Chapter 11

I can’t stop thinking about Lake Tianchi. I know I shouldn’t use too much data, but I figure I can look it up really quickly on my phone while Mama and Dad get dinner ready.

A sparkling blue lake fills the screen, ringed by gray mountains. I read that it’s nearly seven hundred feet deep, over twice as deep as Maple Lake.

And in English, it’s called Heaven Lake.

I bite my lower lip, scrolling as fast as I can. There’s not quite as much information on the Lake Tianchi monster as I want to find. Some people say there might even be more than one, that they swim together, rippling across the water.

“Addie!” I hear Mama call. I hit the home button on my phone and shove it under my pillow.

“Coming!” I say. I open the notebook to a fresh page and record as much as I can remember about the Lake Tianchi monster. I’ll have to go back later when I have an Internet connection and add more notes.

“Addie, food’s hot!” Mama calls again. I rush out my door and down the hall to dinner.

“So how’d things go with Rascal?” Mama asks, setting bowls of pasta and sauce on the table. Dad brings in a pitcher of water and we all sit down. From outside, a breeze pushes through the window screen and the curtains flutter.

“Good,” I say. “She’s really cute. Liza and I fed her and brushed her again. She’s getting used to the halter.”

“You’ve got a way with animals, Ad,” Dad says. “Guess you got it from me.” He winks in my direction. “I used to love raising those calves.”

“And Liza?” Mama asks. “How was she doing?”

“Fine.” I remember laughing together when Rascal tossed her head and knocked a brush out of my hand. It felt good to laugh with Liza, even though we didn’t say a whole lot otherwise.

But Rascal and Liza were such tiny parts of my day, and I’m wondering if Mama’s going to ask about the bigger part.

Dad does it for her.

“Now, what did you say they found in the lake, again?” he asks.

“Harmful algal blooms,” I explain. “They’re apparently really bad.”

Mama stops chewing. “What?” she asks.

“Harmful algal blooms,” I repeat. “They’re these plants, kind of, but—”

“I know what they are.” Mama shakes her head. She looks almost nervous. “It doesn’t make sense. That lake’s always been so clean. Are they sure about the blooms? Where did they find them, anyway?”

I didn’t know Mama even knew what harmful algal blooms were. She told us so much about how Maple Lake came to be a lake, and about the trees and plants that grow around it and the fish that swim in it, but she never told us about those. It’s weird to hear her talking about the same kind of science I’ve been studying.

“They were by the boat launch at the biological station,” I say. “But there are other places that we’re supposed to check too. The lake just looks clean. Something’s going on.”

“What do you think it is?” Dad asks.

“Not sure.” I shrug. “Something’s got to be coming into the lake from somewhere, though.”

Mama looks up from her plate, and her look suddenly changes. Her eyes have this pretty shine to them, like sparklers on a dark night. “You know what can sometimes happen?” she says, then keeps going before we can respond. “Construction projects can create a lot of runoff. The Walmart went up two years ago, and that new string of condos on the shore—couldn’t that be something?”

I’m frozen stock-still, just listening to Mama say more about my work at the biological station than she’s said to me in weeks. I’m afraid if I move, she’ll stop. She nods to herself.

“Construction,” she says. “Something to look into for sure.”

All her brightness and talking fills me with something I barely knew I was missing anymore. “Mama, do you think—” I start. Then I close my mouth fast. There’s no way this is going to work.

But Mama’s listening.

I get brave. “Do you think you—maybe want to walk the trail?”

Mama sighs. “The Mount Mann trail,” she says. She knows that’s the one I mean. It’s the one she always walked with Amos, the same way she always skipped stones with me.

At least she’s not angry. She’s something else—sad. Maybe just tired. The wrinkles around the corners of her eyes look so deep, like ruts in a road.

