The Battle of Junk Mountain

by Lauren Abbey Greenberg

  His shoulder presses into mine. “Thanks.”

  An uneasy, nagging feeling tugs at my insides, like I’m forgetting something.

  Blood rushes to my ears. “Ohmigod, how long have I been here?”

  Linc shrugs. “I don’t know.”

  “I have to go.” I dash out of the barn and thread my way through a thick crowd to the Ferris wheel’s exit gate. No Poppy. I back up a few steps and crane my neck as I check each car. No one looks familiar. This is not good.

  I dig for my phone. The black screen makes me curse myself for forgetting to check the charge. How stupid am I? Breathe, Shayne. Where would they have gone? On another ride, back to the midway, to the tractor pull? I can’t think straight.

  I jog to the barn. The bunny pen has cleared out, and Linc and Cranky are gone. I head to the Ferris wheel again. With each step, my heart beats louder, almost overtaking the hum of the crowd. Where are you? I walk the entire length of the fair until a chain-link fence welcomes me to a dead end. I spin on my heels and dive back into the crowd. I can’t believe it. She left me!

  • CHAPTER 19 •

  KEEP CALM AND CALL YOUR MOM

  Every minute that passes inches me closer and closer to full-on freak-out mode. Midway barkers yell, trying to get me to play their ridiculous rip-off games. I lean the stuffed banana against a metal trash barrel with the hope some lucky kid will claim it. Now, I’m looking for a cop, security guard, or even a kind mom with a cell phone to help me. I pass the haunted house, turn a corner, and practically collide head-on into Poppy.

  “I texted you a million times,” she fumes.

  “My phone died.” I’m about to hold out my arms for a hug, but she lays into me instead.

  “Where’d you go? You said you’d wait for us. Gio took off, by the way. He didn’t want to stick around and do a whole search party thing.”

  I can’t believe she’s mad. “I was only gone a few minutes. You weren’t there when I came back.”

  Poppy exhales an irritated breath. “Then you should have gone to the ticket booth like Leanne said.”

  “I thought you left.”

  Her glare is ice. “Like I’d really leave you here. Is that what you think of me?”

  “No.” My voice cracks, and I can’t hold it any longer. A big sob shakes my body.

  She turns her back on me and marches toward the exit. Through my tears, I watch the heels of her sandals kick up little puffs of dust.

  When they drop me off, only Leanne says goodnight. The car pulls away, leaving me alone at the doorstep of Bea’s darkened house. Moths keep me company as they flutter in circles around the dim porch light. While I fumble for the key, a beam of light sweeps across Cranky’s yard.

  I hug myself against the night’s chill. “Linc, is that you?”

  The light pauses, then flips up into my eyes. “Can you help me?” he shouts. “I can’t wait till morning.”

  Linc trains the beam of the flashlight along the ground while I join him on his search. We zigzag across the lawn without talking, moving back and forth in strips like a human lawnmower. It’s not long before my mind wanders, Poppy’s words replaying over and over in my head. Is that what you think of me?

  Well, I don’t know what to think anymore. You didn’t seem to care that I was lost, that I almost passed out from panic. You couldn’t get over that I ruined your time with Gio.

  Linc drops to his knees and fans his hands over a swatch of grass. “I was standing here most of the time, wasn’t I?”

  I kneel beside him and run my fingers through the blades, even though my head is still elsewhere.

  I guess Gio’s more important than me. You never used to yell at me. Now, whatever I do seems to bother you. What changed?

  Who am I kidding? Everything has changed.

  “Argh, where is it?” says Linc, now crawling with the flashlight wedged in his mouth.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find it. We’ll look again in the morning if we have to. Wait, scratch that, another tour group is scheduled for nine-thirty. Also, when were you thinking about going to the Soldier & Saber?”

  “I don’t know,” he says between clenched teeth.

  “Tomorrow afternoon I am totally free. I can definitely come with you this time.”

  He spits the flashlight out. “If you haven’t noticed, I can’t deal with that right now. I have some problems of my own.”

  I do my best not to wake Bea as I climb the stairs. Out my bedroom window, the beam from Linc’s flashlight continues to bounce around the yard. Forget him. I’ve had enough bad attitudes for one night.

  Wide awake and fidgeting under my covers, I wonder if I should call my mom. I know it’s late, but maybe she’s still up. Even though things aren’t the best between us, I really want to talk.

