On a normal morning, Terry would take a shortcut through the woods, where he would climb over tree limbs, stare at and maybe poke a strange bug, or accidentally step on a fire-ant mount, on his way to school. He didn’t do that this time. Instead, he walked along what used to be a dirt road that was paved with asphalt that absorbed the waking sun.

  He strolled along, making sure to step to the side of the road for a passing truck when they drove by. He carried a bendy stick and bounced it against the ground every few steps. He eventually threw it into the woods on the left of the street. The wind blew with the leftover coolness from the night. The right side of the road as he walked was lined with mailboxes and dirt paths that lead to driveways and houses. Some of those houses towered over the trees, others were more like shacks with a long history.

  A hundred feet ahead of Terry, there were two kids his age next to a mailbox. One was crouched in a stubborn position, while the other flailed their arms and yelled with an open mouth.

  Terry approached, attempting to pass without staring. As he got closer though, he began to notice the girl was crying, and the boy was yelling about them needing to go to school, and calling her a baby.

  “See,” The boy pointed at Terry when he was about ten feet away. “Now this guy’s going to think you’re a wimp!”

  She dismissed what he said, stood up, and turned her back to his face with her arms crossed. Her cheeks and eyes were red. She muttered, calling her brother an asshole.

  Terry stopped. “No, I don’t.”

  He then looked to the sister. Her name was Bella. The two were Mister and Misses Stephens’ twins.

  “What’s wrong?” Terry asked Bella.

  She turned to Terry, keeping away from looking at her brother, Michael. “I don’t want to walk to school with this asshole. He’s being a jerk.”

  Michael grunted, before pushing her. She fell to her butt, and he stormed off in the direction of the school. They both cursed at each other over the growing distance.

  Terry held out his hand, and Bella hesitated, but she took it long enough to stand to her feet. She was light and much shorter than him. She wiped her hands on her shorts and huffed with her cheeks still red. She didn’t attempt to direct her anger at him, though.

  The two walked together to school. Neither talked much, Bella especially. To cure the awkward walk, Terry would point out the birds in the sky. They flew in the shape of an arrow. He wasn’t sure if they were arriving or heading even farther south. She did not answer or talk, and his words began to turn to jumbles until he stopped speaking completely.

  When they were near the school, Bella said, “See’ya,” and ran off to join her group of friends sitting around a picnic table in the courtyard.

  Terry went and sat on the stairs before he pulled out a notebook and pencil. He drew a room, but couldn’t think of anything to draw in the room, and he gave up. The bell rang, and all the students in the yard went to their classes.

  School days, for Terry, passed like coastal storms. At lunch, he sat at the end of the table and picked at his food before tolerating the lack of flavor. During any bit of free time, he would sit in study hall and work on catching up on the criteria he was always two steps behind on in class. When the teachers taught, he stared at the markings on his desk, but always managed to answer correctly when he was called upon. The school day eventually ended, and he began to walk home.

  Before Terry made it off the school grounds, he heard a group of girls behind him say their goodbyes. He ignored it until he heard two running feet approach him from behind. He stiffened his shoulders as he turned slowly. He relaxed and raised an eyebrow when he realized it was Bella. She slowed down to his pace when she was beside him.

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  “You’re still coming over ‘cause your mom’s busy, right?” she asked.

  He forgot. “Oh, yeah.”

  She said she would walk with him, and he nodded. Her face was no longer red, and there was no agitation steaming from her, or any trace of tears in her eyes.

  Terry kept his hands gripping at the straps of his backpack.

  After a bit of quiet walking, Bella spoke, “You’re really quiet.”

  He coughed, “sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” and the two continued their walk.

  They passed the cemetery with its chain-linked fence that surrounded it. It was full mostly of older folk, who lived long lives. Not often did the body of the young start occupying a space in the graveyard, but when they did, the whole town mourned. They passed a tree, with a large gaping hole in its trunk.

  When Terry was about to turn to take the path he knew of, Bella stopped him, and pointed in another direction, claiming it was a shortcut. He followed her.

  The Bayfront was an area of land that met the waters of the bay. Years ago, the town built concrete at the edge to prevent any more of the land from being eroded by the salty waves. The concrete was coated in algae that sloshed with the tide. Occasionally, a seagull would dive down to the waves and pick a fish from the surface. Old men watched this when they sat with their feet dangling and a fishing line in the water. There was always the rhythm of waves crashing and seagulls screaming along.

  Bella and Terry walked along the concrete edge. Neither of them talked much. Bella led the way. Terry followed behind her until she took a turn off of the ledge, and they walked into a small opening in the nearby woods. After trekking through twigs, brush, and bramble, a long paved driveway appeared before Terry’s eyes. He continued to follow her until they arrived at a house. It was her house, grandly sized, and painted blue. The door was white and large. Bella pulled on the doorknob, and they stepped in.

  “I’m home!” Bella called through the house. “And I brought Terry with me.”

  Misses Stephens called back from the living room.

  Bella ran off towards the living room after kicking off her shoes. Terry looked around. He took off his shoes and placed them by the rest that sat in piles by the front door. All were either covered in mud or just well-used in general. looked at the wall. One spot in the hallway had an old crayon drawing near the floor. Bella and her mom could be heard talking from the other room. He gazed at the family portraits on the wall. In one they all sat or stood posing with smiles, and in another, which must have been a family reunion, where they stood with their larger family in a field. Along with those, there were numerous other photographs and childhood paintings.

  Terry made his way to the living room where he found Misses Stephens, Bella, and her twin brother, Michael. They all looked ready for something and looked at him.

  He fiddled with the hem of his shorts and asked, “what?”

  “I asked if you were ready,” Misses Stephens said. “We’re going to the museum.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “You think a lot, don’t you?” She asked.

  Before Terry could say anything, Michael blurted out, “Dumbass.” It was followed quickly by a slap on the back of his head from his mom.

  She pointed a finger at Michael and corrected him. “Watch your language. It means he thinks before he speaks. You could learn a bit from him. Apologize.”

  Michael muttered a bitter apology. Bella laughed in his face. They all got ready and went to the car. Terry didn’t bring anything besides his school bag. So, he set it by the front door. Misses Stephens drove them to the museum.

  Clines coughed and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He took a breather, then shoved the shovel into the sandy soil. The humidity and sweat wettened his button-down shirt, and he had a miserable drooping to the dark under his eyes. He took heavy breaths but continued.

  The hole he dug was now five feet deep, and he did his best to not let any of the pile he threw shovelfuls on slip back into his hard work.

  Finally, the metal of his shovel clanked against something.

  He muttered to himself, “Please be the thing.”

  He tossed the shovel out of the hole, and crouched to his knees, using his fingertips to dig around and reveal an old chest. He breathed a sigh of relief. Then, worked and worked until he was able to pull it from the earth. He leaned back against the wall of the hole and relaxed for the short amount of time he could allow himself. He looked at the box with the gaze of a man’s long hard work possibly paying off. A large milestone in his efforts was finally reached. He lit a cigarette and sat smoking it until he heard a noise and took the chest to open in his apartment.