Ollie said nothing.
“Is it because your mom died?” Coco pressed.
Ollie looked up, stomach churning. She didn’t hate her classmates for the most part, but shedidhate Coco just then. Pretty Coco with her pink hair and her stupid crying eyes and her mom at home.
“None of your business!” Ollie snapped. “Or don’t you have any brain at all in your stupid pink head?”
A murmur of appalled delight ran through the sixth grade. Coco stared at Ollie, her mouth open, her eyes filling with tears once again.
Ollie got up and ran, book in her pocket, backpack over her shoulder, leaving the rest of her bread uneaten.
11
THE LAST THINGbefore the sixth grade went home was to stand in line to have their picture taken in the middle of a group of three scarecrows. Ollie lined up with everyone else, but she was almost bouncing with impatience. She wanted so badly to read, it felt like her book was burning a hole in her backpack. Mr. Easton looked happy. The sun was vivid now; the clouds had all burned away. They had spent the whole day at the farm, and, except for Coco’s chin, the trip had gone pretty well.
The bus driver was still hanging around. He eyed the sixth grade as though he were picking out which chicken to chop for dinner, Ollie thought.
Mr. Easton tried to make small talk. “A lot of scarecrows you’ve got here,” he said. “Where’d you find the time to make so many?”
Ollie hadn’t thought of that. She wondered if therewere other farmworkers they hadn’t seen. How many people did it take to run a farm?
“They were already here,” said the bus driver.
“The scarecrows?” said Mr. Easton. “Where’d they come from?”
“Here,” said the bus driver again. “All here.” Now he was looking over Mr. Easton’s shoulderstraightat Ollie. She wanted to slink away. “Eyes open, just ready to be stood up.”
Mr. Easton looked interested. “They are in such good condition,” he said. “I wonder how old they are.”
The bus driver just shrugged and smiled. He was still looking at Ollie. “Old enough,” he said. “Old enough.”
—
The clouds were filling in as the sun slanted west. Twilight had arrived by the time the sixth grade piled into the steamy bus. There was much less noise than that morning. Lunch and horses, milking cows and photos had worn them out.
“It was good to meet you, Olivia,” Seth said.
“You too,” said Ollie. She didn’t even correct him when he called her Olivia. She thought of telling him everything, asking him if he knew what Ms. Webster was afraid of. “Mr. Seth—” she began.
But Mr. Easton broke in. “On the bus!” he called. “Hurry up! Got to get to school by pickup time.”
Ollie hesitated, torn, and then Seth had already turned toward the main barn, whistling again. He gave Ollie a last, thoughtful glance over his shoulder.
Ollie climbed onto the bus.
Ms. Webster watched them go from the gravel driveway. As the sun hid behind clouds, the cheery expression seemed to leach out of her face, leaving it gray and old, exhausted. She looked just like she had crying by the creek, except this time her eyes were dry, her face hard. The black cat (“His name’s Behemoth,” Seth had told her when Ollie asked, making her laugh) sat behind Ms. Webster. His tail was curled neatly about his feet, his eyes bright in the gathering dusk.
Ollie sank down in her seat, ready to get home to the Egg. Hopefully Dad was making something yummy. Lasagna, or his famous cornbread-mole-squash potpie. Ollie, to make up for yesterday, would eat every bite. Then she would finishSmall Spacesdownstairs by the woodstove with a mug of hot chocolate. Once she finished, she would tell her dad about the farm mystery. He would be intrigued. They would pass theories back and forth. She would even laugh at his jokes.
Coco Zintner kept trying to apologize. Ollie ignored her. Coco tried one last time on the bus. “Hey, Ollie,” she said. “Ollie, I—”
Ollie, tired and at the end of her temper, was about tosay something she would have regretted, but Mr. Easton saved her. “Come on!” he called. “Get in your seats, all of you! We’re moving out!”
Coco sat down, looking unhappy. The engine roared; the bus started off.
Ollie took the seat next to Brian again. She wondered what Brian, who quotedAlice’s Adventures in Wonderland, would think about the mystery of Misty Valley andSmall Spaces.
She didn’t know what to think of it herself. She opened her book.
