There's a famous uninhabited mansion in Lark Creek, Virginia where an accident occurred seven years ago. Mysteries surround it, and people say that you'll hear strange noises coming from the inside of the mansion. No one in Lark Creek has the courag...
"My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you I've been running round in circles in my mind And it always seems that I'm following you, girl 'Cause you take me to the places that alone I'd never find." —Can't Fight This Feeling by Reo Speedwagon
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"Sorry I'm late, Leslie," I began and panted for air when I reached her under the tree house. "Mom wanted me to wash the dishes first before going out of the house."
Leslie smiled. She was wearing a sequin racerback tank with a yellow elbow patch cardigan—hugging her curves—and mattie boots. Ever since we started our freshman year, she'd changed her style of clothing a little, but the lively colors were still there.
"It's okay, Jess," she said. "You're only," she checked the screen of her phone, "five minutes late, anyway."
That's when I noticed she was carrying a blue backpack. I only had my jacket around my waist with me. I hadn't thought of bringing any stuff while we went, er, investigating. Or adventuring. Whatever.
She opened her bag for me to see what were the contents of it. I saw a rechargeable flashlight, rope, compass, magnifying glass, and many more survival paraphernalia.
I whistled. "Looks like we're ready to get lost."
Leslie punched me on the arm, laughing. "Get out of here! Since we'll be going to an unexplored area of Terabithia, we don't know what we'll encounter there. It's better we have these things with us, just in case. I even brought sandwiches and a canteen."
I grinned and said in my royal voice, "Makes sense, my queen. And because of your survival awareness, I shall carry the backpack for you."
╪ ╪ ╪
We reached the area of the forest where P.T. and I had last seen "it."
"Here we are," I announced, gesturing my hand beside a large mahogany tree.
"How 'bout we give it a name? The Wicked One? 'Cause it seems more sinister than the Dark Master," Leslie suggested.
"The Wicked One? I like that," I said while tossing a rock.
Leslie giggled and pointed to the right side. "How 'bout we go that way?"
"Okay," I said. As I took a step forward, Leslie was looking intently at a tree to our left, like she just discovered an ancient tombstone.
"Is something the matter, Les?" I asked when she bent down to get a better look at what she was staring.
"Jess, look!" she exclaimed. I looked at what she was pointing at: an arrow carving in a tree that was pointing upward.
