What worried him the most, however, wasn’t that it was too late. What worried him the most, what really ate at his insides,
was the fear that it wasn’t too late. What if Zero was still alive, desperately crawling across the dirt searching for water?
He tried to force the image out of his mind. The next morning, out on the lake,
Stanley listened as Mr. Sir told Twitch the requirements for his hole: “... as wide and as deep as your shovel.”
Twitch fidgeted. His fingers drummed against the wooden shaft of his shovel, and his neck moved from side to side.
“You won’t be twitching so much after digging all day,” Mr. Sir told him. “You won’t have the strength to wiggle your pinkie.”
He popped some sunflower seeds in his mouth, deftly chewed them, and spat out the shells.
“This isn’t a Girl Scout camp.” The water truck came shortly after sunrise.
Stanley got in line behind Magnet, ahead of Twitch. What if it’s not too late?
He watched Mr. Sir fill X-Ray’s canteen. The image of Zero crawling across the hot dry dirt remained in his head.
But what could he do about it? Even if Zero was somehow alive after more than four days,
how would Stanley ever find him? It would take days. He’d need a car. Or a pickup truck.
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