hitting the tops of the taller trees and beginning to shinny down the trunks, turning the woods golden.
“This way,” said Daniel, cutting east.
They continued in silence. Daniel saw Emily wince, but she didn’t say anything. At last, they reached the hill leading up to the cave.
“Is it bad?” he said.
“Let’s just get up there.”
They started climbing, Wes leading the way, his brother bringing up the rear. They were relieved to see that the campsite hadn’t been disturbed.
“This is supposed to help with itches,” said Daniel, unscrewing a tube of white ointment from the medicine kit. “Let’s take a look.”
She hesitated, but then set the cat down and turned away and undid the top few buttons. Daniel pulled the material away from her shoulders.
He paused.
“Aren’t you going to put it on?” she said.
“Um, this is not poison ivy. And it’s not thorns.”
“Definitely not thorns,” said Wesley.
“Does everybody have to look at me?” said Emily, blushing.
“Seems to me,” said Daniel with a smile, “you’ve got a bad case of freckles.”
“I do
not
have freckles!” protested Emily. “I’ve never had freckles.”
“Well, you have them now.”
“Freckles don’t burn.”
“Wait.” He examined her shoulder blades closely. Something about the pattern struck him as familiar, the spray of brownish dots swirling like a constellation across her back from one shoulder to the other.
“What?” she said, irritated. She wasn’t used to having a boy—two boys!—staring at her bare skin.
“Emily,” he said quietly. “You’re not going to believe this, but these freckles look an awful lot like that map of yours.”
“What?” She pulled the top of her dress tight and buttoned it. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It
does
look like the map. Only … different.”
“Only different.”
“Let me look again.”
“No!”
“It looks like the map, only changed around somehow.”
“Daniel Crowley—”
“I wish I had a mirror. I could show you.”
“I can’t believe you’re being so crazy. God! I just lost my grandmother!”
“I know.” Actually, he hadn’t been able to believe that Bridey might be dead. His mind had put that possibility aside.
“And this,” Emily went on angrily, looking back at her shoulder, “whatever it is—is burning like crazy!”
“Sorry. Look. Let me put the stuff on.”
“No more crazy talk!”
“I promise.” Daniel and Wesley looked at each other.
Grudgingly Emily undid the buttons again, and Daniel carefully smeared on the ointment. “Better?”
She expelled an irritated little sigh. “Maybe.” The catwas sniffing at the stones around the fire pit. “Now,” she said, pulling the cat onto her lap, “anyone want to tell me why we didn’t just go to the house?”
Wes looked at his brother. “You’d better tell her. Actually, I’m not too clear on it, either.”
Daniel sat on a stone and leaned his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands. “Captain Sloper …,” he began, and paused. “I got him pretty mad at me.”
“I thought you were his teacher’s pet,” she said, rather meanly. “Telling him everybody’s secrets.”
“Dan’s not kidding!” said Wes. “You should’ve seen those soldiers running around trying to find him.”
“What did you do?” she said tightly.
Daniel rubbed his forehead. “Okay. Here’s the thing.”
He told the story as simply as possible, making no excuses. Excuses would have felt like lies, and his nervous system wouldn’t have put up with that. When he finished, even the cat was still.
“So,” she said slowly, “you got a madman trying to kill you,
and
you burned up the map.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” said Wesley.
“Who cares whose fault it is? How are we supposed to get to the island?”
Another silence, this one broken by the cat’s weak meow. It probably hadn’t eaten since yesterday.
“Emily,” said Daniel, “we may have a map after
“This way,” said Daniel, cutting east.
They continued in silence. Daniel saw Emily wince, but she didn’t say anything. At last, they reached the hill leading up to the cave.
“Is it bad?” he said.
“Let’s just get up there.”
They started climbing, Wes leading the way, his brother bringing up the rear. They were relieved to see that the campsite hadn’t been disturbed.
“This is supposed to help with itches,” said Daniel, unscrewing a tube of white ointment from the medicine kit. “Let’s take a look.”
She hesitated, but then set the cat down and turned away and undid the top few buttons. Daniel pulled the material away from her shoulders.
He paused.
“Aren’t you going to put it on?” she said.
“Um, this is not poison ivy. And it’s not thorns.”
“Definitely not thorns,” said Wesley.
“Does everybody have to look at me?” said Emily, blushing.
“Seems to me,” said Daniel with a smile, “you’ve got a bad case of freckles.”
“I do
not
have freckles!” protested Emily. “I’ve never had freckles.”
“Well, you have them now.”
“Freckles don’t burn.”
“Wait.” He examined her shoulder blades closely. Something about the pattern struck him as familiar, the spray of brownish dots swirling like a constellation across her back from one shoulder to the other.
“What?” she said, irritated. She wasn’t used to having a boy—two boys!—staring at her bare skin.
“Emily,” he said quietly. “You’re not going to believe this, but these freckles look an awful lot like that map of yours.”
“What?” She pulled the top of her dress tight and buttoned it. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It
does
look like the map. Only … different.”
“Only different.”
“Let me look again.”
“No!”
“It looks like the map, only changed around somehow.”
“Daniel Crowley—”
“I wish I had a mirror. I could show you.”
“I can’t believe you’re being so crazy. God! I just lost my grandmother!”
“I know.” Actually, he hadn’t been able to believe that Bridey might be dead. His mind had put that possibility aside.
“And this,” Emily went on angrily, looking back at her shoulder, “whatever it is—is burning like crazy!”
“Sorry. Look. Let me put the stuff on.”
“No more crazy talk!”
“I promise.” Daniel and Wesley looked at each other.
Grudgingly Emily undid the buttons again, and Daniel carefully smeared on the ointment. “Better?”
She expelled an irritated little sigh. “Maybe.” The catwas sniffing at the stones around the fire pit. “Now,” she said, pulling the cat onto her lap, “anyone want to tell me why we didn’t just go to the house?”
Wes looked at his brother. “You’d better tell her. Actually, I’m not too clear on it, either.”
Daniel sat on a stone and leaned his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands. “Captain Sloper …,” he began, and paused. “I got him pretty mad at me.”
“I thought you were his teacher’s pet,” she said, rather meanly. “Telling him everybody’s secrets.”
“Dan’s not kidding!” said Wes. “You should’ve seen those soldiers running around trying to find him.”
“What did you do?” she said tightly.
Daniel rubbed his forehead. “Okay. Here’s the thing.”
He told the story as simply as possible, making no excuses. Excuses would have felt like lies, and his nervous system wouldn’t have put up with that. When he finished, even the cat was still.
“So,” she said slowly, “you got a madman trying to kill you,
and
you burned up the map.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” said Wesley.
“Who cares whose fault it is? How are we supposed to get to the island?”
Another silence, this one broken by the cat’s weak meow. It probably hadn’t eaten since yesterday.
“Emily,” said Daniel, “we may have a map after
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