Bones

Bones lie in a pile in our garage. We don’t use the garage for much anymore. It’s full of junk, so no one’ll notice a pile of white bones back behind three coolers, some old raggedy lawn chairs, the piles of busted-out fertilizer bags.

“C’mon over after school to play video games,” said Mike.

“Nah, I have to study.” I stashed books in my locker.

Mike started to laugh. “Since when do you study? You never open a book all year.”

“So, I turned over a new leaf. New Year’s resolution and all that crap.”

“My big fat Aunt Gladys you have. C’mon, I’m on level 12.” Mike can be so annoying.

“No. I’m busy.” I walked away from him, ignored him the rest of the day. After school, the bones lie waiting.

Mom was working late today. Lots of time to examine each bone with a ruler, a magnifying glass, plus a pen and notepad. Every bone got a number written on it, then entered in my record.

As I just about finished, “What the blazes are you doing?” Mom interrupted me.

“Um, nothing, just, um, writing?” I stammered.

“Are those bones?”

“Um, yes?”

“Where’d you find ‘em? Why are you messing’ with ‘em?” She stood with arms crossed, giving me that stare.

“Um, science fair project?” I lied, then instantly regretted that statement.

“Since when’re you in some science fair?” Mom got closer, pushed those bones with her bony foot.

“Um, it’s an independent research assignment?”

“Tomorrow I’m calling that school!” After that announcement, she marched into the house.

Busted, I thought. ‘Okay, bones, our time together is done. It’s been fun.’ I cleaned up the space, bones in a trash bag then to the dumpster.


I still remember that day, every time we start a new dig.

W/C 300