Chapter 24: Her Own Pack

The last field day of the Bridge began on the black rock shore at seven in the morning.

The lake was flat and silver. Mist lay on the basalt.

Forty-one students stood in the parking lot in boots and rain jackets.

A green Peterbilt sat across three spaces at the far end.

My father leaned against its door with a thermos.

He had parked it exactly where the sign said NO TRUCKS, and he looked completely at peace.

"That's a lot of truck," Dani said.

"It's a lot of dad."

I walked over, and he put the thermos on the hood.

He hugged me so hard my boots left the ground.

"You've got taller," he said.

"I'm the same height."

"You've got taller on the inside." He let me go and cleared his throat. "Where's the boy?"

"Loading the vans."

"He got a job?"

"He got two."

"Huh." My father narrowed his eyes at the vans.

Caleb was lifting a crate of core boxes by himself, with his knees.

"Good back," my father said.

"Dad."

"I'm only observing."

The professor blew a whistle.

"Teams of four!" she called. "Walk the shore to the red marker and sample every flow contact."

"Be back by two. The group leader carries the sample bags and the rock hammer."

"Who's leader?" somebody asked.

The professor looked straight at me.

"Tennison."

I felt it in my chest, a warm, solid thing.

My team was the tall girl who had changed seats back, the boy with the guitar, and a quiet kid from Oregon.

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