1
I stepped down from the bus and squinted into the sunlight. Shielding my eyes
with one hand, I searched the small parking lot for Uncle Colin and Aunt Marta.
I didn’t remember what they looked like. I hadn’t seen them since I was four,
eight years ago.
But the Wolf Creek bus station was so tiny. Just a little wooden shack in the
middle of a big parking lot. I knew I couldn’t miss them.
“How many suitcases?” the bus driver growled out of the side of his mouth.
Despite the cold October air, he had a damp sweat stain on the back of his gray
uniform.
“Just one,” I said. I was the only passenger to get off at Wolf Creek.
Across from the bus station, I saw a gas station and a one-block stretch of
small stores. Beyond that, I could see the woods. The trees shimmered yellow and
brown, the autumn leaves still clinging to their branches. Dry, brown leaves fluttered across the parking lot.
The driver grunted as he hoisted up the sliding door to the baggage
compartment. He pulled out a black bag. “This yours, kid?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”
I shivered from a gust of cold wind. I wondered if Mom and Dad had packed
enough warm clothes for me. They’d had to pack me up in such a hurry.
They weren’t expecting to be called out of the country on business just
before Halloween. They’d had to fly to France. And they’d had to find a place
for me to stay for two weeks. Maybe longer.
My aunt and uncle were the lucky winners!
I adjusted the camera bag on my shoulder. I kept my camera on my lap the
whole bus ride. I didn’t want it bouncing around in the baggage compartment.
My camera is the most valuable thing I own. I don’t go anywhere without it.
And I seldom let it out of my sight.
The driver slid my suitcase over the pavement to me. He slammed shut the
baggage compartment. Then he started back into the bus. “Someone picking you
up?”
“Yes,” I replied, searching for Uncle Colin and Aunt Marta again.
A mud-splattered blue van squealed into the parking lot. The horn honked. I saw a hand waving to me from the passenger
window.
“There they are!” I told the bus driver. But he had already climbed back
inside and shut the door. The bus hissed and groaned, and pulled away.
“Alex—hi!” Aunt Marta called from the van.
I picked up my suitcase and trotted over to them. The van screeched to a
stop. Uncle Colin climbed out from behind the wheel. Aunt Marta came running
from the other side.
I didn’t remember them at all. I pictured them as young and dark-haired. But
they were both pretty old-looking. They were both very tall and lean. As they
hurried across the lot to me, they reminded me of two skinny grasshoppers with
tufts of gray hair on their heads.
Aunt Marta wrapped me in a hug. Her arms felt so bony. “Alex—it’s so
wonderful to see you! I’m so glad you came!” she exclaimed.
She let go quickly and backed away. “Uh-oh. I’m crushing your camera case!”
I shifted it around my neck. “No, it’s a hard case,” I replied. “It’s okay.”
Smiling, Uncle Colin shook hands with me. His wavy gray hair fluttered in the
breeze. His cheeks were red and sort of cracked. Age lines, I guess.
“You’re so big and grown-up,” he said, “I’m going to have to call you Mr.
Hunter instead of Alex.”
I laughed. “No one calls me Mr. Hunter—yet,” I told him.
“How was the long bus ride?” he asked.
“Bumpy,” I told him. “I don’t think the driver missed a single pothole! And
the man next to me had the hiccups the whole way.”
Aunt Marta chuckled. “Sounds like a fun trip.”
Uncle Colin lowered his eyes to my camera case. “Like to take pictures,
Alex?”
I nodded. “Yes. I want to be a photographer someday. Just like you two.”
Their smiles grew wider. That seemed to please them.
But Uncle Colin’s smile faded quickly. “It’s a hard way to make a living,” he
said. “Lots of traveling. We never stay in one place for
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