By late fall, the weather was finally starting to cool down to a comfortable temperature. I had read every single tarantula book from the Desert Ridge Middle School library, the Phoenix Library, and the box we’d found in the storage shed. I now knew terrifying things about tarantulas—like that a type of wasp called a tarantula hawk would sting and paralyze a tarantula, then lay its egg on it and seal the tarantula up in a burrow. Once the wasp grub hatched, it would feed on the tarantula meat. Gack. I couldn’t wait to use that information to shock someone—I even blogged about it.

I had written several more posts on my blog—mostly stuff about the park, school, tarantulas, and how I do things without arms. Pretty random stuff—so I called my blog Aven’s Random Thoughts. Anyway, it wasn’t about anything terribly exciting, but I had gained a few more followers. Zion now commented pretty regularly on my posts, and Emily still made her usual “LOL” and “I miss you” remarks from time to time, though I hadn’t seen any comments from my other friends in Kansas for at least a week.

Dad and I practiced soccer in the arena together early on weekend mornings when it was cool outside. It was wonderful to feel a chill in the air again, but every weekend I felt less and less enthusiastic about getting out of bed to go out there. I think Dad must have noticed my waning interest. He found an old tuba somewhere at the park, and he came into my room one morning, played horrible screeching sounds on the tuba, then announced, “All hail Aven Laura Green, future queen of the Desert Ridge Middle School soccer team!” I smothered my face with a pillow and told him there was no such thing as a queen in soccer. The next weekend he played the tuba and announced, “All hail Aven Laura Green, future emperor of the Desert Ridge Middle School soccer team!” And the weekend after that: “All hail Aven Laura Green, future world dictator of the Desert Ridge Middle School soccer team!”

Dad said the snakes would be hibernating now, so after we practiced soccer, I would hike up the hill behind Stagecoach Pass. I liked being able to look down on the park and the rest of the city, and I liked visiting my giant saguaro.

I spent most of the time on the hill looking for tarantulas and collecting quartz rocks (I had quite the collection going at home). I wore a loose, open bag around my neck so I could easily drop the rocks in with my toes.

Most of the kids at school were now ignoring me completely. I guess they were used to seeing me around by now, so I wasn’t getting any more shocked looks. It was more like I just didn’t exist.

I sat next to my giant saguaro awhile looking down at poor old Billy and Fred, endlessly hauling kids around the dirt trail. I thought it might be time for them to retire to the petting zoo. I wondered if we could replace them with a little train like one I had seen in a mall.

Now that the weather was cooling down, business had picked up a bit, but my parents told me it was barely enough to keep the park running and cover all the repairs that were building up.

I stood and walked around to the back side of the hill, hoping to find some new rocks. A strand of something dark caught my eye. I slipped my foot out of my flat, grabbed it with my toes, and tried to pick it up. It was connected to something in the ground and wouldn’t come loose. I put my flat back on and started kicking at the dirt, trying to unearth whatever was under there.

Eventually, I loosened enough dirt to get the strand free. I laid it out on the ground and studied it—it was caked with dirt, but I could tell it had once been a necklace with a polished turquoise stone set into a dark metal. I lifted it with my toes and slipped it into my bag. I rushed home to call Connor and tell him what I’d found. After all, we’d seen that necklace before.