knew it happened, but we didn’t know know. It was a legend. A story. Something to tell the new kids to freak them out.

But it kept happening. Every year, without fail. The lake would give something back.

“Who found it?” I asked, pulling on my socks. They were mismatched—one black, one navy—but I didn’t care.

“Some freshman. I don’t know his name. Marcus something. He posted it on the class Facebook group.”

“People still use Facebook?”

“People use everything. You know that.”

She was right. This school was a gossip machine. Everyone knew everything about everyone, and if they didn’t, they made it up. It was exhausting. It was also, occasionally, entertaining.

I finished getting dressed in about four minutes, which was a personal record. I ran a brush through my hair, didn’t bother with makeup, and grabbed my bag. Priya was already at the door, holding it open for me with an expression that said hurry up or I’m leaving you.

We walked across the quad together. The grass was still wet with dew, and the sun was just starting to come up over the trees. It was one of those perfect early-fall mornings where everything looks like it’s been filtered through Instagram—the light golden, the air crisp, the buildings looking older and more beautiful than they actually were. I hated it a little. I hated how much I loved it.

The quad was full of students heading to chapel. Chapel was mandatory three days a week, which was one of the many things about this school that made me want to scream. But it was also where everyone gathered in the morning, where you found out what had happened the night before, where you made plans and spread rumors and pretended to be awake.

“June! Priya!”

We turned. It was Elena, this girl from our English class who was always slightly too excited about everything. She was running toward us, her ponytail swinging, her face flushed.

“Did you hear about the watch?” she said, slightly out of breath.

“We heard,” I said.

“It’s from 1950! It has initials on it. Someone’s initials. They’re trying to figure out who it belonged to.”

“Who’s they?” Priya asked.

“The Lake Committee, obviously.”

Of course. The Lake Committee. The unofficial, semi-secret organization that catalogued everything the lake gave back. They had a vault under the library, or so I’d heard. I’d never seen it. I’d never cared enough to try.

“That’s creepy,” I said.

“That’s mysterious,” Elena corrected. “There’s a difference.”

“Not really.”

She rolled her eyes at me and ran off to join her friends. Priya looked at me.

“You’re in a mood.”

“I’m always in a mood.”

“True.”

We got to the chapel just as the bell was ringing. The chapel was this old stone building with stained glass windows and pews that creaked when you sat down. It smelled like candles and old wood and, faintly, like someone’s perfume. I slid into a pew near the back, where I could see everyone but no one could see me. Priya sat next to me and immediately started texting someone under her hymnal.

I zoned out during the service. I always did. The chaplain was talking about gratitude or something—I wasn’t really listening. I was thinking about the lake. I was thinking about how it had looked this morning, so still and perfect, and how for a second I’d felt like it was looking back at me.

That was stupid. I knew it was stupid. The lake didn’t look at anyone. It was just water.

After chapel, we had breakfast in the dining hall. The dining hall was this big, cavernous room with high ceilings and long tables and food that was always slightly worse than you remembered. I got a plate of eggs and toast and sat down across from Priya and Elena, who had joined us again. They were talking about the watch. Everyone was talking about the watch.

“My roommate said the initials are A.M.,” Elena said. “She heard it from someone on the committee.”

“Who’s on the committee?” I asked, mostly because I didn’t want to sit in silence.

“Seniors, mostly. Mackenzie Connors is the head.”

“Of course she is.”

Mackenzie Connors was this girl who had been at the school since kindergarten—I’m not kidding, this place has a lower school too—and acted like she owned it. She was tall and blonde and always looked like she’d just come back from a spa weekend. I’d never talked to her. I didn’t want to.

“Do you think they’ll figure out who it belonged to?” Elena asked.

“Maybe,” Priya said. “They usually do.”

“What do you mean?”

“People come forward. If it’s their watch, or their grandmother’s watch, or whatever. The lake doesn’t give things to random people. There’s always a connection.”

I thought about that. The lake giving things to specific people. Things that meant something. It was a nice idea. It was also terrifying, if you thought about it too much.

“I have to go,” I said, standing up. “I have history first period.”

