Bones in the Sand by Julie Steimle (books to read to get smarter txt) 📕

nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood,'" Miss Bianchi read.

Zormna felt a burning in her chest, and her tears fell freely, as much as she attempted to wipe them away. The words rushed over her ears. She cried without knowing that people were staring at her. "'...Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred...'" How those words mimicked words of a leader she had known ages ago. It seemed for a time that she did not hear the words. Zormna's mind went back to earlier days before she had come to the Earth. Her thoughts spun to future days when she would have to fight for her freedom and her life. The words of that speech, read by Miss Bianchi, only accentuated what she was now feeling.

"'...I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream...I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal....'"

Jennifer turned around and looked at Zormna, who was weeping silently and wiping her eyes more freely than anyone had ever seen her. She mouthed at Zormna, "What are you doing?"

Jessica peeked at her also.

But Zormna wiped her eyes and shook her head as if she didn't know herself.

"'...free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!" Miss Bianchi finished. She grinned, looking utterly gratified at Zormna and the effect her reading had on the usually contentious girl.

"One amazing piece," her teacher said. "I hope you were as moved as I."

The entire class blinked at her. They peered at Zormna, who wiped her eyes on her sleeve and burst into tears once more.

 

"...Really Zormna, you didn't have to cry during the whole speech," Jennifer said, walking to her locker.

Zormna's eyes were still red. She sniffed, clenching the stapled tear-stained sheet of paper in her hands. She was now scowling at Jennifer.

"Well, I suppose I can't expect you to understand. You've never been oppressed," Zormna said.

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "And you have?"

Zormna's dark green eyes glared back at her. "Have you forgotten already?"

Blinking blankly at her, it took Jennifer a moment for her to remember that Zormna was not from her country, let alone her world. It was easy to forget politics of an alien planet when the alien in question pretended to be from Earth and, well, was human.

Jennifer shrugged. "I'm sorry. It's not like we're suppose to talk about it anyway."

However that was enough for Zormna. It was satisfaction enough to be believed by Jennifer these days, as long as she wasn't as nosy for more... as she used to be. They walked to Biology without another word.

As it was, the FBI agents wandered around the campsite like prowling coyotes looking for food. They helped set up the scientific lab tents, monitoring them. They asked a lot of questions about procedure as they peered over the students' work. They also questioned the Professor's work and what motivated him. As they did this, Professor Dumas glowered at them. He especially huffed to Professor Pratte on a number of occasions, talking about unprofessionalism and the uncharacteristic involvement of the government...citing suppression of evidence in the Smithsonian of which Professor Pratt firmly believed in. The students also shot the FBI agents peevish glances every time the agents peered over their shoulders. They were clearly looking for something in particular, but they would never say what exactly. Just that they were interested and wanted all their discoveries thoroughly documented. At least they were not closing the site, the students thought.

Professor Pratte wandered around the dig with a certain level of pride. He surveyed the excavations, making sure they went well. And after talking to the FBI agents for several hours the other night, he then sent his students combing the entire area with an ultrasound machine and a metal detector, just in case. He never said what they were looking for exactly, only to look for 'anything unusual.' As he said this, their professor had this peculiar gleam of happiness that would flicker in and out of his eyes. It was like he was King Midas staring at a pile of gold. And that made everyone else worry about impending disaster.

Kyle, the redheaded college student who often assisted Professor Pratt, had begun to huff more often and shake his head, watching his professor with a disapproving air. But he shot the FBI with the same fierce skepticism the other students felt. Fact was, the ever-present watchfulness of the men in black suits gave them the heebie-jeebies. They all began to wish they had posted their findings online for all to see rather than going to a tabloid for the money.

The heebie-jeebies. The creeps. The dark foreboding feeling that makes your flesh crawl. Goose pimples. Goose bumps. Whatever they were called, Jeff had the worst of them. It was one thing feeling uncomfortable in the middle of English while people stared at him, but entirely a different thing looking at plain old ordinary numbers and still having those awful premonitions. He had attempted to shake them off, but they still came.

Darren glanced over at him for just a second. Brow crinkling, he took another look and mouthed something, but Jeff missed it. Their teacher had walked down that aisle, and Darren straightened back up. It was just as well. Brian and Jonathan were flicking paper footballs at each other in spite of their teacher's strict classroom policy against goofing off. Brian had stopped just in time to see Darren mouth his question.

"What's wrong?"

