Rosie opened her spiral notebook to the storyboard of scenes. Skimming the list of cutaways and interviews and live-action features she intended to do, she froze. For one second she worried she might throw up. It was worse than she thought. She didn’t have a single completed scene.
How was it possible for a one-girl film crew to be this far behind on production? Rosie had shot snippets of interviews with Mr. Waverman, Mr. Carson, and Mrs. Grant that maybe could work with a lot of cutting. Dr. Rhodes and Deputy Cordell had canceled their interviews, both claiming they weren’t sure a documentary about the Miracles was good for the town. Mrs. Dellarose and Mrs. Vickers refused to return her calls. Her demonstration scene with the Rodgers brothers had ended in a fistfight, and her reenactment was a total disaster. She hadn’t even started editing yet because there was nothing to edit.
If that wasn’t bad enough, the entire point of the documentary was to prove what caused the Miracles, but she still didn’t have a single clue how to do that. Cam’s words about the Miracles—they were only based on luck—kept running through her head during every interview. What if she was right? Rosie’s arms itched as if covered in poison ivy. Keeping all this bottled up inside was enough to make her explode.
The hands on the kitchen clock clicked to eight, and Rosie propped her chin in her hands, trying to think. It was almost time to leave for school. An entire day spent staring at a blackboard was the exact opposite of what she needed. She had to interview Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Moore, refilm the Rodgers brothers, and come up with another live-action sequence. She wanted more time, period, and there was no one to help. She and Cam had made up yesterday, but Cam had soccer practice every afternoon this week and a big game on Thursday. Meanwhile, Henry was still occupied with his impossible treasure hunt. Even Mama was busier than normal getting ready for the festival on Friday. Rosie had to get this documentary finished on her own.
Suddenly, an idea popped into Rosie’s brain, and her eyes widened with its terribleness and its brilliance. What if she skipped the first few periods of school to work on the documentary? It wasn’t as though she was missing an entire day, and she was working on something valuable to the community.
But no way Mama would understand or allow it, which meant Rosie had to call the school, impersonate Mama, and claim she had a doctor’s appointment. It was almost too bad to even think about doing. If she got caught, she’d get grounded for the rest of her life. But if she didn’t do it, she might not finish the documentary. And if she didn’t finish the documentary … well, Rosie couldn’t even consider that possibility. Not finishing wasn’t an option. There was obviously no choice. She was getting this documentary done no matter what it took.
* * *
Later that afternoon, a wall of windows scattered sunlight over the crumbs on the linoleum floor of the cafeteria. The muffled shouts and laughter of the other students rose in waves around her. Glancing over at the double doors, Rosie half expected Sheriff Parker to burst in and arrest her for skipping school that morning.
Scanning the room, Rosie searched for Henry and Cam. Kara and Melanie were at one table, and Libby and Mary were at another—all fine lunch companions on any other day. They were what Mama called sometimes friends. Rosie sat with them at lunch sometimes and invited them to sleepovers sometimes and chose them for partners in class sometimes. They were perfectly nice. Still, a girl did not share secrets with sometimes friends. A girl shared secrets only with her best friends, and Rosie needed hers now. Though she’d gotten two more interviews done, she still wasn’t sure how she was going to finish her documentary in four days unless she skipped a lot more school.
Principal Bradley stopped at a nearby table. “Daniel, you’re just the gentleman I’m looking for.”
Danny scrambled to his feet, abandoning the chocolate milk he was trying to drink through a straw in his nose. “Yes, sir?”
“Someone stole the answer key for Mrs. Burdon’s third-period pre-algebra test. You’re in Mrs. Burdon’s third-period pre-algebra class. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Principal Bradley asked.
“Me? No, sir,” Danny said, but he was shifting back and forth on his feet like there were fire ants caught in his tennis shoes.
