Finn Finnegan by Darby Karchut Page B

veered east. They took a shortcut through the mile-long park dividing their neighborhood from the nearby strip mall. A playground area with an enormous picnic pavilion dominated one corner, while several soccer fields stretched across the other side. Dense, rambling groves of trees created islands of shade.
    Walking between them, Savannah glanced at Finn’s neck. “That’s really a neat necklace.” She blushed, the rich color of her cheeks deepening. “I mean choker. Or whatever it is that guys wear.”
    Finn grinned. “It’s called a tore. It’s a traditional Irish neckpiece. Just for men.”
    â€œIs it real gold?” Rafe peered around his sister, trying to get a look at it. He whistled when Finn nodded.
    â€œSo are you Irish? Like from Ireland?” Savannah asked.
    â€œNo, I was born here in Colorado. But my da was from there. And so is Gideon.”
    â€œSee, I told you,” she bragged to her brother. “Mr. Lir does have an accent.”
    â€œAnd it really comes out when he’s mad about something,” Finn said.
    Brother and sister laughed, sharing a knowing smile. “You should hear our mom’s.”
    â€œIs your da from South Africa, too?”
    â€œSt. Louis,” Savannah said. “But he likes going every summer, which is their winter. I do, too. This time, my grandfather showed us some fey rings out in the bush that were unreal.”
    Finn stumbled as he missed a step. “F-fey rings?”
    Savannah nodded, the beads in her hair clicking softly. “They’re also called fairy rings. They’re found in Namibia, Angola, and South Africa. They’re these big circles in the dirt where no vegetation grows. Just bare soil. Some are about a yard across, some are a lot bigger. With kind of an ashy dirt. My grandfather has this old friend, Padraic O’Brien, who’s been a safari guide for years and he says that the local people believe the fey rings are made by some sort of supernatural creatures.”
    Reaching the deserted pavilion, all three paused in the shade. The boys perched on the top of one of the picnic tables, while Savannah took a seat on the bench, facing them.
    â€œWhat do you think made them?” Finn asked.
    â€œI don’t know. But Mr. O’Brien said once…” Her voice trailed off.
    â€œSaid what?”
    â€œWell, that they look like…like blast zones. Like something exploded on those spots.”
    Rafe snorted. “O’Brien’s weird. I don’t know why Grandfather hangs out with him.”
    Finn frowned. “Why do you say that?”
    â€œWell, for one thing, he never looks like he’s getting any older. And he never goes anywhere, and I mean anywhere , without a knife. And he and Grandfather are always exploring those caves in the foothills by his house.”
    â€œWell, I think he’s cool.” Savannah’s eyes flashed.
    â€œThat’s because he tells you all those myths from around the world, and you’re such a baby that you still believe in fairies and unicorns and talking animals.” Rafe laughed at his sister’s mortification. “Oh, yeah. And elves.” He turned to Finn. “You should have seen her when the Lord of the Rings movies came out.” He jerked his knee out of the way as Savannah swung her fist at his leg.
    â€œShut up, Rafe! I don’t believe in them. I just think legends like that are…are interesting. Like the stories of Anansi the African trickster. He does all these…”
    â€œMan, stop her before she hurts herself,” Rafe muttered under his breath.
    Finn faked a laugh, his mind whirling. I’ll bet my tore that: Padraic O’Brien is a Tuatha De Danaan. And their grandfather knows it . He blinked as Rafe slapped him on the back.
    â€œCome on. I hear a purple slush drink calling my name.”
    With a nod, Finn hopped down and started across the park, the other two lagging