Monday starts out with a surprise. Glinda has a new haircut. A pixie.
“You look like Tinker Bell,” Bobby Ray says. “You know, in Peter Pan.”
“Swell,” Glinda groans. “The littlest shrimp ever.” Slumping, she buries her face in folded arms.
“No,” Bobby Ray says. “I like it. I like it a lot.”
“You do?”
“I like it, too.” I grin at her.
“Sí,” Héctor says. “Bonita—pretty.”
X nods, smiling.
“Oh.” Straightening her shoulders, Glinda smiles all around.
Headquarters is jumping with kids signed up for the Junior Naturalist Program. And sure enough, Héctor can’t go with Bobby Ray and me.
“It’s because he missed two of the trails, isn’t it?” I give Bobby Ray a so-there look. Eyebrows raised, chin tucked.
“Nope,” Ranger Burns says. “His vaccination site is inflamed, so I’m keeping him here until it’s better. We’ll see how it’s doing on Wednesday.”
Wednesday? But I need to question him now.
“I didn’t want to get a shot, Cassie,” Héctor says. “But Papá made me.”
“It’s okay. I had to get vaccinated for school, too.”
Four really young kids are assigned to Bobby Ray and me, which means they need a lot of help with their study guides. Later, Ranger Burns drives us to the Rojo Grande Trail.
The hike is uneventful, to the point that I’m bored. They see four lizards, one horned, and one rabbit, and take three potty breaks. I even have to give one little hiker a piggyback ride back to the trailhead.
“Good to see you’re taking your job so seriously,” Ranger Burns tells us on the drive back to the ranger station. “Bobby Ray, drink some water while you’re waiting for X and Glinda to get back. You look like you’re about to burst into flames.”
“Saw a bobcat today,” Glinda announces when they arrive.
“Oh, yeah?” My ears perk up. “How big was it?”
“Mmm, so-so.” She and X sit down under the tree with us and break out water bottles.
“Aw, heck, we never see anything,” Bobby Ray complains. “There’s not as much wildlife on the short trails. They’re too close to the main road and attractions.” He looks at me. “We do need to hike the longer trails.”
He’s right, but I have other reasons for wanting to hike the longer trails. One trail in particular.
We have four students again on Tuesday. Bobby Ray and I take charge of two each, a boy and a girl. Near the turnaround, the boy points to a big rock next to the trail. “Look, Cassie. Someone dropped a rope. I’ll go get it.”
“Wait, Nathan—” The rope is really a rattlesnake, coiled up next to the rock. “Take my hand, we’re going to back up now. Real slow, okay?”
“Why?”
“Just do it, then we’ll talk.”
Out of the snake’s striking distance, I take his hand. Ramona, the other little hiker, takes hold of my other one. My knees so shaky I can’t stand, I kneel on the trail between them.
“Ropes don’t rattle their tails at you, Nathan. That’s a rattlesnake’s way of talking to you.”
“What’s it saying?”
“That it doesn’t want you to come any closer.”
I take out my guide and show them the picture of a rattlesnake. Bobby Ray and his two hikers come back to see why we’ve stopped. They stare at the snake, their mouths open.
“You did real good, Cassie,” Bobby Ray says. “You didn’t lose your cool like a lot of girls would’ve.”
Sinking down on a rock, I thank my lucky stars that Bobby Ray wasn’t around to see how bad my knees were shaking.
On Wednesday morning, Héctor’s arm isn’t as red or puffy looking.
“I bet Warden Winnie lets me go today,” he says on the drive to headquarters.
Finally, I get to find out what the secret is.
I’m shocked when we walk inside headquarters. Eleven have signed up for the Junior Naturalist Program, and seven are assigned to our team.
How am I going to get Héctor alone so I can question him?
We take our group hiking on Paseo del Rio Trail. About midway, a seven-year-old boy has an emergency. He needs to do number two and there’s no restroom nearby.
“You have to take him, Bobby Ray,” I say. “He’s too little to go alone.”
“Why can’t you take him?”
“’Cause he’s a boy.”
His shoulders slump. “Yeah, okay.”
“There’s a deer trail over there,” Héctor says, pointing at a worn track through the brush. “X makes me take one of those when I need to go.”
Dropping his backpack on a rock, Bobby Ray pulls TP and his garden trowel from his pack.
“Wait up.” I pause a second, mind racing. “Take all of them. They need to learn how to dig a hole, too. You know, one that’s not near an ant bed or a snake.”
“All of them? Why me?”
“’Cause you make a lot of poop,” Héctor says, grinning.
“That’s my claim to fame?” Bobby Ray snaps.
The little boy grabs his sleeve. “I really gotta go—”
“Okay, okay,” Bobby Ray sighs. “I guess the rest of you can come, too.” He leads them down the deer trail.
“Behind that big clump of sagebrush down there,” I call to him. “Not too close to the main path.”
“Yeah”—Héctor pinches his fingers on his nose like a clothespin—“way down there.”
“Let’s sit over here.” I lead Héctor to a rock outcropping. Sitting down, I lean close so I can look at him at eye level.
“Look, Héctor, I know the secret. See, I found the envelope X left the other night.”
“You know?” Héctor’s eyes look panicky.
“Know what?” I ask.
“About the schoolwork. That X got behind ’cause he didn’t go to regular school right away when we moved here in the spring. He missed a few months.”
“Wait a minute.” I sit up straight. “He and my dad are passing schoolwork back and forth? Are you saying my dad’s tutoring him?”
“No, he is homeschooling us. My papá is not so good reading English words.”
I breathe a huge sigh of relief. Dad’s not the thief—and he’s not an accomplice, either.
“But . . . why do they hide X’s homework in those envelopes?”
“X doesn’t want anyone to know. You won’t tell him I told you, will you? He’ll be mad.”
“But that’s not a bad secret, Héctor.” I feel proud that Dad is helping X catch up.
“Yeah, but X says the others will think he’s stupid.”
Things start to make sense. X’s anger when Bobby Ray talked about being smart. The reason he reads so many books. The reason he makes Héctor read all the time.
“He’s not stupid,” I tell Héctor. “And you’re not, either. I mean, just think about it. You moved to a strange place where people speak a different language. That would make everything harder. I’d never want to do something like that.”
“Cross my heart.” Knowing the truth, a part of me feels good. The other part feels disappointed.
“What is it, Cassie? You don’t look so happy.”
“No, I’m happy.” I smile at him. “It’s just . . . well, I’ve been looking for something else and thought I’d found it.”
“What are you looking for?”
“The missing points.”
He looks at me, his face blank.
I pull the book Dad gave me from my pack. “Things that look like this.”
“Oh,” he says, looking at the pictures of arrowheads and spear points. “I’ve got some of those.”
“You do? Like the ones in these pictures?”
“Three of them.”
Three?
“Where—Where’d you get them?”
“I found them. What’s wrong, Cassie?”
“Shh.” I look off trail to where Bobby Ray is returning with the others. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Don’t step on plants and stuff,” Bobby Ray scolds, trying to herd the returning hikers together. “You’re not supposed to damage things.” When they reach us, he says, “Everyone take a break. You got water, drink it. You got a snack, eat it.”
Dropping down next to me, Bobby Ray pulls a bag of cookies from his pack. “Have to wait for that kid to finish up. I left my trowel so he can cover the hole.” He stuffs a cookie in his mouth. “I draw the line there. They can cover up their own poop.”
I hand my granola bar to Héctor.
“No, I’m not hungry.”
“What’s wrong?” Bobby Ray looks me. “You getting sunstroke?”
“No,” I say, taking a drink of water. “More like a brain freeze.”
