Sam thought the professor gave Owen an odd look.
“Professor Mari-whatever,” said George, “there are so many reports of unexplained phenomena in our sky.”
“That’s right,” Owen burst in. “And not only above. In our ocean, right off this shore we’ve just discovered mysterious echoes. Just ask my friends here—we’ve seen the spectrograms. Mysterious echoes that are unexplained, right, Blake and Sam? Khallie?”
Professor Marigold turned sharply and stared at them.
“Right?” Owen’s gaze darted toward each of them.
Sam hesitated. He couldn’t believe Owen had blurted out what they’d sworn to keep secret. Who else had he told? When Owen gestured for Blake to say something, Blake ignored him and stared through the telescope again. Khallie shook her head slowly, trying to warn Owen not to say any more.
For several long seconds the only sound in the observatory was the hiss of the heater trying to pump a little warmth into the icy room.
“Hey,” George said. “If you know something about sea monsters, kid, that could make a cool podcast episode.”
Owen finally noticed Sam’s, Blake’s, and Khallie’s horrified expressions. “I just meant . . . life can exist in extreme conditions . . . Places where scientists thought nothing could live and . . . ” Owen’s voice petered out. His face went two shades redder.
Professor Marigold sighed, shook his head, and sounded almost exactly like Babcia as he said, “Please let us not get carried away with science fiction nonsense.”
“Nonsense? That kid had the most interesting information tonight. The rest of this class has been a total waste of time.” George got up to leave. In a parting shot he said, “I’m not going to get anything useful for my podcast.”
“How rude,” said Betty. Diane nodded.
Professor Marigold ignored the departing student and said brightly, “That is it for tonight’s class.” He pressed some switches, and the dome closed. Khallie rushed out, saying she’d better not keep anyone waiting.
Sam noticed Blake’s father standing in the hallway by the open door. His hands were on a wheelchair.
“C’mon, Owen, I’m thinking your parents will be wondering why you’re so long at . . . Scouts.” Sam tugged him outside as Blake gave him a grateful nod and waved goodbye. The professor hurried out the door.
Outside in the parking lot, Dory was in an intense conversation with the podcast host. “George, I’m telling you, mate, Australia is a total hotspot for UFO sightings. I’ve seen a few peculiar things in my time.”
Owen’s parents pulled up in a van, and Sam waved goodbye. He waited for Dory while George handed her his card. “If you ever want to do an interview for my podcast Unexplained Phenomena, give me a call.” George crooked his eyebrow and looked hopefully at Dory. “We could even do it now if you want to.”
Big mistake, thought Sam. Dory didn’t fall for guys who looked that eager.
“Another time.” Dory gave her twisted smile.
Yup, Sam called it.
When George left, Dory said to Sam, “Are the Evanses here yet?”
“I, ah, think they’ve gone,” said Sam.
“Get in the car.”
As they drove across the campus, Sam spotted several curious things. First, they drove past a series of telephone poles plastered with missing-cat posters. There seemed to be an epidemic of missing cats. He’d better warn Molly again to keep a close eye on Pix. The second curious incident was that he saw Professor Marigold enter the oceanography building, even though it was pitch dark. He knew that section of the college because he’d visited his grandmother there. What business would an astronomer have in there? The final thing he saw made him forget about the other peculiar things . . .
When Dory drove past the bus stop, Sam saw Khallie waiting for the bus.
“Stop the car; we should give Khallie a ride home.”
Dory didn’t want to back up in the middle of the street but agreed to drive around the block. But when they’d turned around and passed the bus stop, the bus had just left, its tail lights disappearing into the dark.
Why would Khallie’s super-strict parents let her take a bus home so late in the evening?
× 8 ×
WE’RE NOT FIGHTING
ON FRIDAY MORNING, Sam was making toast for Molly and sipping a steaming mug of hot chocolate when Dory waltzed into the kitchen saying, “So . . . are you meeting up with your friends later? I’ll be the chauffeur.”
“Can I come too?” asked Molly.
“It’s not working out, me taking you to the observatory,” said Dory. “I didn’t realize there were so many parking lots. I never spotted Mrs. Evans. But if I drive you to Blake’s, I can just hang out with his mother and ask about Colton.”
