Summer of Lost and Found Read Online Free PDF

eyes on me again. There is no mistaking that sense of being watched: The nape of my neck prickled, and I shivered despite the heat. I whirled around, heart pounding, eyes darting through the trees. There was a shape, a nontree shape, moving slowly toward me on my right. I froze, all my city-girl street smarts utterly failing me. I hadn’t realized how far away I’d wandered from Mom and the vine. I wanted to cry out for help, but the words stuck in my throat.
    A snapping branch broke the quiet as the shape moved forward. I blinked my eyes shut, not knowing what to do. Maybe if I couldn’t see it—whatever it was—then it couldn’t see me . Even though years of hide-and-go-seek should’ve taught me that’s not how it works. I stood as still as possible, wishing really hard whatever it was would go away. Finally, I peeked one eye open and saw it clearly: a deer, a young buck with fuzzy antlers. I let out a shaky laugh as it stepped closer. It was pretty awesome.
    â€œNell! Where’d you go?” Mom startled the deer, who raised its tail and leapt off into the forest, away from me.
    â€œMom!” I crashed through the underbrush, wondering how I would’ve woven my way out of the woods if she hadn’t started hollering for me, her voice leading me toward the road. I saw her just beyond the trees. “There was this cool deer. It had little antlers!” I’d only ever seen does at the petting zoo before.
    â€œI must have scared it away—I didn’t see anything.”
    I ran up next to her, panting. My flip-flops were cutting into my feet. They’re great for hanging around the park in the summer and showing off nail polish, but I was going to need different shoes for running through forests on Roanoke. I hadn’t followed Mom’s packing instructions, except for all the tooth stuff.
    â€œReady to go? I have to get back for a meeting with that archaeologist. You can come with me if you want, or you can hang around the house.”
    A meeting sounded boring. I thought about the shops we’d seen while we were driving in town. “Could I go to that bookstore instead?”
    â€œI guess. But only there, okay? We don’t know this area well yet.” She started up the Jeep.
    I rolled my eyes. I had walked myself home from school every day since the fifth grade. The past year or two, sometimes I came home to an empty house if Dad was writing or researching at the library. Although the building wasn’t empty, because Mrs. Kim was always around, in case I needed anything.
    Mom dropped me off at the cottage so I could get my bag. “Text me when you are leaving and when you get home.”
    â€œMom, really. I’ll be fine.” She leaned down to smooth my hair off my forehead and give me the lightest of kisses on my hairline, like she always does. I have a theory that all moms have a signature kiss, and that is mine’s.
    Once she left, I spent a half hour padding around the cottage, peeking into all the nooks and crannies that I hadn’t had the energy to explore last night. It was the homiest non-home I could imagine. All it was missing were the framed photos, vacation souvenirs, and heirloom knickknacks that make people’s houses theirs. When I’d opened every last closet door, I decided it was time to hit the bookstore.
    I shuffled down the shady sidewalk, passing a few other friendly white cottages. The buildings and houses on the island were either very East-Coast-islandy—lots of shutters and porches—or English-village-looking, like the theater up the street. The beachy look made sense to me, but the “Ye Olde” one didn’t really. I guessed it’s because this used to be an English colony.
    It was hotter out than I expected, at least walking in the sun, and it was a muggy heat. I passed a store with beautiful weaving on display in the windows, a place renting big kites, and a sandwich shop