Free Tunnels by Lesley Downie

Eleven
    FEVERS, NIGHTMARES AND AN OLD JOURNAL
    Ten days have passed since David asked me to the concert and Kirke-with-an-e paid his little visit to me. But I'd kind of forgotten about my spirit friend for now. Instead, I kept wondering if maybe I was about to have my first group date and if David liked me. Or could it be he was just a nice guy offering to take me since I couldn't afford my own ticket? 'Cause I for sure didn't want anyone feeling sorry for me, especially David. That would be totally embarrassing.
    We hadn't talked since the day he drove me home. I woke up the day after riding in his future-car sicker than I'd ever been. Stupid swine flu kept me from my tutoring session and I'd missed school, too. Hopefully I'd see him around on Monday so I could let him know Mom and Dad said I could go to the concert. There's no way I wanted to call him and I doubted he'd call me.
    So it's Saturday morning and I'm finally over the worst fever I've ever had. Thankfully those stupid fever nightmares were gone. That's what Mom calls them. As soon as I fall asleep, all I dream about is being chased through a maze of tunnels. Problem was, I could never tell who was chasing me. It was more of a feeling they were there. This last one was the worst. There were all these twists and turns with no way out. And I heard the voice . The one I'd heard the other day—the one yelling, "Get out!"
    Then there's the nonstop worry about when Ashley and Kelley are going to drop the big plan they surely have to embarrass me. I knew it was coming and the waiting was killing me. I wish we'd never started the daily question. Because all this worrying was taking me away from all-things-tunnels which was totally not okay.
    Evan dropped off a journal he found in Pops's old library a few days ago, and my plan was to read it this morning. Although it's not the map of tunnels Pops told us about, a journal could still tell me a lot. So would the attic and basement of his old house, if I could just get in there and see what had been collected since the late eighteen hundreds. I knew there had to be lots of super cool artifacts which told a story of their own. I wonder if Pops's father knew Kirke?
    "We're going, dear," Mom yelled from the front door. She'd already given me a million kisses and hugs—what's that about?—and Dad had patted me on the head.
    "'Kay, have fun." I'd lucked out because they were going to some financial seminar for the day, and Demon Boy had a sleepover last night. So sweet . A completely empty house and time to read some of the journal before going to check out the tunnels again. Grabbing a bowl of my favorite cereal (because those sweet puffy squares are great, but whoever decided to coat them with peanut butter was pure genius), I sat down at the kitchen table and turned to the first page. I rested my feet on one of the other chairs and wiggled my toes. All ten of them because no more cast! The doctor was amazed at my ultra-quick healing and I told him it was because of all the milk I drink. It's my beverage of choice.

    July 4, 1943
    This certainly doesn ' t feel like Independence Day. I just said goodbye to my buddy George and I thought Emily would never stop crying. I told her to be strong. But I guess she couldn ' t. If I didn ' t know better, I ' d say she was upset because she and George never got a chance to have the big wedding they were planning. They ' re too young for marriage anyhow. Both not even eighteen yet. It ' s a shame he lied about his age to enlist. But that ' s the kind of man he is. Felt it was his patriotic duty. A braver one you ' ll not find. But I do know Emily, and I figure it goes much deeper than some ceremony. She ' s always been able to predict the future, and I ' m afraid she ' s seen George won ' t be coming home. Of course, she ' d never tell me if that were the case. Mother and Father have forbidden her to talk about such things. They say she ' s dealing in the dark arts, which is quite