The Family Fletcher Takes Rock Island

by Dana Alison Levy

  ALSO BY DANA ALISON LEVY

  The Misadventures of the Family Fletcher

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2016 by Dana Alison Levy

  Cover art copyright © 2016 by Rebecca Ashdown

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

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  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at RHTeachersLibrarians.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Levy, Dana Alison, author.

  Title: The family Fletcher takes Rock Island / Dana Alison Levy.

  Description: First edition. | New York: Delacorte Press, [2016] | Summary: Summertime brings the Fletcher Family back to Rock Island where the good times never end, but this summer the boys’ favorite lighthouse is all boarded up and with the help from their new neighbors, the Garcia girls, the boys are determined to find out what is really happening with their lighthouse and saving it, no matter what the cost.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2015014134 | ISBN 978-0-553-52130-6 (hc) | ISBN 978-0-553-52131-3 (glb) | ISBN 978-0-553-52132-0 (ebook)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Family—Alternative Family—Fiction. | Social Issues—Fiction. | Humorous Stories—Fiction.

  eBook ISBN 9780553521320

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

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  Contents

  Cover

  Also by Dana Alison Levy

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One: In Which We Arrive Back at Rock Island, a Place Where Time Stands Still

  Chapter Two: In Which the Good, the Bad, and the Ice Cream All Show Up

  Chapter Three: In Which Sam Thinks the Neighborhood Is Going Downhill

  Chapter Four: In Which Frog Decides to Be an Animal Trainer

  Chapter Five: In Which the Problem of the Lighthouse Is Explained, but Jax Would Like to Shoot the Messenger

  Chapter Six: In Which Eli Is Offered a Challenge and All Might Be Lost

  Chapter Seven: In Which the Fletchers Rise to the Occasion, but Then Some of Them Sink Again

  Chapter Eight: In Which Eli Finds It Hard to Balance

  Chapter Nine: In Which Brunch Includes a Side Order of Surprise

  Chapter Ten: In Which Sam Sits on an Imaginary Bench to Pass the Time

  Chapter Eleven: In Which Falling Out of a Boat Helps a Lot

  Chapter Twelve: In Which the Plot Thickens

  Chapter Thirteen: In Which Spying Is Harder Than It Seems

  Chapter Fourteen: In Which If All Else Fails, Try the Internet

  Chapter Fifteen: In Which Eli’s Birthday Starts with a Splash

  Chapter Sixteen: In Which Sam Won’t Wear a Wig (but Zeus Will)

  Chapter Seventeen: In Which the Spies Get Busted

  Chapter Eighteen: In Which the Punishment Doesn’t Fit the Crime

  Chapter Nineteen: In Which Everything Goes Wrong, It Seems

  Chapter Twenty: In Which Lucy Listens to It All

  Chapter Twenty-one: In Which Sam Realizes the Show Must Go on (but Sort of Wishes It Didn’t)

  Chapter Twenty-two: In Which It’s Showtime—for Sam and LILI

  Chapter Twenty-three: In Which the Fletchers (and Elon) Bring Down the House

  Chapter Twenty-four: In Which It Is Time to Leave the Island

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  For Eri, with love and gratitude for all those glorious summers. You are the best big sister in the whole wide world.

  “We’re going to miss the boat!” Frog wailed from the back of the van. He was buckled in the third row with Sir Puggleton the dog and two cat carriers housing Zeus, the eighteen-pound Maine coon, and Lili, the six-month-old marmalade kitten. All were yowling the low, discontented yowls of animals resigned to their plight. Frog’s three older brothers were crammed in the middle seats, also occasionally yowling. No one was happy.

  “We have time. We’ll make it,” Dad said. But Eli noticed him twist his head to peer at the traffic clogging the highway.

  “Of course we’ll make it!” Papa boomed. He was leaning forward as he drove, as though he could plow through the traffic by sheer force of will. “We’ve never missed a ferry yet.”

  “Yes we have!”

  Jax and Eli spoke at the same time.

  Eli shot a glance at his older brother and let him do the talking. Jax could be counted on to get the facts right.

