Uncertain Summer

by Jessica Lee Anderson

  “Hoo Hoo Wah,” a voice called. Emmett jumped up from the bench seat so high it was like he’d gotten shot in the bottom again.

  “Hoo Hoo Hoooo Wah.”

  Gramps chuckled. “Don’t worry, Emmett. The apelike boy isn’t going to get you—that’s just an owl who seems confused.”

  In all fairness to the owl, it looked much later than it was considering the sky had gotten awfully dark with the rainclouds rolling in.

  “I’m not scared,” Emmett said, convincing no one. “Did you know ghosts tell Chuck Norris stories?”

  “Gram would’ve liked that fact,” Gramps said.

  We chatted about how the creatures and the boy could’ve been related to Bigfoot as Gramps guided the boat close to the banks of Goat Island. It was slow going to navigate through the patches of giant salvinia. The plants choked up the engine just as much as it was suffocating the plants and fish in this part of the lake.

  Before we stepped off the boat, I grabbed a flashlight and checked to make sure the camera was tucked in the bag so it wouldn’t get wet in case it started to do more than sprinkle. Goat Island had never looked so creepy. The moss hanging from the cypress trees appeared like giant webs, and I could almost imagine monster-sized spiders dangling from the branches.

  As we made our way down an overgrown footpath, a twig moved amongst the dead leaves right near Emmett. Flashing the light, I could see it wasn’t a twig. Dad had taught me how to recognize the bands and the reddish brown-gold color since we spent so much time at the lake. “Copperhead!” I yelled.

  Emmett cried out before lunging forward. The snake un-coiled, striking at his ankle.

  “It got me!” Emmett stumbled, but kept on running.

  “You need to calm down, or you’ll make things worse,” Tim called after him.

  A sinking feeling overwhelmed me as we rushed over to Emmett. Copperheads are poisonous. Deadly poisonous.

  Emmett was hunched over, pressing a hand against his stomach.

  “Are you okay?” Shawna asked.

  Emmett was ashen and sweaty. His breathing slowed. Then it became more labored.

  “Of course he’s not okay!” I yelled. There was a good chance Emmett might not survive the bite. My insides felt as though they were filling with the poisonous toxin, too.

  Gramps pulled out a pocketknife and was ready to dig out the poison with the blade before Tim stopped him. “That will make it worse,” Tim said.

  I would’ve been willing to suck out the poison or do whatever to save my brother’s life, but I knew from those TV rescue shows that the best thing to do was keep Emmett calm and take him to a hospital.

  Shawna cried.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Tim told her.

  What a complete lie, but it had to be okay. I couldn’t lose my brother. “Malted milk powder, canned beans, onion rings, and corn flakes. Think fast, Emmett!”

  Emmett ignored my Ingredient Game. He lifted his pants leg up. His sock was tinged with blood near the ankle.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Gramps said as he took a closer look.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. Yelled is more like it.

  “Doesn’t look like a snake bite to me,” Gramps said.

  “Are you sure? It burns and my heart’s pounding harder than it ever has before.” Emmett bent down to inspect his ankle.

  “I think your grandpa’s right,” Tim said. “There aren’t any fang marks.”

  Emmett groaned. The fang marks weren’t obvious if they were there at all. Above the bloody part of his sock was what looked like a deep scratch dotted with a line of blood.

  “We should get you to a hospital, just in case,” I said. Shawna agreed.

  “I think a sharp twig got me when I took off, not the snake,” Emmett said, washing his ankle with a bottle of water. “I feel dumb, but I’m fine.”

  “This was one of Gram’s favorites,” Gramps started. “Chuck Norris once got bitten by a poisonous snake. After days of pain and agony, the snake died.”

  Emmett managed to smile.

  We should’ve taken the near snake bite as our cue to leave Goat Island, but we pressed on after taking a moment to catch our breaths.

  21

  The drizzle had turned into a light rain shower.

  “Oh no! My hair’s going to get frizzy like yours, Everdil. Should we go home?” Shawna asked.

  “Your hair looks great,” Tim said. “No reason to head back.”

  Great.