“What about me?” Molly insisted. “I want to look at the stars.”
“The astronomy class is past your bedtime,” Sam told Molly.
“That’s not fair,” she grumbled.
Sam turned and said to Dory, “You don’t have to come with me to my friends’ houses. I’m sure you’ll bump into Mrs. Evans next class.” It would be tricky keeping Dory cooperative, especially if she was going to hang around and embarrass him all the time. Unless . . . “What about that George guy?” Sam said nonchalantly. “Didn’t he say he wanted to interview you? You could meet him after class.”
“It’s not fair I can’t go stargazing,” Molly said more loudly, tugging on Sam’s sweater. Pix jumped up onto the kitchen table. Sam made a grab for him, but the cat squirmed out of his grasp.
Dory said, “George is not my type. He dresses like a dork.”
“Nice values,” said Sam, rolling his eyes.
“Look who’s talking, brother,” Dory said coolly. “Your new friends are the most popular kids in middle school. And that little girlfriend of yours is quite the fashionista.”
Narrowing his eyes, Sam said, “Khallie’s not my girlfriend.”
“Excuse me. I mean the girlfriend of your dreams,” Dory smirked.
“I need more friends,” said Molly.
That wasn’t why Sam liked hanging around with Khallie and Blake . . . was it? . . . Because they were popular? I include Owen as a friend. “I . . . don’t need any rides from you.”
“Yes, you do!”
“No, I don’t!”
“Yes, you . . . ”
“Don’t fight!” Molly cried. “It’ll be just like last holiday with you two always fighting. Stop it!”
“What’s this shouting about?” Babcia entered the kitchen and quickly seized Pix, who was still on the table and lapping butter from a dish. “Bad cat!” She opened the kitchen door and tossed Pix outside.
“Don’t be angry, Babcia. Everyone stop fighting,” Molly began wailing. “I want Daddy. I want Pix.”
“It’s okay, Molly, we’re not fighting,” said Sam, even though the air was thick with tension.
Babcia decided to drive Molly to school, leaving Sam and Dory to work out their argument. Dory shrugged her shoulders and said, “Well, mate, I guess you don’t want me giving you a ride anymore. I can’t argue with that.”
Sam had already missed the school bus, which Dory knew. It took almost an hour of walking before he arrived late at school.
After school, Khallie met up with Sam at his locker. “I’m going to Blake’s this evening. We’re playing video games. Want to come with?”
Sam smiled for the first time that day. “Sounds good.”
“Ooh, I love your new charm bracelet,” Andrea Keller-man gushed as she walked by. She took Khallie’s arm and admired the jangling silver heart and ruby bracelet. “Is it from Blake?”
Why did that make Sam’s own heart dive?
“No. My parents love giving me gifts.”
“Lucky,” said Andrea. She looked right through Sam as if he wasn’t standing there. Khallie waved goodbye as she walked off with her friend.
Next, two of Blake’s friends approached Sam. “Is it true you’re seeing
Blake?” asked the track team captain, Andy Chan.
Sam shouldered his backpack. “Sometimes,” he said cautiously.
“Is Blake, like, walking now?” pressed Andy.
“Of course he is. I bet he’s running again,” answered Ravi. Ravi was a burly kid who Sam heard had already made the high school football team even though their second year at middle school had just begun. “Blake won’t let that skiing accident get in his way,” Ravi said with conviction. “I bet he’s back on the rowing team in the spring.”
“Some little bruise on his spine isn’t going to stop him,” agreed Andy.
Sam didn’t know what to say. He just wanted to escape and catch the last school bus or he’d be stranded again—and he didn’t want to walk home either.
Andy casually flipped the locker door back and forth. “It’s weird he isn’t back at school. My folks say his parents aren’t making him do anything he doesn’t want.”
“I guess that’s not so weird, then,” Ravi shrugged. “Who would choose school? Not me.”
Andy arched his eyebrows at Sam. “How come you take him his work and not any of us?” He shook his head. “Khallie isn’t saying much. It’s not like her to be so closed-mouthed.”
