Scouts

by Shannon Greenland

  Fynn looks at me. “No.”

  “But I just saw—”

  “It’s just a little bit of beef jerky I brought. It fell in the dirt, and since I wasn’t going to eat it, I figured he might want it.”

  I look down at Hoppy gazing adoringly up at Fynn. “I think you made a friend.” And hello, Fynn’s carrying beef jerky in his pocket? This is a first.

  Edge looks over his shoulder at all of us. “Do your parents even know that you’re out here?”

  We shrug, and I’m the one who answers. “As long as we stick together, they’re cool. We’re always off doing something.” That much is true.

  “Yeah, well, how much trouble will you be in when you get back?”

  I shrug, even though worry niggles through my belly. “They think we’re on a camping trip, so they might not notice we’re gone.”

  Scarlett grabs Edge’s hand and tugs his attention back onto her. “We found a skeleton in a cave.”

  “We think it’s Old Man Basinger,” Beans tells him.

  “No way.” Edge thinks about that a second. “I saw him… well, come to think of it, it has been a while since I’ve seen him. You guys are going to tell someone, right?”

  “Of course we’re going to report it.” Anonymously, but yeah, it’s not like we’re just going to leave a skeleton in a cave. Plus, we need to let the cops know we found Basinger’s shotgun in the Masons’ shed.

  Edge stops walking, like he suddenly just thought of something, and turns to face all of us. “Wait a minute. A skeleton. In a cave. You didn’t touch it, did you?”

  “Maybe,” Fynn says. “Why?”

  Edge looks between us. “Obviously, you’ve never heard about the curse.”

  “What curse?” I hesitantly ask, ignoring the sudden chill pricking across my skin.

  “Those caves were used as a burial ground by mountain witches. To keep anyone from trying to steal their gold, they put a curse on the chamber. Anyone who stole from it would be struck down and their skin would boil off. I wonder if that’s what happened to Old Man Basinger? Oh, but you know what else? I heard that if someone touches a dead man’s bones, they’ll be cursed, too.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Edge looks at all of us again. “You didn’t touch the bones, did you?” This time he asks a little more emphatically.

  Frantically, I search my brain. “I… I… I don’t know. I think just the hat?” I turn to Beans. “Right? The hat?”

  Beans shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t see.”

  Edge pats my shoulder and smiles at my panic. “I’m sure you’re okay. Your skin is still on you.” Then Edge turns and starts walking again, like he didn’t just drop the bomb that I might be cursed.

  Beans shakes his head. “There’s no such thing as curses. Plus, we saw Basinger’s shotgun in the shed, remember? If that was his skeleton, the Masons have got to be connected. Basinger wasn’t stealing from some witch’s chamber and then got cursed.”

  With that, Beans and everyone else follow Edge, and I just stand for a few seconds staring after them.

  I didn’t touch the bones. Did I?

  I look down at the skin on my arms, and it looks normal to me. I give it a good hard rub just in case. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I hurry to catch up with the group.

  “You don’t think those Mason people will come back?” Scarlett asks several minutes later.

  Edge shakes his head. “I think they’re more interested in that map than anything. I’ve actually encountered the Mason Clan a few times. They’re bullies, for sure, but as long as you don’t mess with their moonshine, you’re fine.”

  “Good thing I didn’t booby-trap it, then,” Beans mutters.

  “Good thing,” I say.

  Edge steps around a tree. “It’s weird they took you guys. Maybe they just wanted to mess with you. Scare you or something. I know the rumors, but I’ve never heard of them actually kidnapping anybody.”

  I remember the Masons standing side by side, staring at me hanging in that sack while I blubbered away. Maybe they realized they were overdoing the terrorize-the-kid thing.

  Scarlett slips her hand in Edge’s. “So you’re in high school, huh?”

  “Yep,” he answers, sliding his hand free.

  “I’m thirteen.”

  Edge gives her a lopsided smile. “Um, okay.”

  “What’s so special about him?” Rocky grumbles.

  “What’s so special about Scarlett?” I grumble right back.

  And when did I become such a girl? Thinking boys are cute, getting jealous, and the whole butterfly thing. Ugh. It’s all Scarlett’s fault.

