Road Block by Yolanda Ridge

Author:Yolanda Ridge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV013000, book
ISBN: 9781459800472
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2012-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

The phone rang two times before she answered. “Jennifer Sharp.”

“Uh, can I speak to Jennifer Sharp?” I asked, feeling dumb the minute the words were out of my mouth.

“Speaking.”

“Oh,” I replied. “Hello, Ms. Sharp.”

“Who is this?”

“Um…” I took another deep breath. “My name is Brianna Bridges, and I live, well, my grandma lives on a farm in Breslau and you did a story about it a little while ago for The Record?” All of this came tumbling out so fast I didn’t have a chance to breathe again until I was done.

“I did a story about a farm?” Jennifer Sharp asked.

“Not exactly about the farm,” I said, trying to slow myself down. “It was actually about an old gravesite for convicts.”

“My story on the history of capital punishment in Ontario?”

“I guess,” I said, hoping we were talking about the same thing. I looked up at Mrs. Kornitsky. She was nodding so much she looked like one of those bobble-head dolls. I was glad she was there next to me.

“What about it?” Jennifer Sharp asked.

“Well, I’ve got some new information. I thought you might be interested,” I said.

“Go on,” said Jennifer Sharp. Her voice had gone from direct but polite to abrupt and impatient.

“My cousin Sonny and I found the cemetery.”

“And?”

“There are actually gravesites there. You can still see the evidence.”

“So?”

“So I thought you might be interested in doing another story. Now that there’s something to prove you were right.”

“Right about what?”

“Right about the gravesite. Right that it exists.”

“There was never any doubt about the gravesite. All the information is in the archives.”

“But you were here,” I insisted, “asking questions. Trying to find evidence.”

“I don’t really remember that,” Jennifer Sharp said. “I was probably looking for a story angle.”

“Story angle?”

I heard Jennifer Sharp let out a deep breath. “Listen, I have to go. I’m on a deadline. Is there something else I can help you with?”

“No,” I said slowly, “I guess not.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Not the reaction I wanted. “It’s just that the highway…” I said, desperately hoping she hadn’t already hung up.

“What about the highway?”

“The new highway they’re building will go right over the old cemetery.”

“Highway Seven?”

“Yes.”

“Does that mean the highway will go through your grandma’s farm?”

“Yes.”

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Brianna Bridges.”

“How old are you?”

“Eleven,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “Twelve, actually.”

“Is there a way I can contact you? Or maybe I could come out to the farm to see you sometime?”

“I guess,” I said, feeling confused. I gave her my email address and directions to the farm. Then I asked, “Does this mean you’re interested in doing another story about the cemetery?”

“The cemetery? No, I don’t care about the cemetery.”

“Oh,” I said.

“But I might be in touch about another story,” Jennifer Sharp continued, “if that’s okay.”

“I guess,” I said, too overwhelmed to ask any more questions.

“Thanks for calling,” Jennifer said.

Before I could say another word, she hung up.

I handed the phone back to Mrs. Kornitsky. “How’d it go?” she asked.

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