by Angela Ahn
After I finished my required two pages, I closed the book and tossed it on the floor on top of L.B.’s book.
Dad glared at me, picked up our books and carefully put them back in the suitcase. “You’ll thank me one day.”
I turned my back and was about to roll my eyes when I caught sight of Hammy. She looked really out of it. Since she had finished her muffin, she’d just been sitting on the bed, propped against a pillow. L.B. was now curled up with her head on Hammy’s lap. I couldn’t quite place my finger on what was wrong. Maybe she was just tired from that weird wake-up last night, but then again, what was that wake-up all about anyway? The scientist in me couldn’t help but realize that I needed to collect more data by keeping a detailed record of facts and observations. This was the only way to come to an accurate conclusion.
I wanted to get all this information down in my journal while my thoughts were still fresh. I discreetly held my notebook by my side and headed to the washroom.
“Why are you taking your journal to the bathroom?” L.B. asked. “Do you need reading material?” She snickered. I was beyond annoyed. I had important data to record! Why couldn’t she just keep her big mouth shut for once?
“None of your business!” I said testily. I had been hoping for some privacy. But in a hotel room with six people, privacy is about as rare as finding a complete fossil of an ankylosaur.
“Don’t be too long, Peter,” Mom said, rummaging through her purse. “We’re leaving soon. It’s well past six o’clock now. You need to get dressed and we really need to get on the road.”
“I’ll take as long as I need!” I declared.
“Turn on the fan!” L.B. giggled.
I stomped into the bathroom, turned on the fan just to humor my annoying sister and sat down on the toilet. I was doing my business, but not the kind everybody else thought I was doing. I opened my notebook and started writing:
Hammy demonstrating unusual behavior.
Forgetting things, generally tired.
Sleeping all the time.
Called me Ji Won? What the heck?
4 a.m. crying episode.
Watch more.
6:30 a.m.
Once we were back in the car, we drove out of the Okanagan Valley and headed north toward the Rocky Mountains. As we drove, we passed orchards where I could see peaches hanging from tree branches, and vineyards where rows and rows of grapevines were planted in tidy straight lines. The highway followed the edge of a lake, and I watched boats and Jet Skiers flying along the surface of the water.
Once in a while Mom would point and say, “Wow, look at this scenery!”
“So beautiful!” Haji agreed.
Hammy even seemed to perk up a little; I could tell she was taking it all in as she stared out the window.
The Korean audiobook droned on in the background while I kept myself busy reading my favorite paleontology books.
“It’s the Rocky Mountains!” Mom said excitedly, pointing out the window when the landscape seemed to suddenly change from gray rocky formations to a deep penetrating blue.
I looked up from my book and shrugged.
“Big deal,” I said. I just needed to get to Drumheller and nothing else mattered.
“You don’t think it’s beautiful?” Mom asked incredulously.
“Kinda just looks like Vancouver,” I said.
L.B. peered out the window and said, “I disagree, Petey. These mountains are clearly more majestic than the local North Shore Mountains. The average elevation of the local mountains near Vancouver is merely about 1,700 meters, or 5,500 feet. The average elevation of the Rocky Mountains is 4,400 meters, or 14,400 feet. More than double.” She paused and looked up to the sky. “That’s 2.59 times as large, to be exact, using the rounded metric numbers. So, clearly, not the same at all.”
Mom turned to L.B. and smiled approvingly.
I hated her big mouth and I hated her big brain.
“Shut up,” was all I could manage as a comeback. I pulled out my Royal Tyrrell newsletter and read it for the fifty-ninth time.
Chapter 11
STEAMY, LIKE THE MESOZOIC ERA
Still July 3, as if time has stood still
Conditions: Sulfuric
Things changed when I saw the “Welcome to Alberta” sign. I glanced at the clock; we had been on the road for almost six hours, stopping only for pee breaks and drive-thrus. Nervous excitement flooded my stomach and it felt like it was doing a gymnastics floor routine now that we were finally in the same province as the Royal Tyrrell Museum.
