My Diary from the Edge of the World by Jodi Lynn Anderson Page B

he might be just about to go for a jog, and his mom was wearing a net over her face.
    â€œMy dad worked at McCormick spices—they import cinnamon and nutmeg and things like that. My mom was an accountant, but really she thought of herself as an amateur naturalist. That’s why she’s wearing the net over her face. She loved to take us into the woods behind our house and collect butterflies and bugs.”
    â€œSounds risky,” I said. “All that time in the woods.”
    â€œMom said if you want to enjoy the wilderness, you have to take risks.” There was an awkward silence while I wondered if it was her belief in risks that had gotten her tangled up with the sasquatches.
    â€œOliver . . . ,” I said, wishing there was more privacy on the Winnebago, “why did you decide to come with us? I told you where my dad wants to go. Surely you could have picked some people less . . .” I glanced toward my dad in the driver’s seat and then lowered my voice. “. . . um . . . destined for failure?”
    Oliver smoothed down his hair, thinking. He was quiet for several moments. I was just about to give up, when he finally spoke. “I want to get as far away as possible . . . from them.” He looked up at me, his green eyes extra bright in the dim afternoon light.
    â€œFrom those sasquatches?” I asked. He shook his head.
    â€œNo. I know it sounds bad, but I mean . . . from my parents, and where we had our life, in Connecticut. I just want to be far away from that. The Extraordinary World sounds like it’s about as far away as you can go.” He ran his fingers along the edges of his photo, looking sheepish. “I shouldn’t want to forget them, but I do. I wish I could forget I ever knew them andthat they ever loved me.” His hair sprang up again from where he’d smoothed it down. “Though, so far being with you guys actually makes me think about them more. My mom loved road trips—she had all these Irish traveling songs she liked to sing. The weird thing is,” he went on, looking out the window, “she loved animals—all kinds. Even the beasts and monsters. She always said you can’t blame animals for doing what’s in their natures. She would have said not to blame the sasquatches.” I could tell by the angry way he said it that he didn’t share the sentiment.
    We were silent for a while. I was thinking to myself how we’re going to the Extraordinary World to protect someone, and Oliver is going to forget the people he couldn’t protect. I thought of how I’d looked at him when he’d first arrived at school, how I thought he’d looked like a fish. But really he just looked sad, I guess.
    *  *  *
    Mom is driving today, and instead of spending time with us, Dad has his nose stuck in a book (of course) called something ridiculous like Einstein’s Cat or Einstein’s Cricket or something like that. Sometimes I’m tempted to pull down the lucky penny on my wallthat’s dedicated specifically to keeping him safe and throw it out the window.
    Millie just poked her head up into my bunk, her brown curls sticking to the flannel of the blue sheet I’ve hung around it for privacy.
    â€œDo you know we’re broke?” she whispered. “Nobody’s made an offer on the house, and Mom and Dad are almost out of money.”
    â€œBut they have savings.”
    Millie shook her head, ducked out for a moment to make sure we weren’t being listened to, then appeared again. “Not as much as you think. We may have to sell our hair like in Little Women .” She then gazed at me appraisingly, taking in my messy dishwater-blond mop. “Well, mine at least.” She looked almost sorry for me, and then she disappeared again.
    Millie can be dramatic, but I think she must be telling the truth, because yesterday Mom was