  Rocky cuts me an odd look through the side of his eyes, and I wish I hadn’t said that about her out loud.

  I decide to go with it. “Well?”

  He shrugs. “She’s different. New.”

  “Pretty?”

  His face gets a little red. “Yes.”

  “She wears girly clothes and lip gloss?”

  “Yes.” He looks at me again. “What’s up with you?”

  I flip a braid over my shoulder. “So if I wore girly clothes and lip gloss, you would think I was pretty, too?”

  Rocky doesn’t answer me, and the more silence that ticks by, the more uncomfortable I become. What was I thinking, bringing this up?

  “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. You’re just Annie to me. Always have been. You’re my pal.”

  Well, I suppose there could be worse things than being Rocky’s pal. Honestly, none of this has ever been an issue before and I’d really like it not to be. I smile at him. “You’re my pal, too.”

  “Good.” Rocky keeps walking, and when he’s steps ahead, Beans comes up beside me.

  “I think you’re pretty,” he quietly says.

  For a second I’m not sure how to respond—Beans has never said anything like that to me before. I glance over at his face, and the shy expression on it melts my heart. “Thank you, Beans.”

  He smiles. “You’re welcome.”

  Rocky stops walking. “Huh.”

  Beans and I jog to catch up, and when we’re right beside him, we see him staring down at his Nikes. He scoots away some leaves that are coated with a fine silver dust and then toes a fallen limb to the side. “What is that?” he asks.

  I move closer, squatting as I do. And there, right at Rocky’s feet, sits a perfectly round bright silver sphere, about the size of those Rubik’s Cubes our math teacher lets us play with on Friday afternoons.

  Silver dust coats the ground around the sphere, too. This is just like the other silver powder I’ve seen. It had to have come from the meteor shower. I lean closer and reach out my hand—

  “Don’t touch it!” Edge says, and I jump back.

  Rocky steps away, and Edge takes a stick and rolls the object around in the dirt and leaves.

  “That silver stuff,” I tell everyone, “it’s been other places, too. It was on me and Beans and probably you all after the silo. It was on that bear. And on the Masons’ roof. It’s got to be from the meteor shower.”

  Fynn hikes one brow. “Why didn’t you tell us you saw silver stuff?”

  I give him an incredulous look. “We’ve been kind of busy. Excuse me for not pointing out sparkly glitter.”

  Beans straightens up. “She told me,” he says, and Fynn and Rocky both frown.

  I give Beans a look. Now is so not the time to be playing the favorite game.

  The clouds shift then, and a beam of sun sneaks through them and the trees to hit the sphere, almost like the sun knows there’s a foreign object in the woods. The sphere reflects back, shooting brilliant rays that are so bright I have to squint to watch. The rays seem to dance across the silver surface, and I’m suddenly mesmerized by the glimmering light. I reach a hand out again because I would love to feel—

  “Don’t.” Fynn grasps my arm and tugs me back, and it’s only now that I realize my friends have all taken giant steps back while I’ve mov
ed forward.

  The sun disappears behind a cloud, and the sphere goes back to being normal polished silver. What the heck just happened? I’ve seen the sun reflect on something shiny before, but this seemed different. More sparkly, and dancing with intensity. If this sphere came down in the meteor shower, then that means it’s from outer space. I’ve seen pictures of meteors, and they never looked like this.

  I glance at Beans. I want to know what he thinks. But he’s just staring at the orb, and I can totally visualize the scientific wheels cranking away. Plus, this means more money.

  Edge slips on a leather glove and reaches down to grasp the sphere. Holding it up in front of his face, he rotates the ball, studying it, and I try to get a better look. It almost seems like it’s glass, it’s so polished and clear. Edge pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket, wraps the cloth neatly around the sphere, and tucks the bundle inside his pack.

  “What do you think it is?” Rocky whispers.

  None of us have a response.

  “This isn’t what we’re looking for, is it?” Fynn asks.

  Beans shakes his head. “Wrong location. But, guys, what if what we saw really wasn’t a meteor shower?”

  “I told you…” Fynn’s voice trails off.