Right after crossing the provincial border, we came to the famous mountain town of Banff. The most notable thing about it was that it was full of tourists. Absolutely jam-packed. The streets were lined with giant luxury tour buses. Everywhere I looked, people meandered with cameras strapped around their necks and maps in their hands. We didn’t stop in town, which was probably okay because, looking around, it didn’t even seem like we could have found a parking spot if we wanted one. Instead, we kept driving until we were on a narrow road on the side of a very steep cliff.
Dad stopped the van in front of a building called the Banff Upper Hot Springs. I didn’t understand what was happening. I just followed like a Stegosaurus with its walnut-sized brain as we all got out of the car, stretched our backs and legs, and headed for the front doors.
The glass doors slid open and we were greeted by a strange smell. The air seemed unusually thick and hazy.
“We need six rental suits,” Mom told the woman at the front desk.
I froze. Rental suits? What was she talking about?
After sizing everybody up, the woman stepped into a back room and reemerged with her arms loaded. She handed each of us a bathing suit. Not just any bathing suit, but a bathing suit previously worn by somebody else. Worse still, it was a retro-looking one-piece, and everybody’s looked identical—navy blue with a white stripe across the thighs. Imagine the six of us all wearing the same thing. I was wearing the same suit as my sister! As my mother! As my grandmother!
Hello, humiliation. My name is Peter Lee and I’m about to wear the same bathing suit as all the girls in my family. I held the suit limply in my hand and felt deflated, like a shriveled balloon, as I followed Dad and Haji into the men’s changeroom. As soon as Haji started to undress, I turned my back to look away. I’m close to him, but not that close.
Still, I said nothing. Too stunned by what was happening to me to form even the most basic words.
“We look so cute!” Mom shrieked as we emerged from the changerooms one by one. “We have to take a picture.”
There we all were, standing in front of a steaming pool of boiling-hot, funky-smelling water while a stranger took a picture of us on my mom’s cell phone. Worse still, we lined up according to height. My mother was the queen of embarrassing, awkwardly staged family photos.
“Everybody say ‘fossils’!” Mom instructed. Click.
We headed to the pools as I scanned my surroundings suspiciously. “What’s the big deal with the hot springs?” I finally asked.
“The water is heated by a natural geothermal source,” L.B. said. “Some believe the waters contain healing properties. I’m not sure about that, but it can be quite relaxing to soak in warm water.”
“Oh,” I answered. So we’re here to have a bath with strangers. Gross. I wished I had been listening more closely—and not doing math—when they were discussing it. I would have objected.
I stood back and watched Hammy and Haji settle into the water. They didn’t seem bothered by the scalding temperatures or the fact that you were basically forced to sit shoulder to shoulder with random strangers because it was so busy.
“Ah.” Hammy sighed. It was the happiest she had looked in the last two days. “So good.”
“Cha!” Haji said. “Very nice!”
“
Petey! Let’s go to the children’s area!” L.B. said as she grabbed my hand.
“Stay together!” Dad yelled as he tentatively stepped into the water.
I reluctantly followed L.B. I was a bit too old and a bit too tall for the children’s area, but the woman at the front desk said the temperature there was a few degrees cooler, and it was much less busy than the adult side. I cautiously dipped my toes in the water. It was still boiling hot! Liar!
“L.B.! Careful, it’s so hot!” I told her.
L.B. stomped her foot in the water and said, “Petey, it’s a hot spring.” Then she threw her whole body into the pool, making a giant splat in the water. She disappeared underwater for a second before she resurfaced, laughing.
I sat on the edge of the pool and worked my toes, then my feet and then my calves into the water. This whole trip I’d been hot. The last thing I wanted to do was sit in a giant tub of hot water with a hundred strangers of unknown hygiene. This sounded like a public health emergency waiting to happen.
Miserably, I watched L.B. do forward somersaults, backward somersaults and handstands in the water. She did torpedo swims across the whole length of the children’s area, back and forth like a dolphin, weaving her way around other kids. She finally noticed I hadn’t gotten into the water and swam up to me.
