3 STREAM TROUBLE

CHAPTER 3 STREAM TROUBLE My mom and dad were getting lunch ready in the kitchen. I sank down in my chair at the table with a frown on my face. "What's wrong, Zoey? Didn't you have fun at the stream?" Dad asked, taking the seat next to me. I shook my head no. "I looked and looked, but there were no stream bug babies anywhere." "You mean nymphs?" Mom called over her shoulder.

"Oh, right!" That's the word I kept forgetting. Nymphs. "Yeah, no mayfly or caddisfly nymphs anywhere. Seriously. I'm super good at bug-hunting— I even had my underwater viewer! I guess they all turned into adults at the same time and flew away." I sighed loudly. My mom stopped what she was doing and sat down with me and Dad. I sat up a little straighter in my chair. "No, they wouldn't all turn to adults at the same time," she said. "That's why we usually find different-sized nymphs when we go. Some are newly hatched and tiny, and others are about to become adults and huge. Did you see anything else unusual? Like a lot of algae?" I rubbed my hands on my pants at the thought of

it. "Yes, it was super slimy and cold. It kept sticking to my hands." Mom and Dad looked at each other. Why were they so serious? Then Mom said, "Sweetie, we need you to wash your hands and feet really well." "My feet too?" I whined. My stomach growled. "Can't I do it after I eat? Why do I have to do it now?" "Do you remember your mom telling you why our stream has so many mayfly and caddisfly nymphs?" Dad asked. I nodded. "Yes, because our stream is really clean. Mayfly and caddisfly babies are delicate. They can only live in waters that aren't polluted with yucky chemicals." My eyes got big as I realized what my dad was trying to say. "Oh no. Is our stream polluted? Are all the baby stream bugs dead?" Dad shrugged. "We don't know yet. But this doesn't sound good." "After lunch, you and Sassafras can go back to get a water sample," Mom said. "We can run some

tests to check. But right now we need you to wash up." I went to wash my hands and feet without any more complaining. As I scrubbed my hands, I felt worried. What if our beautiful stream was sick?