As Mom unbuckled Beth from her car seat, Dill and Peter spilled out of the car. Dill was carrying a plastic supermarket bag over his arm, and he started rummaging through its contents.
Peter wandered over to a sun-bleached poster behind a scratched plastic window. Over the years, dozens of people had carved their initials in the logs that held the display in place.
WELCOME TO ITCHEEPATUCKNEE STATE FOREST, HOME OF THE STATE’S LARGEST NATURAL SPRINGS!
ITCHEEPATUCKNEE IS AN INDIAN WORD FROM THE LOCAL WINNAPOTAKA TRIBE, WHO FISHED HERE FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS. ITCHEEPATUCKNEE MEANS ‘HIDDEN WATERS,’ WHICH NICELY DESCRIBES THE SEVENTEEN NATURAL SPRINGS THAT BUBBLE UP FROM THE GROUND AND JOIN TOGETHER TO FORM A SINGLE, LARGE STREAM. THE STREAM RUNS THROUGH THE FOREST BEFORE JOINING LAKE HAMPSTEAD. THE WATER IS FRESH AND CLEAR AT THE SOURCE OF THE SPRINGS, BUT DON’T DRINK IT, JUST TO BE SAFE! OTTERS, BIRDS, AND FISH FROM LAKE HAMPSTEAD LIVE IN THE STREAMS YEAR-ROUND, AND CAN OFTEN BE SEEN ON A DOWNSTREAM TOUR.
THE STREAM RUNS FOR ALMOST TWO MILES FROM THE NORTHERNMOST TRIBUTARY. PLEASE DO NOT LITTER – KEEP THE GROUNDS CLEAN AND SAFE FOR THE ANIMALS, AND ALSO OTHER VISITORS TO ENJOY!
Below that there was a map. There was a winding blue line that got bigger here, smaller there, and finally dumped into a much larger lake.
“Are you sure this is absolutely safe, Dill?” Mom asked worriedly.
“Oh, yes ma’am,” a voice spoke from behind them.
They all looked over to see a tall man wearing the beige shirt and pants of a ranger. He was tan, brown-haired, and had a sparkling white smile. He put out a welcoming hand, which Mom met halfway, even with Beth wrapped around her neck.
“I’m Eric Hartwell, the lead ranger. Are these your brothers?” he asked in a teasing voice.
“Uh…uh…that one’s my son,” Mom said, kind of dazed, as she pointed to Peter.
The ranger smiled. “You must be new around here. I don’t recognize any of you guys except that rascal over there. What’s up, Dill.”
“‘Sup, Eric,” Dill replied.
“You know each other?” Peter asked.
“Yeah, Eric’s worked here since I was a kid,” Dill explained. “This here’s Peter, and that’s his mom, and that’s his sister Beth.”
“Well hey, Beth, you sure are a pretty little lady!”
Beth hid her face in the crook of Mom’s neck.
Eric grinned. “She takes after her mother, except for the shy part, I hope. Well, ‘Peter’s mom’ – ”
“Melissa…my name is Melissa,” Mom said, and laughed a little. It sounded like a giggle.
Peter and Dill stared at each other.
“Melissa,” the ranger repeated. “That’s a pretty name.”
Mom giggled again.
“Oh grooossssssss,” Dill whispered.
Peter felt a little odd. He hadn’t seen his mother act this loopy in…well, never.
“The guys are completely safe, we haven’t had an accident in years. The spring is a pretty slow-moving current, but it can get over four feet deep at points, so we offer life preserver jackets.”
Mom nodded. “That sounds good. I want them to wear those.”
“Aw man!” Dill moaned. “Only geeks wear life preserver jackets!”
“Well then, you’re going to have to be a geek for a day,” Mom ordered.
“I’m not payin’ for that,” Dill refused.
“They’re free,” Eric offered helpfully.
“Greaaaaaaat,” Dill muttered.
Mom smiled at the ranger. “So…it’s Eric, right?”
“Yup. Have you been in town long, or – ”
“HEY! Let’s get this show on the road!” Dill barked.
“Dill,” Mom warned.
“Money money money,” Dill chanted as he held out a hungry hand.
Mom fumbled with her purse and pushed some money into Dill’s grubby fist.
