So there I was, like eight years old, standing there with Lauren holding the ladder for him while he patched the woodpecker holes and sprayed them with crushed red pepper mixed with hot sauce to try to keep the birds away, which I am totally against, just so you know.
He had us keep our eyes down while we were holding the ladder in case he dropped the goop that he was patching with.
"This stuff's toxic, keep your heads down so I don't blind you!" he said, sounding a lot happier than a guy concerned about blinding his two granddaughters should be.
Lauren and I would just make goofy faces and roll our eyes at each other, which is not as easy as it sounds when you have to keep your head down so you don't get blinded while holding a rickety ladder steady to keep an old man from falling and breaking his back, which is my mom's biggest worry.
Last summer there was one woodpecker that showed up looking like a ripped superhero version, and the pecking on the house was a lot louder than usual. This one brought the battle to a whole new level. It could taptaptaptaptaptaptap a three-inch hole in the house before you could get outside to scare it away. Grandy keeps a pile of pebbles on a little table on the patio to throw at the birds, but they always fly away before he can pick up a stone. It's really irritating. We're supposed to be up there relaxing, but he turns into Jed Clampett or something, defending his farm. Or the dad from Little House on the Prairie, except if he was psycho.
Lauren's five years older than I am, and since I don't have any brothers or sisters, she's the closest thing I have. She sat next to me and held my hand all through our grandmother's funeral when I was six. We always went to the lake together every summer, and sometimes I'd get to stay there with her parents and my grandfather. She calls him Grandy too.
Whenever we got ice cream cones we would click them together and say, "Cheers!" When we got older we would still do it in a miniature way. We'd look at each other and tip our ice cream cones toward each other with the teeniest movement we could. It was almost invisible.
Then there was the one whole week we spent trying to speak in a British accent. Grandy had to keep going outside or going to the hardware store to get away from us. It was driving him nuts. Then we tried to make up our own language. We didn't see Grandy much after that. I think he started making his license plate signs in his shed that summer just so he wouldn't have to listen to us anymore. Sometimes he would just take off without telling anyone where he was going. He still does that sometimes.
Grandy used to push us on the tire swing. Then when Lauren got too big for both of us to fit together on the tire, she would spin me and I’d hold on to the rope and lean back and watch the branches twirling against the blue sky.
I always liked hearing Lauren talk about stuff like Homecoming dances and prom and parties while I was still in middle school. This year I'm thinking maybe I could go with my friend Cameron to Homecoming. He's the kind of person that a lot of girls don't always appreciate, but he's really fun and I've known him forever. I wouldn't want Savannah to feel left out, though. Maybe she wouldn't mind going with one of Cameron's friends, even though they’re kind of annoying.
Now that we're older and Lauren goes to college in Washington, DC, I don't see her as often. We text and stuff but it's not the same. I miss her. She has a boyfriend now and I've never even met him.
I always loved going on the boat. Lauren usually wanted Grandy to drive the boat fast, but I liked it best when he stopped the boat in the middle of the lake. I would lean back and close my eyes, and feel the rocking of the boat on the water. Sometimes at night I could still feel the movement of the water as I was falling asleep.
My other favorite place to be at the lake house is outside on the dock. Lauren and I would sit there on the edge of the dock with our feet dangling in the water eating watermelon and trying to spit the seeds out as far as we could. Grandy never got seedless watermelon up there. He said the kind with seeds was sweeter, which meant we always had lots of ammo to spit into the lake.
The dock is made from old wood that faded to a light gray. You could see the rings in the wood that showed how old the tree was that it came from. I always traced the shapes of the rings with my finger and wondered how tall the tree must have been when it was alive. Lauren and I would talk about shapes we could see in the clouds. Once we both saw one that looked like George Washington blowing out a match.
From the end of the dock we could see other boats tied up at their piers, bobbing in the water with their flags whipping back and forth. The water sparkled and changed color depending on how blue or gray the sky looked. Sometimes we would lie on our backs on the dock with our heads at the edge and our hair hanging over. I was always jealous when Lauren's hair was long enough to touch the water. Mine just hung there above the surface.
Chapter 4
My mom usually just needs me in the morning to help set up, and then she needs help again at the end of the day when we need to repack everything and load it back into the trailer. Most of the time I'm free to walk around. Since I don't have my license yet, I can’t really go anywhere.
I looked at my phone. Cameron’s friend Jake tweeted "Never thought I'd be hanging out with Cam and his actual girlfriend."
What? Cam has a girlfriend? Who? I sighed. Crap. I mean, not that I definitely like him, but I thought he was kind of there if I ever needed him.
I texted Savannah. "Who's the skank?"
"Who are you calling a skank?" she texted back.
"LOL. You sound like you're trying to start a fight or something," I wrote back.
"Ummm, I'm not sure what you're talking about," she wrote.
"Jake just tweeted that Cam has a girlfriend and I wondered who the skank is. Because I was actually thinking maybe he would go to Homecoming with me this year. But don't tell anyone that of course," I said.
"Okayyyy..." she wrote.
