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  I went a couple of rows back and took a seat by the window. Jenna slid onto the seat in front of me, and Tank sat beside her. That was cool. I could sit alone.

  But suddenly Brady was there. He eased down beside me.

  “I think the bus is going to be packed,” Brady said. “Tight fit for everyone, so I figured sitting by someone I knew beat sitting by a stranger.”

  “These are all people from the site. Don’t you know them?”

  “Some of ’em, sure, but not like I know you.”

  What exactly did that mean?

  “So should I move?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No, you’re fine.”

  He grinned, wiggled his eyebrows. “Some would say I’m better than fine.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I laughed.

  Sara took a head count, and then the bus headed out.

  “So…Sara predicted I’d walk into your life?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Uh, no, she predicted a red baseball hat was in my future. Not exactly the same thing.”

  “That’s weird, though.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I mean, how many Chiefs caps could be in the city?” Before I could answer, his grin broadened. “Let me guess. Five million?”

  I smiled, shrugged. I didn’t want to be unfriendly. But I didn’t want to be too friendly.

  “What else did she say?” he asked.

  “Not much. That things were a mess. There’d be hammering. Pretty vague.”

  “And pretty general. That could pretty much apply to anyone.”

  “That’s what I thought. It was interesting, but not something I want to do on a regular basis.”

  “Well, I’m all about interesting and having fun.”

  I scowled at him. “But a swamp? Really. How much fun can we have at a swamp?”

  “As much as we want.”

  Chapter 9

  Honey Island Swamp. I liked the name—the Honey Island part at least sounded sweet—but I still couldn’t get past my image of a swamp being, well, a swamp.

  It was located almost an hour from New Orleans. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting. Maybe taking a look at slime covered water from a dock and moving on. Swatting at a few mosquitoes, shooing away flies. Heading back to the Big Easy.

  But no, we were getting out on the swamp, in a boat. And I soon discovered that the sounds out there were a different kind of music than what we’d heard in the city. Here it was the croak of bullfrogs—some were disgustingly huge and ugly—and the chirp of crickets. There were mysterious knocks and pecks and little trills. Luckily Sara had brought lots of insect repellent for anyone who wanted it. I’d slathered, sprayed, and squirted it on. I was taking no chances. I was not into bugs.

  And we were at a very bug-infested place.

  We climbed aboard a large, covered boat, like the kind I’d ridden once at a safari ride at a theme park—except this one was real. It didn’t run along a rail. It had a motor and a captain, who steered it through the swamp.

  Benches lined all four sides of the boat. We all worked our way around the deck. I managed to get a seat near the front of the boat. Brady sat beside me.

  I was turned sort of sideways on the bench, so I could see clearly things that approached our side. Brady was twisted around, too, which almost had us spooning.

  “You smell really nice,” he said in a low voice.

  “It’s the insect repellent.”

  “It is?” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him sniffing the back of his hand. “Oh God, it is. How sick is that—to like the smell of insect repellent?”

  I laughed. “Pretty sick.”

  “But admit it. You were thinking I smelled good, too.”

  Okay, I had been, but I wasn’t going to admit it. “Maybe.”

  The motor cranked to life and the boat glided away from the dock. I was surprised that the water looked more like what you’d find in a river than what you might expect to find in a swamp.

  Our guide was native to the area, and he shared a lot of the history—especially about pirates and Big Foot sightings—as we journeyed deeper into the swamp. Because so much of the area was protected, he explained, Honey Island Swamp was one of the least-altered river swamps in the country. It probably looked the same more than two hundred years ago when pirates were hiding out there.

  “Wow,” I whispered. There was an awesome beauty to the place. Huge cypress trees rose from the water.

  And I’d expected the marshes to smell…well, like stagnant water. There was a little of that, but there was also the scent of wild azaleas. I hadn’t expected the sweet fragrance.

  “Look,” Brady said, pointing.

  At first I thought it was a log, resting at the edge of the bank, barely visible through the tall grasses. But it was an alligator. A very large alligator.

  “We have more than a million alligators in Louisiana,” the guide said.

  “Imagine if they ever decided to band together,” Brady said. “They could take over the state.”

  “I think I’ve seen that in a movie.”

  “Me, too. I can never get enough of giant alligator movies.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yeah, the bigger the creature the better. Night of the Lepus. A classic.”

  My dad was a huge creature-feature watcher, so I’d pretty much seen them all.

  “Now, see, I didn’t get that one. What’s scary about a bunny rabbit?” I asked.

  “It’s a big, big bunny rabbit.”

  “Still, not scary.”

  The guide warned us to keep all our limbs inside the boat. Then he began making a sound I’d never heard before. Alligators—the ones I’d spotted and ones that had been hidden—began slipping into the water and gliding toward the boat.

  “Ohmigod!” I couldn’t help it. There were so many. I imagined them tipping the boat over. I’d definitely watched too many bad movies with my dad if I really thought that was going to happen.

  “It’s okay,” Brady said, putting his arm around me, squeezing my shoulder.

  He was so comforting. But this wasn’t a date. It was a group outing, and we were all sitting close together. It was just natural to reassure each other that we weren’t about to become alligator dinner.

  The guide began tossing something toward the alligators and the clack of their mouths snapping shut filled the air.

  “Is he tossing marshmallows?” I asked.

  “Looks like.”

  “How did anyone find out that they like marshmallows?”

  “Beats me.”

  Every now and then we’d come in close to the shore, and we’d see other animals: deer, red wolves, raccoons, beavers, turtles…and always the alligators.

  “I don’t think I’d want them for neighbors,” I said quietly.

  “Me either.”

  We saw an egret and other birds. It was an untouched paradise. I knew New Orleans had once been swampland, and I wondered if it had looked like this at one time. Hard to imagine.

  I looked over my shoulder to see Sara sitting near the captain. I figured we were safe. She wouldn’t get on the boat if she saw danger, would she? On the other hand, her visions were so cryptic. Maybe she just saw herself swimming and didn’t realize it meant she’d be swimming with the gators.

  Amber and Sean were sitting together. He was pointing stuff out to her. She was smiling. They were just being friendly. Having fun. Like me and Brady. No big deal.

  Jenna and Tank were sitting close, his arms around her as they looked out at the swamp. There was no doubt that Tank was really interested in her.

  I turned my attention back to the alligators. Sometimes nature was so powerful, you had no defense against it.

  It was early evening when we got back to Sara’s, and Ms. Wynder was there, waiting for us. Before anyone could say anything, she said, “I’ve made reservations for eight o’clock. We need to get moving.”

  Jenna didn’t bother to hide her disappointment as