People whispered about Principal Bradley ever since he’d come back from the Vietnam War. He’d gotten himself captured, interrogated, and nearly died over there. Folks called his return home a Miracle. They also said he could now see a lie coming from a mile downriver. Poor Danny Kopinski stood only twelve inches away.
Principal Bradley adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. “Follow me, Daniel. I do believe we need to search your locker now.”
Danny hung his head and followed Principal Bradley down the aisle between the rows of blue plastic cafeteria chairs. “I’m sorry, sir. The answer key is underneath my math book. My daddy says I have a lying affliction.”
“Well, we will call him to discuss that,” Principal Bradley said.
A hand tapped Rosie’s shoulder. She twirled around and brightened when she saw Cam standing beside her.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Rosie said in a rush.
Cam wrinkled her forehead. “You weren’t in second period. Is everything okay?”
“Not really.” Rosie took a deep breath, ready to pour out everything.
But at that moment, Henry rushed up to them, his blond hair flopping into his eyes. “HenRoCam right now!” He motioned them to a nearby empty table and flung himself into a seat, out of breath.
“Subject?” Cam asked, raising her eyebrows at Rosie to ask what was going on.
Rosie shook her head. She had no idea.
“Are you okay?” Rosie asked.
“Better than okay. I figured out where the train treasure is. I mean I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure. I’d give it a fifty percent possibility, maybe sixty,” Henry said.
Rosie bit the inside of her cheek. Not this again.
“Are you sure it’s not sixty-two percent?” Cam asked in a joking voice.
“It could be sixty-two,” Henry said seriously.
“Leila’s brother is on the varsity basketball team, and she said they’ve made it their team mission to find the treasure,” Cam said. “They rescheduled two entire practices to dig in their parents’ backyards.”
“What does basketball have to do with treasure hunting?” Rosie asked.
“I guess it’s not directly related, but Leila says they’re really determined. They did win regionals last year,” Cam said defensively.
“Well, Anna Lee’s cousin’s boyfriend is an archaeologist and he might come out next week to look for the treasure. Archaeologists know how to search for ancient artifacts, so I think he has a better chance of finding the treasure than Leila’s brother,” Rosie shot back.
“None of them matter because I already know where it is.” Henry hesitated, looking left and right before lowering his voice. “It’s buried in the old graveyard at First Presbyterian Church beneath that oak tree that’s right in the middle.”
“The treasure is in a graveyard?” Rosie’s question was coated in a thick layer of disbelief.
“It’s a long story,” Henry said. “But I found out the graveyard is where Lonnie and his girlfriend used to meet at night.”
“We can’t go to every place in Glimmer Creek where Lonnie hung out,” Rosie said.
“This is a special place. I’ve spent weeks researching Lonnie’s life and reading his journal and old newspaper articles about him. This is the place,” Henry said urgently. “We can go over there tonight when no one will see us and dig around the tree. My daddy has two shovels—”
“Henry,” Rosie cut him off. “We can’t dig a bunch of holes in the middle of a church graveyard at night. We’d get in so much trouble. You heard Mayor Grant at the town meeting. We could get arrested.”
“But—but there’s no other way to get the treasure,” Henry said.
“What if we tell Mayor Grant what you found?” Cam ask
ed. “Let the town look into it.”
“No way.” Henry kneaded his temple. “We can’t tell anyone else. We’d have to share the treasure, and we need that money.”
The intensity in Henry’s voice made Rosie sit up straight. His eyes glittered as they captured light from the fluorescent bulbs overhead. Why did Henry need money?
Cam blew out a breath. “Look, it’s fun to imagine we’re going to find a million-dollar treasure, but it’s not going to happen.”
“Is that what you think?” Henry turned to Rosie. Were those tears in his eyes?
Rosie shifted in her seat. “I—I … maybe.”
Henry blinked, and three long seconds passed. He then set his shoulders. “I’m digging for the train treasure tonight at eleven o’clock. If you’re my friends, you’ll meet me there.” He surged to his feet and stomped out of the cafeteria.
