A key! He’s helping us?
Holding it up, he smiles as he walks it toward us, and I don’t think twice now as I hurry over, snatch it from his fingers, and quickly unlock the shed.
My friends tumble out.
“Get our stuff!” I whisper, motioning to the pile, and while they do, I carefully look all around Otis, but I don’t see my pocketknife anywhere.
Dad’s going to kill me.
I hear Junior locking the shed, and I turn. “Thank you,” I quietly say. “I can’t believe you helped us.”
With a shy smile, he looks down at the ground, and I feel sorry that he has to live here with these mean people. Maybe after all of this is over, I can try to be his friend. Though I’m not sure how that will work, but surely my friends and I can figure something out.
I hear leaves rustling and turn my head to see Mary Jo emerge from the trees.
She takes one look at the scene and charges straight toward us. “GIT BACK HERE!”
CHAPTER 11
We tear off into the trees, thrashing our way through the foliage, jumping downed limbs and tripping over rocks. The Masons are behind us, yelling, whacking their way through the woods. Oh, my God, do they have machetes? Surely Mary Jo can’t run that fast with all her weight. It’s got to be the boys.
I don’t look back. I just run. Run. And keep running, with my eyes glued to Edge ahead of me. Blindly, I follow him. I have no clue how far we go, but it must be at least a mile. Somewhere in the back of my brain I think, Man, I’m glad our PE teacher makes us sprint laps.
Edge finally stops, and gasping for air, the rest of us do, too.
“Oh.” Beans dry heaves. “My.” Dry heave. “Lord.”
Rocky leans over, bracing his hands on his knees. “Did—” He sucks in a lungful of air. “Did we go far enough?”
I fall down onto the ground, gasping for air. I’m going to hyperventilate. Just like Fynn. I have got to calm down. Or use his inhaler.
Breathe, I tell myself. It’s okay. We’re okay. We got away.
Beans falls down beside me, and while we both continue to get our breathing under control, I tune in to our surroundings. To the shade of the trees and the sound of the river somewhere to the right. To a bug or two buzzing about and the slight breeze. To the scent of damp earth. I don’t hear anything but nature. Yep, I think we lost them.
Edge lowers himself down to sit against a tree with an exhausted Hoppy panting at his feet.
I lever up on my elbows, looking around, realizing…“Where’re Scarlett and Fynn?”
Rocky straightens up. “I thought they were right behind me.”
Oh, no. “Scarlett!” I scream, rolling to my knees.
Beans sits up, too. “Fynn!”
“Shut up,” Rocky whispers. “The Masons could hear you.”
I press my lips together. He’s got a point. We have no clue where the Masons are. If we completely lost them. If they turned back. Luckily, they didn’t look like they were in good shape, so maybe they couldn’t keep up.
Slowly, Edge gets back to his feet. “Okay, you kids stay right here with Hoppy. I’m going to backtrack and see if the clan caught them.”
“What?” I gasp. “You can’t leave us here.” What if the clan didn’t catch them and instead the Masons stumble across us?
“You’ll be fine.” Edge points to a thick clump of trees and bushes. “Hide in there. I’ll be a lot quicker without you.”
“No,” Rocky says. “I’m going with you.”
Beans pushes to his feet. “If he’s going, then I am, too.”
“Ditto.” I nod.
Edge sighs. “Somebody needs to stay here in case Fynn and Scarlett got lost but find their way here. Rocky can go with me. You two stay.”
Beans and I exchange a glower. I don’t like this. I want to go. They’re my friends. But I guess it does make sense to stay here in case they find us.
“I can go,” Beans says, straightening up like he’s trying to be taller.
Edge cups him on the shoulder. “Thanks, but Rocky’s bigger.”
Beans presses his lips together and glances away, but Edge is right. If anyone can help, like in the strong way, it would be Rocky.
The two of them disappear back through the woods, and I turn to Beans. “Let’s hide.”
He doesn’t say anything as he grabs Edge’s pack and what meager things we managed to take back from the Masons and heads around a clump of bushes.