Sam wished Khallie had been more closed-mouthed, as in not even mentioning Blake, so Sam could get out of here. He broke through the guys. “He seems good.” Sam raced down the hall to catch the bus.
“If he’d moved that fast at track tryouts, he might have made the team,” Sam heard Ravi say about him.
Last week after school, when the coach had set the stopwatch, it was the same old story. Sam’s skin had grown clammy, his lungs squeezed shut so he couldn’t catch his breath, and then he’d hesitated one second too long. He’d almost made the team.
“He doesn’t strike me as Blake’s type,” Andy added.
“Told ya Blake was doin’ good,” said Ravi. “He’ll be back in no time.”
Sam had almost made it out the door when the school nurse stopped him. “Sam, I sent you home with a notice last week. We urgently need your immunization records, and we need to know if you’ve ever had mumps or chicken pox.”
“Sorry. I guess I forgot.”
“This is top priority.” The nurse wagged her finger at him and made Sam wait at her desk while she phoned his house. Babcia answered the phone and promised she’d find out the information the nurse wanted. Then Sam flew for the parking lot, but the bus had just pulled away. He started walking.
× × ×
THE REST OF the day only got worse. When Sam asked Babcia for a ride to Blake’s that evening, she said “Sammy, I’d like to finish this sweater. Dory can give you a ride. After all, that’s why she’s got the car, to help out.” Babcia looped a thick strand of bright yellow wool around her knitting needle.
At dinner Dory said, “But Sam said he doesn’t want a ride after all.” Dory favoured Sam with a purely evil look. “So it’s okay if I go to the movies with Angel and Gina, right?”
Sam mumbled how gaming at Blake’s was probably cancelled anyways.
“Maybe you’d like to clean the garage instead and have no chores for Saturday,” Babcia suggested.
Sam bit his lip and said, “Have a good night at the movies, Dory, and I’ll get right on clearing those boxes out of the garage, Babcia,” all to keep the peace. Meanwhile, he was feeling like an elastic band being wound tighter and tighter and getting ready to snap.
An hour later, Sam was moving the last set of boxes from the garage wall, where he’d discovered a dust-covered black bicycle. It was a good one—titanium and with twenty gears. He grabbed a rag and dusted off the bicycle until it shone. He stood back and gave it an admiring whistle.
“Ah, you’ve uncovered your father’s bicycle,” said Babcia, who’d come up behind Sam. “Your dad used to travel all over town on that. He said it had all the bells and whistles.”
“Where?” Sam didn’t see a single bell.
“I mean it’s a very fancy bike. My stars, what do young people use for expressions these days?”
Sam could say, but his grandmother wouldn’t be impressed.
“Sammy, your friend Blake’s on the phone.” His grandmother handed him the receiver. As Sam took the phone, Babcia said with a cryptic smile, “That bike should solve your transportation problems.”
Sam couldn’t stop grinning as he lifted the phone to his ear. “Sam,” said Blake. “I can meet you tomorrow at the wharf about a half-kilometre south of Croaker’s Island. Say around four. Can you make it?”
Sam stared at the shiny black bicycle. “No problem.”
× 9 ×
PRIMEVAL AND DANGEROUS
THE SKY TURNED the colour of lead as unsettled weather rolled in from the Pacific Ocean, turning the water choppy and sending waves crashing against the shore. Sam chained his bicycle to the pier. He felt a surge of excitement when he spotted Blake in the boat. An older boy was standing up to his knees in the surf, holding the boat steady in the water. Sam recognized him from the picture on Blake’s mantle, the one that Dory had admired—Blake’s older brother.
After a quick “hello” to Blake and Colton, Sam took off his sneakers, rolled up his jeans, and waded out to the boat.
“Owen’s not coming?”
Blake shrugged his shoulders and then shook his head. Colton looked a lot like his brother, except for his tan. Sam could tell Colton spent a lot of time outdoors.
Colton rattled off instructions. “Make sure you row along the breakwater until you’re near the shore. Don’t cut across it too early.”
Blake said, “Seriously, bro, I get enough mothering.”
“Come back in one piece, that’s all I ask.” Colton shoved their rowboat into the crashing surf. “Or I’m in big trouble.”