"So who is it? Do you even know?" I said. "I'm not sure he has such good taste anyway."
"Well, it's me," she wrote. "Cam and I are dating now. It just happened last night, and I was just gonna tell you everything right before I got your text calling me a skank..."
Oh. Savannah and Cam are dating? Each other? I could feel my heart pounding. I felt the blood rushing out of my face. I felt like an idiot. I just double insulted my best friend AND her boyfriend. And why did I have to pick NOW to blurt out that I would want to go to Homecoming with him? God.
I had to write something back.
"OMG, Savannah, please forget what I said. I was just trying to be funny. That's awesome!!! He has great taste if he likes you. You guys will be so cute together!!!"
I hoped the extra exclamation points would make me look supportive. I felt hot tears coming to my eyes.
“I'm happy for you, seriously!" Smiley face.
I sniffed. I felt like crap. It feels awful to not be happy for your friend. I'm such an idiot. I did not see this coming. I just don't picture them together. So much for my corazonadas. The only feeling in my gut was nausea. I felt sick to my stomach after what I had just said.
She wrote back. "My break's almost over so I gotta go, but I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Sounds good, you happy?" I said.
"Yeah!" she wrote. Then she texted me a selfie they took together. Ouch.
"So cute!!!!" I wrote, but the screen started getting blurry.
Maybe I'd feel better if I found something to draw. I picked up my sketchbook and started walking around. I just kept seeing a lot of couples holding hands.
I walked down a few aisles. A woman behind a table at one booth started waving both hands at me, saying, "Excuse me!"
I stopped and looked behind me to see who she was talking to.
"Are you Robin?" she asked.
"Umm, yes," I said.
I wondered how this strange woman knew who I was. I took a few steps closer to her booth, trying to avoid getting whacked with a broken-down ladder that someone was probably going to try to turn into a stupid bookshelf or something.
A girl who looked like she was a few years younger than me and a guy around my age sat at the back of the booth, looking at their phones.
"I knew it! You're Julia’s daughter. I met you and your mom a few years ago. It's been a while since I've done an antique fair with her. Is she here today?" she asked.
"Yeah, she's here," I said. "She's in booth 53. It's near the end of the row by the swine barn. Do you want to talk to her?"
"Absolutely! I'd love to," she said. She turned to her two kids. "You guys stay here and watch the booth. Call me if any customers have questions you can't answer. I want to go say hi to Robin's mom. Oh! Guys, this is Robin. Robin, these are my kids."
I gave a little wave toward them and said "Hi." The girl smiled and said, "Hi, Robin!" and the guy looked up from his phone and gave the half-grimace, half-smile thing where you're not being exactly rude, but you're not interested in appearing too friendly because your mom is watching you and will comment on your level of rudeness or politeness the first chance she gets.
I know he's doing this to fly under the radar of criticism, because I do it myself all the time. Unfortunately, I'm almost positive that he's the guy who saw me step on my sunglasses this morning and possibly took my picture. That's not awkward at all.
His mom turned back to me.
"All right, let's go. I'm Jan, by the way," she said as we started walking. "You lead, I don't know where the swine barn is. This my first time doing this show and I'm still a little disoriented."
We turned a corner and we were headed toward my mom. I could see her about ten booths away. We were squeezing through a traffic jam in front of a display of rusty garden decorations that look like you could get an infection from them when Jan got a text.
"Oh, Robin, my daughter wants me to ask for your phone number. Is that okay?"
I thought for a second that maybe her brother was the one who actually wanted my number, but then I realized that her daughter probably just wanted someone to hang out with here.
"Yeah, that's fine," I said.
She handed me her phone to type in my number. Now if her son ever wanted my number, he'd know where to find it. Not that I care. I handed her back the phone.
"Her name is Amie," she said. “It's spelled A-M-I-E."
"Like the song?" I said.
She got a big smile on her face. "Yes!" she said. "I'm surprised you know that song!"
"Yeah, we spend a lot of time on the road and my mom always plays 70s music. I know the words to more songs from the 1970s than anyone else my age," I said.
Sometimes I sing in the car, but I'm not telling her that.
"That's fantastic!" Jan shook her head like she couldn't believe her luck. "This is going to be a good day, I can tell. I think your mom and I are going to sell a lot today. This seems like a crowd that wants to spend some money. I have a gut feeling about this."
"Um, okay," I said.
We got to my mom's booth and Jan introduced herself.
While they were talking, I moved my chair to the back of the booth so people wouldn't ask me any questions. I took my can of raspberry iced tea from our cooler and plopped down in the chair.
Jan looked at her phone and said to my mom, "Oh, it's Amie. I have a customer who wants to talk to me, and let’s hope this one will actually buy something. I've gotta run, but it was so nice to see you again."
"You too, Jan," My mom said. "I'll stop by your booth later when I get a chance."
Jan waved to me and said, "Bye, Robin!" and took off.
It didn't look to me like a crowd of serious shoppers. You can tell because they keep their distance and don't make much eye contact. I sat there watching people walk by, wondering if I should try to draw any of them. I'm not that good at faces. I can never get the noses right.