“Here, Hoppy,” I quietly call as I follow Beans.
We get situated behind the bushes, and a lot of weird quiet seconds go by. It’s Beans who speaks first. “We should’ve booby-trapped that moonshine barrel to explode.”
I smile, glad he’s not in a bad mood about the “Rocky is bigger” thing. “Absolutely not. Are you kidding me? They don’t need any more reason to come after us.”
Beans begins looking through the stuff we managed to grab, and my thoughts wander to the silo and the meteor shower. The bear and the river. The skeleton and our kidnappers. This isn’t exactly how I thought things would go.
Hoppy nudges my elbow with his wet nose, like he’s picked up on the tenseness, and I reach over and scratch his scraggly head. “You’re a good boy,” I tell him, and his tail wags. I love dogs. Maybe I should’ve asked for one for my birthday instead of a boom box.
Beans opens Edge’s pack next, and I say, “You shouldn’t do that.”
He ignores me, finds a pad and pencil, and goes about sketching. Curious, I watch him for a few seconds and then lean in to see. He turns his back to me, hunching his shoulders and not letting me look.
God, what is his problem? Ugh.
A couple of minutes go by, and idly I listen to the scratch of pencil across paper. To the wind blowing leaves around. To something, probably a squirrel, scurrying past. I wonder if Edge and Rocky have made it back to the clan’s camp yet. A mosquito lands on my arm and I smack it.
“Shouldn’t they be back by now?” I ask.
Beans ignores me.
With a sigh, I look around and my gaze lands on a huge maple tree a few yards away. It reminds me of that one last year we all jumped from. Well, all of us except for Beans…
I finished raking our yard and leaned against a tree, studying the big pile of leaves.
The Scouts wandered up. “Whatcha doing?”
“Thinking about jumping. From there.” I looked up at the treetop, then down to the leaves. “To there.”
Beans took a step back. “I don’t know. The weight-to-distance ratio seems off.”
We ignored him and climbed to the top.
“Suppose we’ll break any bones?” Fynn asked as we inched out on a limb.
“Nah,” Rocky said.
We all jumped together.
“OWWW!”
“I told you so!” Beans yelled.
The scratch of pencil gets a little quicker, bringing me from the memory, and I crane my neck to see over Beans’s shoulder. It looks like he’s re-creating the map. I study the back of his bent head and automatically reach up to remove a little leaf stuck in his curls. He doesn’t notice. Or if he does, he ignores me.
I chew my thumbnail, but it’s already down to the quick, so I try my middle finger. Edge and Rocky should be back by now. I stop nibbling and strain to listen for the sound of footsteps, but I can’t hear anything. What if they got captured? What if a bear got them? What if—
Then it hits me. The fault. It’s all on me. I’m to blame. I’m the one who insisted we go on this crazy adventure. My friends are lost in the woods, being chased by some kind of crazy kid murderers, and if anything happens to them, it will be my fault.
“We need to go home,” I say. “I’m not sure this is going to work.”
Beans turns to look at me, but he doesn’t say anything, and I can’t really figure out what he’s thinking.
“Beans,” I softly say. “We were just kidnapped and now Fynn and Scarlett are missing. And what if Rocky can’t find them?
What if they don’t come back? Plus, we need to tell someone about Basinger.”
“I don’t want to quit,” he says. “Please, Annie.”
“Beans, we’ll find another way to save your house.”
“This is it, Annie. This is it. You were right. The meteor, it’s the solution. I know it.”
I look into his worried eyes, and the more I do, the more I imagine life without Beans. No, he can’t move away. I’ll do whatever I can to help him. “Then will you please tell Rocky and Fynn?”
He looks away—in embarrassment or in guilt, I don’t know—but I stare at the side of his face for a couple of long seconds, and I don’t get it. Why doesn’t he want to tell them what’s going on?
A twig snaps, and Beans and I fall even quieter. I reach for Hoppy and silently pull him against me. Another twig breaks, and our eyes go wide. Someone is definitely out there.
“Forget your friends,” Scarlett gripes. “I want to go home.”