  “Aliens,” Scarlett breathes.

  CHAPTER 14

  The word alien totally consumes me for the next thirty minutes. Gigantic ones with gray skin and misshapen heads. Little green ones with squeaky voices and bugged-out eyes. Tall, impossibly skinny ones with jagged teeth.

  Swallowing, I glance over to Fynn, the one who initially planted the alien idea. I look at his blond curls, his dirty polo, and the side of his calm face as he merrily strolls along.

  He doesn’t seem fazed at all that we might be tracking an alien. Then again, he’s always the one who plants these crazy supernatural ideas in our heads.…

  Fynn stuck his face in mine. “I heard she’s a vampire,” he whispered. And without moving his head, he rolled his green eyes to the left, across the field to where our gym teacher stood.

  I rolled my eyes in the same direction, and my brain began to spin with ways not to get bitten.

  Fynn dug around in his backpack and pulled out three necklaces chunked with raw garlic. He handed one to me. “Here, put this on.”

  Crinkling my nose, I put the necklace on and he did the same. “And the third necklace?”

  Fynn looked grim. “You distract her and I’ll sling it over her head.”

  I nodded. “I’m going in.”

  Yeah, Fynn’s always the one bringing up this kind of stuff. Like that time he convinced us that werewolves had moved into our neighborhood. Don’t even get me started with how much trouble we got in over that one—sneaking over to the new neighbors’ house on the first full moon and hanging mistletoe from every tree in their yard and on their front porch, too.

  Mistletoe’s supposed to weaken a werewolf—at least that’s what Fynn said.

  With a sigh, he glances over to me now. “My feet hurt.”

  Rocky pipes up from the back of the group. “Of course your feet hurt. Who wears penny loafers to go hiking?”

  Fynn spins to face him. “At least I have style! All you ever wear are jeans and muscle tees.”

  “You know what—” Rocky takes a step toward him. “You—”

  “And you stink!”

  Rocky hesitates a second, thrown off by the comment. “Yeah? Well, you do, too!”

  “I do not!” Fynn lifts his arm and smells his pit. “Um, okay, maybe I do. But my Old Spice is back there with Mary Jo and Otis. I can’t help that I stink.”

  I try to whistle like Edge did, but I end up spitting more than anything. So I hold my hands up instead, even though that didn’t work before. Fynn and Rocky just keep arguing.

  “Oh, would you two shut up,” I snap. “We all stink. Just don’t go smelling each other and we’ll be good.”

  Scarlett giggles, and we all scowl at her. “What’s so funny?”

  She grins. “I was just imagining them as stepbrothers and sharing a room.”

  Rocky and Fynn both get real quiet. I look at Rocky first to see his jaw moving into a hard clench, and then I look at Fynn to see his facial expression slowly going from annoyed to smiling.

  “Hey,” Fynn says, “do you think we’ll live at your house or mine? Come to think of it, either house we’ll have to share a room. That is, until your sister goes off to college and then one of us can have hers.”

  The muscles in Rocky’s jaw tighten even harder. “I’m not sharing a room with you.”

  Fynn’s smile fades. “What’s your problem?”

  “My problem”—Rocky grinds out the words—“is that I don’t want our parents getting married. I don’t want to be your brother. What don’t you get about that?”

  I suck in a breath, Beans cringes, and Fynn’s eyes narrow. “Oh, yeah? Well, I don’t want to be your brother, either.”

  “Fine!”

  “Fine!”

  They stand there for a few seconds, fuming at each other, and it’s Rocky who turns away first and charges off.

  “Oh, my God,” Scarlett says. “That was so mean.”

  I wish Fynn could see what’s really going on with Rocky. “Hey,” I quietly say to Fynn. “He didn’t really mean all that. I think this is more about his mom than anything. I think—”

  “Why do you always take everyone else’s side?” Fynn snaps, turning on me now.

  My jaw drops open. “I don’t always take their side.”

  “You do, too, and I’m sick of it.” With that, Fynn charges off, just like Rocky did, and Scarlett hurries after him.

  I stay right where I am, unable to comprehend what just happened.

