the time they hit the main street, they were running full tilt.
***
Rosemary meandered through the book stacks. Study period — right. No way could she study. Every window she passed was a featureless square of white. She stared out at the fog, remembering the voices, the sound of the shipwreck. And Peter acting so weird.
There was so much on her mind — but the only thing she could look up was shipwrecks. She picked A History of the Bruce Peninsula off the shelf and scanned the index. Shipwrecks.
There were hundreds.
Shipwrecks, maps of, 107. On page 107 a familiar shoreline jumped out at her. Her home, scattered with red crosses. A green square marked Fathom Five National Marine Park. The red crosses, marking shipwrecks, ran up and down the shore. Five were clustered around Clarksbury Harbour.
She turned back to the index, scanned down the two columns of tiny type. Shipwrecks, siren legends about, 209.
The USS Lorelei was sailing Lake Huron when the War of 1812 broke out. Trapped in unfriendly waters, the Lorelei ran. The ship’s captain, Glenn Hoskins, raced narrow passages and hid in rocky shallows where the British dared not follow.
Survivors report that the crew began to hear voices, whispering off the cliffs and water.
Rosemary looked out the fog-soaked window. Voices.
A fog rose up around the ship, but Hoskins, as if suicidal, raced the channels blind. His crew mutinied. Hoskins and his officers tricked them into going below decks with the promise of a meeting. Then they nailed the hatch shut. As they finished, the ship struck rock and started to sink. There was no time to pry up the nails.
Rosemary remembered the smash of wood, the snap of ropes, and the plosh of things falling into water. Distant screams.
Hoskins lashed himself to the wheel to go down with his ship, but some of the officers escaped. They surrendered to the British, who conducted a search.
They came upon a patch of water that bubbled as though there was a ship below, leaking air. As they had no way of going underwater to recover the drowned crew, they left the Lorelei in its final resting place. Years later, ships passing the site reported that the water still bubbled. A legend developed that sirens had driven the captain mad.
Rosemary looked at the map. The final resting place of the Lorelei was just outside Clarksbury Harbour.
She shook herself.
Come on. Get real, Rosemary. Peter’s mad about the letter. You don’t have to go all Mulder about it.
There hasn’t been a shipwreck on the Bruce in — the Scully in her flipped through the pages — decades.
Until, of course, yesterday. The voices. The weird noises.
She snapped the book closed.
As she put the book back on the shelf, she caught sight of the ink-blot birthmark on her palm, the only reminder of the adventure that had brought her and Peter together in the first place. She stared at it a moment, and then looked out the window at the fog. Her eyes narrowed.
The bell rang. Rosemary shouldered her knapsack and ran for the buses.
***
When Rosemary got back on the school bus, her eyes tracked to the seat she shared with Peter. She blinked to find it empty. Then she was pushed by the students filing in behind her. Stumbling to the back of the bus, she slid into Peter’s place.
She stared out the fog-shrouded window, barely able to see the passing sidewalks, not listening to the conversations around her, until she heard Peter’s name.
“What was Peter’s problem, today?” asked Benson, who sat two seats down from her. He was talking to Joe. “Just throwing down his ball and running out of the gym? What got into him?”
“Maybe he and Rosemary had a fight.” Veronica shot Rosemary a snide grin.
“Shut up, Veronica,” said Benson.
Joe shrugged. “I don’t know. Coach Beckett shouted all over the back field, but he couldn’t find him. He’s always been a bit of a loner, but that was just strange. Rosemary, do you know what’s going
***
Rosemary meandered through the book stacks. Study period — right. No way could she study. Every window she passed was a featureless square of white. She stared out at the fog, remembering the voices, the sound of the shipwreck. And Peter acting so weird.
There was so much on her mind — but the only thing she could look up was shipwrecks. She picked A History of the Bruce Peninsula off the shelf and scanned the index. Shipwrecks.
There were hundreds.
Shipwrecks, maps of, 107. On page 107 a familiar shoreline jumped out at her. Her home, scattered with red crosses. A green square marked Fathom Five National Marine Park. The red crosses, marking shipwrecks, ran up and down the shore. Five were clustered around Clarksbury Harbour.
She turned back to the index, scanned down the two columns of tiny type. Shipwrecks, siren legends about, 209.
The USS Lorelei was sailing Lake Huron when the War of 1812 broke out. Trapped in unfriendly waters, the Lorelei ran. The ship’s captain, Glenn Hoskins, raced narrow passages and hid in rocky shallows where the British dared not follow.
Survivors report that the crew began to hear voices, whispering off the cliffs and water.
Rosemary looked out the fog-soaked window. Voices.
A fog rose up around the ship, but Hoskins, as if suicidal, raced the channels blind. His crew mutinied. Hoskins and his officers tricked them into going below decks with the promise of a meeting. Then they nailed the hatch shut. As they finished, the ship struck rock and started to sink. There was no time to pry up the nails.
Rosemary remembered the smash of wood, the snap of ropes, and the plosh of things falling into water. Distant screams.
Hoskins lashed himself to the wheel to go down with his ship, but some of the officers escaped. They surrendered to the British, who conducted a search.
They came upon a patch of water that bubbled as though there was a ship below, leaking air. As they had no way of going underwater to recover the drowned crew, they left the Lorelei in its final resting place. Years later, ships passing the site reported that the water still bubbled. A legend developed that sirens had driven the captain mad.
Rosemary looked at the map. The final resting place of the Lorelei was just outside Clarksbury Harbour.
She shook herself.
Come on. Get real, Rosemary. Peter’s mad about the letter. You don’t have to go all Mulder about it.
There hasn’t been a shipwreck on the Bruce in — the Scully in her flipped through the pages — decades.
Until, of course, yesterday. The voices. The weird noises.
She snapped the book closed.
As she put the book back on the shelf, she caught sight of the ink-blot birthmark on her palm, the only reminder of the adventure that had brought her and Peter together in the first place. She stared at it a moment, and then looked out the window at the fog. Her eyes narrowed.
The bell rang. Rosemary shouldered her knapsack and ran for the buses.
***
When Rosemary got back on the school bus, her eyes tracked to the seat she shared with Peter. She blinked to find it empty. Then she was pushed by the students filing in behind her. Stumbling to the back of the bus, she slid into Peter’s place.
She stared out the fog-shrouded window, barely able to see the passing sidewalks, not listening to the conversations around her, until she heard Peter’s name.
“What was Peter’s problem, today?” asked Benson, who sat two seats down from her. He was talking to Joe. “Just throwing down his ball and running out of the gym? What got into him?”
“Maybe he and Rosemary had a fight.” Veronica shot Rosemary a snide grin.
“Shut up, Veronica,” said Benson.
Joe shrugged. “I don’t know. Coach Beckett shouted all over the back field, but he couldn’t find him. He’s always been a bit of a loner, but that was just strange. Rosemary, do you know what’s going
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