Waiting for Unicorns by Beth Hautala

Author:Beth Hautala
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2014-12-07T16:00:00+00:00

After we finished at the CNSC, the Birdman drove us back to Churchill. He never said a word about his conversation with Kurt or anything about my dad at all, and I almost asked him if anyone at the CNSC had heard from him—just to see what he would say. But I was already scared, and talking about the danger my dad could be in wasn’t going to help me feel any better. So I didn’t say anything. And neither did Simon.

“Well, I think we’ve expended enough effort today to require nourishment!” the Birdman proclaimed. “How about some ice cream?” And without waiting for a response, he pulled up to the confectionery in town.

The Birdman’s truck had jostled us over every pothole in the road on our way back, and I was actually feeling a little sick to my stomach. Though I wasn’t sure if it was because of the ride itself, or the worry Kurt’s words had flung over me.

“One cannot go this long without sustenance.” The Birdman glanced at me in the rearview mirror and I tried to smile—tried to play along. Simon, of course, had no trouble, and he nodded, his face completely serious.

The Tamarack Confectionary had the best ice cream in Churchill, and we were all hungry. It definitely wasn’t ice cream weather, but we walked around town anyway, eating our cones and watching tourists. The Birdman stopped and talked with a few people along the way. He was known in Churchill as the resident bird expert, and it was fun to hear him talk about birds with people who understood them. He reminded me a bit of Dad, always so excited by his life’s work.

As we walked around, I couldn’t help but worry if Dad was okay. The last time he called in, there had been thirty paper loops left on my paper chain, but he still hadn’t found his whales, and I could tell by the sound of his voice he was concerned. He was a man of science. He believed every effect had a cause. But this time, the effect was so great and the cause so mysterious, I was beginning to worry he wouldn’t ever have his questions answered.

Sura believed mysterious things sometimes happened just because they did, and that whether or not we ever understood why didn’t matter as much as what we did with the mystery. “There’s beauty in not having all the answers,” she’d said recently. “It makes your heart grow.”

But I wasn’t so sure. Sura’s words and thoughts of Dad swirled around in my brain as the Birdman, Simon, and I made our way back home.

I couldn’t help but wonder: You can chart distance across a map in minutes and seconds. This I knew. But could you chart the growth of your heart by the things you do and say, by what you think and how you feel? One gave you a physical location in the world. Maybe the other could give you answers to impossible questions.

I was

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