"There's something in the water!" shouted Mark from the bank.
I dropped my bag and ran. My feet sank into mud. The stream pulled at my ankles. Mark pointed and then went quiet.
I waded in because someone had to. The chilly current hit my knees. I reached into reeds and found hair, then a shoulder, then the weight of a body.
"Hold her up," I ordered. My voice was steady. Someone grabbed my sleeve.
Hands hauled at the wet shape. I dragged the girl onto the bank and flipped her over. Her face was swollen and gray. Her mouth hung open like a counted list.
"Is she breathing?" I asked.
"Don't touch it," an old woman said, stepping close. She smelled of smoke and lemons.
"I can check. Stand back," I said. My fingers found a wrist. No pulse.
"God," Mark breathed. "She's—"
"Name!" someone barked.
"Who is she?" I said. I swept the hair back with my hand and saw the corner of a school jacket, the embroidery half-hidden under mud.
"She has our crest," Mark whispered.
"Don't call the police," the old woman snapped. "We handle this our way."
I felt anger raw and quick. "She's a student," I said. "She goes to our school."
That made them gasp. A woman with a basket—Mei from Mrs. Lu's farm—took a step forward and grabbed my phone out of my hand. She moved like a hawk.
"You're a teacher