Cam and Rosie stared after Henry.
“He wants us to sneak out on a school night and dig for buried treasure on church property. What is he thinking?” Cam asked. “He won’t even cut through Mr. Gooch’s cornfield because he’s afraid of trespassing, and Mr. Gooch is his great-uncle.”
Rosie frowned. “I’m worried about him. He isn’t entering the science fair this year, and did you hear what he said about needing money? What’s that all about?”
“I don’t know.” Cam blew out a breath. “He’s not acting like himself. We need to figure out what’s going on.”
“We can break into his room and search for clues,” Rosie suggested.
“Or we could talk to him first,” Cam said.
“Sure, all right,” Rosie said, nodding. “If we both confront him, he’ll have to tell us what’s wrong. We can do it tonight when we’re at the graveyard.”
“Are we really going to do that?” Cam made a pained face.
“I don’t think we have a choice. We can’t leave him there all by himself.” Rosie couldn’t shake a sense of unease at Henry’s expression before he left the cafeteria. It seemed like something a lot worse than them not believing in the treasure was bothering him. Something a lot worse was worrying her, too. She turned to Cam. “I really need to talk to you about the documentary. I—”
“Cam!”
The voice came from the right. Leila Sellers waved from a nearby table. Another interruption. The knot in Rosie’s gut twisted tighter.
“Come over,” Leila called.
Cam waved back and stood, a huge smile lighting up her face. She pulled Rosie up. “Come on,” she whispered, and led her to Leila’s table.
“Scoot down, Bailey,” Leila said. “Both of you, sit.” She patted the two seats now available beside her.
Cam sank down into the seat beside Leila, and Rosie took the chair on Cam’s other side. It felt as if everyone in the room were staring at them. This table was the prime table in the cafeteria, the one closest to the doors with the best view of the courtyard. Across from Rosie sat Macon, the school president. She owned a real suit jacket and wore it for her school-wide speeches. Macon sat beside Aimee, the most beautiful girl in the entire school, with shiny black hair and dark eyes.
Leila leaned around Cam to examine Rosie. “Hi.”
“This is Rosie,” Cam said.
Leila didn’t introduce herself. She probably figured Rosie already knew who she was.
“You and Cam are neighbors, right?” Leila asked.
“Y-yes.” Rosie nearly choked on her response. Was that how Cam had described her to Leila—as her neighbor instead of her lifelong best friend?
“We’ve got the first doughnut fund-raiser after school today. You’ll be there?” Leila asked Cam.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Cam said.
“We have to raise enough money to bring in real pizzas on Friday instead of that cardboard stuff the cafeteria makes,” Macon said, wrinkling her nose.
“Then let’s make sure Turner doesn’t eat all the chocolate glazed this time,” Aimee said, rolling her eyes.
“Are you coming?” Leila asked Rosie. “We’re looking for customers.”
Rosie jumped a little in her seat, caught off guard by the question. “Oh. I—I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Rosie has a lot of stuff going on in the afternoons. She probably can’t make it this time,” Cam said.
Rosie’s arms locked up. Cam didn’t seem to want her at the doughnut fund-raiser. Was it because she thought Rosie would embarrass her around her new friends?
Leila shrugged and turned back to Cam. “We were talking about Saturday night, and we all decided Chase Corrigan definitely likes you.”
Rosie’s mouth fell open in shock. Chase Corrigan? Cam knew Rosie had had a crush on Chase since first grade.
“He was practically ready to kiss you,” Aimee said.
Cam glanced at Rosie for an instant. “We were only talking.”
“I want someone to talk that close to me,” Aimee said, tossing impossibly glossy locks over her shoulder. “He shared his popcorn with you.”
“He was being nice,” Cam said.
“Chase Corrigan is really cute for a seventh grader,” Macon added.
“You should go for it,” Leila said, nudging Cam.
Cam’s gaze brushed against Rosie’s cheek again. “I don’t think so.”