Blake dug the oars into the cresting waves as Sam perched on the seat at the prow. “Let me know when you want me to row,” said Sam.
“Actually, this feels pretty good.” Blake stretched and strained as he worked the oars in quick rhythm. He kept the boat steady and on course.
“Is that the hydrophone?” Sam gestured to a large bundle wrapped in plastic at the bottom of the boat. Behind Blake was a coil of wire.
“Khallie brought it over last night,” said Blake.
“I’m surprised Owen didn’t come,” said Sam. “He wanted to explore the island too, and it’s his equipment we’re using.”
Blake slowed the oars for a moment. The boat bobbed in the surf. Sighing, he said, “It’s probably for the best he’s not here, right? Owen tends to blab.”
Sam hesitated. His stomach did a small flip as he thought how he’d be exploring creepy Croaker’s Island on his own. Blake will be close by in the boat, he told himself. Sam shrugged. “I guess.”
Blake maneuvered the rowboat smoothly across the breakwater until lapping waves pushed it closer to shore. Dark forest covered the island. They heard nothing but the steady crash of waves; not the splash of a seal or an otter, not the cry of a gull . . .
Hair prickled the back of Sam’s neck. He tried ignoring the chill that crept up his spine when he jumped out of the boat and secured the line. Blake tossed him the triangular hydrophone.
“Owen says we should be able to pick up the radio signal from my equipment at home,” said Blake. “Drop the hydrophone off the big bluff on the other side of the island. That’s near where we detected the echoes.”
“Will do.”
“Don’t take too long, or Colton will freak.”
Sam slung the plastic bag over his shoulder and started hiking. He realized it would be faster cutting across the island rather than circling around to the other shore.
But that meant he’d have to walk right past Sinistrus Mansion, which lurked behind the rocks and trees like a giant pterodactyl, primeval and dangerous, ready to launch itself at its prey. . .
Yeah, he’d take the other route. Except the hike around the island took a lot longer than he’d anticipated. For one thing, his wet feet rub
bing against his sneakers created instant blisters on both heels. When he finally he made it to the other side, he spotted the high bluff not far from an old boat dock.
Sam tried hurrying, but scaling the steep rock bluff was slow, gruelling work. Once on top of the bluff, he got on his belly, nudged as far over the edge as he dared, and looked down at the dropoff. The water off this shore darkened from flint to dark grey where the shore dropped away into a deep trench.
Sam thought there might be a cave at the bottom of this cliff just above the crashing surf. He slowly stood, swung the hydrophone on its wire like he was lassoing a runaway calf, and let the wire slide through his hands. The hydrophone dropped with a splash and sank into the darkest depths of the water.
The wind picked up and the water churned. Clouds pushed across the horizon. A storm was rolling in. He needed to get back to Blake and the boat fast, only that meant cutting past Sinistrus Mansion.
Sam hiked through a patch of arbutus trees. Their bark peeled in sheets from their tree trunks, revealing patches of raw red tree trunk as if they were wounded. A few more metres inland, the arbutus trees gave way to thick, sharp-scented pines, and Sam’s blistered sneakered feet crunched on the dried pine needles.
Sam broke through the brush.
One by one, goosebumps erupted on his arms.
× 10 ×
SOMETHING SO WRONG ABOUT THAT PLACE
THE WIND SLICED through Sam’s windbreaker as he moved toward Sinistrus Mansion, uneasiness digging deep into the pit of his stomach. A spiked, wrought-iron fence, like the kind that enclosed old graveyards, surrounded the mansion. Whole rusted sections of fence were missing. Farther back, jagged broken windows gaped like corpse eyes challenging anyone to look inside. Sam swallowed, half-expecting a ghost to wave out at him.
The forest encroached on the building—heavy cedar bows scraped against it, blocking most of the lingering sunlight. The wind picked up. More clouds rolled in and covered the sun. A drizzle of rain began pattering against the tree canopy. Sam sucked in his breath and moved toward a crumbling brick pathway that sprawled out from the front porch like a thin, reptilian tongue. Sam dared himself to take a look inside instead of just cutting across the property.
The Mystery of Croaker's Island Page 4