CHAPTER TWELVE
“Come on,” Jesse whined, dragging his hand down the side of his eight-year-old face. “We’ve been here forever.”
For a moment, the way Jesse stretched the skin beneath his eyes looked to June like that of a character from a horror movie, the kind her friend Betsy was always demanding she watch. June was not a big fan of horror movies—she found most of them disgusting. A good thriller, though, with the lights off and her parents out for the night? Yes, please.
“We just got here,” she said, tightening her grip on Jesse’s slender hand. “You’re being dramatic.”
She winced as she said it, recalling the many times her grandfather had used that very line in arguments with her mother. In this case, however, it was true. They had been at Shilowa National Monument, a series of pueb
