father’s chair squeaks as Uncle Ted rises and cruises up to the counter. “Sorry, I didn’t know you two were waiting for me. Wow, Brigit, you’ve managed to find quite a few things. I take it Tristan here was useful? Excellent. I’ll ring them in. It’s a pleasure doing business with Swallow Canyon Expeditions.”
“Thanks,” she says and looks at me. “Can you help me carry all this to my truck?”
“Of course he will,” Uncle Ted tells the best customer he has had in weeks, drowning out my “Yes.”
As she unlocks the blue Chevy pickup parked outside, she says, “So, no charge if you want to join the trip I’m guiding Sunday. Could use an experienced hand along.”
“To the Lower Canyon?” I ask incredulously.
She laughs lightly. “No, the Upper Canyon, of course.”
“Sorry, I’d never get permission for that.” My face goes warm for having admitted it. Elspeth is with Mom while I’m at school, but I’m the weekend caretaker. No way can I leave my mom alone an entire day. Who would cook, clean, and listen for when she calls out? Besides, I don’t quite get Dean’s older sister. Why would she offer a complete stranger a free day trip? Maybe because she has heard about my family? (In small towns, gossip travels fast, even if I’ve been too out of the loop to hear anything about her.) If that’s it and she feels sorry for me, I’m out of here. I don’t need anyone’s help.
She lifts the pile of canyoneering gear from my arms and tosses it into the back of the pickup.
“You wouldn’t get permission? You haven’t even asked!”
Then, without a “nice to meet you” or “thanks for the help,” she climbs in, slams the driver’s door shut, fires up the engine, and drives away. Her ancient mountain bike rattles from where it’s tied up in the back.
I’m left standing there, coughing up road dust and scratching my head. A part of me would do anything to canyoneer again — to reclaim the sport I love and miss. Even if it does trigger thoughts that can cut me up like a chainsaw: flashbacks of happy trips with Dad that fight with the crippling memory of the day two grim-faced police officers showed up at our door, and blew up the entire planet.
But anyway, I’m not going to find my way back to the canyoneering world anytime soon. Mom needs me, and she’s so fragile. Just the word “canyon” would trigger her.
Of course, I’d never try to explain to her that canyoneering was a special connection Dad and I had. Which is why, despite the tragedy, it’s a link to my father that I’ll never stop craving.
CHAPTER 4
When I shuffle into the barn at daybreak, my tracker instincts jerk to attention. Something’s wrong: the way the hens are cackling and dashing about the hen house.
I stride over to the hens and count. All five are alive and well, even if a little unhinged. Digging into the straw, I collect their eggs. One, two, three.
Two hens haven’t laid. Something’s up, for sure. Has a racoon or mink been circling around outside, making them nervous? Well, it didn’t get in or they wouldn’t all be here. Anyway, it’s a mystery that’ll have to wait.
I let the hens out and head back to the house. Placing the eggs on the kitchen counter, I grab a bun to stuff in my mouth and head out the door. Within minutes I’ve got rabbit tracks in my sights.
Following them, I pause to sniff the spring shoots, listen intensely, and scan the horizon. Left, right, down. Not far into the woods, my superior Spidey sense tells me again that something’s not right. The crickets, birds, and soft crackles in the underbrush have stilled, but only immediately around the tree under which I’ve paused. I scan again: left, right, down. Wait! It’s up I’m always forgetting. I raise my head, but a second too late. A blur of beige leaps down from a branch and lands lightly in front of me.
I shake my head at the boy in the beige T-shirt. “Yo, Dean. Why are you trying to scare me, you little jerk?”
Dean can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. “Just having some fun.”
“Well, guess what? Not funny. And don’t you know there are lions, tigers, and bears around here just waiting to eat you up?”
“Yeah? Then why are you here?”
“I’m tracking — following tracks. I’d know if there was a wild animal nearby.”
“You didn’t spot me.” He says it triumphantly as he produces a stick of black licorice from his pocket and offers me a piece. It’s not your average licorice stick; it has a diameter I could stick an entire finger into. Jumbo licorice.
“True,” I admit as I accept the offer. “So, how’s climbing club going? And what are you doing here? Does anyone know where you are?”
He shrugs. “What’s with the weird cave at your place? The one down by the stream?”
“Been snooping, eh?” I try on a stern tone. “It’s called the grotto — it’s a fake cave. My dad and I made it from stones and concrete when I was about your age. It’s not weird; it’s amazing.”
“Amazing how?”
“I’ll show you.”
Ten minutes later, we enter the damp, musty space. The size of a family tent, it resembles a concrete dome that someone inside punched his fist into a hundred times.
“Got lots of dents — er, cubbyholes,” Dean says, poking his fingers into some of the cavities in the walls.
“And half of them have a stone in them, all different sizes.”
“But what’s this cave for?”
“A cool place to hang out, make out, hear your voice echo, and avoid homework. And hide things.” I pass my hand over the wall. The rocks in the holes are like ornaments you can rearrange endlessly. “Move the rocks around, and the cave looks different every time. And the hiding spaces change.”
“Hiding spaces for what?”
“Easter eggs at Easter time. The marshmallow bunny was always behind the largest rock. Candies at Halloween. The chocolate witch was always behind the largest rock. Little presents at Christmas time. The best one was —”
“— always behind the biggest rock.”
“You got it,” I say.
He moves about the cave, eyes alight, till he spots the largest stone. It rumbles as he rolls it aside. He turns to me accusingly. “Nothing there.”
“Nothing,” I agree gloomily. Dad’s not around to do it anymore.
Dean rubs his stomach. “Got any food?”
“At home. But you’d have to do some chores for me if you want any.” I like how fast I think that up.
“Can you give me a ride to school, too?”
I cross my arms and pretend to consider that