  “Remember, Papa? When we were supposed to go for Memorial Day one year? And there was an accident on the highway? And we sat—”

  “We sat for FOUR HOURS,” Sam interjected, pausing his mad texting and looking up briefly from his phone. “And I missed a soccer tournament that weekend. That was the worst.”

  “Yeah, and Sir Puggleton barfed in the car,” Frog added.

  “And we had to stay in that gross motel,” Eli said, his nose wrinkling at the memory.

  “Ah yes, the Mildew Inn, I think we named it. Happy family memories, eh, guys?” Dad asked.

  “Gentlemen, please. We are only around ten minutes from the dock. We have plenty of time. Maybe not as much time as we would have had if someone hadn’t neglected to put his suitcase in the car, requiring us to turn around and pick it up”—here Papa paused and stared pointedly at Dad—“but we still have time. Fear not.”

  Sure enough, just as he finished speaking, Papa moved the car into the exit lane and down the ramp. Eli knew they were close. Jax and Sam both lowered their windows and the thick, warm, salty ocean air rushed through the chill of the air-conditioned car. Sir Puggleton started barking in earnest, knowing freedom was near.

  Eli closed his eyes and let the smell overwhelm him as the car made the last few turns to the ferry dock. It was the smell of a working harbor, of diesel engines and fish and seagulls and fried seafood from the restaurant next to the ferry. It was the smell of August, when the Fletcher family boarded the ferry and crossed the twenty miles of Atlantic Ocean that separated the mainland from Rock Island. They were almost there.

  Of course, first they had to actually get on the boat.

  —

  “Frog. FROG! Please, hold someone’s hand! Don’t run ahead!” Dad called. His arms were full of tote bags and coolers, and he moved at a slow shuffle that couldn’t match Frog’s excited leaps. Papa was still in the long, snaking line, waiting to drive the car into the belly of the boat.

  “Jax, get your brother please,” Dad ordered as Frog dodged around a startled-looking elderly couple and ran toward the gangplank.

  “Can’t Sam get him? I’ve got this stupid furry moron,” Jax said, hefting Lili’s cat carrier, where she was caterwauling as though being tortured.

  “Well, I’ve got THIS furry moron,” Sam retorted. His arm was straining from the weight of Zeus’s carrier. “But fine. Just take my ball, then,” he said, booting the soccer ball toward Jax and running to catch up with Frog. Jax bellowed and lurched forward to try to catch the ball before it rolled off the edge of the dock and into the water. Clearly disliking the jerky movements, Lili wailed louder.

  “This stupid kitten!” Jax said. He tucked the ball securely
under one arm and tried to steady the swinging cat carrier. “Why won’t she just zip it?”

  “You upset her,” Eli said. “Animals communicate very clearly without words, you know. She’s using the language she has to tell you she’s scared.” He was pulling Sir Puggleton, whose nails were scraping the gangplank in an effort to stay on solid land. Sir Puggleton loathed boats, and his preferred language seemed to be an utter refusal to move.

  Jax shrugged. “She’s upsetting me with these noises, but—” Suddenly Lili made a desperate gacking sound. “EW! What kind of ‘secret message’ does cat gack send?”

  “Let’s just get on the boat, boys. We can clean everything up then.” Dad looked rattled, and Eli noticed there was nobody anywhere near them on the dock.

  “Frogface! Get over here now!” Sam ordered, and reluctantly, Frog turned. Sam was pretty much the only Fletcher brother who could get Frog to listen.

  “But I can see minnows! And crabs way down low,” he said.

  “We can see them on the island. You don’t want to miss the ferry, do you? We can leave you behind if you want….”

  Frog shrieked and ran to grab Sam’s hand. More or less pulled together, the Fletchers stood in line to get on the boat.

