The forest was dark, even though it was still the middle of the morning. The sky had been dark, too, before all those trees got in the way.
Mom scrunched down in the driving chair to get a better look at the gloomy sky between the thick branches. “I don’t know how people live like this.”
“Live like what?” I asked. “Are you afraid that the squirrels will finally band together to plot their revenge?” With such thick branches, they could be meeting by the zillions and we would never know.
“I mean living in Oregon. Didn’t they notice that California is right there. Why wouldn’t you keep going a little farther to get out of this dismal swamp?”
“What’s the matter with Oreg—”
“In two hundred feet, turn left,” the Witch butted in.
“What? There?” Mom leaned closer to the window for a better look as the mailman van slowed to second-guess the Witch’s advice. “It isn’t even paved. Google shouldn’t be sending innocent, unsuspecting drivers down random dirt roads. It doesn’t seem safe.”
“Good girl!” I cheered. “The Witch is full of lies. She’s been playing you for a fool this whole time. And you keep falling for it. Why, she did it just yesterday. She took us to Oregon when we were aiming at California, remember?”
“True. But it’s not like people just followed some bad directions and never got out again. People decide to stay here. People even risked their lives to get here on the Oregon Trail. To live in a state with the climate of an unfinished basement.”
The mailman van didn’t turn. The Witch went silent as we continued uphill on the paved road. Sometimes the Witch’s silences are meaner than anything she ever says out loud.
Even Mom noticed that the Witch wasn’t heckling her for missing the turn. “Oh dog doo. I forgot. We’re out of cell service again. Now that we’ve missed the turn, it can’t recalculate. So much for finding the trail.”
“I thought the Turtle taught you the secret to having the Witch memorize the mapp,” I said.