Gravediggers Read Free

mind—
    â€œBuckley! Front and center!” Coach Leider appears next to me, all muscles and camo, a huge smile on top of his massive chin. He sniffs the air and waves his hand in front of his face. “Yikes, Wilson, you sure you’re wearing enough bug spray? No one ever died from an insect bite, son.”
    â€œThat can’t be true,” says PJ. “I was just watching Kingdom of the Spiders with William Shatner, and they talk about how—”
    â€œYou know what I mean,” groans Coach. “Go on ahead, will you? I have to talk to your buddy here.” PJ gives me a nervous glance but keeps walking. Coach and I slow to a stop. He crouches down, and his voice gets low. “How you doing, Ian?”
    Uh-oh. Coach Leider doesn’t use first names. I’ve only ever been “Buckley.” Something’s up. “Fine, Coach. Excited to get moving. We’re going for a hike, right?”
    â€œHere’s the thing,” says Coach. “Michael McDermott has asthma, and I’m the only teacher here with CPR training. That means that I have to trade one person in my activity group for one person in Ms. Brandt’s. You follow?” I nod. He stares at me for a second—he almost looks sad—and says, “I know you were really excited to be part of my group, Ian—”
    Oh. Now I get it. “Me?! Why me ?! Sean and Mitch and I, we have this bet going—I wanted to—we were going to—why ME ? ”
    He shrugs. “PJ Wilson is in Ms. Brandt’s group, and you two are thick as thieves. Right? I figured I’d be sticking you with one of your friends.”
    â€œWe’re not—” The words can’t even come out of my mouth, they feel so lousy. We’re not friends . It’s a lie, but right now, missing out on three days of fun with my basketball teammates, I wish it was true. Ugh. And now I’ll have to be filmed through all of this trip. “Fine.”
    â€œYou cool?” says Coach Leider.
    Pfff. Am I cool. “Yeah, whatever,” I tell him, hoping he hears how lame this is.
    â€œGood.” He hisses through his teeth. “There’s something else, too. Don’t get upset, but . . . I heard that you have a history with someone else in Ms. Brandt’s group, so I should probably talk to you about her. Apparently, the two of you had a fight in Ms. Dean’s class once—”
    Oh no. I feel my stomach sink and my heart melt into goo. Off in the distance, marching toward the girls’ cabins, I see her big brown pom-pom of hair, and it’s bad, man, it’s worse than a million and one PJs.
    Anyone, anyone but her.

Chapter Two
Kendra
    A ccording to my Field Guide to Montana Animal and Plant Life , there are fifteen species of owl that are native to the mountain ranges that we are currently camping at the feet of, the Bitterroots. And while they only hunt at night, some owls have been known to come out in the evening and scare up prey that gets confused by the dim light but enjoys the warmth of the evening sun. Therefore, the evenings are when I have to be most alert. That is one of my goals for the trip—to see an owl in flight, specifically the flammulated owl, who looks notably like Yoda from the Star Wars movies.
    There is something about owls that fascinates me, perhaps because they are historically symbols for wisdom or because they just appear statelier than most birds, their eyes huge and their chests puffed out. I can only hope that when I see an owl, the owl will see some wisdom in me. We’ll recognize each other’s brilliance. And it doesn’t hurt that they’re extremely pretty.
    But I’m ideating (that’s three; two more times and I’ve filled my vocabulary quota for the week).
    Once we’ve dropped all our stuff off at our bunks—it appears I’m the only girl who didn’t bring any lip gloss or hair accessories (as though I