The Fossil Hunter of Sydney Mines (11 page)

Chapter
14

GRACE COULD HEAR HER MOTHER'S SHOWER GOING AS SHE
tromped down into the kitchen the next morning. She was chugging some orange juice out of the container when her eyes spied the calendar on the fridge.

Her mom was on an extra shift at the ferry terminal this morning.
Yes!
Grace thought. This was the perfect time to look for the office key and then sneak in. But how would she get out of school? Pacing back and forth, it came to her—
sick day
. She'd definitely need some convincing symptoms, though. Her mom was tough to fool.

Fever? No, too hard. Hmmm…stomach cramps? Iffy.

Where was Fred when she needed him? He'd have loads of suggestions—he could probably make her look almost dead. Suddenly it was like Fred's genius in the ways of all things crazy spoke to her.

Vomit!

And the quickest way to make herself vomit was to eat peanut butter. Brilliant! The only problem was that she'd actually have to eat it. She shuddered, totally grossed out at the thought. Well, this was an emergency and it called for drastic measures. She was only a little allergic, anyway—not the drop-dead kind, just the barf-'til-your-insides-are-outside kind.

There wasn't much time. She dropped a bagel in the toaster and waited for it to pop. Then she grabbed the peanut butter and spread it on the bagel, watching as the gooey brown substance oozed over the sides. Baby poop. That's what it looked like. Her stomach flipped and rolled. She felt like she was going to barf and she hadn't even eaten it yet.

The shower stopped.
Crap!
Her Mom would be down any minute to make coffee. She stared at the brown goo. It was now or never. Closing her eyes, she bit a chunk off the bagel—and gagged.
Keep it together,
she told herself.
Think happy thoughts. You're on the beach. It's summer. The water is blue—no, it's brown goo! Yeeeuckk! Who am
I kidding? Swallow! Swallow
now
!

The poo-covered bagel fell into her belly like a rock. Her stomach was
not
happy about it. She tossed the rest in the garbage and threw a paper towel overtop to hide the evidence.

Her mother's footsteps echoed on the stairs. Grace's face felt clammy and she lifted her hand to—
oh, double crap!
Her face
! She'd forgotten it was covered in scratches from her run through the woods the day before. If her mom saw those, she'd be totally busted. Bending forward so her hair draped like a curtain over her eyes, Grace clutched her gurgling stomach and raced past her mother on the stairs.

“Grace, what in heaven's name—?”

She barely made it. Slamming the bathroom door shut, the geyser started when she was still a metre from the toilet. Good thing she aimed right. It didn't stop—it kept coming and coming and coming….

“Uhhh,” she moaned. She rested her head on her arms, which were draped across the toilet seat. The taste of vomit filled her mouth. Maybe this hadn't been such a great idea, after all.

Her mother knocked on the door. “Grace, you've been in there a long time. Are you okay?”

Grace mumbled something indecipherable between retches.

“I can't hear you. I'm coming in,” her mother said as she opened the door.

Grace buried her head deeper in the bowl to hide her face. “Mom, I think I have the flu,” she groaned.

“You poor baby. Maybe I could get someone to take my shift this morning.”

“No!”
Grace yelled a bit too eagerly. “I mean, no, that's okay. I'll be fine.”

“Well…” Her mother paused.

Grace thought she could feel her mother's eyes trying to see through the toilet bowl.

“I don't like the thought of you being here alone when you're sick. Get into bed and I'll be back up in a few minutes to check on you.” Her mother closed the door.

Grace listened to her mom's footsteps on the stairs. Sighing, she realized the barfing had finally stopped. Phase One was complete. She looked at herself in the mirror.
Not
good. The scratches on her face looked like trails of angry fire ants on her still-pasty, post-puking-white skin.
Camouflage
, she thought.
I need camouflage.
Teasing her hair into a tangled rat's nest, she pulled it down to cover her face and checked out the effect.
Perfect.
Her mom wouldn't be able to see a thing through that mop.

“Sweetie, I'm bringing you up some juice,” her mother called from downstairs.

Grace jumped into bed, pulling the covers up to hide most of her head. When her mother came in, she peered over the edge of the comforter.

“Here you are, honey,” Grace's mother cooed, putting the juice on the nightstand and sitting down beside her. “What about if I stay home? We could curl up on the couch and both have a sick day. I've got a Royal Winnipeg Ballet performance taped.”

Ballet? No way!
Her mom was in gushygooey mode. Grace felt like she was going to barf all over again.

Grace peeked out from under her hair jungle. “I'm feeling a little better, Mom. You should go to work.”

“Well, I'll wait for a while and see how you do,” her mom said, looking disappointed. “Try to get some rest and I'll check in on you in a little bit.”

Great!
Now she was trapped in her room. Every minute was agony.