“Go,” she said through bared teeth, and jerked her head. She softened when she looked over at Peter. “Have fun, sport. Call me when you’re done.”
“Thanks,” Peter said, and ambled off after Dill. He looked back at the ranger, who was still talking to Mom.
“Eric’s cool,” Dill said. “He’s old, but he’s cool.”
“How old is he?” Peter asked.
“I don’t know. Old. Twenty-eight or something.”
“My mom’s thirty-two.”
“Geez, man, she’s freakin’ ancient.” Dill shook his head. “Old people. The only good thing about them is when they give you money.”
5
As they stood in line, Peter and Dill looked at the thirty or so innertubes leaned against each other like a roll of giant, licorice Lifesavers. There were also a couple of red plastic kayaks and yellow inflatable river rafts. Completing the picture were small piles of blue plastic paddles and smelly, orange life preservers.
They weren’t in line long when a college-aged ranger up front called, “Next.”
Dill stepped forward. “Yo.”
“What do you want,” the ranger said. He was a gawky-looking kid with freckles and glasses.
“What can we get?” Peter asked.
College Ranger ticked off the options in a bored voice. “There’s innertubes for five dollars a day. The kayaks are fifteen dollars a day, and the rafts go for twenty-five.”
Dill pointed to a nearby shed where metal cylinders, rubber hoses, and breathing masks lay on the concrete floor. “What about those?”
“Huh? Oh, that’s scuba equipment. There’s a couple of deep holes and some caves in the lake where spring water flows out and makes everything crystal clear. If you’re certified, you can rent out the equipment and dive down there.”
“I’ll take that.”
“You’re not certified,” the freckled kid said, clearly irritated.
“Oh yes I am,” Dill said, even more irritated that he was being doubted.
“No you’re not.”
“I’m way more certified than you are.”
The ranger squinted his eyes like What?! and then he recovered. “Okay, smart guy, what’s PSI stand for?”
Dill didn’t miss a beat. “You’ve got to be certified to know that. If you don’t know, then I’m not telling you, cuz then I’d have to kill you. Punk.”
“You little – ”
“We’ve only got ten dollars,” Peter interrupted as he held out the bills.
The college kid grabbed the money and handed them each a huge, black rubber donut. “Next!” he yelled.
“Why’d you do that?!” Dill whispered angrily to Peter. “I almost had him!”
Peter pointed at the side of the shed where a hand-painted sign listed prices. “The scuba equipment costs a hundred bucks.”
Dill began scooting his innertube down the gravel path, rolling it hand over hand. “I could have argued him down.”
“What about the life preservers?” Peter asked.
“Shhhh!” Dill pointed back to Peter’s mom, who was still wrapped up in talking to Eric the ranger. “If we don’t have to look like geeks, then let’s not look like geeks.”
“What if we fall out and drown?”
“Dude, it’s like two feet of water. You fall off, you’ll probably hit your butt.”
Peter looked back at the huge pile of life preservers. They looked cold, wet, and totally uninviting. He didn’t really want to wear one…
“Okay,” he said, and followed Dill.
“Hey!” College Ranger called out. “Hey, you two kids! You forgot your life preservers!”
“Peter!” Mom shouted. “Dill!”
“Peetah! Diii-uwl!” Beth screeched.
Dill stopped and hung his head in frustration. He turned back to look at Peter.
“Your family has a way of sucking the fun right out of everything, you know that?” he grumbled as he and Peter headed back to get their orange vests.
6
The first thing Peter noticed was the crystal clear water. Every little detail of the sandy
river bottom and the reeds that grew on the banks was sharp as a photograph. The water was a little cold, but on a hot day like today it felt refreshing.
Peter and Dill sat in the center of their innertubes, which took a bit of effort because of their bulky orange vests, and pushed off from the bank into the middle of the stream. Immediately the current caught them and gently moved the tubes down the waterway.
“This is awesome,” Peter said. He flipped over on his belly so he could look straight down. There were all sorts of multicolored pebbles and green grasses underwater.
Dill reached into his plastic bag and pulled out a snorkeling mask. “Wait’ll you try this puppy.”
“Where’d you get that?”
“My sister Shayna’s closet. She went on a beach trip with a friend two summers ago.” Dill handed over the mask. “Try it out.”