  I ran my fingers through my hair. It had to be a curly disaster.

  “There’s something I want to show you,” Gramps said. He took the lead, and we followed him down a narrow path with weeds so overgrown we were forced to walk single file. I trailed Gramps, followed by Tim, Shawna, and then Emmett. We were extra vigilant for snakes, though Emmett took this to an extreme. I know he’d just experienced a close call, but if he’d been going any slower, he would’ve gone backwards.

  Shawna stayed close to Emmett. I overheard him say something to her like, “I can’t believe you cried over me.”

  “Whatever. Is my makeup getting smudged? Between that and my hair, I think I’m going to die.”

  “Cause of death? Cosmetic failure,” Emmett said.

  I heard Shawna laugh.

  Gramps led us to a deep hole about six feet deep and wider than his entire arm span. My head swirled as I stared into the pit, especially considering it seemed like a grave of sorts.

  Using a flashlight, Gramps spotlighted a thick loblolly pine about ten feet away that had somehow been folded over. “I overheard Dierk Robinson say that he believes Bigfoot is responsible for both of these things.”

  Other people camped on the island from time to time, but it didn’t look like a single soul could’ve folded a tree like that. Even skeptics might’ve considered Bigfoot had twisted the pine’s trunk—there wasn’t a shred of evidence that a saw or any other man-made tool had marked the tree.

  Protecting the camera lens from the rain, I photographed the sights, marveling that whatever had bent the pine could surely snap all of us like a twig. The low battery light on my camera started flashing. Ugh! I hadn’t charged the battery.

  “This is exactly like what we saw near Swamp Sam’s place. Right, Emmett?” Tim asked, turning around.

  Emmett wasn’t there, and neither was Shawna.

  “Maybe the apelike boy got ’em!” Gramps started to laugh.

  “Please don’t say that, Gramps.” Like with the snake, my mind went to the worst case scenario—that Bigfoot or a poacher had snatched them. I knew it was unlikely, but so much had happened recently. The island seemed even creepier as thunder boomed way off in the distance. The same musty odor still hung in the air, almost foul, as if a skunk had sprayed nearby.

  Maybe my brother and Shawna were pranking us. I doubted it, though. And from Tim’s expression, he seemed as worried as me.

  “C’mon, guys! We promised we were going to stick together,” I called out, which was pointless.

  The seriousness of the situation must’ve sunk in for Gramps because he pulled out his knife again. “They couldn’t have gone far,” he said.

  Tim found a small branch that he carried like a baseball bat as we searched for our lost teammates. I made sure my camera was tucked away safely and picked up my own stick.

  The island wasn’t that large, and it didn’t make sense to me how we could’ve lost them. While it was doubtful Shawna and Emmett had been kidnapped, there was a chance they might’ve fallen into a pit like the one Gramps showed us.

  “Emmett! Shawna!” we hollered as we continued walking the trail. The air smelled less skunk-like as the wind whipped around.

  “We should split up,” Tim suggested right as a bolt of lightning streaked overhead. Thunder boomed within six counts of Mississippi.

  “I don’t like the sounds of that,” Gramps said.

  I reminded Tim of Rule #3. The rain picked up at that moment, some of the drops zooming down with enough force that
they snapped my skin.

  “It’ll be quicker this way. I’ll head to the south,” Tim said.

  “I still don’t like the idea of separating, but the storm is going to hit hard,” Gramps said. “Let’s yell or whistle to each other in case something happens.” He whistled three times for practice, which I’m sure he thought was reassuring, but the shrill sound made my toxic stomach feeling return.

  As I set off on a trail near the water to the east, alone and drenched, more lightning flashed in the sky. The brightness reflecting off of the lake created an eerie effect.

  Something scuttled near the knobby knees of the cypress trees. “Emmett? Shawna?” I couldn’t see any details other than a black shadow that dipped under a blanket of spatterdock. This obviously wasn’t Emmett or Shawna. From the way a row of the plants moved, the creature was trying to get away. Whatever it was, it looked to be about alligator-sized though longer and wider.

