By Hannah Christensen
After the fifth ring, Dusty closed her diary and went to answer the track phone they kept on the kitchen counter for emergencies. The number was unknown, but so far her mother had only urged caution and not forbidden answering the phone. Dusty knew this was her mother trying hard not to be paranoid, but ever since her brother had disappeared two years ago on a hiking trip, Dusty and her siblings were barely allowed to step out the door by themselves.
“Kennedy’s,” announced Dusty into the receiver.
“I’m dying,” rasped a voice.
“What?”
“I know I shouldn’t have called, but there’s so little time left, I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice, Dusty.”
“Um…who is this?”
“No, I don’t dare tell you. It’s too dangerous.”
Dusty wondered if she should say, “Wrong number,” and hang up.
“Please, keep talking,” the voice continued. “It will help me remember how your eyes sparkle like a sky full of sprinkles when you laugh.”
Dusty’s insides lurched and her fingers turned rigid around the phone. ‘A sky full of sprinkles’ – that had been what Jackie had called the meteor shower they had sneaked outside to watch only two months before his hiking trip. “Who is this? Did you know Jackie?”
“Yes, I know him. I know all about it but I really can’t talk-too dangerous”
Know? Did he mean to say that, rather than the past tense, ‘knew’? Dusty scolded herself for the foolish hope still ready to bloom. Her parents were right, this was denial; Jackie was gone. She had been journaling all summer to try and come to grips with the loss. She should focus on something more reasonable, like, could this be a friend of Jackie’s?
“Look, do you need help? What’s so dangerous? If you’re going to die—”
“Don’t be ashamed of your fear. After all, your brother got stuck, and it wasn’t even a campfire birch.”
Confusion rolled over Dusty– how did he know? She and Jackie always called that tree at the opposite fork in the forest road as the Old Mill the Bonfire birch because of how its autumn leaves glowed as bright as a fire. Once when they had found a tiny sapling, Jackie had joked that it was a Candle Birch. Campfire Birch sounded exactly like Jackie. Besides, what did he mean about her brother getting stuck? Dusty had to know more.
“Tell me where you are, and I’ll call the police for you.”
“No, no! That will make things worse! They—they want me gone. Lots of people do. I’m too dangerous. Just leave me out in the woods in peace for my last moments. At least I have a shelter over my head. You know what Jackie would want.”
A crackling filled the receiver and the phone went dead.
Dusty stared at it. She knew what Jackie would have done if a friend was in trouble. He would help, even if he had to sneak out or put himself in danger to do it.
“I don’t even know where he is,” Dusty objected out loud. But he had mentioned the woods. The Becker Woods lay just beyond their backyard, past the drainage ditch. She and Jackie had explored out there many times, but she hadn’t been there in two years. Beth wouldn’t even get close to the ditch, and the other two were too young for adventures.
Dusty had to find him. He might know what happened to Jackie—she didn’t dare think, know where he was—and he needed help. Her parents were gone—her father at work, her mother at an appointment with the youngest sister, Alida. Davie was in his playpen where he was supposed to be getting ready for a nap, but he could do that next door at the Altmans’. Mother always said to go over there if they needed anything when she was gone. Dusty started to pack a first aide kit.
The trickiest part would be persuading Bess to go along. Their mother was adamant about not going outside by themselves. They would also need a good, no-worry reason to leave for their venture.
“Hey, Bess.” Dusty slid onto the sofa next to her sister. “You haven’t finished your autumn collage, have you?”
Bess looked up from her finger crocheting. “Momma still hasn’t taken me in to find a third type of leaf.”
Dusty knew that. The only leaves Bess had been able to collect from the front yard were from the sumac bush and their lone tree.
“I thought now would be a good time to do that. We could leave Davie at the Altmans’.”
Bess bit her lip. “What kind of trees to they have?”
“No, not like that. I—I just got a weird call from one of Jackie’s friends, and he needs help. He’s in danger, but won’t say where he is and I think he knows something about when Jackie disappeared.”
Bess turned stark white. The yarn slipped off her fingers. “The…forest?”
