Over the Edge by Gloria Skurzynski

down here,” Steven broke in. “Morgan, this is an important interview for Olivia. We’re all going to go and support her. Behave yourself, and then we’ll see what’s next.”
    Jack carefully pulled the door shut and tried to swallow the knot that had tightened his throat. His sister was hurt, his mother was angry, Morgan was being sent away, and the condors were still dying. How could this trip get any worse?

CHAPTER SIX
    M organ hunched so low in the backseat of the car that his knees almost touched his chin. Outside, the park slid by, its small, snug buildings overrun by people scurrying about like ants. Inside the car, no one spoke—silence crept around them like a thick cloud. Olivia checked the map and gave instructions on how to get to Mather Point; Steven answered briefly, then lapsed once again into silence. Jack suspected that they were quiet because they were replaying the conversation that had taken place moments before about the Web site and the fact that Morgan might have to leave. Although Ashley wasn’t letting on that she’d listened in, Jack could tell how angry she was. She dug her fingernails into her palm until little half-moon marks made a pattern on her skin.
    â€œLook, we all should talk. Morgan, I’ve been thinking,” Olivia began, turning in her seat. She hesitated then gave a forced smile. “On reflection I can see the condor deaths have really put a strain on me, so, well, perhaps I overreacted back in the hotel room.”
    â€œWhat did Morgan do?” Ashley asked, pretending she hadn’t heard the whole conversation.
    â€œI’ll tell you about it later, sweetheart. For now, I think I need to apologize to Morgan for some things I said.” Reaching out her hand, she said, “I’d like to bury the hatchet.”
    Morgan didn’t answer. He planted his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers around the back of his neck.
    â€œDid you hear what I said?”
    â€œYeah, you said you want to bury the hatchet. Where—in my back?”
    â€œMorgan!” Steven exploded.
    Olivia sighed and faced front again. “It’s OK,” she told Steven. “I tried. Look, I want to get my head focused on this interview. Ashley, is my hair OK?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject. “It feels like it’s going wild.”
    â€œYou look great, Mom,” Ashley assured her. With the tips of her fingers, she smoothed the back of her mother’s hair. “Really. Hey, look at the crowd!”
    A lot of tourists had already gathered in the parking lot, excited about the two cameramen with their CNN logos. As Olivia got out of the car, a woman in a trench coat took her arm, saying, “Would you come over this way, Dr. Landon? We need to test the mike.” Olivia tossed a smile in a backward glance to her family, and then took off toward the CNN news truck.
    â€œMom’s going to be a celebrity,” Ashley exclaimed. “If she gets famous, will she still cook for us?”
    â€œWell, if she doesn’t, I will,” Steven answered, tugging a lock of Ashley’s dark hair to tease her. Steven wore the usual warm, fond expression that he saved for Ashley. Maybe it was because she was like a smaller version of Olivia, with dark, curly hair, big, dark eyes, and a petite build. To Jack, Steven showed his affection in a different way, ruffling his hair, giving him pretend punches to the biceps, grabbing him playfully around the back of the neck to pull him close for a quick, manly hug. Just as Ashley looked like their mother, Jack looked like their dad: almost a clone, in fact—tall and thin, blue-eyed, with stick-straight blond hair.
    â€œCome on, we want to find a good spot where we can see and hear everything,” Steven said. “I wonder if this will be telecast live? Maybe I ought to get the cell phone and call your grandparents.”
    As Steven hurried back to the car for