More Than Magic by Donna June Cooper

this to the Deputy Administrator? Perhaps as a postscript on his resignation letter?
    “Are you dead?”
    Nick was pretty sure he wasn’t yet. He was also pretty sure he didn’t want to open his eyes either, but he propped one open to find a youngster standing next to him, leaning in for a good look. His first impression was of a mop of strawberry blonde hair and intense blue eyes.
    “Not as far as I know.”
    “You don’t look too good.”
    “You should’ve seen me a few hours ago.”
    “Uh huh. Dr. Grace’s been doctoring on you, I bet.”
    “You could say that.”
    “You’ll get better. She fixed up my frog quick as quick. And she’s good with turtles too. And salamanders. And snakes.”
    “I think I fit in there somewhere.” Nick opened both eyes to get a better look at Grace’s pint-sized PR department. He held out his hand through the blankets. “I’m Nick Crowe.”
    A small, rather dirty hand took his and shook enthusiastically. “I’m Jamie Lynn Campbell.”
    “Nice to meet you, Jamie.”
    “So, who are you, then?” Jamie asked. “You ain’t Dr. Grace’s boyfriend ’cause his name was Brian, and he went off to the Amazon without so much as a howdy-do, and I hope those fish with all the teeth get him.”
    “Piranhas,” Nick stated.
    “That’s them!” Jamie agreed, but the grin was replaced with a thoughtful squint. “Are you a new boyfriend then?”
    “No.” Sadly. “I’m a guest. Up at the cabins.”
    Jamie’s face was a study in concentration. “But there weren’t no more guests coming. Unless she forgot you. Oh gosh, she didn’t put you in the Mayapple did she? ’Cause there was really stinky things in that refrigerator—”
    “No, I’m in the Jewelweed and the refrigerator’s stink free thankfully.”
    “Well, I check all the cabins out after the guests leave and see what needs to be fixed and stuff.”
    “I am eternally grateful for your hard work,” Nick said, wondering if the child ever wound down.
    “Mr. Crowe?”
    “Yes?”
    “Aren’t you worried about what mighta been in your refrigerator?”
    “Uh— Well, actually, now that you mention it, yes.”
    “Dead broccoli. And let me tell you, dead broccoli smells worse than a road-killed skunk.”
    “Well, between you and me, I think that broccoli always smells worse than a road-killed skunk. Live or cooked or dead or whatever.”
    “Me too!”
    Apparently this put Jamie entirely at ease because he or she—Nick was having trouble determining which—sat down quickly on the edge of his lounge chair.
    “Do you like snow?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Me too! And we’re gonna get some. It looks like we’re gonna get a lot maybe. Day after next.”
    “I bet there are some great hills around here for sledding.”
    “The best! You have to be careful though. Sometimes you can’t tell a rock from a snow drift.” One fist came up and the hand slapped it hard. “Splat! Dr. Grace’d have some trouble fixin’ that!”
    “I imagine she would.”
    Jamie frowned. “Do you know where she got off to? I need to find her ’cause my project needs to be finished up afore it snows and she’s got the puzzles for my waypoints.”
    Nick felt something throb behind his eyes. “Waypoints? GPS waypoints?”
    Jamie nodded. “You geocache?”
    “Geo-what?”
    Jamie’s face fell. “Darn. I thought you might be a cacher. All our guests’ve been geomuggles so far.”
    “Muggles? Isn’t that—”
    “Yep. But geomuggle means someone who knows nothing about geocaching.”
    “So, enlighten me. I don’t want to remain a geomuggle.”
    Jamie blew out a long breath. “Okay. Geocaching is a kinda game. People all over everywhere do it. You use a GPS to find caches that have been put on the web—you know what the web is, right?”
    Nick lifted one eyebrow in response.
    “Well, you never know with grownups! Anyway, so caches are these containers with logs in them—I mean notebooks, not pieces of wood—and sometimes they