Peter put the strap over his head and dipped the faceplate down into the water. It leaked some, and the mouthpiece for the breathing tube smelled like a musty garden hose, but he could see the river bottom even clearer. Dill was right, this was really cool.
Dill rummaged in his bag some more and brought out a deformed, rolled-up swim fin…but just one. First he took off his right tennis shoe and placed it in the grocery bag. Then he pried the fin this way and that, bent it into a semblance of normal, and put it on his bare foot.
“What happened to the other one?” Peter asked.
“My brother Woody lost it in the lake last year. I almost didn’t bring this one, but, you know, I figured one’s better than nothing, right?”
Judging from the way the fin curled around like a letter ‘C,’ Peter wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t say anything to Dill.
They floated lazily down the stream, trading the mask back and forth to gaze at the bottom of the riverbed. It wasn’t too long before Dill punched him in the arm.
“Ow!” Peter yelped. “What’d you do that for?”
“Otter, dude!” Dill pointed excitedly. “Otter!”
Sure enough, there it was: a sleek little brown head poking up out of the water. With a tiny splash, it flipped onto its back for a few seconds, flicked its tail, and then dove underwater. Peter put the snorkeling mask under the surface and watched it flit away into the bed of reeds on the riverbank.
“Hey, man, gimme the mask!” Dill shouted. “I wanna see!”
They drifted down the spring further, but didn’t spot another otter. There were butterflies, though, and dragonflies that buzzed through the air. Eventually the shouts of other kids got farther and farther away, and Dill and Peter were virtually alone on their stretch of the stream.
Peter relaxed and stared up at the clouds above. His butt was cold in the center of the innertube, but the rest of him was marshmellowy warm.
“Dill, I’ve been thinking,” Peter said.
“Uh-huh,” Dill mumbled through the mask’s breathing tube, his faceplate in the water.
“Why does all this weird stuff happen to us? First the dead hobos in the garden, then Mercy and Agnes – ”
Dill thrashed around in his innertube until he was looking at Peter. “I don’t want to talk about it!” he shouted through the breathing tube, although the mouthpiece messed with his lips and teeth, so it sounded more like a hollow I donh wanna tok abouddit!
“But don’t you ever wonder?”
Dill ripped out the breathing tube. “Dude, I have enough bad dreams as it is about you…”
Dill shuddered, then resumed talking.
“…kissing that chick, without you asking me stupid questions.”
“I only did it to bring her back to life,” Peter protested.
“Banh – unh – dunh!” Dill waved his arms around like I don’t wanna hear this. “I don’t care, I didn’t need to see that.”
“Dill, I saved her life!”
“Whatever! Next time, don’t do it in front of me!”
“I HAD to do it in front of you – she kidnapped you, remember?”
“Yeah, right. I think you enjoyed it.”
“I did not!” Peter yelled, genuinely shocked.
“Did too.”
“Did not!”
“Whatever. I don’t need to see that kind of thing, I gotta put up with it enough in movies as it is.”
Dill dunked his head back down under the water.
Peter noticed a sloping area of the bank that led up to picnic tables. “Hey Dill, is that where we’re supposed to get out?”
Dill suddenly screeched underwater.
“What?” Peter asked, terrified.
“Oddahs!” Dill said through the breathing tube.
“What?”
“Otters!” Dill said after plucking the tube from his mouth. He pointed downstream. “There’s two otters swimming around up there!”
“That’s cool, but shouldn’t we get out?”
Dill looked over at the bank. “Naaah, later. I wanna see the otters!”
“But that’s where we’re supposed to get out, right?”
“Yeah, but we can walk back, it’s not that far.” Dill saw that Peter was unconvinced. “Dude, the farthest it goes is down to the lake…come on, the truck’s not there, it probably just left and took everybody. It’ll be like twenty minutes before it comes to pick us back up.”
“Are you sure?” Peter asked hesitantly.
“Of course! Otters, man!”
Peter sighed. “All right. Fine.”
7
They continued drifting down the spring. Within minutes the otters surfaced and began swimming around each other in a hilarious game of tag. Dill lent Peter the mask, and he could see their tails flapping away, scooting them through the water as they twirled around each other.