It was another two hours before her mom reappeared, all dressed for work. She sat down on the edge of Grace's bed and patted the covers. Her nails were now a shocking coral colour.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice filled with concern. “Do you want me to stay with you? Eleanor said she'd cover the rest of my shift.”

“No, it's okay, Mom,” Grace said. “I'll be all right. What if I call every hour or so and leave a message on your cell? That way you'll know I'm fine.”

Her mother stood up and ran her hands down the front of her pants, smoothing out the creases. “All right, Grace. I'm only ten minutes away if you need me. Are you sure you're okay?” She reached down as if to brush Grace's hair from her face.

Grace burrowed deeper and let out a huge burp. “Oops, sorry! Yup, I'm sure. I'll be fine.”

Her mother frowned and pulled her hand away. Gushy-gooey mom had disappeared as quickly as she'd come. “Fine. Remember, every hour.”

Grace waited to hear the car door, then raced to the window to make sure her mother had driven away. She quickly got dressed and attempted to brush her hair. “Ow, ow
, ow
!” she howled as she tried to yank her way through the knots. The brush got stuck in the tangled mass and it took five minutes of tugging and screaming to get it out again. Grace looked into the mirror and grimaced at her reflection.
Beautiful!
she thought.
Fire-ant
face and tumbleweed hair!

Equipped with her flashlight, Grace opened the basement door and peered down into the pitch black. She reached over to flick on the light switch, but nothing happened. The light really was out. Stanley had been telling the truth about that.

The damp smell of dirt and coal filled her nostrils as she descended into the darkness.
This feels like fossil-hunting
in the tunnels
, she thought.

Grace felt something brush against her arm.

“Aaahhhh!” she screamed, jumping back and swatting at it. She swung the beam of light toward her arm, but she couldn't see anything.
It must've been a cobweb.
Grace shuddered. Cobwebs meant
spiders
.

She waved the beam back and forth as she tiptoed through the darkness, now looking for
two
things—the door and
spiders.

Thump!

Grace froze on the stairs.
That was no spider.

Thump!

What was it?
She swung the beam in a wild arc around the room.

Thump!

The sound was coming from
above
her. Heart sputtering, she slowly tiptoed back up toward the kitchen. What if it was Stuckless here to kidnap her? Or worse?

“Hello?” she croaked, terror squeezing her vocal cords.
Hello? You're saying hello to your murderer? Say something tough. Be fierce.

“I, um, I've got my dad's
gun
. It's loaded!” She poked her head around the corner, eyes cemented shut. “And he, uh, took me to the firing range so I know how to use it!” she yelled.
Open your eyes, you dork!

Grace peered around the doorway into the kitchen. Nothing. She held her flashlight up over her shoulder like a baseball bat and slid on her sock feet across the hardwood floor, stealthily making her way to the living room.

THUMP!

Grace dove behind the couch. The sounds were coming from the direction of the window. She inched forward on her hands and knees and peered around the corner.

Someone was there!

Chapter
15

“CLIMBING IN THE WINDOW—BRILLIANT IDEA,” THE INTRUDER MUTTERED.
“I probably broke my foot!”

That doesn't sound like a murderer
, Grace thought to herself. “Who's there?” she demanded, leaping from behind the coach, flashlight ready.

The intruder spun around. He still had one foot on the windowsill and as he turned he fell to the floor with a thud. “What the—?!” he hollered, staring up at her. “What happened to your face?”

“
Jeeter?
” Grace lowered her flashlight. “You scared me to death! What are you doing here?”

“I thought you could use some help.” He examined her face and hair. “I guess I was right—you don't look so good.”

“Thanks a lot. I thought you were my psycho neighbour, here to kill me. Why didn't you knock?”

“I tried that. And you didn't answer the doorbell either.” He stood up, rubbing his ankle.

“So you break into houses when people don't answer the door?”

“You screamed. I thought you were in trouble! But it was just you being your klutzy self, huh?”

Grace scowled. “No, there was a—” she broke off.
Hmm…he probably won't think much of me screaming at
imaginary spiders,
she thought.

“What?”

“Never mind!”

“Great,” Jeeter said. “Got anything to eat? I'm starving!”

Grace led him into the kitchen. Jeeter searched the cupboards and pulled out a bag of chips. He ripped it open and popped a chip into his mouth. Grace laughed as his face scrunched up like he'd swallowed a tablespoon of salt. Holding the bag up, he exclaimed, “
All natural
guacamole soy chips?
Yuck! You eat this stuff?”

“Not really,” Grace answered. “My mom went a little psycho when Dad…. Anyway, she was on this total organic kick. It was
torture
. Lucky it didn't last long. I think she hated that stuff more than I did.”

Jeeter rifled through the rest of the food in her cupboards. “Unsalted cashews, pomegranate juice, banana chips, dried apricots…kill me now,” he groaned. “Okay, forget the food! Have you checked out your dad's office yet?”