“We don’t have to go all the way up,” I say. If I could just get her on the trail, where she always used to go, maybe—just maybe—she’d start coming back. The Mama Before. “Just to the lookout. That would be enough.” I’m talking too fast, trying to get all the words out before she can say no. But I can feel the silence coming back, the sparklers fizzing away to darkness.

Dad clears his throat. “Be good for you maybe, Laura,” he says.

Mama’s shaking her head. “I don’t think so.” But then she touches one finger to my wrist. I freeze, hoping she’ll leave it there. For a moment she does; then it slips away. “Maybe later.”

“It’s okay,” I say. Too fast again, but the words keep tumbling, trying to cover up the ones I shouldn’t have said. “No problem—I’m really busy anyway. Mr. Dale wants us to keep researching all this stuff about the lake. I’ll go to the library so I can use one of their desktops. I think they’re only open another hour, though, so I’d better head over. You don’t have to drive me, Dad—I’ll bike.”

Dad opens his mouth, but I push my chair back and take my plate to the sink before he can say anything. I squeeze the tooth for good luck.

“Take your phone!” Dad calls as I open the door.

Once I’m out, I just concentrate on the pedals of the bike, my feet pushing up and down, up and down. I listen to my breath. I push my front tire into one of the ruts on our dirt driveway, wobble back and forth a little. Mama’s “Maybe later” loops in my mind. I see her eyes, glistening and empty. Forget the trail, I tell myself, but even when I close my eyes for a second, the bike moving underneath me, all I see is the hard-packed ground that twists up, up to the lookout where Maple Lake spreads out underneath.

Liza’s face swims into my brain too, her eyes hopeful as she hands me her folder of drawings. I see her reaching for my hand, singing “Happy Birthday” with the rest of the family around the table at Aunt Mary and Uncle Mark’s.

But those pictures of everybody I know best make me feel suddenly closed in, hot, like I’m shut in a tiny box with no way out. I just want to go back to the biological station, where I can dive into my questions and my research with Tai, who never knew Amos. Who met me before he knew that I’m supposed to be part of someone else.

I’m breathing hard by the time I pump uphill to the library, but I stop with my hand on the door handle. Calm down, Addie, I say. Just chill. Another deep breath, and I duck into the cool quiet.

Ms. Allen, the librarian, looks up from the cart of books she’s shelving. We have a really tiny library, just one big room crammed with so many shelves and books it’s almost claustrophobic, but in a really good way. There’s even a brick fireplace Ms. Allen keeps going all winter. “Hi there, Addie,” she says.

“Hi, Ms. Allen.” I smile at her. “Can I use a computer?”

“Of course,” Ms. Allen says. “You know the password, right?”

I don’t even have to think. “Mountain. Every time. Right?”

“You got it,” Ms. Allen says.

“Actually,” I say, “maybe you could help. I have some research I need to do for my summer project out at Maple Lake. Mr. Dale wants us to look up information about the lake’s history.”

Ms. Allen’s eyes brighten. “I do know we have a book or two about Maple Lake. Let me see what I can find.”

Just then a whoosh of air sucks the swinging foyer door open; someone must be coming in.

Footsteps pound, and then I see Tai, one hand running through his stick-straight-up hair, the other balancing a soccer ball against his hip. He spots me. “Hey! Addie!” he calls.

Ms. Allen smiles and gets up from her desk. “Well, hello there. I don’t think I’ve seen you before. I’m Ms. Allen.”

“Sorry,” Tai whispers, flashing her a smile. “That was probably a little loud. I’m Tai.”

Ms. Allen laughs. “We’re the only ones here, Tai. The books don’t mind.”

Even so, Tai tiptoes over to the computer, gently places his soccer ball on the floor, and holds his hand out for a low five. “What’s up, Ad?” he asks, still whispering. “Mom dropped me off here. Told me to explore. So I figured dribbling a soccer ball around that sidewalk outside would be a good workout.”

“I was just doing some more research about the history of the lake,” I say.

