Read The Dead Man in Indian Creek for Free Online

saw a dead man I'd throw up too," she said. "Just like Matt."
    After that, I didn't care what Linda said or did. Ignoring her, I pushed my way through the crowds in the hall, stuffed my jacket into my locker, and went to homeroom on my own little cloud.
    All day I had to tell the story of the dead man over and over again. Even to my teachers. By the end of sixth period, I was sick of Indian Creek and eager to go home and forget about it.
    When I met Parker in the hall, he said, "Let's get out of here." I could tell he was just as tired of being a celebrity as I was.
    "Why don't we go to the quarry and work on our fort?" I suggested. The clouds had blown away, and the sun was shining again. Out in the woods, we'd be all alone. No questions to answer, no more teasing about throwing up, no more worries about the dead man.
    ***
    We went home long enough to pick up our bikes and Otis. Then we rode about two miles out of town to Bluestone Quarry. It was abandoned years ago, sometime before World War II, so it's way back in the woods and full of water now. There are "No Trespassing" signs posted along the road, but everybody swims in it anyway, even though it's real murky and cold as ice. Kids say it's bottomless. If you drown in it, they say, your body will never be found.
    You can imagine what my parents would do if they knew Parker and I started building a fort there last summer. To hear them talk, you'd think a kid drowned in the quarry every day. Once in a while, maybe every ten years or so, somebody does drown, but Parker and I are very careful. And we always bring Otis with us for a little extra protection.
    Actually the worst thing about the quarry isn't the water. Parker and I are pretty sure teenagers do drugs and stuff in the woods. Sometimes we find charred logs where they've had fires and beer cans and whiskey bottles lying around. The rocks are covered with the names of weird rock bands and drug sayings, sprayed on with black paint.
    Once we saw a gray van parked way back in the woods. There were some motorcycles lying around and guys smoking joints, so Parker and I didn't work on our fort that day. We dragged Otis away before he started barking and went home.
    Today, though, the woods were all ours, golden yellow and red, smelling like fall. A woodpecker was banging his brains out, hammering away at the trunk of a tree, the quarry water was blue and sparkling, and a cool breeze rustled through the leaves.
    We worked on the fort for a while. The main part is sort of a dugout, with stone walls and a roof of boards we found at a construction site. Right now it's big enough for two people, if you don't stand up, and a dog. We're planning to enlarge it, but that afternoon Parker wanted to finish our defense system.
    It was his idea to surround the fort with traps. Even though it was camouflaged with dead leaves and branches, he was worried the motorcycle guys would notice it and decide to use it themselves.
    "We'll dig holes," he announced one day last summer. "And cover them with sticks and stuff. You know, like the pits they catch tigers in."
    Actually I think he just wanted an excuse to dig. From the time he was little, Parker has been the kind of kid who mines his backyard with holes and tunnels. He loves the smell of dirt and roots and stones and can spend hours underground.
    I prefer sunshine and fresh air myself, so my hole was only waist deep, but Parker's was already over his head and just wide enough for him and a shovel.
    After an hour or so, I heard Parker yell something. Hoisting myself out of my hole, I walked over to his. There he was looking up at me. He must have dug down more than six feet, and he couldn't get out without my help.
    As I pulled him up I started laughing.
    "What's so funny?" Parker wanted to know.
    "All you need is a honey jar on your head," I told him, "and you'd look like Pooh in the heffalump trap."
    "Ha, ha," Parker said. I could tell he wanted me to take his work seriously. He was