  Bigfoot was most definitely a possibility. Perhaps that could explain the musky, skunky smell. It was pointless to take a picture in this lighting when the battery was nearly dead and the storm could destroy the camera.

  As I turned around, lightning lit up the sky and helped me to see where I was going despite the sheets of rain. I managed to spot a group of several large red-eared sliders huddled on the banks not too far from where I saw the shadow creature. One turtle dug the mushy ground as if it were about to bury some eggs, and it made me wonder if that’s what the shadow creature had been hunting for.

  The rain made it difficult to see where I was going, and the trail was a muddy mess with pools of water collecting. “Emmett! Shawna!” I called out again as I ventured north.

  I stopped when I heard one shrill whistle followed by another. And then another. The whistles came from the west and sounded exactly like Gramps’ practice ones. Either he had gotten lost or something awful had happened.

  My clothes and entire body were weighed down from the rain and from worrying as I bolted in the direction of the sound. I made the mistake of not looking up from the ground as I headed what I thought was west, and when I did, a shadowy figure charged right at me.

  I screamed before being tackled to the ground, but not before I took a swing at whatever was coming at me.

  22

  I had a vision that I was at a water park and Tim was smiling at me as he helped me up from a squishy inner-tube.

  He moved in close, and his face was only inches from mine. His eyes almost looked cross-eyed as I stared at him. My heart was on a roller coaster ride of its own—was he going to try to kiss me?

  I held my breath in anticipation.

  But a surge of pain zapped me instead. I tried to yell, but Tim had one hand on my jaw.

  “Please don’t move,” he said. “Your mouth is bleeding, and I’m making sure you’re okay.”

  My brain slowly caught up to reality. I wasn’t at a water park. I was on Goat Island in the middle of a bad storm, and I’d gotten attacked. The squishy inner-tube was nothing but a stretch of mud that I’d collapsed on. And Tim said my mouth was bleeding.

  I nearly passed out again.

  “Nothing looks broken, but there’s blood coming from the gum area around your front tooth,” Tim said.

  My tongue reached for the spot, and I sensed the rawness of the tissue and tasted blood. My front tooth, the one that didn’t overlap, wiggled loosely.

  I tried to regulate my breathing by thinking calm thoughts. My mind returned to the water park vision. My mouth throbbed.

  “What’s going on?” an approaching voice asked.

  I didn’t dare turn my head, but I could just barely see Emmett out of the corner of my eye—he looked like he was coated in blood. I stopped breathing altogether.

  It wasn’t until he got closer that I realized it wasn’t blood, just reddish-brown dirt stains. Shawna was with him and Gramps too. They were all very much alive and just as filthy.

  “Everything okay?” Emmett asked, his voice softer now.

  “Everdil hurt her mouth. It was an accident. I heard the whistles and ran to help, but I thought I saw something and … I, I ran into your sister.” Tim’s hand shook.

  “You did what to her?” Emmett asked.

  I squirmed. “He said it was an accident. We collided.”

  I couldn’t believe Tim had been the one who had ambushed me. I also couldn’t believe my front tooth was loose. Would it fall out?

  Tim let go of my mouth, but kept his other hand on my jaw for a moment. “I’m really sorry, Everdil.”

  At this, I cried, not that it was obvious in the rain. I was twelve, and the thought of looking like a toothless six-year-old was too much for me to take on top of everything else. I never thought I’d miss my own snaggletooth.

  “You’ll be fine, Everdil Pickle,” Gramps said. He squeezed me in the most comforting of hugs, his flannel shirt drenched.

  Tim exhaled, sounding like a tire with a leak in it.

  “We should leave,” I said so slowly and carefully. I fought the urge to wiggle the tooth with my finger or my tongue.

  Tim ignored me and ground his feet into the mud as he turned towards Shawna and Emmett. “Where did you guys go? We were supposed to stick together!”

  I’d never heard him so upset.

  “I saw a baby Bigfoot,” Shawna blurted out. “Emmett and I tried to track it down, but we got turned around until we found Gramps.”

  I snorted. “Really? You saw something in this weather? A baby Bigfoot of all things?”

