I let my breath out. It doesn’t surprise me that my father is the first one to notice something unusual happening in the field. Does his forked stick of apple wood or do his dowsing hands let him know there’s a shift in the underground water on Bower Hill Road?

“Could be the culvert is clogged up with leaves, not letting the field drain,” Mom suggests.

Culverts, the corrugated steel tubes set under roads and driveways all through town, direct the rain and melting snow away from places where people need to walk and drive. Mom and I find cans and bottles and people’s lost mittens in the culverts. I used to crawl in the culverts, but now I’m too big to do that, so I use a stick to drag out what I can’t reach.

“Still very early for snowmelt,” Dad says again.

“Big hat,” Birdie says, spreading her arms wide, her fingers sticky with maple syrup. One hand holds Lilygirl.

“Birdie!” I turn my chair to look Birdie right in the eyes, staring hard to get her attention and remind her, without words, about our secret. Especially now that I know about the reward.

Birdie’s mossy eyes are more green than brown when she laughs. She looks right back at me, and I can’t tell if it means she will keep the secret or tell it.

My father takes off his brim hat and sets it on Birdie’s head.

“Big enough for you, Boss?” He laughs and gets up from the table.

“Touch hat,” Birdie says.

“Go right ahead,” my father says on his way outside.

I’m glad Birdie only says two words at once, but I realize it’s just a matter of time before my father goes out in the field to investigate why spring has come to Bower Four before anywhere else in town.

Braggy takes the last ploye with his fingers and uses it to wipe up the rest of the maple syrup on his plate.

“Braggy,” I ask him, “are you thirsty? Do you want a glass of water?”

“I haven’t finished my coffee yet.” He holds up his mug.

“Do you like water? Dad drinks a glass of water every night before he goes to bed. Do you?”

“Sure, Henry, I LOVE water—especially for putting out fires.” Braggy thumps his leg and laughs at his own joke.

Another answer that’s not exactly an answer. Though Braggy’s jokes make everyone laugh.

I pick up the newspaper Braggy brought and read the article about the reward. Everything he told us is true.

One thousand dollars for a small piece of the fireball that landed in Northern Maine.

If someone would pay that much money for a piece the size of a plate, what would the big rock up in the field be worth?

A museum paid forty thousand dollars for the Ahnighito meteorite.