Brian looked offended. “I’m notdumb,” he said.
“Hey, we shouldn’t argue here,” said Ollie to both of them. “We need to keep our heads.”
Coco relented. “I’m hungry too.” It was kind of an apology.
“I won’t eat all the food,” said Brian, still cranky.
Ollie passed around hand sanitizer, and handed outpieces of sandwich. “I know it’s not very breakfast-ish,” she said half-apologetically, but Brian and Coco were already eating.
“This is fantastic,” said Brian, munching his sandwich. “Like Thanksgiving in brown bread.”
“My dad baked the bread himself,” said Ollie, trying to suppress a surge of longing. On winter weekends, her dad would get up before anyone else and get the fire going. Then he would drink coffee, watch the news, and start mixing pancake batter for breakfast. Gingerbread, buttermilk, sometimes cornmeal. The smell would wake Ollie up and she would pad downstairs just in time to catch the first pancakes coming off the griddle. Then she and her mom would play chess while her dad flipped new pancakes and egged them both on.
Her dad was probably frantic, Ollie thought. He would have spent the evening waiting for a bus that never arrived. People would be looking for them. They would be searching the farm, checking the road in between, looking for wrecks. They might find the bus. But Ollie was pretty sure they wouldn’t find any people. The mist had risen, and they had disappeared. Like Caleb and Jonathan. Like the schoolhouse-fire kids.
But there had to be a way out. There had to be.
Coco was eating her quarter sandwich in tiny bites. Brianhad already finished his. Ollie sipped from her water bottle, then passed it around. Coco and Brian gulped the water. Being terrified makes your mouth dry. “Hey, slow down,” said Ollie. “The water might have to last the day.” She wasn’t going to think about the night. Surely, they’d be home by then.
“Sorry,” said Coco, handing the bottle back. It was more than half empty. Ollie tried not to worry about it. They couldn’t do anything just then anyway. She clasped her lunch box again, put it away.
“So,” she said. “What now?”
“We need a way out,” said Brian.
“What about the others?” cried Coco.
“We need to get help first,” said Brian.
“What are we going to say if we do find help?” asked Ollie. “Our classmates were kidnapped by evil-demon scarecrows, please help us?”
“Maybe not exactly that,” admitted Brian. “But what else are we going to do? We can’t help anyone if we’re dead, and Ollie, your water bottle is not going to last forever.”
“You’re not wrong,” said Ollie slowly. She glanced down at her watch: 05:29:37. AndRIVER.
“Let’s head to the creek, then,” she said. “It runs by the farm, it’s a source of water, and it’s downhill from here, so it means an easier day.”
All the while she was making reasonable arguments,a thought was creeping in around the edges of her awareness. Was her mother’s broken watch helping them?
“I think Ollie’s right,” said Coco. “We can’t stay here. And maybe there’ll be people there. Or a clue. Something.”
Ollie broke in hurriedly. “I think you’re right.” She wondered if she should tell Brian and Coco about her watch. About what she thought it might mean. But she couldn’t. She was afraid of seeing pity in their eyes. Sympathy face. Of having them tell her that hope had clouded her judgment. That her mom wasn’t really talking to her.
“Even a featherbrain is right occasionally,” said Coco, a bit sourly.
Brian grinned. “It’s just because you’re so little and pinkish that people think that.”
“Youthink that,” said Coco.
“Not anymore,” said Brian.
There was a slightly awkward pause. “I don’t have a better idea,” said Brian.
“Then let’s do it,” said Ollie. She picked up her backpack.
“Okay,” said Coco, grabbing her own backpack. “But I really hope you guys know what you’re doing.”
Nope, not at all,Ollie thought. She looked up at Brian and saw him having the same thought. She grinned suddenly. You can’t, she decided, be super scared for very long before you start just laughing or crying.
