again.
“Shhhhh, just a sec,” I stall. I stare up past the salal into the giant cedar that looms before me. The breeze has picked up a bit and it moves the huge limbs of the tree, back and forth. They make a soft whispering sound. I hold my breath. I think I hear someone. I think I hear a girl’s voice … a girl’s voice calling someone, but I can’t be sure, and then the feeling goes away — probably because Max is pushing on the back of my foot.
“Anderson! What’s with you? Get going!”
“Uh … er … did you hear something a second ago?” I ask him. “Did you hear a girl’s voice?”
“What? Are you nuts?”
“Okay. Never mind. Here. You have to get through this small space right here, and kind of tunnel behind this yew tree, and … are you with me?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m right behind you.”
“Okay, then, check it out.” We brush off our hands and knees and stand staring at the wall of ivy before us. I point to the dark opening at one end.
“Whoa! COOL !” Max cries, walking toward it, craning his head down low so he can check out the entrance.
“Don’t start messing around in there, Max. You might wreck something,” I warn him, before looking over my shoulder and up at the cedars again.
“Oh yeah? Like a creepy skeleton of some old spirit dude? You’re not freaked out, are you Hannah?” he teases.
“No! But you are definitely obsessed with creepy things and dead stuff.”
“Nah — you’re just chicken. I can tell,” he says. “I can see it in your eyes.” He looks like he’s enjoying himself.
“Besides,” he continues, “what’s so creepy about dead stuff? Everybody’s curious. Why do you think cars slow down at accidents? ’Cause it’s a total gore fest! Everyone wants to get a good look!”
It feels like someone has just taken a sledgehammer to my chest. I can’t breathe … Max’s words … The car … they said it was a write-off. I remember the exact moment when the police officer came; how he struggled to find the right words to tell Dad and me what happened; how I couldn’t believe that Mom was never coming home again. For a second I can see her face right in front of me. I can smell her … the lemon-scented fragrance she wore every single day. I feel like I’m going to fall over. Instead, I yell at my friend.
“Max! You stupid jerk!”
And then I’m shimmying through the underbrush to get out to the trail. I can’t get there fast enough. In a flash I’m up and running. I don’t know why, but I keep going. I run as fast as I can and I don’t stop until I get to the clearing at the end of the trail, near the bakery.
I hear Max running up behind me. “Hannah! What’s your problem? I don’t get you.”
I can tell he’s mad. He must think I’ve really lost it. I just stand there, breathing hard, staring out at the ocean, unable to look at him.
“What’s wrong with you?” He steps in front of my face and breaks my gaze, forcing me to look him in the eyes.
What’s wrong with me is that I suddenly hate Max. I don’t care about the stupid spindle whorl. Or the archaeology team. I don’t care about the cave or my school project. I don’t care about anything.
I miss my mom.
I miss my mom, so much!
10
The Dig
“HANNAH?” NOW MAX looks more worried than angry. “Hannah, how come you’re crying? Will you please tell me what’s wrong? I don’t understand.”
Of course, how could he? He doesn’t know that much about me. He was just goofing off; guys are like that. And I understand how it must seem to him since he knows absolutely nothing about my mom. So I take a deep breath, and I tell him everything, about how she died in a car accident almost two years ago. When I’m done, he looks like he wants to sink right into the ground.
“I’m really sorry, Hannah. I … I didn’t know,” he says.
“I know. It’s okay.”
“I just thought your parents were, like, divorced or something.”
“It’s okay. I mean, I’m okay.
“Shhhhh, just a sec,” I stall. I stare up past the salal into the giant cedar that looms before me. The breeze has picked up a bit and it moves the huge limbs of the tree, back and forth. They make a soft whispering sound. I hold my breath. I think I hear someone. I think I hear a girl’s voice … a girl’s voice calling someone, but I can’t be sure, and then the feeling goes away — probably because Max is pushing on the back of my foot.
“Anderson! What’s with you? Get going!”
“Uh … er … did you hear something a second ago?” I ask him. “Did you hear a girl’s voice?”
“What? Are you nuts?”
“Okay. Never mind. Here. You have to get through this small space right here, and kind of tunnel behind this yew tree, and … are you with me?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m right behind you.”
“Okay, then, check it out.” We brush off our hands and knees and stand staring at the wall of ivy before us. I point to the dark opening at one end.
“Whoa! COOL !” Max cries, walking toward it, craning his head down low so he can check out the entrance.
“Don’t start messing around in there, Max. You might wreck something,” I warn him, before looking over my shoulder and up at the cedars again.
“Oh yeah? Like a creepy skeleton of some old spirit dude? You’re not freaked out, are you Hannah?” he teases.
“No! But you are definitely obsessed with creepy things and dead stuff.”
“Nah — you’re just chicken. I can tell,” he says. “I can see it in your eyes.” He looks like he’s enjoying himself.
“Besides,” he continues, “what’s so creepy about dead stuff? Everybody’s curious. Why do you think cars slow down at accidents? ’Cause it’s a total gore fest! Everyone wants to get a good look!”
It feels like someone has just taken a sledgehammer to my chest. I can’t breathe … Max’s words … The car … they said it was a write-off. I remember the exact moment when the police officer came; how he struggled to find the right words to tell Dad and me what happened; how I couldn’t believe that Mom was never coming home again. For a second I can see her face right in front of me. I can smell her … the lemon-scented fragrance she wore every single day. I feel like I’m going to fall over. Instead, I yell at my friend.
“Max! You stupid jerk!”
And then I’m shimmying through the underbrush to get out to the trail. I can’t get there fast enough. In a flash I’m up and running. I don’t know why, but I keep going. I run as fast as I can and I don’t stop until I get to the clearing at the end of the trail, near the bakery.
I hear Max running up behind me. “Hannah! What’s your problem? I don’t get you.”
I can tell he’s mad. He must think I’ve really lost it. I just stand there, breathing hard, staring out at the ocean, unable to look at him.
“What’s wrong with you?” He steps in front of my face and breaks my gaze, forcing me to look him in the eyes.
What’s wrong with me is that I suddenly hate Max. I don’t care about the stupid spindle whorl. Or the archaeology team. I don’t care about the cave or my school project. I don’t care about anything.
I miss my mom.
I miss my mom, so much!
10
The Dig
“HANNAH?” NOW MAX looks more worried than angry. “Hannah, how come you’re crying? Will you please tell me what’s wrong? I don’t understand.”
Of course, how could he? He doesn’t know that much about me. He was just goofing off; guys are like that. And I understand how it must seem to him since he knows absolutely nothing about my mom. So I take a deep breath, and I tell him everything, about how she died in a car accident almost two years ago. When I’m done, he looks like he wants to sink right into the ground.
“I’m really sorry, Hannah. I … I didn’t know,” he says.
“I know. It’s okay.”
“I just thought your parents were, like, divorced or something.”
“It’s okay. I mean, I’m okay.
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