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weird.”
    â€œYou got that right,” said Dub.
    â€œAnd there’s something else,” said Allie. “You know my journal?”
    â€œThat book you told me about? Did you use it?”
    â€œYes. And remember I looked through it and told you all the pages were blank?”
    Dub nodded.
    â€œWell, last night I found writing in it.”
    â€œSo you missed it when you looked,” Dub said matter-of-factly.
    Allie tried to keep the impatience out of her voice as she said, “I’m sure I didn’t. The page was blank when I left the room, I know it was. I closed the book, went to get a pen, and when I came back it was open to the first page, and—there it was.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWriting. Just the words, ‘I am,’ and then the letter ‘L.’ Capital L. Like the beginning of a name. Only it sort of broke off, as if the person who wrote it had stopped suddenly.”
    â€œMichael?” Dub suggested.
    Allie shook her head. “He wasn’t around. I looked. Besides, he can’t write, especially in cursive. He’s only four.”
    There was a moment of silence, during which Dub appeared to be deep in thought. “So who’s ‘L’?” he asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” answered Allie quietly.
    â€œHave you told anybody else about this?” asked Dub.
    â€œMy parents,” said Allie. “And they didn’t believe me. They said the writing had to have been there all along and that the rest of it was just my imagination running away with me.” She sighed in exasperation. “So I wrote about it in my journal last night.”
    â€œYou told Mr. Henry you were hearing voices?” asked Dub.
    â€œI couldn’t think of anything else to write about.”
    â€œYou’d better hope he keeps his promise not to show anyone,” said Dub. “Like the little men in white coats.”
    â€œVery funny,” said Allie. “Dub, you don’t think I’m making this up, do you?”
    â€œNo,” said Dub. “Maybe Karen can’t tell when you’re fooling around and when you’re serious, but I can.”
    â€œAnd I’m not crazy,” she declared.
    Dub’s face gathered in a sarcastic leer, as if he was about to crack a joke. Then he must have caught the worried look on Allie’s face. “No way,” he said.
    Allie felt relieved. She glanced again at the stone near their feet. “‘L’ could stand for Lucy.”
    â€œExcept for one small problem,” said Dub.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDuh, Al. She’s dead , remember?”
    Allie giggled nervously. “That would be a problem.”

Nine
    The sound of the twelve o’clock whistle carried from the fire station to the cemetery. The class gathered their bag lunches and walked over to the glen to picnic by the creek. When Allie saw Karen and Pam sitting close together and sharing their lunches, she sat down near Mr. Henry. Dub joined her.
    â€œJoey, you remembered your lunch?” Mr. Henry asked with a grin.
    â€œWhen it comes to food,” said Joey, “I don’t forget.”
    From their flat, sunny picnic spot at the edge of the meadow, they could look down into the steep ravine that formed Fossil Glen. The silver stream of water rushed by, tumbling around corners and over rocks and fallen trees.
    Allie nibbled on her peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, trying to concentrate on the flowing stream and the warmth of the sun on her back, instead of on Karen and Pam, who were looking her way and whispering. About half a mile downstream, Allie knew, the waters of Fossil Creek emptied into the wide, deep bowl of Seneca Lake.
    Swollen with the spring rains, the creek seemed to be hurrying recklessly toward the lake. Later on, when summer came, the stream would slow down and warm up. It was as if it suddenly realized it didn’t want to lose itself in the large, cold waters of the lake,