Rosie fixed her gaze on the table and tried not to flinch at each new bit of information. She and Cam used to tell each other everything, but Rosie knew nothing about Leila’s party or Chase. Instead, she was the one standing on the outside of Cam’s new circle.
“Next time we need to watch another horror movie. Everyone liked it,” Macon said.
“Well, everyone except for Mr. Moose,” Aimee replied with a sly smile.
Leila burst out laughing. “Oh my God! When Turner threw him in the air—”
“And he got stuck on the fan—”
“And then James was spinning him around—”
Cam sputtered with laughter, along with the other three girls.
Rosie sat motionless in her seat, her face stuck in a fake, unnatural smile. No one bothered to explain the joke to her, not even Cam. They ignored her completely. It was as if her body had disappeared. She wished she could disappear for real.
After several more seconds of laughter, Cam finally remembered there was another person at the table and said, “Rosie can tell you what horror movie to watch next. She knows everything about movies.”
“Really?” Leila said, not sounding that interested. “Which one do you think is the best?”
Rosie froze as all four girls turned to stare at her. Her mouth went dry. She had to say something clever, something to impress them. “Um … I like the classics best, and some of the old horror movies are terrifying. Personally, I think Hitchcock’s Psycho was the most suspenseful film ever made. Or you could watch a lesser-known but equally scary movie called The Innocents about a nanny and her possessed children. It’s more psychological horror. Another one of my favorites is The Haunting. It’s good old-fashioned fear with no blood or gore. Just make sure you don’t watch the terrible 1999 remake with Catherine Zeta-Jones and Liam Neeson.”
The table went silent.
Leila cleared her throat. “I rented The Haunting remake last Saturday night. I liked it.”
Rosie’s cheeks blazed with heat. “Oh. Well. I was talking mostly about critics. Critics always say remakes aren’t as good, but most critics are really frustrated and want to criticize everything, which is probably why they became critics in the first place. I’m not a big fan of critics or criticism or—” Rosie pressed her lips together to stop babbling. She sounded like a lunatic.
The girls stared at her, their mouths turned down. They didn’t say a word, but Rosie could tell they were all thinking the same thing, even Cam. Rosie Flynn was an uncool disaster who shouldn’t be sitting anywhere near them.
“What are we going to do about the Gloster team’s high-pressure defensive line this Thursday?” Cam said to Leila, twisting away from Rosie.
&nbs
p; “I’ve been thinking about that,” Leila said. “If we move the ball from one side of the field to the other and draw their defenders out of position, we can create a gap in the midfield and move forward that way.”
Aimee sighed. “All y’all talk about is soccer.”
“We’ve got to talk strategy. We need a miracle to win this game,” Leila said.
Macon smirked. “Awww, are you asking for a Glimmer Creek Miracle?”
“Please,” Leila said in a dismissive tone and rolled her eyes. “I’m not five.”
Rosie stood and backed away from the table. She’d gotten dropped into a tank of sharks with vicious teeth made up of unsaid words and French braids, and she had to get out.
The girls kept talking. Cam looked up, but when Rosie met her eyes, they shuttered closed with a flick of her lids, and Cam turned away.
Whipping her head in the opposite direction, Rosie turned on her toe and pushed her way through the tables. Tears hovered on the tips of her lashes. Had Cam become a sometimes friend, or were they no longer friends at all?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Later that day, Rosie was trying to edit her documentary without much luck. Water dripped from the faucet in a slow and insistent drip-drop rhythm. The late-afternoon sun sliced a single beam of sharp-edged light across the kitchen table. It did nothing to brighten up the room. She kept staring at the crooked slant of one kitchen cabinet, her mind spiraling back around to the moment Cam had turned her back on Rosie in the cafeteria. Afterward, Rosie had rushed off to the bathroom, where she’d slipped into a stall and stared hard at the glinting silver lock on the door until she was sure she wasn’t going to cry.
Forever Glimmer Creek Page 11