“You’re such a baby,” Fynn snaps.
“Fynn!” I scramble out from behind the bushes and throw my arms around his shoulders. “You’re okay!”
He gives me a couple of awkward pats. “Uh, yeah.”
I let go of him and have this weird urge to give his cheek a big sloppy kiss. Fynn’s here! And he’s alive!
He looks around the area. “Where’s everybody else?”
Beans comes out from our hiding spot. “Rocky and Edge went back to the clan’s campsite to see if you were there. What happened to you two?”
Fynn shoots Scarlett an angry glare. “She tripped, and I went back to help her, and by the time I got her up, you guys were gone.”
“It wasn’t my fault. You’re the one who”—she wheezes mockingly—“couldn’t breathe or run, even, with those stupid loafers.”
Fynn shrugs. “At least I’m not a liar.”
“I hate you!” Scarlett shouts. “You are the worst cousin ever!”
“Would you guys quiet down?” Edge steps through the woods with Rocky right behind him, takes one look at Scarlett and Fynn, and rolls his eyes. “What happened to you two?”
Fynn and Scarlett start yelling over each other, and I yell even louder. “Stop!”
Scarlett crosses her arms over her chest. “I want to go home. We all need to go home.”
Rocky moves a little closer to her, and I swear he’s about to put his arm around her again. “She’s got a point. The Masons are on the move, too. If we keep going, we’re going to run into them again.”
“What happened when you guys went back?” I ask.
“We made it to the campsite and they were looking at the map,” Rocky says. “We couldn’t hear much of what they were saying, but I’m willing to bet they’ll be going after the meteor.”
“Which also means we need to get going if we’re going to beat them to it,” Beans says.
Scarlett throws her hands up. “Are you all insane? I’m not going anywhere except home.”
“Can you not do anything other than be a pain?” I snap at her.
Then Rocky starts in on Beans.
Beans starts in on Fynn.
Fynn starts in on me.
And I turn to start back in on Scarlett when I realize one of us has to be “the voice of reason” (to use my mom’s term). I’m used to settling all the Scouts’ arguments anyway and so I hold my hands up, but of course no one gets quiet. I don’t know why that gesture—holding hands up—works in the movies.
“Listen,” I yell over everyone. “It’s just a little farther. Did we really come all this way for nothing?”
Scarlett gets up in my face. “This is all your fault!”
I resist the urge to shove her away and I turn to Beans for help, but he’s glowering at Rocky as Fynn starts yelling in Beans’s ear.
What’s happening to the Scouts?
A whistle pierces the air, and everyone falls quiet. Dang, I need to learn how to do that.
Edge holds his hands up, just like I did, but it works for him. Well, maybe it was the whistle. “Do you want the Masons to find us?”
Silently, we all shake our heads.
“We don’t have time to be goofing off like this,” he declares. “Show of hands, who’s got enough guts to go find the meteor?”
CHAPTER 12
Beans immediately throws his hand up, and I do, too. I look at the others.
With a sigh, Rocky raises his hand. “Oh, why not.”
We all look pointedly at Fynn, and he does the only thing he can—he grudgingly puts his hand up as well. We look at Scarlett next, and she merely huffs with both hands firmly down.
Edge nods. “That settles it. Majority wins. We’re going forward.”
“But what about the map?” Scarlett whines. “We won’t even know where we’re going.”
Beans holds up the new map he created. “We have our own right here.”
Edge holds out his hand. “Why don’t you give it to me? I know this area better than y’all.”
“No way.” Beans pulls back. “This isn’t leaving my hands.”
“Fair enough.” Edge smiles a little. “But can I just see it real quick?”
Shaking his head, Beans turns the sketch against his chest. “I think you need to answer some questions first.”
For whatever reason, Edge looks at me, and I shrug. “We don’t even know you. So if you’re coming with us, you better answer our questions.”
“Okay.” Edge gives us all an amused look. “Like what?”
“Like what are you doing out here in the woods?” Beans asks.