“I’ll leave a note and tell the Altmans where we’re going. We’ll be fine.” Dusty waved the First Aide kit in front of her sister. “Dusty and I went in there all the time and nothing happened. If we stay by the paths, it would be impossible to get lost. But if we stay here, Bess, he’ll die.”
After much more persuading and a solemn promise not to search for more than an hour and a half, Bess fetched the safety whistle she always wore outside, as well as a canteen of water and a flashlight.
Dusty groaned. “We’re not going to be gone that long.”
Bess refused to be moved. “It’s better to be prepared.”
They hauled Davie and his playpen over and explained to Mrs. Altman they were going into Becker Woods to collect leaves for Bess’s school project.
“Good,” said Mrs. Altman. “I’m glad to hear your mother is finally loosening up a little.”
Dusty couldn’t meet her eyes while saying goodbye.
Instead of cutting across the ditch like she and Jackie had always done, Dusty led the way over the plank footbridge. At the far side, Bess stopped. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” She stared at the trees like there might be tigers lurking behind them. “We could pick up a leaf here and go home.”
“Bessie, I promise we’ll be safe. It’s only a little while and the footpath meets up with the old cart road. Think of Jackie. Wouldn’t you have wanted someone to go look for him when…when he…”
Dusty blinked down tears while Bess stepped off the bridge to give her a quick hug. “No one even knew where to find him. Maybe you were right when you said he must be in Honduras or—”
“No.” Dusty pulled herself back. “But this time I think I know where to look. I’ve been thinking about what that boy said over the phone, and he may have accidentally given me a clue. Come on!” She grabbed her sister’s hand and started running before Bess could object any more.
Fallen leaves scrunched underfoot as they dashed under the trees. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the bright leaves above. The sisters slowed to catch their breath a little before the path met the road.
“What’s that?” said Bess.
“What?” asked Dusty. She thought she might have heard a branch snap, but didn’t like to say anything.
“I thought I heard something.”
“It could have been a squirrel collecting acorns.”
“Or a bear.”
“Don’t be silly. Bears haven’t lived here for a hundred years.”
“Rolf at school says that rabid wolves go to Becker’s Woods to die.”
“That story’s been around for years. Mrs. Altman says people were telling it when she was a kid, but she never saw any. Neither did Jackie.” Dusty turned her walk into a march.
Bess scurried to keep close.
Dusty was glad they were moving quickly. The back of her neck had started to prickle and she had to fight not to act nervous.
“Dusty,” Bess whispered. “Do you feel like we’re being watched?”
Dusty whipped around and scrutinized the trees. “I don’t see anything. Come on!” She pulled Bess back into a jog. Bright orange broke through the branches.
“The Campfire Birch,” Dusty panted. She threw her arms around the slender trunk. “Jackie and I always visited it…and the boy kinda mentioned it.”
“So…this is the right path?” Bess faced down the side of the fork the Campfire Birch stood on.
“No. It’s just a landmark.” Dusty ran her fingers along the gray bark. The tree was still smaller than the trees around it, but not as much as she remembered. “We go the other way.”
Reluctantly letting go, she led the way toward the Old Mill. Bess plucked off a leaf and slipped it into her pocket, then hurried to catch up.
They had barely passed out of sight of where the path met the road when a giant rustling and crashing started above their heads.
Bess froze. “What—”
“Go! Go! Go!” Dusty got behind her sister and pushed. She was sure the hair at the nape of her neck must be standing up by now. Something swooshed behind her, sliding across her back and tripping her up. Dusty shoved her sister to safety and turned around to take on the attacker. A tangle of ropes lay on the ground and around her feet. She kicked them off, leaving a shoe behind in the process, then scooted away.
“I’m scared, Dusty.” Bess barely held back tears.
Dusty breathed deeply and surveyed the scene for any more danger. The ropes, which seemed to be knotted together in a giant net, did not move. Nor did anything else.
“We’re okay,” said Dusty. “It’s not like there are giant spiders out here.” She hoped Bess didn’t notice the tremor in her voice. Crawling forward, she cautiously removed her shoe from the net. Nothing happened.