Ms. Allen comes over with a book that looks like it hasn’t been checked out since probably 1990. She even has to wipe a little dust off the cover before handing it to me.

I read the title aloud: “A Glacial History of Shoreland County.” I bet Mama’s read this book; she must have learned about glaciers somewhere. I let it fall open to a photo of the white whale, then reach back and carefully remove the tooth from my pocket, hiding it in my palm.

Tai leans over to look. “Cool picture; I can’t believe there used to be white whales around here. Kind of makes you wonder what else could be in that lake, right?”

My grip on the tooth loosens. I think of the way Tai barreled into the library, just like Amos used to do in muddy boots, and I know I want to tell him.

I let my hand open and hold the tooth out in front of Tai.

His eyes get wide. “Is that a dinosaur tooth?”

“Sort of,” I say. “It actually looks just like a white whale tooth. The thing about it is that this tooth is big. Really big. Like, almost three whole inches, maybe—bigger than any white whale tooth I ever saw.”

“So what are you saying?” Tai asks.

And then I tell him what I haven’t told anyone else. Not even Liza. Maybe it’s Tianchi, or maybe it’s that Tai’s new, and safe, someone without the kind of history that could get in the way of me trying to do something different. I just let the whole story pour out—Amos’s theory about the lake creature, the clues he found, the notebook he left.

“When we were little, we used to talk about there being a creature living in Maple Lake,” I said. “I mean, it’s not hard to see why. If you spend enough time on the lake as a kid you’re bound to come up with some stories like that. But I started getting more and more into science and trying to figure out why things were the way they were in nature, and Amos just wanted to think about what might be there instead.”

“Hmmm,” Tai says. “I think I might be with Amos on this one. It’s neat to think about what might exist.”

“I just like figuring out what I can know for sure,” I say.

“Well, what do you know for sure about this tooth?” Tai asks. “You said your bus driver gave it to you, right? Where’d she find it?”

“I… don’t know.” I guess I never asked.

“We should find out,” Tai says.

“I don’t know her number,” I say. “My mom does. She’s known her forever. But I don’t really want to ask her.” Mama and Dad would obviously wonder why.

I look back toward Ms. Allen’s desk and see a phone book perched on the corner.

It’s not too heavy; there aren’t many people in Shoreland County. I know Barbara Ann’s last name from hearing Mama say it so much, and when I open the book to the L section, it doesn’t take me long to find her entry: Leddy, B. A.

I punch her number into my phone and hold my breath while it rings.

“Um, hi, Barbara Ann?” I say when she answers, her voice sliding in slow and clear. “This is Addie. Addie Lago. I just wanted to thank you for the tooth. It’s really… cool.”

Is it weird to say I hear her smile? Her voice stretches up at the corners. “I’m so glad you like it, Addie.”

“I just had a question, though,” I say. “What I wondered was… well… where did you find it?” Please don’t tell me you just bought it at the Bluewater Museum for a buck, I silently beg. I want so much for it to be real, mysterious, to deserve its spot in Amos’s notebook.

The tooth stares up at us, colossally big, bigger than the heads of the perch swimming through Maple Lake.

Barbara Ann doesn’t say anything at first. For a second I think she’s hung up. “I found that on the beach,” she says finally. “Walking just before sunset. It was sticking out of the sand.”

“What made you pick it up, though?” I ask. Our sand is full of stones, left over from all the mountain pieces that chipped away. A half-buried tooth would just blend in.

“It was shining,” Barbara Ann says softly. “Shining like you wouldn’t believe. I guess people would probably say it was just the way the sun hit it, but—”

Her voice falls away. Then it comes back. “But I don’t think that’s it,” she finishes. “I don’t think that’s it at all.”

Part of me wants to say something else. But most of me just wants to stop the call and let this sink in. “Thanks, Barbara Ann,” I say. When she finishes telling me to have a great summer and to take care of that tooth, I hit the red End button and stare at the phone and the tooth, side by side.

