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have been down to single digits.
    â€œDon’t talk to me,” she said.
    â€œYou’re not still mad over that whole bluebird thing are you?” I asked.
    She held her hand up in my direction. “I don’t wish to hear your voice.”
    â€œFine, fine, fine, whatever,” I said.
    Fifteen minutes went by. I couldn’t take it. I could not take the silence any longer. I’d rather have had Eleanore running off at the mouth and saying stupid things to me than have to go on in complete silence another minute. This was unusual for me. I actually like silence. A lot of times when I’m driving in my car, I won’t turn on the radio just because I love to hear nothing for a change. As much as I love music, I will work for hours in my office with no sound whatsoever except the clacking of my keys and the white noise of the street in the distance. I think the difference there is that it’s self-inflicted silence. I have control of it. It’s when I want it to be quiet.
    Right then, I didn’t want it to be quiet, and as if God had somehow heard my prayer, the silence was broken. Not necessarily in the fashion that I would have liked, but still …
    The gunshot that sounded in the distance nearly frightened Eleanore into jumping out of her tree. “What the…?”
    â€œHunters?” I asked.
    â€œProbably, but Sheriff Joachim was supposed to make sure there was no hunting activity within ten miles today.”
    Then another shot. Then another.
    â€œHey,” I said to her. “Is it me, or were those shots getting closer?”
    â€œIt sounded like it to me,” she agreed.
    A few minutes went by and then another gunshot. This one was a lot closer than the others had been. Then another report sounded, and a bullet hit the bark of the tree that Eleanore was sitting in.
    â€œOh, good Lord in heaven!” she shrieked.
    â€œEleanore, get down out of that tree!”
    â€œOh, I…” She raised her foot to try to swing it around the tree branch that she was straddling, but Eleanore, being the size she was, couldn’t quite raise that leg up and over in a hurry. I jumped up and went over to the tree and began pulling on the leg that was closest to me.
    â€œOuch! Torie, stop pulling my leg!”
    â€œEleanore if you don’t get down out of that tree now, your leg is going to be the least of your worries!”
    Another bullet, but this one hit the bark right by my head.
    I screamed, Eleanore cried for her mother, and then the tree branch broke. Eleanore came tumbling down out of the tree and landed on top of me.
    She knocked the wind clean out of me, and for a moment I thought I was a goner. Eleanore was screaming, bullets were flying everywhere, and I couldn’t breathe. It felt as though my lungs had collapsed.
    Eleanore turned toward me, grabbed me by the coat, lifted me off of the ground, and banged my whole body up against the tree. “This is your doing! I know it! You ruin everything!” she screamed.
    My arms were flaying all about and everything was turning sort of white around the edges. About the third time she slammed me into the tree, my breath came back to me. Big gasps of air filled my lungs and for about twenty seconds I just drank in as much sweet air as I could get.
    â€œEleanore, stop!” I yelled finally. “Can we run? You can beat me up later.”
    â€œI oughta—”
    â€œRun, that’s what you oughta do!”
    I started running down toward the river, toward the railroad tracks, but Eleanore was not behind me. I turned and saw her messing with the tree. Somehow, her binoculars had gotten entangled in the branches, and she was determined not to leave them behind. “Eleanore!” She ignored me.
    I ran back up the part of the hill I’d just descended. When I reached her, I yanked on her arm. “Let’s go!”
    â€œThese binoculars cost me three hundred dollars. I am not