Fifteen minutes later the otters finally disappeared, and the boys took a serious look at their surroundings. The trees overhead were so thick they blotted out the sky. The spring had become far more choked with reeds and bushes, and the once-dry banks now looked soggy. Frogs croaked everywhere around them, and insects chirped from the trees.
“Oh man,” Peter groaned. “Dill, where are we?”
“Down near the lake. Why do you worry so much? You got the Dillster here, I know this place like the back of my head.”
“That’s ‘the back of your hand.’ You can’t see the back of your head.”
“I don’t care if I can’t see it, I know it anyhow.”
Dill used his hands and the blue flipper to guide himself over to the riverbank and run his innertube aground.
“Come on, let’s just get up on the bank and EWWWWW.”
He had tried to get off the innertube and walk up on the muddy shore, but immediately sunk up to his knees in mud.
Peter laughed. “Is the back of your head that gross, too?”
“Shut up.”
Dill pulled the gooey blue fin out of the mud with a SLUUUURRRRP. He tried to step up the bank, only to fall face down in the gunk.
“CRAP!”
Peter laughed so hard he almost fell out of his tube. “Are you okay?”
Dill pushed himself up. It looked like somebody had smeared chocolate pudding all over his face.
“This is messed up,” he muttered. Once back in the spring, Dill plopped under the surface and washed away the mud from his face and hands.
“This sucks,” he gasped when he came up for air.
“Here, I think it might be more solid over here.” Peter guided his tube to a different spot full of reeds and bushes. He was able to mat down the plants under his sneakers and keep himself from sinking into the mud as he pulled his tube ashore.
After switching out the swim fin for a tennis shoe, Dill followed suit. Soon they were both on relatively solid footing.
Peter looked around him. There were pools of water and mud everywhere, and only the barest hint of dry ground.
“Well, Mr. ‘I know this place like the back of my head,’ you wanna lead, or should I?”
“Oh, no, Mr. ‘I think I’m so much smarter than you but r
eally I just got lucky,’ you go on.”
Dill invited Peter to take the lead with a sweep of his arm. So Peter led the way.
“Have you really been back this far?” he asked, taking special care to walk wherever plants and weeds were growing.
“Once. I went with my brothers…they, uh, they kind of left me out here. ”
Peter frowned back at Dill.
“That’s how I got so good!” Dill protested. “I had to find my way out!”
“Are there snakes back here?” Peter asked, a little worried.
“Oh yeah. You can see the snake holes.”
Peter looked where Dill was pointing. In some of the drier patches of earth, black holes about an inch or two across dotted the ground.
“Those could be gopher holes,” Peter said nervously.
“You think gophers live out here? Unh-unh.”
“Well…what kind of snakes are there?”
“All kinds – copperheads and water moccasins and rattlers and cobras – ”
“There are not cobras!”
“Yeah there are.”
“Nunh-unh, they’re only in, like, India.”
“Maybe some moved here. Or hitched a ride with a trucker.”
“Hitched a ride with a trucker?! Truckers can’t drive from India, it’s on the other side of the world!”
“Not it’s not, DUH. It’s a state, dummy. It’s near…Florida or something.”
“Not Indiana – India! Like by China and Russia, ten thousand miles away?!”
“Oh.” Dill sulked for a second, but then his face brightened. “Zoos have cobras. Maybe some escaped.”
“They can’t escape, they’re in glass cages.”
“Monkeys escape all the time.”
“That’s only in movies! And even if monkeys got out, they’re way smarter, so they probably figured out how to get out. Cobras can’t do that.”
“You’re saying a monkey could kick a cobra’s butt?”
Peter shrugged. “I don’t know – ”
“Nuh-unh, it CAN’T,” Dill interrupted. “Wanna know why, Mr. ‘I know where all the stupid countries are’?”
“Why.”
“Cuz a snake ain’t got no butt to kick. Ooooh! FACE!”
Dill put his hand in his own face and danced around like he’d just made a game-winning touchdown.
Unfortunately, he stepped in more goo.
“Crap,” he muttered.
Peter was about to say, ‘That’ll teach you,’ but he stopped as he realized something: the marsh had gone silent. All those little croaking frogs were quiet now. Even the insects had stopped making noises.