spending most of her time waiting for the mail.
“Waiting for a love letter from Martin?” I asked with a grin. She hated when I teased her about Martin, her boyfriend back in Burlington. So I teased her as often as I could.
“Maybe,” she said. She reached out with both hands and messed up my hair. She knows I hate to have my hair messed up.
“Please?” I pleaded. “Come on, Emily. Just a short walk. Very short.”
“Emily, take a short walk with Grady,” Dad’s voice broke in. We turned to see him inside the deer pen. He had a clipboard in one hand and was going from deer to deer, taking notes. “Go ahead,” he urged my sister. “You’re not doing anything else.”
“But, Dad—” Emily could whine with the best of them when she wanted.
“Go ahead, Em,” Dad insisted. “It will be interesting. More interesting than standing around in the heat arguing with him.”
Emily pushed the sunglasses up again. They kept slipping down her nose. “Well…”
“Great!” I cried. I was really excited. I’d never been in a real swamp before. “Let’s go!” I grabbed my sister’s hand and pulled.
Emily reluctantly followed, a fretful expression on her face. “I have a bad feeling about this,” she muttered.
My shadow slanting behind me, I hurried toward the low, tilting trees. “Emily, what could go wrong?” I asked.
2
It was hot and wet under the trees. The air felt sticky against my face. The broad palm leaves were so low, I could almost reach up and touch them. They nearly blocked out the sun, but shafts of yellow light broke through, beaming down on the swamp floor like spotlights.
Scratchy weeds and fern leaves brushed against my bare legs. I wished I’d worn jeans instead of shorts. I kept close to my sister as we made our way along a narrow, winding trail. The binoculars, strapped around my neck, began to feel heavy against my chest. I should’ve left them at home, I realized.
“It’s so noisy here,” Emily complained, stepping over a decaying log.
She was right. The most surprising thing about the swamp was all the sounds.
A bird trilled from somewhere above. Another bird replied with a shrill whistle. Insects chittered loudly all around us. I heard a steady tap-tap-tap, like someone hammering on wood. A woodpecker? Palm leaves crackled as they swayed. Slender tree trunks creaked. My sandals made thup thup sounds, sinking into the marshy ground as I walked.
“Hey, look,” Emily said, pointing. She pulled off her dark glasses to see better.
We had come to a small, oval-shaped pond. The water was dark green, half-hidden in shade. Floating on top were white water lilies, bending gracefully over flat, green lily pads.
“Pretty,” Emily said, brushing a bug off her shoulder. “I’m going to come back here with my camera and take pictures of this pond. Look at the great light.”
I followed her gaze. The near end of the pond was darkened by long shadows. But light slanted down through the trees at the other end, forming what looked like a bright curtain that spilled into the still pond water.
“It is kind of cool,” I admitted. I wasn’t really into ponds. I was more interested in wildlife.
I let Emily admire the pond and the water lilies a little longer. Then I headed around the pond and deeper into the swamp.
My sandals slapped over the wet ground. Up ahead, a swarm of tiny gnats, thousands of them, danced silently in a shaft of sunlight.
“Yuck,” Emily muttered. “I hate gnats. It makes me itchy just to look at them.” She scratched her arms.
We turned away—and both saw something scamper behind a fallen, moss-covered log.
“Hey—what was that ?” Emily cried, grabbing my elbow.
“An alligator!” I shouted. “A hungry alligator!”
She uttered a short, frightened cry.
I laughed. “What’s your problem, Em? It was just some kind of lizard.”
She squeezed my arm hard, trying to make me flinch. “You’re a creep, Grady,” she muttered. She
“Waiting for a love letter from Martin?” I asked with a grin. She hated when I teased her about Martin, her boyfriend back in Burlington. So I teased her as often as I could.
“Maybe,” she said. She reached out with both hands and messed up my hair. She knows I hate to have my hair messed up.
“Please?” I pleaded. “Come on, Emily. Just a short walk. Very short.”
“Emily, take a short walk with Grady,” Dad’s voice broke in. We turned to see him inside the deer pen. He had a clipboard in one hand and was going from deer to deer, taking notes. “Go ahead,” he urged my sister. “You’re not doing anything else.”
“But, Dad—” Emily could whine with the best of them when she wanted.
“Go ahead, Em,” Dad insisted. “It will be interesting. More interesting than standing around in the heat arguing with him.”
Emily pushed the sunglasses up again. They kept slipping down her nose. “Well…”
“Great!” I cried. I was really excited. I’d never been in a real swamp before. “Let’s go!” I grabbed my sister’s hand and pulled.
Emily reluctantly followed, a fretful expression on her face. “I have a bad feeling about this,” she muttered.
My shadow slanting behind me, I hurried toward the low, tilting trees. “Emily, what could go wrong?” I asked.
2
It was hot and wet under the trees. The air felt sticky against my face. The broad palm leaves were so low, I could almost reach up and touch them. They nearly blocked out the sun, but shafts of yellow light broke through, beaming down on the swamp floor like spotlights.
Scratchy weeds and fern leaves brushed against my bare legs. I wished I’d worn jeans instead of shorts. I kept close to my sister as we made our way along a narrow, winding trail. The binoculars, strapped around my neck, began to feel heavy against my chest. I should’ve left them at home, I realized.
“It’s so noisy here,” Emily complained, stepping over a decaying log.
She was right. The most surprising thing about the swamp was all the sounds.
A bird trilled from somewhere above. Another bird replied with a shrill whistle. Insects chittered loudly all around us. I heard a steady tap-tap-tap, like someone hammering on wood. A woodpecker? Palm leaves crackled as they swayed. Slender tree trunks creaked. My sandals made thup thup sounds, sinking into the marshy ground as I walked.
“Hey, look,” Emily said, pointing. She pulled off her dark glasses to see better.
We had come to a small, oval-shaped pond. The water was dark green, half-hidden in shade. Floating on top were white water lilies, bending gracefully over flat, green lily pads.
“Pretty,” Emily said, brushing a bug off her shoulder. “I’m going to come back here with my camera and take pictures of this pond. Look at the great light.”
I followed her gaze. The near end of the pond was darkened by long shadows. But light slanted down through the trees at the other end, forming what looked like a bright curtain that spilled into the still pond water.
“It is kind of cool,” I admitted. I wasn’t really into ponds. I was more interested in wildlife.
I let Emily admire the pond and the water lilies a little longer. Then I headed around the pond and deeper into the swamp.
My sandals slapped over the wet ground. Up ahead, a swarm of tiny gnats, thousands of them, danced silently in a shaft of sunlight.
“Yuck,” Emily muttered. “I hate gnats. It makes me itchy just to look at them.” She scratched her arms.
We turned away—and both saw something scamper behind a fallen, moss-covered log.
“Hey—what was that ?” Emily cried, grabbing my elbow.
“An alligator!” I shouted. “A hungry alligator!”
She uttered a short, frightened cry.
I laughed. “What’s your problem, Em? It was just some kind of lizard.”
She squeezed my arm hard, trying to make me flinch. “You’re a creep, Grady,” she muttered. She
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