She closed the notebook halfway.
“You didn't find the old well either.”
That got his attention.
“What well?”
“Exactly.”
The engineer stared.
She turned another page.
A small square appeared near what was now the northern equipment staging area.
“My great-grandfather dug it.”
“How deep?”
“Thirty-eight feet before he abandoned it.”
“Why?”
“The bottom dropped.”
The engineer frowned.
“Dropped?”
“My grandfather said they lowered stones and never heard them land.”
One engineer chuckled.
“Family legend.”
The girl looked at him.
“We filled it in 2008.”
“With what?”
“Stone. Broken concrete. Dirt.”
“Then there would be disturbed material on our borings.”
“You bored forty yards away.”
The senior engineer's expression hardened.
“We bored according to the grid established by licensed geotechnical professionals.”
“And missed it.”
“Enough.”
The engineer took the notebook from her.
The motion surprised her.
He flipped through several pages.
Then shut it sharply.
“These are observations from a child walking around a farm.”
The girl's jaw tightened.
“They're measurements.”
“They are sketches.”
“They're dates.”
“They are not geotechnical analysis.”
“I never said they were.”
The engineer held the notebook toward her.
“I am responsible for a two-hundred-million-dollar project.”
“Then act like it.”
Everything went quiet.
The security guard took one step closer.
The engineer stared at the teenager.
“What did you say?”
The girl pointed toward the drilling rig.
“If I'm wrong, you lose an hour checking.”
She pointed at the notebook.
“If you're wrong, that thing is sitting over empty ground.”
The engineer's face reddened.
“We have spent more money studying this site than your entire farm is worth.”
The girl said nothing.
He continued.
“I have engineers with graduate degrees, licensed geologists, drilling contractors with decades of experience, and independent consultants reviewing this foundation plan.”
The girl nodded.
“And I'm telling you the ground is hollow.”
One supervisor laughed outright.
“Based on your puddle diary.”
That was the moment.
The senior engineer slapped the notebook closed.
Then tossed it downward.
It landed in the mud.
Not gently.
Pages bent beneath brown water.
The girl stared at it.
Something changed in her expression.
Not tears.
Not yet.
The engineer pointed toward the perimeter.
“Enough. Leave the active construction zone.”
The girl bent to retrieve the notebook.
The security guard took her shoulder.
“Come on.”
“Don't touch me.”
“Move.”
“I said don't—”
He shoved her backward.
Not hard enough to knock her down.
Hard enough that one boot slipped.
She stumbled two steps through the mud.
The men nearby laughed awkwardly.
The girl regained her balance.
Her face burned.
The security guard pointed.
“Outside the fence.”
She picked up the notebook.
Mud dripped from the bottom.
Several pages were ruined.