“Have fun,” Priya said, in a voice that made it clear she did not mean it.

I dumped my tray and walked out of the dining hall. The air outside was warmer now, the sun fully up. Students were rushing in every direction, clutching books and coffee cups, their breath visible in the cold. It was a normal morning. It was a normal day. Nothing was going to happen.

I got to history and sat through an hour of Mr. Henderson droning on about the French Revolution. I took notes. I doodled in the margins. I thought about the lake. I thought about the watch. I thought about nothing at all.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was exhausted in that way you get from doing nothing. I decided to skip the dining hall and go back to my room. I wanted to lie down. I wanted to not talk to anyone for a while.

I walked across the quad, past the chapel, past the library, past the old oak tree that everyone said was haunted (it wasn’t), and up the stairs to my dorm. The building was quiet. Everyone was at lunch or in class. My footsteps echoed in the hallway.

I opened the door to my room.

And stopped.

There was something on my pillow.

I stood in the doorway for a long moment, just staring at it. It was a necklace. A thin gold chain with a small pendant. The pendant was oval, with a tiny engraved border around the edge. I couldn’t see the letters from where I was standing. I didn’t need to. I already knew what they were going to say.

I walked over to the bed, slowly, like I was approaching a wild animal. I picked up the necklace. It was lighter than it looked—delicate. The chain was so thin it was almost invisible. The pendant was warm, like it had been sitting in the sun. It hadn’t. My room was cold. It was always cold.

I turned the pendant over in my hand.

JM.

My initials. June Marie. Two letters that I’d had for sixteen years, that I’d written on a thousand forms and signed on a hundred papers, that meant nothing and everything. JM.

Except this wasn’t my necklace. I’d never seen it before in my life. I didn’t own jewelry like this. I didn’t own jewelry at all, really—just a few pairs of earrings and a bracelet my mom had given me for my thirteenth birthday that I’d lost somewhere in the bottom of my backpack. This necklace was different. It was old. I could tell by the weight of it, the slight discoloration on the back of the pendant, the way the clasp was a little loose. This necklace had been worn. It had been loved.

I sat down on my bed. I was holding the necklace so tightly that the chain was digging into my palm. I didn’t let go.

There was a note on the pillow too, I noticed. A small piece of paper, folded in half. I picked it up and opened it.

Nothing. Blank. Just a piece of paper.

I crumpled it in my fist and threw it across the room.

Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Think. This had to have a logical explanation. Maybe Priya had left it for me as a joke. She was always doing things like that—leaving weird notes, hiding my stuff, pretending to be a ghost. But Priya wasn’t cruel. She wouldn’t do this. She knew how I felt about the lake. She wouldn’t make a joke out of it.

Maybe someone else. Maybe someone was playing a prank on me. But who? And why? And how would they get a necklace with my initials on it?

Maybe my mom sent it. Maybe she found it in a drawer somewhere and thought I’d like it. But my mom never sent me anything. She called on Sundays. She emailed on Wednesdays. She didn’t send gifts. And even if she did, she wouldn’t send a necklace with my initials on it. That was weird. That was the kind of thing you did when you wanted to send a message.

Maybe I was losing my mind. Maybe I was tired. Maybe I was still dreaming.

I looked out the window. The lake was there, just like always. It was blue today, a deep, rich blue that made me think of the ocean. It was calm. It was peaceful. It was watching me.

No. It wasn’t watching me. It was a lake. It couldn’t watch anything.

I lay back on my bed and stared at the ceiling. The necklace was still in my hand. I could feel the pendant pressing into my skin. I could feel my heart beating in my throat.

This was insane. This was absolutely insane. Things like this didn’t happen. Things like this happened in movies, in books, in stories you told around campfires to scare your friends. They didn’t happen in real life. They didn’t happen to people like me.

But it was happening. It was happening right now.

I sat up. I needed to talk to someone. I needed to tell someone. But who? Priya would freak out. Elena would want to tell everyone. My mom would think I was on drugs. There was no one.

Except.

No. Not him. Not Cal.