“What’s wrong, Petey?” L.B. asked.
“This stinks.”
“The water does contain sulfuric elements—”
I cut her off. “No, no! Well, yes, the water smells funny, but I meant, this sucks. Why are we wasting our time here?”
“Come in the water, Petey. It’s fun!”
“How is hot water fun?”
“The heat is relaxing,” she replied. “You have to try it to believe it. I am now a believer!”
Funny, she didn’t look relaxed at all; she hadn’t stopped moving since she first plunged herself in the water.
“L.B., I don’t want to relax. I want to see dinosaurs!” I cried. “We’re so close. Why can’t we just get there already!”
“Petey, we’ll get there soon.” She tried to reassure me. “But while we’re here, we should enjoy the moment.”
She paused and looked at me sulking.
“Will you give me a piggyback, please?” she asked with her best cute face and least-annoying voice. “I asked very nicely and didn’t jump on you without warning.”
I felt myself crumbling. “Okay, fine.”
She pulled me into the pool and then leaped on my back, shrieking into my ear as we both tumbled into the water.
3 p.m.
Conditions: Buoyant and refreshed (tell no one!)
After returning our wet bathing suits, everybody felt rejuvenated. Haji and Hammy had a dewy glow to their complexions and it seemed like Haji had a little extra bounce in his step. Hammy seemed okay, but my keen eye was still on her. I was actually feeling pretty good too. The warm, moist air was really great for me, and my lungs felt all relaxed and so calm. The forty-five minutes in the boiling pools was just what we all needed. We were ready for the last push to Drumheller.
There was good energy in the van when we got back on the road. We were all kind of light-headed and giddy, and I’m sure we’d all absorbed some brain-altering chemicals from the water. As we drove away from the hot springs, Mom scrolled through the pictures from today.
“Look at this! This is a great photo!” Mom turned around and showed us the picture of the six of us lined up according to height. I was blinking. Big surprise. L.B. looked absolutely adorable with her hair in a high, stylish braid, a perfect smile and one hand on her hip. Revolting.
After driving for another two hours, we descended the mountain range and the landscape changed. I sat up in my seat. Things looked different here. I felt it instantly.
Gone were the huge mountains with snowcapped peaks, gone were the forests of trees. The landscape became an eerie kind of brown, gray and muted green, all blended together. The rolling hills off the highway were layered sedimentary rock; they reminded me of those Jell-O cubes that somebody always brings to a party, but much less colorful. It was amazing. Finally, this was some scenery to get excited about.
We were in the Alberta Badlands; I knew it. Out there in those weird hills, I was going to get to hunt for real fossils. They would name the new discovery “Peterolocyphis” or “Petersauralophus” or something awesomely cool like that. I would become famous and a camera crew would follow me around as I worked and talked about my incredible finds.
I suddenly remembered that I should be taking notes. I fished my journal out of my bag and wrote:
Leaving Rocky Mountains.
Hot springs are not too terrible.
Approaching Alberta Badlands. Yes!
Drastic change in landscape. Layered sedimentary rock. So cool.
Arid conditions.
Little to no vegetation.
The rocks had me mesmerized. On the side of the road, I saw the “Welcome to Drumheller” sign with a giant T. rex picture on it. I felt giddy. I couldn’t help myself. An entire town devoted to dinosaur enthusiasts. I’d spent years dreaming about it, and we were finally here!
“These rocks are quite interesting, aren’t they?” L.B. piped up. “The layering of sediment—”
“Sh!” I hissed and cut her off. She was ruining my moment.
“Peter, she’s allowed to talk,” Mom scolded.
“Can’t I just enjoy the scenery with some peace and quiet?” I asked.
“Oh, now you find the scenery interesting…,” Mom muttered.
As we continued the last part of our drive into town, I eagerly looked around at everything Drumheller had to offer, and I knew this was going to be my kind of place. We were finally here. And tomorrow I’d get to experience, firsthand, being a paleontologist.
