Free Dig Too Deep by Amy Allgeyer

my backpack to print the statistics. The librarian looks hard at the copy before she hands it across the desk and frowns at me. I can’t decide if it’s because she doesn’t approve of the subject matter or that’s just her normal sunny treatment of strangers.
    As I drive home, I wonder why the hell nobody’s worried about the water. It’s bright freaking orange—not like any rust I’ve ever seen. But Granny said the county tested it and found it safe. And numbers don’t lie. But after what I’ve read … I’m just not sure.
    I slow down and take a right onto Oak Street. It’s March already but half-frozen drizzle is clicking against the windshield. Even with the heater going full blast, there’s a chill in the car that keeps my teeth chattering. Winter and spring seem to be battling it out. Today, winter is kicking spring’s butt.
    There’s a girl walking across the Kroger parking lot as I drive past, and it takes me a second to realize it’s Ashleigh. It takes me another five seconds to work up the guts to turn in. I pull up in front of her and roll down the squeaky window.
    She pulls out an earbud and frowns at the car. “Nice ride.”
    I stare at the three heavy bags of groceries she’s hauling on foot. “Yeah, you too.” At least I have a ride.
    She shifts them to her other hand. “What do you want?”
    What I really want is not to be talking to her at all. I’d love for there not to be a reason I need her input, but I do. “The water,” I say. “What do you know?”
    I can’t see her face in the shadow of her raincoat hood, and for a minute, she says nothing. But her mouth is moving, like she’s chewing her words before she spits them out.
    â€œWhy?” she says at last.
    I don’t want to tell her Granny’s sick. It’s none of her business and I don’t need sympathy. I just need information. “You keep talking about it like it’s poison. I’m just wondering if I should drink it or not.”
    â€œYes, you should.” She plugs the earbud back into her ear. “Absolutely. Drink lots.” She walks around the back of the car and heads for the sidewalk.
    That went well. I turn off the ignition and climb out of the car as fast as the thousand-foot-wide door will let me. “Wait. Ashleigh, wait.”
    She stops but doesn’t turn.
    â€œLook, let me give you a ride home,” I say. “We can talk.”
    â€œI’d rather walk,” she says over her shoulder. “On hot coals.”
    But she isn’t walking. She’s standing in the rain, waiting. For something.
    I cross over and stand in front of her. Now I’m chewing my words. How much does she know? And how much do I need her?
    â€œMy granny might be sick,” I say. “I need to know about the water.”
    Her face softens a little, like I saw at church. She hands me one of the bags and heads for the car. “Don’t think this makes us friends.”
    I swallow some unchewed words and follow her. Ashleigh’s tugging on the passenger door handle. “You have to yank it,” I say. “Unless you want to ride in the back.”
    â€œFunny.”
    I’m pulling back onto the street when Ashleigh says, “I’m sorry about your granny.” She’s staring out the passenger window. “I like her a lot.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œMy granddaddy’s sick too.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with him?”
    â€œGallbladder.”
    â€œI’m sorry.” I feel like I ought to leave it there, to be polite, but I need to know. “Was it the water?”
    She shrugs.
    â€œDo you know anything about it?”
    â€œIt’s orange.”
    I snort. “Yeah, no shit.”
    Her baby doe eyes go all death glare. “Why’re you such a bitch?”
    â€œMe? You’ve been on full snark since the minute I met