The Second Life of Abigail Walker by Frances O'Roark Dowell Page A

being near him made her nervous. What if somebody stepped on a stick and it made a loud crack? Would Matt start screaming? Would he come after Abby like she was the enemy?
    Matt caught her looking at him. “Okay, don’t kill me,” he said, grinning. “But what wasyour name again? Anders told me, but my short-term memory is on the fritz these days. It’s the pills the doc makes me take.”
    â€œIt’s Ab—”
    Abby started to say her name was Abby, but something stopped her. Maybe it was the tingling near the spot on her hand where the fox had bitten her.
    â€œIt’s Abigail,” she finished.
    â€œIt is?” Anders looked confused. “I thought you said—”
    Abby nodded. “It’s Abigail. My mom and dad call me Abby sometimes. Abby’s like my childhood nickname.”
    Matt nodded. “My folks used to call me Mattie. Got to a point where it drove me nuts.”
    The hives didn’t look like what Abby had expected. She’d imagined lumpy domes, like oversize wasps’ nests, but instead Matt’s beehives were more like file boxes piled one on top of another. As they got closer, Abby could hear the buzzing from inside the hives. She glanced anxiously at Matt. “Are you going to open the hives up?”
    Matt laughed. “Not without a smoker and protective gear. Nah, I just wanted to hear ’em. This is a strange time of year for bees. Most of the flowers have stopped blooming, and their work’s about done. But they’re not quite down for winter. I like to check in with them every few days, just to make sure everything’s cool.”
    The three of them stood at a distance from the hives and listened. “Bees have an amazing way of communicating with each other,” Matt told Abby. “They dance. They dance to tell each other where the food is, and whether or not it’s good food, how much there is. Who knows what they’re in there telling each other right now?”
    â€œYou’re not scared of them?” Abby asked, unable to believe that what Anders said was true, that bees didn’t make Matt nervous at all.
    Matt shook his head. “Bees are predictable. Every once in a while there’s a swarm, but most of the time bees do what they’re supposed to do, unlike, say, people or horses. You don’t know what’s going to spook a horse”—and here he looked at Anders—“or when it’s going to happen.”
    Anders turned away, and Abby saw him roll his eyes. “ Some horses spook,” he told his dad when he’d turned around again. “Nervous horses spook. Grandma’s horses do not spook.”
    â€œSnake shows up in the grass, a horse is going to spook,” Matt argued. “I don’t care how steady he is the rest of the time.”
    Matt had seemed cheerful and happy only a moment before, but now his expression darkened. Abby looked at Anders, who had his eyes closed, as though he were trying to steady himself.
    Abby wished she could think of something to say that would get them back to the dancing bees. She wished standing so close to Matt didn’t make her feel uneasy. Most of the adults Abby knew stayed the same all the time. Her mother was always worried, even when she tried to cover it up by acting extra cheerful, and her dad was always bossy in his joke-around way. But Matt seemed to change all the time. One second he was happy-go-lucky, and the next he looked like he might explode.
    I think I need to go home , Abby practicedsaying in her head. Or, Sorry, I just remembered I had homework to do! Homework. That was it.
    â€œI bet you’re scared of horses too.”
    Matt stood in front of Abby. “I mean, you seem like a reasonable person to me. And reasonable people stay away from horses, am I right?”
    There was an edge to Matt’s voice. He was smiling, but his smile wasn’t friendly. And although he was looking