  Shawna crossed her arms over her wet clothes that clung to her curves. “Just because you’re not the center of attention since you didn’t see it for yourself doesn’t mean I didn’t see it.”

  “Center of attention? That describes you not me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, Everdil?” She drew out my name like an insult.

  “You’re the one who dresses like she wants everyone to notice her and it’s … it’s the way you act, too. Like if I knew my good friend was interested in a boy, I would leave him alone out of respect for her.” After saying that aloud, I needed to have my head evaluated and not just my mouth. Good thing I didn’t see the boys’ reactions or even Gramps’ for that matter. I felt so mortified that I wanted to be buried in that deep pit.

  “No wonder why I stopped being your friend!” Shawna said.

  There. She said it, confirming what I’d been thinking all along.

  This hurt far worse than Tim taking me down. “Well, good thing you can quit pretending now.”

  “Girls, let’s not—” Gramps began, but I wasn’t willing to hear any of it.

  “I want to go home.” I took off, not having a sense of direction. A bolt of lightning zipped through the sky, and thunder boomed so loud it rumbled my organs. The storm matched my mood exactly. We found our way to the boat, but the weather was too tumultuous to return for the time being. We took shelter under the roof of the pontoon, and I sat as far away from everyone as I could.

  “I should’ve been more careful,” Tim said, his voice squeaking again.

  While we waited the storm out, Gramps spun a story about some storm he and Gram got stuck in, but I couldn’t concentrate. Baby Bigfoot. Center of attention. Stopped being your friend. These were the things that cycled through my mind besides the pain of taking such a nasty spill. Tim really should’ve been more careful. Timmy. Ugh.

  What was supposed to be an exciting adventure had turned into a nightmare. I refused to be part of the team anymore, not that we were much of a solid team anyway. The whole thing seemed like childish, wishful thinking.

  Emmett got up from his cozy spot next to Shawna to talk to me. I scooted away from him, but he placed his arm around my shoulder. I thought he was going to force me to stay put, but his grasp was gentle. You could almost call it a hug. “Sorry,” he said which was one of the few times he’d apologized to me. “I got caught up in the excitement.”

  “Shawna’s a liar and a thief,” I said, loud enough t
hat Shawna turned from talking to Tim to glare at me. If looks could kill, lightning would’ve touched down from the sky directly on the top of my skull and fried me alive. Who cared about betraying Shawna’s confidence? We weren’t friends anymore, anyway.

  “There’s a possibility she’s telling the truth. Think about the ape-like boy and those smaller prints we saw at the park near the poop—”

  My mind flashed back to the shadowy creature I watched swim off along the banks, too. A younger, smaller Bigfoot capable of swimming might’ve explained the mystery, but highly unlikely. I didn’t want to encourage Shawna or the boys for that matter.

  “Leave me alone, Emmett,” I told him. “I quit.”

  “You don’t want to quit. You’re just upset right now. I would be, too.”

  “Please leave me alone.”

  “Fine,” he said, taking a deep breath that sounded full of defeat. Before he walked away, he added, “Baked bean casserole.”

  “Huh?”

  “That’s what I would’ve made with those ingredients you gave me earlier. Malted milk powder, canned beans, onion rings, and corn flakes. Thanks for helping me.” Without another word, Emmett backed off and resumed his spot close to Shawna and Tim again.

  I’d sent him away, I know, but that traitor. The three of them whispered together.

  We departed Goat Island when the storm moved on. The boat seemed to slosh around inside and out as we made our way back to Uncertain. Uncertain. That’s exactly how I felt.

  23

  I never quite understood the phrase “flipped on a dime,” but it described the moment perfectly when Papa rushed at us, his arms flailing as he cheered, “We did it! We did it!”

  Did what, I wondered, but Emmett was quicker to figure things out. (I blame my injury.) “You found Bigfoot?” he hollered as Gramps roped the pontoon to the dock. Emmett jumped off the boat without waiting for it to be properly secured, hitting the ground with a loud thump. He rolled forward.

  “Are you okay?” I called out, forgetting for a moment that I was mad at him.