“We should call the police,” said Bess.
“No! We can’t.”
“Yes, we can.” Bess took out the track phone from her jacket pocket.
“I mean…what would we tell them? There’s just some ropes that fell. We haven’t seen anyone out here. But you could hold the phone in your hand and be ready to dial as soon as we found anything the police would want to hear about.”
Dusty held her breath as she put her shoe back on. She hoped Bess was thinking about the time her best friend got in trouble for pulling the fire alarm when she thought she had seen smoke and it was only steam from a science experiment.
Bess hadn’t moved when Dusty slowly stood up. “Whoever set it up probably isn’t even around any more. We should get going.”
Bess still didn’t move to make a call, but she didn’t stop staring at the net, either. Dusty picked up a big stick and used it to shove the ropes off the road and into some dead grasses. She thumped the stick against the ground a couple of times to test it for a walking stick, then moved ahead. “We’d better keep moving,” she said over her shoulder. To her relief, Bess followed.
Everything went smoothly until the bridge. Bess stopped there and eyed it suspiciously. “Are you sure it’s safe?” she asked. Dusty admitted to herself that it looked rickety with the warped siding and planks down the center to drive on. Still, she had been over it plenty of times and there was no “Out of Order” signs up or anything.
“It was made for cars,” she assured her sister. “Or anyway, carriages. And cars can drive on it. We aren’t that heavy. We’ll be fine.” Again she led the way, purposefully walking off the plank tracks made for tires and whacking away with her stick. Once she stopped to lean against the criss-cross siding and look down at the river. That was a mistake. One of the boards there snapped and she lurched forward. Before she could even find something to grab at, Bess’s hands had her around the arm and pulled her back.
“Thanks,” she stammered.
“We have to be more careful!” cried Bess. “Test everything first.” Taking up the stick Dusty had dropped when she lurched forward, Bess took the lead, carefully tapping each board before stepping. Dusty followed, embarrassed. She decided to focus on how Bess had just committed herself more and how she probably wouldn’t have gotten hurt landing in the river.
Ten minutes later Bess pounded her stick into an eight-inch deep pothole hiding under a drift of leaves and branches.
“Those saboteurs!” she exclaimed. “A net wasn’t bad enough, they had to do this? This definitely needs to be reported!”
Dusty looked uncertainly at the hole. “Are you sure this is another booby trap, not just a pothole?”
“Even if it were just a pothole, it should be reported,” retorted Bess. “It’s dangerous. Besides, it was obviously disguised, and, look, there’s a shovel mark. How much farther do we have to go?”
Dusty was skeptical about the shovel mark, but agreed that a pothole that big would be bad to hit. “We’re over halfway,” she said. “Let’s keep going.”
Dusty listened for when the river curved back toward the road. That would be when they were almost to the old mill. Instead, she started to hear rustling.
This rustling was bigger than any squirrel.
“Rabid wolves!” hissed Bess, stopping short.
“There are no wolves,” Dusty whispered back. Still, she looked around for another stick in case it was a mean dog or something.
A bear lumbered from the trees, up on his back paws.
Bess screamed.
Dusty tried to remember if Jackie had said you were supposed to pretend to be big with bears or play dead. It didn’t matter. The way Bess was hollering and waving her stick around, playing dead would leave only her in the bear’s attention. She took off her jacket to wave and look bigger.
Bess tried to hit the bear, but it wrapped a big paw around the stick.
“Let go of my stick!” Bess shrilled higher and higher.
Dusty waved her jacket right at the bear and smacked it about the middle.
The bear staggered. Bess tugged at her stick. The bear toppled. Bess snatched away her stick and then jumped in at the bear, pummeling. Dusty sprang after her sister to remind her to be more careful.
“Ow! Ow! Quit it!” yelled the bear.
That made Dusty pause, but then she leaped on top of the bear and straddled it. “Bess! Grab its head!” she said.
Bess seized it by the ears, and in the struggle that ensued the head popped off to reveal the face of a middle school boy beneath. Bess bopped him on the head.
