Reading the Bones by Gina McMurchy-Barber Page B

into this rock by the prehistoric inhabitants of this area.”
    Glancing up, I saw some indentations in the rock. I ran my hand over the rough surface to feel the deep groves. Then I stepped back several feet to see the design. It was a simple pattern of circles and dots. As I studied the petroglyphs, they began to look like the faces of skinny, bulgy-eyed aliens.
    Before coming to Crescent Beach I’d never heard of the Coast Salish. Now, everywhere I went, I found reminders of their existence. I wondered what the picture meant and wished I could ask Eddy, but I knew after today I’d never be able to look her in the eye again.
    I dragged my feet slowly along the sidewalk, passing Sunshine Organic Grocery and Fong’s Eatery. When I went by the Beecher Street Café, I noticed Bob Puddifoot inside, pushing a large muffin into his mouth and then gulping from a tall coffee mug.
    Finally, I reached the old grey building with the sign that read: REAL TREASURES AND GIFTS. In the lower left corner of the window was another sign: WANTED: NATIVE ARTIFACTS. WILL PAY TOP DOLLAR.
    My stomach knotted up and my shoulders tensed as I peered through the dusty window. I’d never been inside Mr. Grimbal’s store, and I almost hoped the place was closed. But when I pulled on the handle the door easily swung open.
    Right inside the entrance stood two large totem poles that reached to the ceiling. They looked like stoic sentinels guarding the entry. At the top of one was some kind of bird — an eagle or hawk, I guessed. In its talons was a killer whale. And below it was a bear, or maybe it was a wolf. I wasn’t sure. But it was the other pole that really caught my attention. At the very bottom was a human child clutched by a figure with an eerie black face, big red lips, and eyes that were dark and empty.
    â€œDon’t be afraid of Tsonokwa ... she won’t bite you. Not right now, anyway.”
    I spun around and saw Mr. Grimbal laughing at me with his raspy voice, which turned into a sputteringcough. He was behind a glass counter grinning his yellowy smile. In his hand he held an oddly shaped pipe that billowed tiny clouds of smoke. My insides felt all twisted, but I ignored the fear. Carefully, I passed the fierce face on the totem pole and approached the counter, forcing a smile. “What did you call her, Mr. Grimbal? Was it Sonaka?”
    â€œClose. Her name’s Tsonokwa. She’s the wild woman of the forest. All Native people had someone like her. The Coast Salish had a flying giantess called Quamichan, who liked to snack on juicy little children. Both Tsonokwa and Quamichan were mythical creatures useful to parents who wanted to frighten their children from straying far from home.”
    â€œKind of like the bogeyman,” I said.
    â€œYup, that’s pretty much it.” Mr. Grimbal took a long drag on his pipe and studied me intently. “So are you here to buy or sell?”
    I blushed under his intimidating stare but didn’t answer the question. Instead I looked around the shop. It was dusty, and the shelves were cluttered with a hodgepodge of souvenirs, books, and beach toys. Behind the glass counter, out of reach, were shelves full of what appeared to be Native artifacts.
    I recognized several of the stone and bone objects. Some were just like the artifacts Eddy and I had found in our burial. There was a stone bowl with very thick sides, a large stone spool with a pointy tip, several burins, and two wooden rattles with carved killer whales. Then I saw a small carved figure that seemed to be made of the same gleaming black stone as the one I had tucked into my pocket.
    Mr. Grimbal snickered. “Still got Miss Know-It-All running around your backyard?”
    His voice had startled me from my thoughts. “She hasn’t, I mean, we haven’t finished the excavation. But it won’t be long now.” I needed to change the subject. “Do you know what the