“So?” Tai asks. “What did she say?”

I tell him about the shining tooth, and I watch his eyes. They get wide, but they light up too. I haven’t really seen them do that until now. Tai leans back and chews his lip. He’s really thinking.

“I kept telling Amos that if he really wanted to convince me there was some creature living in the lake, he’d have to produce evidence,” I say. “So that’s what he started doing. He kept a list of clues. And I think this tooth is just the kind of clue he was looking for.”

Tai leans forward in his seat, his elbow resting on a jiggling knee. He’s looking at me so hard I have to look away. “So your brother was trying to use science to prove that the creature was real?” he asks.

“Basically,” I say. “But I didn’t believe him.”

“And you do now?” Tai asks.

“It doesn’t really seem possible,” I say. “But I do have the notebook where he kept track of everything.”

“Don’t you see, though?” Tai stares at me, his eyes wide, urgent. “This is just like Tianchi.”

“Same idea, I know. That doesn’t mean either creature is real.” Tai looks disappointed. I rush to explain what I want to do. “Amos saw the harmful algal blooms. He wrote about them in one of the clues. It makes me wonder what else he recorded that we could explain.”

“He saw the blooms?” Tai’s forehead scrunches up. “What did he say about them?”

“Nothing, really. I don’t think he knew what he was looking at.” He really just mentioned the green parts in passing, but the fact that he noticed them at all makes me curious about the rest of the clue. “I was thinking—or, I just wonder, I guess, if we’re using your scientific method—that… maybe whatever Amos was talking about could actually be part of what your mom is trying to figure out.”

Tai nods slowly. “I’d buy that.”

My phone buzzes; this time it’s a text from Dad. I stiffen.

You still at library

I punch letters with my thumb, rushing to finish.

Yeah tell Mama don’t worry. Be home later

“So,” I say. “I came here to do some research. Guess I should probably start that.” And I’m not just curious about Maple Lake’s history; I want to know what might be happening now too. I type lake pollution into the search box and words float onto the screen. Watershed. Runoff. Sediment.

“Eh,” Tai says. “Mr. Dale gives us time during the day to research that stuff. I kinda care more about your brother’s clues right now. Do you have his notebook?”

“I always have it,” I say, reaching into my pocket. I’m actually really glad Tai seems to care about Amos’s clues. I know Amos would have appreciated it too. But when I touch the notebook’s edge, I stop for just a second. Part of me doesn’t want to pull it out. Amos gave this to me. He wanted me to see it.

But then I feel it again. A big squeeze around my arms, like someone’s pressing them into my sides. It’s not Tai; he’s just sitting on the chair in front of me, waiting for me to say something.

Go ahead. Did I say that out loud? Or did I hear it? Think it?

Show him. My arms relax; the pressure’s gone. And where the pressure was, there’s just warmth now.

I’ve never really let myself think this before, not clearly. But these things that don’t quite make sense—the too-big tooth, the notebook with its strange clues—tell me that even though I can’t explain it scientifically, the warm feeling that squeezes me so hard sometimes I almost gasp is Amos, telling me he’s here. That everything’s okay.

The truth is I feel him everywhere. Not just here in the library, surrounded by dusty books we checked out over and over again when we were little, but also on the lake, wind slicing through my hair and waves rolling at my feet.

And if Amos—who isn’t really here, who can’t be here—is all around me, what else might be real that I can’t see? I owe it to Amos to find out just how real his clues are. If I do, I can help him the way I never did while he was alive.

I hold the notebook out for Tai, like I did the tooth. He looks at me softly, not saying anything.

“Go ahead,” I tell him. “It was my brother’s.” The warm feeling stays, swirling around me. “I signed up for this Young Scientist position so I could research pollution on the lake. But I have to research the clues my brother left too.”

Tai looks up at me fast, his eyes wide. But I nod, and he lifts the notebook out of my hands. Now we’re sharing it.