Brian Henderson peeked at Jeff to see if he responded - but by then the teacher was standing at his desk, sticking out his hand for the paper football.

"Not in my class, fellas." Mr. Dallas towered over the two boys disapprovingly. When the did this he always gave them the impression of a skinny version of Bruce Willis, though he looked a great deal more like Bill Nye.

Brian and Jonathan grinned bashfully, handing their teacher their inked-up origami triangle.

Jeff sighed and continued to stare at his textbook. He wasn't even writing. He was just staring, which was not like him.

Brian shook his head and turned back to his textbook as he no longer had his paper football.

"Ok, now let's put a few of these on the board," Mr. Dallas said when he returned to the front. "Jeff S., go up to the board please and do problem number fifteen."

Jeff looked up with a start. "Huh?"

Mr. Dallas frowned at him. "Jeff. The board. Problem fifteen. Now."

Jeff nodded, rising from his seat. He walked to the whiteboard, taking the marker from the tray. The dark feeling was not going away. What was it? What was it?

 

Chapter Five: Pearson

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"'It's a pity they make themselves so unapproachable,' he said.

'It would be curious to know how they live on another planet; we might learn a thing or two.'" p. 27

 

 

Jeff stared at his lunch, thinking to himself while staring into space again, wondering at the dark feeling he felt from the pit of his stomach to the base of his bones. Something was wrong, and he still couldn't shake it. He was logically going over any possible loose ends dealing with the FBI or the rebellion back Home. January was nearly over. Nothing out of the ordinary was happing back Home with the rebellion that he knew of. And neither he nor his contacts had noticed anything out of the ordinary with the FBI. They were mostly busy with their regular routine - though some agents had been pulled out to deal with some kind of political scandal which had nothing to do with their world. Jeff had carefully contacted his mole in the FBI (M as he went by over the phone) and M said that their branch was occupied with the usual, waiting for Zormna and him to slip up.

Feeling grim, Jeff shook his head to himself. He still couldn't shake off that awful sensation. His sources were giving him nothing, but he knew something was up. Jeff considered that it was possible that M had been compromised, and the FBI were now watching him also. If it were true, then he had to act to remedy the situation....

"Jafarr!" Zormna called out his real name, marching in through the cafeteria with Darren trying to keep up. It was funny to watch, as Darren was much taller and had longer legs. She was carrying her food tray along with a stapled set of papers. Her face was flushed, and she looked unusually excited.

"Look at this!" She shoved the papers into Jeff's hands, grinning like she had found gold.

Pulling them to a more comfortable distance from his face, Jeff peered at what she had given him. There was a recognizable picture with the writing, though there was nothing spectacular about it. He looked back at her incredulously. "Martin Luther King Jr. So what? I got one of these last year from Mr. Darnell."

Zormna scowled, quickly opening the first page for him. She poked it with her finger. "Read it, stupid."

Jeff smirked. Only Zormna could call him stupid and mean it. Taking her at her word, Jeff looked down at the page and read the first few lines. He looked up. "Yeah? I saw this last year in my History class. So what?"

She jerked the paper out of his hand and glared at him. "How can you read it without being moved by it? It's amazing."

Jeff smiled. He was always fascinated at how open Zormna was to such things. Despite being a Tarrn raised as a solider with a loyalty as deep as the ocean, she embraced all the great things in their current world. In fact, she had selective, yet impeccable taste. She usually rejected popular culture, which she saw as annoying or petty. However, she did pay a great deal of attention to politics, which, considering her destiny, made complete sense.

"She was crying her eyes out in History class," Michelle Clay interjected as she and her gal pals passed by to their own cafeteria table to where a good number of their trendy little clique was sitting was sitting. Stacey was smirking. "Miss Bianchi nearly gave her a medal for being so moved,"

Zormna rolled her eyes and stuffed the paper back into her school bag. "Well it certainly was wasted on you."

Steely eyed on Zormna, Michelle led her entourage onward, though some of her gal pals were flirting with the guys as they hurried by. Mark winked back and Adam grinned.

"What was it?" Brian asked while chewing a bite of the burrito he had brought from home. He peered toward Zormna's bag where she was peevishly tucking the papers away. She generally got that way whenever Michelle came around. Despite being part of the cheer team, Zormna wasn't a fan of their captain or her friends.

"Martin Luther King Jr.'s 'I Have a Dream' speech," Jeff said before taking a bite out of his egg salad sandwich, losing