Betty Culley - The Natural Genius of Ants

Also by Betty Culley

Down to Earth

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Text copyright 2022 by Betty Culley

Cover art and interior illustrations copyright 2022 by The Brave Union

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Crown Books for Young Readers, an imprint of Random House Childrens Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

ISBN9780593175774 (hardcover) ebook ISBN9780593175798

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To Denis, for everything

Dad said being in Kettle Hole was like going back in time, but I didnt know what he meant until we got here. The trees are tall and straight, and farm fields stretch out to the sky. There are gigantic bullfrogs with eyes as big as nickels, and trucks filled with logs rumble down the dirt roads, blowing up dust. Instead of streetlights shining outside our windows, were in a place so dark at night you feel invisible. A place where you hear coyotes howl and yip. Dad says they live deep in the woods, even though it sounds like theyre very close.

We came here because of my fathers mistake. He cant forgive himself for what he did. It doesnt matter that hes a doctor, and doctors make mistakes like everybody else.

After the baby died, Mom tried to explain why Dad was so sad. She said people are human and shed gotten things wrong at work, too.

Did any parasites die? I asked. Shes studying a parasite that makes people lose their vision. Its so small you can only see it through a special microscope.

My little brother Rogers eyes got very big.

Since Dads mistake, my mouth has been on autopilot.

Harvard! Mom said my name once, like a warning, and quickly looked around to see if Dad had heard me. Luckily, he hadnt.

For five months after his mistake, Dad didnt work. He didnt leave our apartment on the fifth floor except to get a haircut. He cried when no one was looking and even when everyone was looking.

Then he got the idea for us to go to Kettle Hole for the summer, the place where he grew up. His childhood friend Vernon Knowles was renting out his house six states away from our apartment and the hospital where Dad used to work.

You know I cant leave my research right now, Mom said when Dad told us about his plan.

I know you cant leave the parasites. They need you so much. They depend on you. They cant live without you, I said. Mom and I collect parasite jokes.

Later, I overheard Mom and Dad talking in their bedroom. She asked him why he wanted to go to Kettle Hole. In his thought-out, list-making way, he gave her three reasons.

People know me as the Corson boy there, not Dr. Corson. Kettle Hole is always in my heart, even though I havent been back since my grandfathers funeral. And Robert Frost was rightthat home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.

Mom had one answer to his three reasons.

If thats what you need to do, Marshall.

Dad answered back, Vern thought Earlene would make it, but shes been gone six months and hes in a spot trying to pay off her medical bills and raise his daughter. He was going to lose the house, and we need a place to stay. Give me this time with the boys, Dee. Maybe I can do something right and make it a summer they will always remember.

It was quiet then, and I peeked into their room. Mom had her arms around Dad, her cheek pressed against his. He just stood there with his arms hanging down, like he didnt have enough energy to hug her back.

Mom answered, You were born to be a doctor, Marshall. Please use this summer to figure out a way to forgive yourself.

To get to Kettle Hole, we drove east for more than a day and then headed north. The highway in Maine was only two lanes, and the farther north we went the less cars there were on the road.

Ive never been to the town where my father grew up. Mom grew up in the city where we live, but Moms mother, my abuela, is from the Dominican Republic. Ive never been there, either. Part of the year she lives right near us, and part of the year she goes back to the DR to see family.

The fields and the woods are just how I remember, Dad said when we got off the highway. Its like going back in time.

Then you better speed up, I blurted out.

Dad drove exactly five miles under the speed limit, both hands on the wheel.

Why would I want to do that? he asked without turning his head away from the road.

So we get there before youre too young to drive. And Im only ten, so if you go too slow, Ill disappear.

I saw a little smile on Dads face in the rearview mirror, but he didnt drive any faster.

Being on a long car trip makes you think about things.

Roger, I know, thought about one thing. The food in the cooler on the back seat between us. Hed watched Dad fill it and he had a contest with himself to eat some of everything packed in there. Grapes, cheese slices, juice boxes, macaroni and cheese, oatmeal raisin cookies.

Mom wouldnt have let Roger eat so much, but Dad was busy driving. And when Roger had food in his mouth, he wasnt asking the same thing over and overWhat do you think Mommy is doing RIGHT NOW? Or saying, If Mommy was here, shed sing the car song. I have no idea what the car song is, but Roger sang the only lines he remembered until they were stamped in my brain.

Car, car, car

Far, far, far

While Roger ate, I looked out my window and thought about the things people say about mistakes, all of which are wrong:

Mistakes happen.

Dont be afraid to make mistakes.

Its only a mistake.

You learn from your mistakes.

Dont worry. It was an honest mistake.

None of those things are true, I thought, because if they were, Dad would still be taking care of the smallest and sickest babies in the hospital instead of planning our summer to remember. Roger wouldnt be one state away from a bellyache after eating his hundredth snack. All I could do, as we got closer and closer to Kettle Hole, was hope that going back to the place where Dad grew up wouldnt turn out to be another mistake.