Free Summer of Lost and Found by Rebecca Behrens Page A

down the pine-needle-dusted path toward him. “I’m so sorry I’m late!”
    He turned to look at me, and his eyes lit up. “Nell! I thought you were lost!”
    I collapsed next to him, leaning against a bench. Sweat had pooled on my back, and I wiped lines of it from my forehead. “My bike broke, and I had to go back to the cottage for the other one, and I don’t think the gears were working right. Then this construction truck almost ran me off the road. Now I’m super late.” And super embarrassed , I thought.
    Ambrose pushed his hair back from his forehead. He didn’t look sweaty or hot at all, and his skin was milky pale as ever. He leaned back onto his elbows and smiled, so I knew he wasn’t too mad. “And despite all that, you made the journey. I’m so pleased to see you.”
    â€œLikewise.” I shaded my eyes and looked up at the statue, which was a teenage girl, carved out of weathered marble. “Who’s this we’re looking at?” Figures a boy would be sitting and staring at a pretty marble girl, especially one not wearing much clothing. As I looked at it more closely, I felt my cheeks redden. I knew it was art and all, but the woman wasn’t wearing anything up top except for a necklace and some upper-arm bracelets. She had only a shawl or something draped over her bottom half. She could’ve been a pop singer on a magazine cover. The huge oaks surrounding the statue cast shade over her exposed parts, making it seem a little more demure. But they didn’t hide the fact that this was a very naked statue.
    Ambrose hopped to his feet, looking embarrassed. “Your first lesson in Roanoke history. This sweet, um, girl is the famous Virginia Dare.”
    â€œWait, that doesn’t make sense. Virginia disappeared before she turned three.” I scrunched my eyebrows as I thought more about Virginia versus the statue. “Plus why would she be wearing that? If the colonists were anything like the pilgrims, they weren’t exactly known for skimpy clothing. I mean”—I made a little snort—“she should be wearing something like your mom’s costume.” As soon as I said it, I worried that maybe I came off as mean. “No offense,” I added weakly. I scooted over to read the plaque and swallowed hard. Ambrose was telling the truth—the sculpture was of Virginia Dare. “Oh. I guess you’re right.” I am such a jerkface.
    Ambrose shook his head at me. “Well, you’ve got a sharp tongue.” He didn’t seem upset, though. “It’s supposed to show how Virginia would look if she’d survived on the island. Anyway, there’s much more to see.”
    I was happy to move away from the statue and my embarrassment. “It said that this garden is a memorial to the colonists. Kind of like a grave?”
    â€œYes,” Ambrose said, stepping over a root in the path. “But not so somber. I come here a lot, to nap in the thatched gazebo or play on the grass. It’s very peaceful. I like thinking that there’s a place created in memory of the colonists. It makes them seem less lost.” He cleared his throat. “Anyhow, the first place we should look for clues is the sound,” he said. “If anyone left the island by boat, that could be the spot. I’ve always wondered if perhaps others sailed for help, like John White did.”
    We made our way along the pine-shaded path. Ambrose seemed different from yesterday, quieter. Maybe he actually was annoyed that I showed up so late. Maybe I really had insulted his mom with that stupid comment about the dress they made her wear at the Festival Park. I sneaked my phone out of my pocket and refreshed the screen, hoping to see a text from Dad. I’d taken a picture of the sign for Shakespeare’s garden too, and sent that to him. No word. My heart sank a little bit, and even though it was a perfectly