  Eli glanced around. They were taking up the whole gangplank. First was Sam, who at thirteen was practically as tall as a grown-up. He was shaggy, with his summer-vacation-means-no-haircuts rule, and he looked even bigger standing next to Frog, who, even though he was six and a half, was still smaller than the other soon-to-be first-graders at his school. In the summer, Sam’s skin tanned enough that he didn’t look as pale next to Frog, but they still didn’t look like brothers. Of course, thought Eli, neither did he and Jax. Jax had shaved off his Afro at the end of the school year, deciding it was too hot for summer. But Eli’s pale skin freckled and burned, while Jax started out dark and just got darker. And Jax didn’t have glasses sliding down his sweaty nose far more than he would like. At least Eli was still taller than Jax, although Jax liked to point out that he would always be five months older.

  They walked up the gangplank and the narrow metal stairs of the boat, their voices echoing and their feet clanging. Finally, finally, the Fletchers emerged way up high on the top deck, the sunlight making them squint after the darkness of the stairwell. Squeezing and shoving, they shuffled onto a group of deck chairs and dropped their bundles with a sigh.

  The boat picked up speed once it exited the harbor. As always, Frog covered his ears and buried his face in Papa’s lap when the loud horn sounded. Then they were finally on their way. Slowly, the mainland got smaller and smaller behind them, disappearing into the fog that was somehow dim and bright at the same time. Salty dampness coated their skin.

  Papa sighed a deep, happy sigh. “Nothing in this world is as good as the moment when the Rock Island ferry leaves the dock. For over forty years I’ve been taking this ferry, and Mimi and Boppa probably took it a dozen times before that. Nothing but sand, rocks, sea, and sky at the other end.”

  “And ice cream,” Frog added. “And all the crabs and lobsters! Do you think Gar Baby will be there?” Gar Baby was his cherished hermit crab from last summer.

  “Crabs don’t tend to live long,” Eli started to say. “Seagulls and other predators—”

  “Yes indeed! Well, let’s not dwell on the carnivorous habits of seagulls right now, okay, E-man?” Papa interrupted. He cast a worried look at Frog, who had been known to sob uncontrollably when faced with nature’s harder lessons. “How about that ice cream! What flavor will you get?”

  “Coffee fudge, like always,” Eli said decisively.

  The rest of the boys answered quickly.

  “Chocolate.”

  “Cookie dough.”

  “Soft-serve swirl.”

  “I kind of wish they’d get some new flavors,” Sam said. “They’ve had the same stuff forever.” He sighed. “And there’s literally no phone service anywhere.”

  Papa gave him a look, and Sam quickly continued. “But still. I can’t wait to get there! I wonder how the surf’s been. I bet I’ll catch some sick rides this year.”

  “And who wants new flavors anyway?” Jax asked, sounding defensive of the island. “It’s perfect the way it is. The best ice cream, the best tide pools, the best lighthouse…Why would you want it to change?”

  “Hey, I call the lighthouse first!” Sam yelled, forgetting his phone for a minute. “You guys can go downstairs, but I get first climb.”

  “No way! We can all go up. I want to see if there are any seals off the rocks and that’s the only place to see them,” Eli said.

  “Yeah, and I want to have a water battle, upstairs versus downstairs,” Jax said. “Downstairs gets the hose!”

  The lighthouse, with its massive striped exterior, was maybe the very best part of Rock Island. It sat right next door to the Fletchers’ house, and its empty interior, complete with winding staircase, was open to the public. And on their end of the island, the public meant the Fletchers. The only other houses nearby were a giant sea captain’s mansion that had sat empty for years, owned by some people who lived far away, and tiny cottages filled with old couples who had no interest in a lighthouse. The Fletcher house was tiny too—a fishing shack that had been built up over the years to its current size of two bedrooms and a sleeping loft. But who cared how tiny it was when they could escape to the lighthouse next door?

  “We’ll go up all together, same as always,” Jax said. Sam nodded, overruled.

  Eli sighed with satisfaction. He loved Rock Island, the sameness of each summer, the activities that had turned into traditions and now felt like important rituals: the first run up the lighthouse stairs, the first ice cream cone, the first dunk in the waves. “Same as always,” he said, echoing Jax.

  “I want everything to stay exactly the same forever and ever,” Frog said. He was cuddled against Papa, half-asleep from the rocking of the boat.

  “Things have to change a little,” Dad said, speaking up from where he lay across a bench, a sweatshirt making a pillow under his head. “Look at you guys. Another year older, and bigger, and looking for new adventures.”

