scratched her arms some more. “It’s too itchy in this swamp,” she complained. “Let’s head back.”
“Just a little bit farther,” I pleaded.
“No. Come on. I really want to get back.” She tried to pull me, but I backed out of her grasp. “Grady—”
I turned and started walking away from her, deeper into the swamp. I heard the tap-tap-tap again, directly overhead. The low palm leaves scraped against each other, shifting in a soft, wet breeze. The shrill cluttering of the insects grew louder.
“I’m going home and leaving you here,” Emily threatened.
I ignored her and kept walking. I knew she was bluffing.
My sandals crackled over dried, brown palm leaves. Without turning around, I could hear Emily a few steps behind me.
Another little lizard scampered across the path, just in front of my sandals. It looked like a dark arrow, shooting into the underbrush.
The ground suddenly sloped upward. We found ourselves climbing a low hill into bright sunlight. A clearing of some sort.
Beads of sweat ran down my cheeks. The air was so wet, I felt as if I were swimming.
At the top of the hill, we stopped to look around. “Hey—another pond!” I cried, running over fat, yellow swamp grass, hurrying up to the water’s edge.
But this pond looked different.
The dark green water wasn’t flat and smooth. Leaning over it, I could see that it was murky and thick, like split-pea soup. It made disgusting gurgling and plopping sounds as it churned.
I leaned down closer to get a better look.
“It’s quicksand!” I heard Emily cry in horror.
And then two hands shoved me hard from behind.
3
As I started to fall into the bubbling green stew, the same hands grabbed my waist and pulled me back.
Emily giggled. “Gotcha!” she cried, holding on to me, keeping me from turning around and slugging her.
“Hey—let go!” I cried angrily. “You almost pushed me into quicksand ! That’s not funny!”
She laughed some more, then let me go. “It isn’t quicksand, dork,” she muttered. “It’s a bog.”
“Huh?” I turned to stare into the gloppy green water.
“It’s a bog. A peat bog,” she repeated impatiently. “Don’t you know anything?”
“What’s a peat bog?” I asked, ignoring her insults. Emily the Know-It-All. She’s always bragging about how she knows everything and I’m a stupid clod. But she gets B’s in school, and I get A’s. So who’s the smart one?
“We learned about this last year when we studied the wetlands and rain forests,” she replied smugly. “The pond is thick because it has peat moss growing in it. The moss grows and grows. It absorbs twenty-five times its own weight in water.”
“It’s gross-looking,” I said.
“Why don’t you drink some and see how it tastes,” she urged.
She tried to push me again, but I ducked and skirted away. “I’m not thirsty,” I muttered. I realize it wasn’t too clever, but it was the best reply I could think of.
“Let’s get going,” she said, wiping sweat off her forehead with her hand. “I’m really hot.”
“Yeah. Okay,” I reluctantly agreed. “This was a pretty neat walk.”
We turned away from the peat bog and started back down the hill. “Hey, look!” I cried, pointing to two black shadows floating high above us under a white cloud.
“Falcons,” Emily said, shielding her eyes with one hand as she gazed up. “I think they’re falcons. It’s hard to see. They sure are big.”
We watched them soar out of sight. Then we continued down the hill, making our way carefully on the damp, sandy ground.
At the bottom of the hill, back under the deep shade of the trees, we stopped to catch our breath.
I was really sweating now. The back of my neck felt hot and itchy. I rubbed it with one hand, but it didn’t seem to help.
The breeze had stopped. The air felt heavy. Nothing moved.
Loud cawing sounds made me glance up. Two enormous blackbirds peered down at us from a low branch of a cypress tree.
“Just a little bit farther,” I pleaded.
“No. Come on. I really want to get back.” She tried to pull me, but I backed out of her grasp. “Grady—”
I turned and started walking away from her, deeper into the swamp. I heard the tap-tap-tap again, directly overhead. The low palm leaves scraped against each other, shifting in a soft, wet breeze. The shrill cluttering of the insects grew louder.
“I’m going home and leaving you here,” Emily threatened.
I ignored her and kept walking. I knew she was bluffing.
My sandals crackled over dried, brown palm leaves. Without turning around, I could hear Emily a few steps behind me.
Another little lizard scampered across the path, just in front of my sandals. It looked like a dark arrow, shooting into the underbrush.
The ground suddenly sloped upward. We found ourselves climbing a low hill into bright sunlight. A clearing of some sort.
Beads of sweat ran down my cheeks. The air was so wet, I felt as if I were swimming.
At the top of the hill, we stopped to look around. “Hey—another pond!” I cried, running over fat, yellow swamp grass, hurrying up to the water’s edge.
But this pond looked different.
The dark green water wasn’t flat and smooth. Leaning over it, I could see that it was murky and thick, like split-pea soup. It made disgusting gurgling and plopping sounds as it churned.
I leaned down closer to get a better look.
“It’s quicksand!” I heard Emily cry in horror.
And then two hands shoved me hard from behind.
3
As I started to fall into the bubbling green stew, the same hands grabbed my waist and pulled me back.
Emily giggled. “Gotcha!” she cried, holding on to me, keeping me from turning around and slugging her.
“Hey—let go!” I cried angrily. “You almost pushed me into quicksand ! That’s not funny!”
She laughed some more, then let me go. “It isn’t quicksand, dork,” she muttered. “It’s a bog.”
“Huh?” I turned to stare into the gloppy green water.
“It’s a bog. A peat bog,” she repeated impatiently. “Don’t you know anything?”
“What’s a peat bog?” I asked, ignoring her insults. Emily the Know-It-All. She’s always bragging about how she knows everything and I’m a stupid clod. But she gets B’s in school, and I get A’s. So who’s the smart one?
“We learned about this last year when we studied the wetlands and rain forests,” she replied smugly. “The pond is thick because it has peat moss growing in it. The moss grows and grows. It absorbs twenty-five times its own weight in water.”
“It’s gross-looking,” I said.
“Why don’t you drink some and see how it tastes,” she urged.
She tried to push me again, but I ducked and skirted away. “I’m not thirsty,” I muttered. I realize it wasn’t too clever, but it was the best reply I could think of.
“Let’s get going,” she said, wiping sweat off her forehead with her hand. “I’m really hot.”
“Yeah. Okay,” I reluctantly agreed. “This was a pretty neat walk.”
We turned away from the peat bog and started back down the hill. “Hey, look!” I cried, pointing to two black shadows floating high above us under a white cloud.
“Falcons,” Emily said, shielding her eyes with one hand as she gazed up. “I think they’re falcons. It’s hard to see. They sure are big.”
We watched them soar out of sight. Then we continued down the hill, making our way carefully on the damp, sandy ground.
At the bottom of the hill, back under the deep shade of the trees, we stopped to catch our breath.
I was really sweating now. The back of my neck felt hot and itchy. I rubbed it with one hand, but it didn’t seem to help.
The breeze had stopped. The air felt heavy. Nothing moved.
Loud cawing sounds made me glance up. Two enormous blackbirds peered down at us from a low branch of a cypress tree.
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