Lannie Butterworth's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

By Tuesday, the shelter was hidden, watched, and guarded — but Lannie couldn't reach it. The gym teacher had started walking the field before school, after school, and twice during her prep block. Lannie watched from the science room window as Coach Sandra Martinez paced a fresh white line that hadn't been there last week. Crisp running lanes now stretched across the grass, ending three steps from the hedge. "She painted lanes," Lannie said. The science teacher didn't look up from her beetle tank. She slid a brown leatherbound book across the counter. The cover was soft from handling. Inside, blank pages waited. Lannie took the journal to the window and started logging. 7:42 — Coach at the south lane. 8:15 — Coach at the hedge corner. 10:30 — Coach running drills. 12:05 — Coach eating a sandwich on the bleachers, watching. By Thursday, Lannie had three pages of times. A pattern showed up between 1:50 and 2:10, when Coach Martinez was inside reviewing relay tape. Twenty minutes. Enough to refill the shelter's water dish and check on George Silkweaver. On Friday at 1:51, Lannie slipped out the side door with the bug carrier. She crossed the painted lanes and crouched at the garden sign. George Silkweaver was already at the entrance, waiting. "Three nights of dry weather," he said. "Water level dropped by half. I logged it." George JuneBug sat behind him on a pebble. "I keep thinking the grass is safer," he said. "I keep thinking that every time." Lannie poured fresh water and set down a bottle cap of sugar paste. Eight minutes left. She was zipping the carrier when sneakers stopped on the path behind her. Coach Martinez stood at the edge of the lane, clipboard under her arm. "You're on my track," Coach said. "I know your schedule," Lannie said before she could stop herself. Coach Martinez looked at the journal sticking out of Lannie's pocket. She looked at the garden sign. She looked at the hedge. "Field day's in three weeks," Coach said. "After that, the lanes come up." She walked off without waiting for a reply. Lannie stood there with the carrier in her hand. Three weeks. The patrol wouldn't stop — it would get worse, every day, until the relay was over. The twenty-minute window was the only one she had, and now Coach Martinez knew about it. Lannie tucked the journal deeper into her pocket and looked past the field, toward the old greenhouse under its vines. She would need the backup shelter ready before field day, not after.