An Odd Duck

Word count: 275

I'd heard Kelly excitedly claim a new discovery to me dozens of times on our current archeological dig. Sadly, they never were. For the last six weeks of this summer's field work, all of her treasured items were just worthless junk. Yet, despite these repeated disappointments, she never became discouraged. My disheartening assessments were taken in stride with a quick nod. "Don't you worry, Ma'am," she'd say. "I'll find it for you." Giving me a big encouraging smile, she'd be back sifting dirt and washing oddly shaped items with determination.

I had no idea what she was talking about. On two occasions, I’d asked her what “it” was.

“Aw, Ma’am, you’re just joshin’ me, aren’t you?” Then she’d walk off giggling at her private joke.

She was definitely an odd duck.

My other students had each found some minor artifacts to add to the museum. They were nothing special. Just more of the same items we already had on display. Yet each one was a happy result as a student could once again feel like a successful archeologist.

Then one afternoon, Kelly could be heard shouting from the “hole”. Oh, boy, I thought, another false find. I straightened up from my microscope and calmly walked to the classification tent’s open side. Kelly scrambled up the pit’s ramp and looked around.

“Kelly,” I called, “I’m over here.”

“You aren’t going to believe this.” She started pushing symbols on the surface of a metallic device. “I could feel that it was nearby, but it confused me by sensitizing stuff around it.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Just another second, I’ve almost got it.”

And then Kelly vanished.