“Tracking the meteor like y’all. I saw it go down last night. But I was sitting on the front porch and didn’t really see where.” He gestures at the map. “Looks like you kids know.”
Beans gives one single nod. “We do.”
“How old are you?” I ask next because Beans really does have a point. This guy could be a serial killer. Okay, maybe not that. But still.
“Sixteen.”
“Where do you live?” Fynn asks.
“In Friendly, Tennessee. Same as you, I suppose.”
Rocky folds his arms. “Which high school do you go to?”
“Cherokee.”
Rocky quickly follows that up with another question: “Do you play football?” I wonder what that has to do with anything.
“No, but I play baseball.”
Beans gives Edge a long survey. “What do you want with the meteor?”
“Nothing. Just to see it. Maybe take a chunk of it as a souvenir.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Scarlett asks, and every single one of us rolls our eyes. I guess she’s feeling a little better about going on with the search.
Edge laughs. “No.” He motions to the sketch. “Now can I see it? I just rescued you from the Masons. I’m not the bad guy here.”
“Yeah, I guess he’s okay.” Beans turns the sketch around for Edge to look at.
Leaning in, he gives it a good solid study. “That’s a few more hours of walking,” he tells us.
“Listen,” Fynn says. “We know the Masons are going after it, but if Edge saw it go down and we did, too, you know other people probably did.”
Suddenly I remember what I overheard from our jail cell. “Mary Jo did say ‘others’ were after it.”
Edge nods to the pile of stuff we left hidden behind the bushes. “Then let’s get our stuff and get out of here.”
Beans looks at Edge. “But just because you’re older doesn’t mean you’re in charge or anything.”
Edge laughs, and I think it’s about the best one I’ve ever heard. All fun and chuckly and deep.
After that, we go about packing what items we managed to snatch from the Mason Clan. At this point we have three flashlights, Beans’s new map, one walkie-talkie, Fynn’s inhaler, some moist matches, the bag of pork rinds Junior had, and a pack of baby wipes that Fynn eagerly uses to clean his hands and face. I want to ask who brought the baby wipes, but of course I already know the answer
.
I glance through everything one more time. “Did anyone happen to get my pocketknife?”
They shake their heads, and I drop my shoulders in disappointment. Yeah, my dad’s really going to be upset at me over this one.
We divide up the pork rinds and each cram a handful into our mouths. I don’t know who thought to grab them, but thank God. Edge passes around a canteen he had in his pack, but there’s only enough water for a few gulps each.
After that, we fall in step behind Edge and Hoppy, and several minutes pass. The air feels hot and sticky now, and I try not to focus on how thirsty I still am. Hungry, too. I look around. Someone has to have more food.
Scarlett pulls a tube of lip gloss from her pocket and swipes it across her bottom lip. She rubs her lips together, and I look at how shiny they are and wonder what my lips would look like with that stuff. I watch as she hurries to catch up to Edge and immediately begins giggling at whatever he’s saying. Edge smiles, and she giggles some more and my teeth clench. She said this was all my fault, and Beans just stood there and let her. Okay, I get that he doesn’t want to tell anybody his secret, but he could, at the minimum, back me up.
With that irritable thought, I rear back and kick a rock, and it accidentally hits Scarlett in her calf.
“Ow!” She spins around.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
She gives me a good solid glare that I ignore, before turning a smile back on Edge. “So,” she says, all sweet-tempered again. “How’d your dog lose his leg?”
“Born that way,” Edge tells her, and I find that comforting. I’d hate to think the little guy was in an accident or something.
“One of my good friends has a dog with only one leg,” Scarlett says.
Edge’s brows go up. “Really?”
She nods. “Swear to God.”
I cut my eyes over to Fynn and he just shakes his head. I notice Hoppy is sticking close to Fynn. That’s funny—Fynn doesn’t even like animals. I watch as he dips his hand into his pocket and quickly drops a bit of something on the ground. Hoppy pauses to snatch it up and then goes right back to trotting alongside Fynn.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Do you have more food? I’m starving.”
Scouts Page 7
