“There are five.”
“Five,” said Hadley, nodding. “That’s a lot.” She stood at the edge of the ravine, gazing out into the woods.
“Possibly six,” said Gabe. “And the strange thing is, they weren’t there yesterday.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I checked.” Gabe scanned the ground with massive binoculars that had probably belonged to his great-grandfather. “There was only one nest yesterday. Today, there are six.”
“They must be migrating,” she told him.
Gabe shook his head. “Snakes don’t migrate. Their habitat doesn’t change, so there’s no reason for migration.”
Hadley’s eyes swept the murky brush. The ground was spangled with last year’s leaves. Rocks jutted out from the clay-like soil, and roots tangled above the surface in lacy patterns.
“What about winter? Do they hibernate?”
“No,” he scoffed. “Snakes don’t hibernate either. They go deep into their holes and spend the winter there inactive.”
Hadley rolled her eyes. “Sounds a lot like hibernation to me.” She kept an eye on her feet in case any snakes decided to slink up unexpectedly.
Gabe let the antique binoculars drop. They thudded against his chest and he winced. “You don’t know much about snakes, do you?”
“Nope,” she said. “Don’t want to either.”
“Well, I know a lot about them, and what I can tell you is there was one nest yesterday and there are six today.”
He glanced to the right, then to the left. He leaned in close and looked her straight in the eye, whispering as if someone might hear.
“There are more insects, too. Tons of flesh flies. And I saw a centipede the length of my hand and a beetle the size of a doughnut.” He picked up his binoculars and fixed them on a spot in the ravine not twenty feet down and pointed. “There.”
Hadley followed his gaze. Snakes were bad enough, but monstrous multi-legged insects were a whole other horror. She cringed.
“It’s like”—Gabe swung around—“something is drawing them to this spot…”
Hadley stared through the lenses that made Gabe look an awful lot like a giant bug himself. “Hey, Gabe,” she said suddenly, “do you think the universe is in perfect balance?”
Gabe dropped his binoculars. They slammed against his chest a second time. “Well,” he began, “the sun’s gravitational forces push in, while its nuclear forces push out and…”
Hadley sighed. “No, no, no. I mean, do you think everything has to balance out?”
He ignored her. “Of course, there’s Newton’s third law—‘For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.’ That’s balance, too.”
Hadley couldn’t let on she had no idea what he was saying. “Right. Newton’s third law. You know, I always confuse it with his eighth.”
Gabe frowned. “Newton doesn’t have an eighth law.”
Hadley’s cheeks flushed. “Of course he does.”
“No. I’m sure there are only three.”
“He wrote five more later on,” Hadley lied. “Maybe you just didn’t get past the first three.”
Gabe folded his arms across his chest and raised his chin. “So, what exactly is Newton’s eighth law?”
Hadley picked at some dirt in her fingernail. “I can’t remember it exactly, but it’s something like, ‘For every fig that goes into a cookie, there is an equal and opposite amount of dough required.’”
“You made that up,” he said.
“Did not,” she insisted. “Haven’t you heard of Fig Newton cookies? Why do you think they named them after him?”
Gabe squared his shoulders and opened his mouth. Luckily Isaac dove in to save her.
“Hey!” he called, scampering toward them. “Whatcha doing?”
“Going snake hunting,” grumbled Gabe.
“You are going snake hunting,” Hadley corrected, jabbing a finger into his shoulder. “I am going inside.”
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “But you might miss some pretty interesting stuff.”
“That’s a chance I’m willing to take,” shouted Hadley, as Gabe slid into the gully.
“I wanna go!” said Isaac. “Can I?”
Hadley hesitated. “I’m not sure. It’s dangerous down there. You could get lost. I think you should ask—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Isaac was scrambling down the slope into the trees, after Gabe. “Hey! Wait up!”
“Come back!” called Hadley, but he ignored her.
She tried a few more times, but Isaac disappeared into the brush. He was probably safe with Gabe. Still, Hadley decided she’d best let her mother know what he was up to. She turned to walk back toward the house, stopping when she reached the garage.
Granny de Mone had told her to come by late afternoon. Hadley was so excited and so curious, for a moment she forgot all about Isaac.
Climbing the metal steps, she opened the screen door and rapped once, lightly, on the wooden door. It creaked open. She must have knocked harder than she’d thought.
Granny stood at the far end of the apartment with her back to Hadley. “Come in,” she said gently. “They’re ready.”
“What’s ready?” The faint aroma of apples and cinnamon lingered in the air. Hadley could live off crumble if she had to.
“Your gift,” said Granny de Mone, turning.
In her arms, she held something. Hadley squinted, but she couldn’t quite make out what it was. She took a few steps closer. Light from the open door cast a pale iridescent beam on the objects. Granny was holding three wooden dolls. A man, a woman, and a little boy.
She placed the dolls into Hadley’s hands, one by one, beginning with the doll that looked like Hadley’s mother.
“This looks like Mom,” Hadley said, examining the doll with hair combed back in a tidy ponytail just like her mother’s. It wore a pretty cotton floral dress. Her mother rarely wore dresses. When she wasn’t in uniform, she just wore sweats.
The second doll looked like Ed. It had gangly legs and wore a T-shirt and jeans—just like Ed. The third had sunburned freckles—a shade only Isaac’s skin could achieve.
“Wow,” she said. “They’re amazing.”
Granny smiled. “Really? Do you like them?”
“Yes! I do! How did you make them?”
“I carve them. I’m sort of an amateur sculptor. Helps me pass the evenings when the light is easier on my eyes.” She pointed to her glasses. “Plus I can feel the faces as they take shape.” She ran a finger along Ed’s doll’s nose.
“Cool.”
Hadley turned the dolls over in her hands. She couldn’t get over how beautiful they were.
“There’s one of you, too,” said Granny. “Only it’s not quite ready.”
Hadley beamed. She could really get used to having a grandmother.
“Be careful, though,” said Granny. “They’re a bit fragile.”
Hadley nodded and her grip on the dolls tightened. She was about to ask if Granny could show her how to make them when she heard a thunk. It came from somewhere inside the apartment. She searched the room, but didn’t see anything out of place. Althea de Mone didn’t seem to notice.
Poor Granny, thought Hadley. Her hearing is as bad as her eyesight. Getting old must be awful.
“Run along, now,” Granny said. “Have fun playing.”
Hadley smiled and nodded. She left the apartment and hurried down the steps. She could hear Gabe whistling in the ravine. Her smile quickly faded. She couldn’t let Gabe see her. She didn’t want him to think she still played with dolls. She made a beeline for the house.
She raced through the front door and dashed up the steps to her bedroom. She was moving so fast she missed the final step and stumbled. Her hand flew out to grab the railing, and one doll slipped from her grasp. It thumped down step after step until it lay at the bottom of the staircase.
That’s when she heard the scream.