“Ow! Stop it! You’re not even the right one. You shouldn’t be here.”
“What are you talking about?” Dusty leaned in close and kept her growing anger quiet. She knew this boy from her class, Tyler. He was always causing trouble, but this was the worst yet.
He didn’t answer, but squirmed to get free. He knocked Dusty off, but before he could get up, Bess poked him hard in the middle with her stick. Dusty started to pull off his bear costume. In the legs were stilts. “What exactly were you doing?” she demanded of him, waving one of the stilts at him. He tried to squirm away, but Bess leaned down harder.
“Answer her! Who are you looking for?”
“Ow! You’re killing me. We weren’t going to hurt you, just scare you a little.”
Dusty narrowed her eyes. “Oh, yeah? And who is ‘we’?”
“It was all Rob’s—”
“Shut up!” Another boy burst out of the undergrowth on the other side of the road. He tackled Tyler, knocking stick and stilts out of the way as he came. He clamped a hand over his classmate’s mouth. “He was the one who started it, actually.”
Tyler tried to wrestle free, and the girls stepped back from the thrashing boys.
“Should I call now?” Bess asked in an undertone.
Dusty tugged at her sleeve. What was going on? Did these boys know anything about the phone call she had gotten earlier? They were both in school with her, but she hadn’t ever shared anything about Jackie with them. There was still a mystery, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it.
Tyler broke free and punched Rob in the face. Rob staggered, caught himself, and punched back.
Bess smacked them alongside the middles with her stick. “If you don’t stop fighting, I’m going to call the cops on you!” she yelled.
“It wasn’t either my idea,” shouted Tyler. “You were the one who wanted to come out to the woods and play hero.”
“Shut up!”
“Booby-trap the mill! Ride in like a shining knight! I bet you could have kissed her by just tricking her to come at all.”
“That’s it! The dare is off! You forfeited it.”
“I can’t forfeit. You’re forfeiting. You’re too chicken to kiss—”
The world was swimming around Dusty, and she grabbed onto Tyler’s collar before it all mushed together before her.
“What. Do. You. Know. About. My. Brother.” She spit the words into his face.
Tyler looked alarmed. “I…I don’t…”
Bess advanced, holding her stick in one hand and brandishing the track phone in the other.
Tyler caved. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t even my idea. Rob stole your diary and made me read it with him to get ideas.”
Bess snarled and waved her stick, but Dusty’s fingers went slack. She crumpled onto her knees as the world finished turning to mush. The scamper of running feet only reached her as an unimportant echo.
“Dusty? Are you okay?”
Dusty could not answer. She could only fight to silence the sobs that kept pushing tears out her eyes and down her cheeks as the pieces of the afternoon began to fit together. Stupid boys. Stupid dares. Stupid pranks. But most of all, stupid self. How could she believe some diary thieves might have news from Jackie? He was gone. He had disappeared two years ago and was never coming back.
Bess had her arms around Dusty. “I hate boys,” she said, sounding small and lost. Dusty leaned into her and let the sobs out.
Slowly the world came back into focus. A goose honked overhead. Red and brown leaves shifted in the wind.
“Did you want to keep going?” asked Bess.
“No.” Dusty scrubbed at her face with her sleeve.
“Um, maybe we should at least get off the road then. Just in case.”
Dusty stood and they began to walk back along the side of the road.
“Could I show you a place Jackie and I called our Fortress of Russiatude?”
Bess checked the time. “It’s not more than fifteen minutes away, is it?”
“No. It is a little off the path, though.”
“You sure you wouldn’t get lost?”
“Promise.”
“Okay, then. We should have enough time to get home before Mom so she doesn’t worry, then I’m calling the police to inform them of a possibly booby-trapped building and a dangerous pothole.”
Dusty slid a slightly wobbly smile to her sister and they started moving faster.
“You and Jackie had a lot of places out here, didn’t you?” asked Bess.
“Yeah. Yeah, we did.”
“Do you…would you mind showing me some more some other day?”
“I would love to.”
Octopencil 