The Hunted by Gloria Skurzynski Page B

and gray shirt, and then a pair of black shorts. Elbow-deep, she poked around until she pulled up a pair of sandals, the kind with Velcro fasteners. “These might work, too,” she said.
    â€œMom bought those for you for this trip, and they cost 50 bucks!” Jack objected.
    â€œSo? I have other shoes. Miguel’s got nothing. We shouldn’t be pigs, Jack.”
    â€œPig?” Miguel repeated, looking puzzled. “Ah, puerco!” He laughed, then patted his stomach and burped, making Jack and Ashley laugh with him.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    W hite angelica next to Quartz Creek bloomed like soap bubbles on green straws, nodding to the water as it rushed on its way to Lower and Middle Quartz Lakes. Though it swirled with foamy ripples, the water didn’t look too deep, especially where it pooled behind a string of boulders polished smooth by the swift current. Branches and bits of sticks had lodged against the stones, damming the water into a small pool. A perfect bathing spot.
    â€œThere,” Ashley said, pointing. “That’s where we’ll clean him. It’ll be cold, but it’s the best we can do, ’cause I don’t have a clue how to rig up that shower bag thing Dad has. You ready, Jack?”
    â€œI guess. I’m not sure Miguel understands what we’re doing here.”
    â€œSure he does, don’t you, Miguel?” Miguel shrugged and smiled, a sign Ashley took for “yes” but that Jack interpreted as “I have no idea.” Both he and Ashley were in their bathing suits, so Miguel most likely just figured they were going in for a swim. Jack looked away from Miguel’s trusting eyes. Poor guy was really in for it now.
    â€œOK, Jack, I’ll turn my back while you tell him to get undressed. Tell him to leave his underwear on, though,” Ashley instructed.
    â€œYou do it.”
    â€œI’m not going to. That’s a guy thing. After you get him in, I’ll give his hair a really good shampoo.”
    Jack snorted. “Give us a break. Miguel can wash his own hair.”
    â€œNot as well as I can,” came her reply. “You don’t mind me washing your hair, do you, Miguel?”
    Another shrug, another grin.
    â€œThere you go, Jack, he’s fine with it.” Ashley had armed herself with a full load of supplies, from biodegradable shampoo to biodegradable soap to fresh underwear (Jack’s), her own Jazz T-shirt and black shorts, a spare toothbrush and toothpaste, comb and scissors, and her sandals, all of which she’d loaded into a clean plastic garbage bag and slung over her shoulder.
    They seemed like mother and child, Ashley and Miguel, which amused Jack because the two of them were exactly the same age.
    â€œAll right, I’ll wait up on the bank,” Ashley told him. “You get him in the water and then call me.”
    Jack asked, “You sure you want to do this?”
    â€œSure I’m sure. He stinks. Besides, I want to cut his hair after it’s wet—”
    â€œNo way,” Jack protested. “The only hair you’ve ever cut was on your Barbie dolls.”
    â€œThey looked great!”
    â€œThey were bald!”
    â€œOnly Malibu Barbie. Besides, that was a long time ago. Come on, Jack, it’ll only be a trim! I’ll just snip a teeny tiny bit, and he’ll look a whole lot better.” Supremely confident, she retreated up the bank of the creek to wait. Bushes rustled behind her, and then, like a forest animal disappearing into the underbrush, she was gone.
    Jack turned to face Miguel, who was studying him with his large, dark eyes. “OK,” Jack began, feeling completely stupid. “See the water? We want to go in. To wash.” He scrubbed his fingers through his hair and pointed once again to the stream.
    â€œSí. Wash.” Miguel seemed to have understood enough to act amused. They exchanged a look of “she’s a girl—what can you