A flash of brown hair, the same shade as mine.

Could it be?

“Stop the car!” I yelled.

“We can’t. No time,” said Simone, eyes straight ahead as we sailed over a pothole. “This thing starts in fifteen minutes.”

My eyes must have been playing tricks on me. I craned my neck, trying to see Main Street better as we whizzed by. But I could have sworn I had seen—

“We’re almost there,” said Leo, bouncing in his seat like a toddler about to get a Happy Meal.

When we pulled in front of the library, I was right—there was nobody there. Uselman Road was completely deserted.

We got out of the car and hurried over to the spot on the corner of the property. Simone dragged the shovel behind her, but when we got there, she handed it to me.

“You do the honors,” she said. “That was the plan.”

Think, Abby! Think! But I did the only thing I could do—I started digging. Simone and Leo stood there, antsy, looking around. It was already getting much darker as the moon and the sun met in the same place. It was as if the sun was setting in rapid speed. I wanted to look, but I didn’t want to burn my eyeballs off. Leo offered to help dig and let me look through his glasses, but I shook my head. I had to do this. I couldn’t just be standing there when he learned the truth.

“CNN has sent eight emails,” said Simone, shielding her eyes and flipping through her phone.

“CNN will be fine,” said Leo, practically shaking.

I dug and dug and dug, my arms burning, until the shovel went pling against something metal.

“That’s it!” said Leo, his voice sounding wild. “That’s it!”

I dug around the edges, trying to find a way to wiggle the box out. It seemed big. No, it was huge, half the size of my refrigerator and way too heavy for us to get up. Yet another hole in the World’s Worst Plan. We bent down and tried pulling it. We got it about halfway aboveground, yanking and grunting with all our might as the sun set above us. Dust and dirt fell on the lawn, covering my legs. I looked like I had been cave diving or something. The thing was super heavy; I dug a little more on the sides.

“Your back, Leo. Stop,” said Simone.

But she and I couldn’t get it out—we were a grad student who loved Shakespeare and a twelve-year-old liar. Not exactly power lifters. We needed all the help we could get, even if it was from a scientist with an achy back.

“Good thing we came,” panted Simone. “What were we thinking? You’d never be able to get this out alone. Science Genius and Literature Dork need a Common Sense 101 class.”

“We’ll never be able to get it out together,” I said, hoping desperately that I was right and that that box would stay buried where it belonged.