Bones Read Online Free

now.”
    â€œThat’s stupid,” I blurt out.
    â€œNot necessarily,” Dr. Bob says. “It’s extremely unlikely that’s what we have here, but in science we must keep an open mind. If we dismiss an idea as stupid, then we won’t recognize evidence if we see it.”
    Now I feel stupid, and everyone is looking at me. “Let’s go back to the farm,” I say to Annabel, keen to get out of here and take her away from pirate guy.
    Annabel looks surprised. “I thought we were going to hang out here longer. Maybe even help out. I’d like to stay.”
    â€œYou can if you want,” I say, more harshly than I intend. “I’m going back to the farm.”
    I climb out of the coulee onto the flat prairie and stop to catch my breath, hoping Annabel is following. She’s not. I glance down, and my heart sinks as I see her crouched beside the pirate, looking at the fossil. Dr. Bob looks up at me and waves. I wave back half-heartedly and trudge across the fields toward the distant farmhouse. I feel horribly lonely, the only person in this vast flat land. Why did we have to come here?

Chapter Four
    My trouble is that I can’t let things go. If something bothers me, I worry at it like a dog with a bone. I convince myself that the worst possible outcome will happen. I’ll sleep in and miss the exam, or say the most embarrassing thing possible in front of the whole class. Right now, I’m seeing Annabel and the pirate guy strolling along the street, holding hands and laughing at an obscure Pi joke that I can’t understand. They look perfect together. They are even the same height.
    I kick a clod of dry earth in frustration. It was probably dumb to leave them together back at the dig, but if I’d stayed, I would have said something else stupid. I wish we were back in the diner in Australia, eating fries and talking about shipwrecks. That would be simple—and no pirate guy.
    The rough sound of an engine makes me look up. A beat-up red pickup truck bounces toward me along the edge of the field. I watch as it slides to a halt in a cloud of dust. A guy in a plaid shirt and oil-stained baseball cap leans out the open window. “Howdy,” he says. “Can I help you?”
    â€œNo, thanks,” I say. “I’m just heading home.” I nod toward the farmhouse.
    â€œYou one of them Australian kids staying with the hippies?” The hand-rolled cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth bobbles as he talks.
    â€œI’m Canadian,” I say, “but yes, I do live in Australia.”
    â€œYou been down at the bone place in the coulee?” he asks.
    I nod and begin to walk away. I don’t want to get into a conversation with this guy. Not only am I too miserable for small talk, but there’s something about him I don’t like. I think it’s his eyes—they’re small, set close together and shifty.
    The dog that leaps up from the bed of the truck, barking, almost gives me a heart attack—for two reasons. One, I wasn’t expecting it, and two, it looks like Humphrey Battleford’s dog, Percy, from Australia.
    â€œCareful. Ajax ain’t fond of strangers.” The guy in the truck smiles at my discomfort.
    Once my heart slows down, I see that Ajax is actually not like Percy. He’s the same breed, a black Lab, but he’s older, with a touch of gray around his muzzle. And his temperament is nothing like the friendly Percy’s.
    â€œMust be pretty near ready to lift that fella out,” the guy says.
    I turn back. “What do you mean?”
    â€œThe fossil fella down in the coulee.” The truck driver removes the cigarette from his mouth and spits in the dust. “They been working on it long enough. I been following the blog that kid keeps. They ready to move it soon?”
    â€œI guess so,” I say. For some reason, I am reluctant to give him details.
    â€œWhat d’you