Chapter 12
DREAMS DO COME TRUE
Thursday, July 4, 8:30 a.m. Mountain Time
Conditions: Bone-dry (lol)
I had a lousy night’s sleep. We’d arrived too late for us to do any sightseeing last night, so we just ate dinner at the restaurant off the hotel lobby. I was really disappointed that we couldn’t leave our hotel—I mean, I wasn’t crying but I was upset—so Dad said I could order anything I liked for dinner. I decided to see just how good the beef in Alberta really was, and I ordered prime rib. Dad just about choked when I asked for an extra Yorkshire pudding.
My parents had rented a giant family suite with two bedrooms and two sofa beds in the living room. The sofa bed was possibly worse than sleeping on the floor in Peachland. It had felt like trying to sleep on the armored back of an Euoplocephalus. I counted fourteen unique and distinctive lumps all working together to make my sleep uncomfortable.
The thing about Alberta is, the air is dry, and the air in the hotel room is even drier with the air-conditioning running all the time. I had felt so bad in the night that I even had to creep out of bed, find my inhaler and take a puff. At least L.B. and I didn’t have to share a bed.
“Good morning, Petey!” L.B. turned on her side, lifted her head and gave me a big, goofy grin.
“Stop being so perky,” I moaned.
“Already arguing,” Mom grumbled. She was addressing her urgent need for coffee and struggling to separate the paper filters.
L.B. hopped down from the creaky sofa bed and threw open the curtains.
“What a glorious day!” she proclaimed with her hands on her hips.
“How can you be so chipper in the mornings?” I squinted and rubbed my eyes.
“We’re on a wonderful adventure with beloved family. Seeing new things and free from our usual routine.”
“Your big day is finally here, Peter. The museum will be a wonderful learning experience for everybody! Shouldn’t you be more excited?” Mom asked.
I sat up on the lumpy sofa bed and th
rew off my blanket. How could I have forgotten? I shook the cobwebs out of my head and sprang out of bed. I grabbed my favorite dinosaur T-shirt and put it on. I was already wearing my dinosaur underwear. It may have been too much on most other days, but today, I also put on my dinosaur socks.
Lastly, I looked for my field vest. I had made sure to pack it carefully so that none of my tools came loose during the trip. Gingerly, I lifted it out of my duffel bag and slipped it on.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror in the hotel room, waiting for everybody else to get ready, I beamed at my reflection. I was so ready for this. I saw my hat sitting on the arm of the sofa and stuffed it in my backpack too. That would have been dumb to forget the hat!
“There’s a free continental breakfast in the lobby,” Mom said, staring at a flyer on the desk.
“I’m not hungry.” Me, not interested in food. I could hardly believe it. My impatience to get to the museum was real.
“Well, I’m hungry, so let’s go get some food. You know how much I love free breakfast!” Dad said. It was true. He went to Denny’s by himself on his birthday to get a free meal. The man had no shame.
“We’re going to need some energy if we’re going to explore the museum this morning before your afternoon dig, right?” Mom reminded me.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Let’s go get our free food.” I tapped my foot anxiously and waited for my family to get organized.
9:30 a.m.
Royal Tyrrell Museum (enough said!)
My face was practically glued to the window on the drive from the hotel to the museum. I didn’t even care that the sun was oppressively hot and the air was the driest and dustiest I had ever experienced in my whole life. I scrawled into my journal:
Actual fieldwork day! Yes!
Excitement level; EXTREME.
Best day ever.
As soon as Dad parked, I leaped out of the van and sprinted through the parking lot. The museum was nestled among the distinctive hills of the Alberta Badlands, right at the top edge of a steep cliff that was part of a natural crescent formation of rocks. The museum itself was an immense structure, square and angular. The dark glass panels covering the front facade reflected the sun’s bright rays. The modern and the ancient, all right here. A huge statue of a Pachyrhinosaurus greeted me outside the building’s entrance. I would have hugged it if I could have. Instead, I patted its side respectfully and solemnly. I felt like yelling “Hurry up!” so many times as my family lagged behind, but Hammy and Haji really couldn’t go any faster.
