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not afraid at all.
    â€œWe could get lost and die out here!” Alyssa squeals. “They wouldn’t find our bones until next year!”
    I roll my eyes. “The farmers harvest their corn in October. You’d barely be decomposed by then.”
    Alyssa shrugs. “Whatever.”
    I smile and try to take control of the situation. “Okay, let’s shoot it once more. I just need you guys to run by the camera a few times, only do it in frame this time.”
    Lydia glances at Alyssa, and, just like that, I can tell neither of them wants to work on my movie anymore. Lydia groans. “I am so tired. Is there anything to drink? I did way too much running.”
    â€œToo bad I don’t have any of it on camera,” I mutter.
    Lydia stares up at the sky. “Where, exactly, is your house?”
    I glance around, but the corn towers over us—acres and acres of corn. We’ve done so much running I’ve lost all sense of direction. I jump up and down, and then we’re all jumping up and down, but it doesn’t do any good.
    We grin at one another because it’s kind of funny that we’re actually lost in a cornfield. It will make a great story at school on Monday morning. Who knows? After Lydia gets done telling it, maybe the whole seventh-grade class will want to be zombies in my movie. I feel cheered.
    â€œI know,” I say. “You two get on your hands and knees, and I’ll climb on your backs and see if I can see anything.”
    â€œYou’re the shortest,” Lydia says.
    â€œI’ll be the lightest,” I explain.
    Lydia sticks out her lower lip. “Are you calling me fat?”
    Now, Lydia never means what she says. It’s all about getting laughs. If I were smart, I’d say something like, Yeah, fatty, and she would probably snicker. But I’m still a little nervous and resentful, so I say, “Uh, no, you’re not fat,” which is pathetic and not funny at all.
    â€œWell, I’m tallest,” she says, “so you two get down and I’ll look.”
    She and Alyssa are the same height, but Alyssa hits the ground like a dropped brick, so I get down, too. Lydia climbs on, and she’s a lot heavier than she looks. She can’t just look and hop off; she has to do a little jig up there like she’s losing her balance, digging her heel into my spine. And she didn’t bother to take her boots off, so now I’ve got dirty footprints on my back.
    â€œSee anything?” I call.
    â€œNada. Corn’s too tall.”
    Well, Mr. Edgarton did say it was a bumper crop this year. A last dig in the spine and Lydia jumps down. She snaps her fingers. “I know. You ladies give me a leg up and I’ll stand on your shoulders. That should work.”
    â€œI’m the lightest,” I point out. “I should climb up.”
    Lydia rolls her eyes. “Fine.”
    There’s so much giggling and protesting that it takes me ten minutes to wriggle onto their shoulders. I didn’t want to leave my camera on the ground, where they might step on it, so I’m still holding it in one hand. It bangs against their heads as I climb up and they think I’m doing it on purpose, but I’m not. Not really.
    â€œAre you taking a siesta up there, or what?” Lydia bellows, because I’m still crouching on their shoulders, hanging on to their heads. I don’t really want to stand up, because I already feel pretty wobbly. I make them grab on to my legs, and then I finally raise myself up. Sure enough, I see our house and it’s farther away than I thought.
    â€œI see it,” I call, pointing in the distance. “It’s over there....”
    I hear muted giggling, then all of a sudden Lydia and Alyssa start staggering as if I’m too heavy.
    â€œAaaagh!” Lydia shouts. “You’re mutilating my shoulder!”
    â€œWe can’t hold you up!” Alyssa calls.