  Beans motions ahead. “Forget about it. Let’s go.”

  I jab my finger at Fynn’s retreating back. “Did you hear what he said?”

  “Yeah.” Beans shrugs. “It’s kind of true, though.”

  “What?” I turn to face Beans. “It is not.”

  I frown. Is it?

  Quickly, my brain spirals through all the disagreements we’ve had over the past year or so. Rocky and Fynn fighting over Frogger, Fynn and Beans arguing over homework, Rocky and Fynn disagreeing about how to roast a hot dog, Fynn and Beans yelling at each other about Halloween costumes…

  Fynn’s right—every single time I did take either Rocky’s or Beans’s side against his. And that was just this past year. Imagine all the times before that. I never realized I did that until this very second.

  “Come on.” Beans gives my arm a tug. “Let Rocky and Fynn figure out their parent issues. Just stay out of it.”

  With a nod, I slowly start to follow. I know Rocky and Fynn don’t need me to settle their argument, but still this whole thing stinks. I don’t want to stay out of it, especially after what Fynn just said. Now I kind of want to settle their argument, to take Fynn’s side just to show him I can.

  And to think I thought this trip would be good for them. For all of us. It seems to be anything but. They’ve all got other friends, and now all we do is argue. My stomach drops on a new and horrible thought. What if, after this, none of us want anything to do with one another anymore? What if the Scouts won’t exist by the time this is over? What if I’m losing my best friends and I didn’t even realize it?

  A couple of minutes go by while I keep walking and staring at Fynn’s back, and all I can do now is think about all the arguments where I never once took Fynn’s side. Why is that? I like Fynn a lot, so it has nothing to do with that. Maybe it’s because Fynn sometimes gets a little mean, like he did back at camp when he mentioned Beans’s big allowance. Though it’s not like Fynn intends to hurt people’s feelings—it just happens.

  Or maybe I take everyone else’s side because Fynn always seems so sure of himself. Or because he’s a good talker. Or because he gets so much attention in school because of his looks, and I feel like if I take Beans’s or Rocky’s side, it’ll show Fynn he’s not always
the best, he’s just a normal kid, like us.

  I was purposefully messing with his confidence, and that makes me a horrible friend.

  “You don’t think it’s an alien, do you?” Beans asks.

  “Huh?”

  “The silver ball.”

  “Oh. Do you?”

  He hesitates a second before shaking his head. “Nah, guess not.”

  I glance ahead to where Edge and Scarlett are walking and talking. Or rather, she’s talking and he’s politely nodding. I take in his backpack and think of the way he reacted when we found that silver thing. Almost like he knew in advance not to touch it.

  Leaning into Beans, I whisper, “What do you really think it is?”

  His eyes narrow, like he’s been pondering that question the whole time I’ve been thinking about Fynn. “I don’t know, but I would be incredibly curious to break it open and find out.”

  I like the sound of that. “How would we break it open?”

  “The seam. If we could wedge a knife or something into it.”

  “There was a seam?”

  Beans’s eyes brighten with excitement. “Oh, yeah. It’s the first thing I noticed.”

  I look at Edge’s backpack again, formulating a plan to get into it, and my eyes lift to see him glancing over his shoulder at me. He smiles, and all kinds of butterflies dance through me. Quickly, I look away, my face so hot I know it has to be red.

  The trees open to a field covered in at least an acre of tall sugarcane stalks. So tall, they tower above everyone’s head, including Edge’s. Automatically, I lift up on my toes but of course don’t see any better.

  Beans unfolds the sketched map and gives it a long look. “Wish I had my compass,” he mutters.

  “Here.” Edge tosses him one. “Use mine.”

  “Thanks.” Beans studies the map and the compass for a few seconds. “Yep. We gotta go straight through this field. We can go around, but that’ll double our time.”

  “And you’re sure about that map?” Edge questions.

  Beans smirks. “I’m sure. Wish one of us was tall enough to see the other side of this field, though.”

  Edge looks at all of us and then his eyes land on me. “You’re the smallest.” Taking off his backpack, he gets down onto his knees. “Climb up on my shoulders. Between the two of us, you should be able to see the other side.”