I didn’t even know why I thought of him. We weren’t friends. We weren’t anything. We were just two people who went to the same school and sometimes made eye contact in the hallways. He was a year above me. He knew everyone. He was the kind of person who seemed to belong here, who fit in effortlessly, who had friends and plans and a life that made sense.

I was not that kind of person.

I didn’t talk to Cal. I didn’t talk to anyone, really. I had Priya, and that was enough. I didn’t need more. I didn’t want more.

But there was something about him. Something about the way he looked at me, sometimes. Like he knew something I didn’t. Like he was waiting for me to figure it out.

I pushed the thought away. This was not the time. This was not the place.

I stood up and walked to my desk. I opened my laptop and typed “Lake gives back necklace initials” into the search bar. The results were mostly blog posts and Reddit threads, people making jokes about haunted lakes and cursed objects. There was one article from a local newspaper about the school, from like fifteen years ago, about “the mystery of the lake” and how it had been giving things back for over a century. It didn’t say anything useful.

I closed my laptop.

I looked at the necklace again. It was sitting on my desk now, the chain pooled in a little circle, the pendant catching the light. JM. My initials. My necklace, apparently. My problem.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know who to tell. I didn’t know what any of this meant. All I knew was that the lake had given me something, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t a coincidence.

The door opened. Priya walked in, carrying a bag from the dining hall. She stopped when she saw me.

“Hey. I brought you a sandwich. You skipped lunch.”

“Thanks.”

She looked at me closer. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. You have that face.”

“What face?”

“The face you have when something happened and you don’t want to talk about it.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to explain this—any of this—without sounding completely insane.

Priya sat down on her bed and set the bag aside. She looked at me with that look she had, the one that said I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.

“June. What happened?”

I took a breath. I picked up the necklace. I held it out to her.

“I found this on my pillow.”

She took it from me, frowning. She turned it over in her hands, examining the pendant. When she saw the letters, her eyes went wide.

“JM. Your initials.”

“Yeah.”

“Where did it come from?”

“I don’t know. It was just... there. On my pillow. When I got back from class.”

Priya was quiet for a long moment. She was still holding the necklace, looking at it like it might explode. When she spoke, her voice was different. Softer. More serious.

“You know what this means, right?”

I shook my head.

She looked at me. “June. The lake gave this to you.”

I knew she was going to say that. I knew it before the words were even out of her mouth. But hearing her say it—hearing someone else say it—made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.

“That’s impossible,” I said.

“That’s what I thought too. But here it is.” She held up the necklace. “A necklace with your initials. That you’ve never seen before. That just appeared in your room. What else could it be?”

“A prank. Someone messing with me.”

“Who would do that? And how would they get a necklace with your initials on it? That’s not something you can just buy.”

“I don’t know.”

“And why would they leave it on your pillow? That’s not a prank. That’s a message.”

I didn’t have an answer for that. I didn’t have an answer for any of this.

Priya set the necklace down on my desk, next to my laptop. She looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read.

“You should talk to someone,” she said. “Someone who knows about this stuff.”

“Like who? The Lake Committee? I’m not doing that.”

“Not the committee. Someone else.”

“Who?”

She hesitated. “Cal.”

I stared at her. “Cal? Why would I talk to Cal?”

“He knows things. About the lake. About the school. I’ve heard him talking about it before. He’s... interested.”

“I’m not talking to Cal.”

“Why not?”

Because I’ve been trying very hard not to think about him for the past year. Because every time I see him, my stomach does this thing that I hate. Because he’s the kind of person who could ruin me without even trying.

“No reason,” I said. “I just don’t want to.”

Priya shrugged. “Suit yourself. But you can’t just ignore this. Something is happening. And you’re at the center of it.”

I looked at the necklace. I looked at the lake through the window. I looked at Priya, who was watching me with an expression that said I’m right and you know it.

I didn’t want to talk to Cal. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening. I wanted to go back to this morning, when the biggest problem I had was being late for chapel.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t pretend. I couldn’t go back.

The lake had given me something. And I had a feeling it wasn’t done yet.Cal