Reading the Bones Read Online Free

floor with three bedrooms.
    One morning Aunt Margaret got the idea I should come with her to the decorating store and choose the paint colour for my bedroom. But I wasn’t planning on living there for long and I certainly didn’t want anything to do with picking out paint colours. I snuck out when she was in the shower and made my way to the end of McBride and out to the beach at Blackie’s Spit. I liked early mornings on the beach the best. Hardly anyone was ever there.
    A startled blue heron lurched awkwardly into the sky just as I jumped over a log and plunked myself onto the sun-warmed sand. I watched two seagulls fight over a cracked open clamshell, while two more circled silently overhead. I wondered how long it would take for the emptied clam to become tiny bits of crushed shell scattered all over the beach. On the other hand, it might go home in some kid’s sand pail as part of a shell collection like mine, or become decorated with paint and glitter and sit on a windowsill.
    On that morning Mrs. Hobbs and Chester were outfor a walk at the end of the spit. When she noticed me, she waved and marched in my direction. The wind whipped at strands of silver hair that had escaped from under her Tilley hat. And as the old dog waddled behind her, his tummy nearly dragged along the sand. Mrs. Hobbs lived on Sullivan Street, just down from Skipper’s Fish and Chips. She once told me Chester liked to spend his free time sniffing out leftovers by the dumpster.
    â€œHello, Peggy. You wouldn’t believe the treasure I’ve been gathering this morning!” Mrs. Hobbs said, nearly out of breath. She opened her palm and presented several long, thin tubular shells that were almost translucent, except for their pattern of tiny flecks. “These are tusk shells. With the tide out I managed to find these few in the mud and silt off the end of the spit. The ancient Coast Salish traditionally used them for decoration and trading.”
    â€œTrading?” I knew a shrewd bargainer never appeared too eager, so I tried not to look excited. “I’ll trade you something for them.”
    â€œHmm. What have you got that I might want?” Mrs. Hobbs’s eyes were smiling.
    â€œHow about some of my best Adanson’s leptons?” The tusk shells would be perfect for the necklace I wanted to make for Mom.
    â€œThat sounds pretty enticing. However, I was thinking more along the lines of, say, lawn cutting ... next Saturday?”
    â€œSure. It’s a deal! Thanks.” I snatched the five delicate shells from her hand.
    The day I got those tusk shells from Mrs. Hobbs was the first time I’d ever heard about the Coast Salish people. After Uncle Stuart and I discovered the skull inthe yard, I realized those shells were the first sign of a strange adventure.
    Now, since I couldn’t sleep, I crawled out of bed and pulled down my shell collection from the shelf. I rolled the long tubular tusk shells in my fingers and thought about the ancient people and what Eddy had said about the burial. For the first time I was glad I had moved to Crescent Beach with Aunt Margaret and Uncle Stuart. Still, it would take some time getting used to the idea of living over an ancient Native burial ground.
    Finally, I got back into bed and closed my eyes. I tried to imagine a time when the tiny peninsula was covered in trees and the only people were the dark-skinned Natives who lived by the sea.

CHAPTER 3
    The next morning Eddy and I stood at the edge of the hole, looking down on the burial. She had already cleared away some of the dirt, and I could see a form beginning to emerge. It seemed more like a small child lying on its side, curled up in sleep. I felt a little weird staring at those fragile bones, bare of all life.
    â€œOkay, Peggy, when excavating a site, what’s more important at the time — the artifacts you find or the place you find them?”
    In some ways Eddy reminded me of Mrs.