Free The Dig by Audrey Hart Page B

a science experiment/canvas?

    ―Duh,‖ CeeCee said when I asked her one time. ―It‘s not narcissism. It‘s the opposite.
    We‘re all in there obsessing because we don’t like what we see.‖
    ―That can‘t be true. You won‘t watch Planet Earth for more than five seconds because you think it‘s boring.‖

    ―It is boring.‖

    ―Nobody looks at something they don‘t think is beautiful.‖ CeeCee stuffed her hairbrush into her bucket of products. ―Zoe, this is why I can‘t blame everyone for thinking you‘re a cocky snob.‖ I blushed.

    ―You‘re obviously, like, in love with the way you look because you‘re the only person I know who‘s never trying to change it.‖ I couldn‘t think of anything to say to her as she set off to the bathroom for her nightly rituals. But she was so wrong. I worry constantly about my cowlick, about my smile, which seems too big for my face. But my problems aren‘t solvable with makeup or gooey French creams. I mean, you can‘t make your mouth smaller, even if you live in Orange County! I guess I‘ve always had a laissez-faire attitude and thought of myself as the peach pie on the dessert table: Everyone goes for the brownies and the ice cream, but only one kid likes peach cobbler. I need only one boy to like me, not hundreds of them.

    A peacock screams in the distance, jarring me out of my thoughts of Greeley and CeeCee and a world that already seems millions of miles away. I feel something slippery in my hands and look down to see that I‘ve carelessly melted the silver bar down into a kind of Silly Putty. I rub my palms together and roll out the silver into a long, skinny strand. My necklace chain! I take the heart-shaped charm out of my pocket and string it through and then pull it over my head and rest it against my neck.

    I would give anything to look in a mirror right now and see the first necklace I‘ve ever owned. Okay, maybe I could stand to be just a little more narcissistic. I reach into my back pocket, pull out the obolus and hold it in front of my face. But while it‘s luminescent, it proves not to be reflective, so I stuff the faintly glowing coin back into my pocket.

    That‘s when I remember my iPhone. I had completely forgotten about it in all the strangeness of the day‘s events. I take the phone out of my backpack and turn it on. I can‘t help but stare longingly at the screen for a moment, waiting for a text message or a voice mail alert to pop up. Of course I know that there‘s no reception to be had—there are no satellites yet, or cell phone towers, or whatever other technological stuff you need to make a cell phone call work. Oh well, at least the camera still functions. I snap a couple photographs of me in my necklace, admiring my handiwork, and then I quickly switch off the phone. I don‘t know how long it‘s going to take to reach the Oracle and get home, so I vow to conserve my battery and only use the phone for emergencies.

    A peacock cries out, this time from a different direction, and then a sudden wind blows through the trees. The red velveteen leaves scatter and dance, revealing a lake behind a copse of trees. Without thinking, I run for the shore of the lake, tossing aside my backpack, then tearing off my boots and feeling the push of the bare earth beneath my feet, propelling me forward. So that‘s how I got to the village so fast: the earth was boosting me onward with each stride.

    And then I am by the lake, staring out at the crystal clear surface. The water looks stunningly pure, and I ache to climb in and scrub off all this caked-on dirt. I glance around, searching for a sign of danger. But there is nothing in sight. Only trees and ferns and wildflowers.
    I listen for any sounds of approaching creatures, but suddenly the forest is silent.

    Eerily silent.

Chapter 14
    I‘ve never been skinny-dipping. As I nervously pull my top over my head and look around for the fifth time to make sure that I‘m alone, it dawns