  Jax shook his head. “No! Rock Island doesn’t change. Their sign even says it: ‘Welcome to Rock Island, Where Time Stands Still.’ It’s always the same. And that’s why I love it.”

  The van had barely stopped moving down the white crushed-shell driveway when Jax and Sam flung open their doors and tumbled out.

  “AHHHHH! WE’RE HERE! WE’RE HERE! IT LOOKS EXACTLY THE SAME!” Jax bellowed, running full tilt toward the gray-shingled cottage. Sir Puggleton followed, nose close to the ground as he inhaled all the exciting new smells. Jax inhaled too. It smelled like ocean, and hot sun on grass, and the wild beach roses that grew like crazy all along the fence by the driveway.

  “Duh! What were you expecting, that it would somehow turn into a brick apartment building? It’s been here for practically a hundred years, moron,” Sam said. But he grinned as he grabbed Jax in a headlock. Jax yelped and tackled Sam’s knees, sending them both laughing onto the lawn.

  The Nugget, as it was named, was an exceedingly knobby house that looked as though each room had been added on without much thought. It looked this way because that was exactly how it had been built, with the original one-room fisherman’s shack expanded by different owners until it had reached its current shape. Papa’s parents, Mimi and Boppa, had bought it back when Papa and Aunt Lucy were babies. Not terribly much had changed since. Inside was a big kitchen, a small living room, two small bedrooms (one of which was Papa’s office), and a sleeping loft with four beds and a ladder to get up and down. There was a bathroom too, of course, off the kitchen. An outdoor shower in a shady wooden stall and a back deck, where rabbits and even deer sometimes wandered, completed the property. It was tiny. And it was often very hot. It was impossible to keep mosquitoes out, as the screens were all crooked. It was, as far as Jax was concerned, a perfect house.

  “Nobody g
oes running off until we unload the car,” Papa ordered, his arms full of suitcases and bags of books.

  “And somebody better let those cats out before they lose their minds,” Dad added. “Make sure Lili has her collar on. We don’t want to lose her!” Lili the kitten had never been to Rock Island before, unlike Zeus, who considered it his personal kingdom. The Fletchers had learned to step carefully on the back deck in the morning, as Zeus often left the family a prized mouse head or bit of toad.

  Reluctantly the boys returned to the van. Each boy’s choice made clear his priorities. Sam grabbed the giant industrial-sized boxes of cereal, peanut butter, and potato chips, stacking them so high he could barely see his way up the path. Eli carefully took out the telescope and microscope, both wrapped in towels, and refused to talk to anyone until he had placed them safely inside on the faded couch. Frog took his nets and collecting buckets and made it as far as the edge of the driveway before he dropped them and started trying to catch grasshoppers. Jax grabbed the mesh bag full of soccer balls, footballs, baseball gloves, and other equipment, then tucked the pop-up soccer nets under his other arm and dragged them toward the wide backyard. Rounding the corner of the house, he looked up and screamed, loud and shrill.

  “What’s wrong?” Papa yelled, dropping the bags and sprinting toward the backyard, Frog close on his heels. Dad and the rest of Jax’s brothers burst through the back door at the same time. Jax barely noticed. The sports equipment lay forgotten at his feet, and all he could do was stare.

  In front of him, as expected, was the large backyard, bordered by bushes and tall grass with a winding, barely visible path through it. Like the rest of the island, everything was low and scrubby, trees battered and bent by ocean winds, the sandy soil refusing to let anything but the most determined grass and wildflowers grow. The tall grass—and the path, which had been created by years of Fletchers running back and forth—separated the Nugget from the Rock Island lighthouse. But now this! The path was abruptly cut off by a giant chain-link fence. The fence surrounded the lighthouse, looming large and hideous over the backyard and blocking the Fletchers from the place they all considered part of their home. What was going on? For as long as the Fletchers could remember the lighthouse had been ignored, and they had been free to climb the winding staircase and bring binoculars to the top and look for seals. And now this…this…this menace. Jax felt a sick swooping feeling in his stomach. Who would have done this?