I killed time watching YouTubers until my mom and I got some lunch. After we ate, my phone buzzed and I got a text.
"Hi, it's Amie from before. Want to meet at the lemonade stand at 1:00? I have an idea."
I texted Amie back. "OK see u then."
Just before one o’clock, I took my wallet from my backpack.
"Mom I'm gonna go hang out with that woman Jan's daughter Amie for a while," I said.
There were a lot of people around, but they seemed to be browsers, not buyers, so she probably wouldn't need me to help with anything.
"Sure," she said. "But don't ignore my texts if I need you back here."
"Yeah, okay," I said, heading toward the lemonade stand.
This flea market was a big one at a county fairground. It seems weird to shop for homemade fudge in a cattle barn, or for vintage wedding dresses where pigs used to hang out, but people do it all day long. And it does get smelly in the summer, because these fairgrounds are not just for antique shows and flea markets, they are used on alternating weeks for actual county fair type things.
When I got to the lemonade stand I looked around but Amie wasn't there, and I didn't see her brother either. I was thirsty so I ordered a lemonade and tried to act casual as I watched the girl mix the sugar and drop in the big lemon wedges. If Amie's brother was coming, I didn't want to look like I cared if he joined us, or said hi to me, or even existed.
Five minutes. One more minute and I'm texting her, I thought. Maybe they have to help their mom. Or they're mixed up on where to go. Crap, is there another lemonade stand here? I don't think so. Some old people got up from a bench and left, so I sat down and looked around. Still not here.
"Hey! Sorry we're late," Amie said as she ran up to me. She was holding a notebook and a pen. "We kind of got lost."
Her brother walked up after, not looking sweaty at all. Or nerdy. Kind of cute, actually, and now that I saw him standing up, definitely taller than me. He stepped up to the lemonade stand and ordered two.
"Hey," I said.
I realized that I didn't know his name yet. "What's your name, again?" I said, as if I had even heard it before.
"Dylan," he said.
"So you didn't get named after a song from the seventies like your sister, huh?" I said.
"Actually, they named me after Bob Dylan," he said.
"Oh, gotcha," I said, and then I did an idiotic thumbs-up thing. I'm sure I looked like a dork.
"Yeah," Amie said. "He's lucky his middle name isn't Fleetwood."
I laughed and decided to change the subject.
“Dylan, did you possibly take a picture of me stepping on my sunglasses?” I said.
“That was you?” he said.
Why don’t people ever remember me?
“Yes, that was me. I didn’t know if you were some kind of stalker,” I said.
His cheeks turned a little red.
“Sorry. I just do a lot of random filming,” he said. “I like making videos.”
“Yeah, I’m almost positive he’s harmless,” Amie said. “He just wants to be a filmmaker. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you because I have this idea. You know how being at these antique fairs is like a total nightmare?"
I nodded. Then I had to grab her arm and pull her out of the way so she wouldn't get hit in the head by a rocking chair someone was carrying. Then we had to dive to the left to avoid a distracted mom pushing a double stroller with one hand and holding a big coffee cup in the other. Her kid dropped a stuffed bunny on the ground. Before I could say anything, Dylan picked up the bunny, brushed it off and handed it to the kid. Then he looked at me and gave me a thumbs-up. Was he making fun of me?
Amie started bouncing on her toes. This girl had a ton of energy.
"So I was thinking we could maybe do a scavenger hunt and look for different antiques and stuff. Then when we find each thing, we don't have to buy it, we just take a picture to prove that we found it," she said.
I really didn't want to commit to anything.
"There's nothing else to do here anyway,” Amie said. “I can’t tell my mom I think it’s boring here, because she'll just tell me I should start my summer reading. Come on, it’ll be fun. Maybe
we'll find some hidden treasure or something,"
"Now you sound like my mom," I said. Then I thought maybe that was insulting. "I mean, yeah, okay, I'll do it."
"Yesssss," Amie said. "Let's start making a list."
I looked at Dylan and said, "Are you in on this?" He looked at me and shrugged one shoulder.
"Eh, maybe," he said. Not committing. I totally get that. Without thinking, I automatically did the thumbs-up again. God.
I got all self-conscious and wished I still had my sunglasses. And some cuter clothes.
Chapter 5
Amie, Dylan and I found an empty picnic table and sat down to make a list.
"Let's put something with patina on it. These people always want patina," Amie said.
“What’s that?” Dylan asked.
“It’s a greenish coating on metal. You’ve seen it,” Amie said.
“That should be easy to find. It’s everywhere. Some people will buy anything with patina,” I said.
"Some of these hoarders will buy anything, period,” Dylan said.
“And some people like my mom will sell anything,” I said. “There's probably nothing in our house that she wouldn't sell at the right price. I've actually come home from school and found our dining room table and chairs gone, and the coffee table too. We had to eat on our laps for a while. Anyway, if you like patina, have you ever heard of craquelure?"
"Oh my God, someone else knows craquelure," Amie said.
"Did you just say crack allure?" Dylan said.
Amie laughed.
Retro Road Trip Page 2
