Such a Beautiful Family: A Thriller(24)

“Does that paddleboat work?” he asked.

She kept writing as she spoke. “No idea. It’s been here for as long as I can remember. I keep meaning to test it out.”

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Journaling.”

Tank had moved toward the bushes close to the girl and was sniffing around. She reached out and gave Tank a pat. Most people were afraid of Tank because of his size.

“Writing about birds?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She stopped writing and lifted her chin, clearly exasperated. “I’m documenting key points about my observations.”

“Homework?”

“Nope. Just for fun.” She was writing again. “Watching birds and keeping track of what I see when I go on walks connects me with nature and gives me a better sense of the world and the people in it. You should try it.”

Trevor wondered how watching birds could do all that. After spending an hour with a bunch of adults yesterday at the barbecue, he felt a lot of tension among the group. It had been obvious that their neighbor Stacy had a problem with Jane. Their other neighbor Laura worried the whole time about her kids, even though most of them were right there in front of her. And then there was Mom and Dad. He wasn’t used to seeing them act so weird—stiff and uncomfortable. Even his own sister had been weird . . . trying to act like she was twenty-one instead of fifteen. He didn’t understand people.

“What are you thinking?”

The girl’s voice startled him.

“Yeah, you,” she said with a laugh. “Something I said got you thinking. I’m just not sure about what.”

“Nothing.”

“No. Tell me. I’m genuinely curious.”

He pulled a leaf from a bush and fiddled with it while he talked. “I was thinking how nothing could ever help me understand people. Especially adults.”

“Hmm. I see. What about your friends?”

“I don’t really have any.”

“What do you do when you’re not in school?” she asked.

“Mostly write a bunch of commands in a programming language to make a computer perform specific functions.”

“Oh. Wow. You do need to observe the world outside of programming languages and critical thinking.”

Trevor perked up a bit, since she actually seemed to know what he was talking about. “It’s also about logic and focus,” he told her.

She closed her notebook, pointed, and said, “See that hawk over there?”

He stared in the direction she pointed to.

“It’s near the bluff, high on the ledge.”

Trevor nodded. “I see it now.”

“Hawk is a general term, since there are two hundred and seventy species. They catch, kill, and eat a wide variety of animals to survive. They are strong, powerful birds. Their sense of hearing is incredible, and I’m sure you know they can see way better than humans.”

The hawk took off, flapping its wings rapidly and using that momentum to glide smoothly and gracefully through the air.

“Jane,” he said.

“What did you say?” the girl asked.

“Jane. My mom’s new boss. She’s the hawk. Graceful and yet predatory. She probably uses her power to exploit others.”

“That’s good. Jane is the hawk.”

“And pigeons,” he went on. “Everyone else is a pigeon.”

“Pigeons are actually very useful and smart. For thousands of years, they carried messages during war. They have a weird sort of ‘map sense’ in their heads, and a compass, which is why they know how to get home.”

He appreciated her passion. He liked this girl. “Dodoes, then,” Trevor said. “Most of the people I know are giant dodoes.”

She laughed. “If you’re searching for a dumb bird, we’ll have to go with the kakapo. When they see a predator, they freeze instead of fly away.”

He smiled.

She snickered.

Tank ran to another tree and started barking again. Trevor clapped. “Come on, Tank. It’s just a squirrel.”

“You live around here?” she asked, this time lifting her head and looking at him with big green eyes.

“No. Visiting my grandparents. They live in one of the houses on the lake. It looks like a log cabin.”

“Really? I love that haunted house.”

Chills raced up his arms. He’d slept at his grandparents’ house many times. “It’s not haunted.”

“My mom has lived in Whispering Pines all her life, and she told me that on a dare, she and her friend spent the night in the house.” She laughed. “Mom said they didn’t last an hour before strange breezes, flickering lights, and eerie footsteps freaked them out. They ran as fast as they could. Mom can’t even talk about it without getting goose bumps. She won’t even hike this way. Instead, she stays on the trails that go to the top of that mountain.” She pointed.

Tank had given up on the squirrel and was sniffing around again. “But you’re not afraid?” Trevor asked the girl.

“Nah. I don’t believe in ghosts. I’m not afraid of much.”

Trevor wished he could say the same.

“So how long are you here for?” she asked.