  After two rings, she answers.

  “Did I wake you?” I ask.

  “I wish you had, but no,” Mom says. “I just got home.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Believe it or not, at my client’s house. She’s an older lady, and I sat in her kitchen for hours as she wrung her hands about an offer on her house. It’s ten thousand over the asking price—”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “It’s amazing. But the finality of it was freaking her out. She’s lived in that house for thirty years and was having a hard time letting go. Eventually I convinced her to accept the offer, hallelujah. Now I have to get the contract ready.”

  A kettle whistles in the background. No doubt she’s preparing her nightly cup of peppermint tea before going to bed. Suddenly, I really miss home.

  “That’s great news, Mom.”

  “Thanks,” she says, pausing to sip her drink. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, how’d the flea market go?”

  A sense of dread overtakes me as I realize we haven’t spoken since. I don’t want to lie to my mom, but I already blew Bea’s secret about going back to work. I can’t tell on her again. She’ll never forgive me.

  “Uh… it went well! I sold some of my bracelets, so that was awesome.” A series of my nervous yawns interrupt our conversation—a thankful break from revealing the truth. “Anyway, today I went out on Mr. Holbrook’s boat again, and he says I’m doing a great job. I wish you could see me, Mom. You would be really impressed.”

  “I wish I could see you, too. I remember when I used to be Grandpa’s deckhand.”

  This catches me by surprise. Mom never talks about when she was a kid. I assumed she was born an adult.

  She continues. “I think I was nine or ten. Grandpa said it was time for me to pull my weight around the house, so he made me get up at the crack of dawn and pull traps with him. I remember complaining a lot. Grandpa wasn’t used to so much talking on his boat, let alone griping. So he rewarded me by making me fill a bait bag with my bare hands.”

  My eyes widen. “I had to do that, too.”

  We laugh together. I want to know more. Did she ever get her finger pinched? Was she afraid of fog like me?

  I burrow deeper under the covers. “How long did you work on Grandpa’s boat?”

  She sighs. “Well, back then you didn’t see too many female deckhands. I wanted to learn more, I really did, but Bea thought it best that I stay home with her.”

  “Is that why you and Bea…” I stop, searching for the right words. “You never seem to get along.”

  Mom pauses so long that I ask if she’s still there.

  “We’re different people,” she finally says. “When I was younger, we were close, but as I grew older, we seemed to have less and less in common. Then it was like one day I woke up and I barely knew her anymore.”

  Her words bring me back to Poppy and our fight. I almost forgot she’s the reason I called Mom in the first place. The weight of the evening catches up with me, and the desire to sleep makes me get off the phone fast. Poppy and I aren’t like my mom and Bea. We may be different people, but she’s still my summer sister. I know that tomorrow I’ll wake up and eve
rything will be back to normal.

  I hope.

  • CHAPTER 20 •

  FREE HUGS—ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS ASK

  We didn’t catch much on My Way today. And there were no lighthouse photo ops, either. Instead, it was drizzly and windy, and the choppy water tossed us around like rag dolls. The couple on board wasn’t having any fun, and neither was I. It wasn’t because of the weather, though. When I saw Linc before I left this morning, he was in a foul mood because his search had turned up empty, and of course my fight with Poppy weighed on my shoulders like an overstuffed backpack.

  “Bea, I’m home.” I kick off my wet sneakers and peel the plastic rain poncho from my body. The house feels clammy and smells extra musty.

  I find her in the kitchen leaning against the sink with her eyes closed and face pinched.

  She blinks rapidly like she’s waking up from a deep sleep. The flimsy skin under her eyes sags more than usual. It takes a few seconds before her face relaxes into its normal shape.

  Nervous prickles grip the back of my neck. “Are you okay?”

  Bea picks up a dish towel and wipes the countertop like nothing happened. “Must have stood up too quickly. A case of the woozies is all. Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere.” I glance at my damp clothes. “I’ve been out fishing with Captain Holbrook, remember?”

  Her forehead wrinkles. “Of course, I do. What I meant was how was it? You look miserably cold.”

  “Now that you mention it,” I say as the words must have hot chocolate seize my brain. I open the door to the panty and grab the box, but it’s empty of packets. Drat. As I search for something else to eat, I notice things in there that shouldn’t be: an old rotary phone, a 1999 calendar, a bouquet of silk flowers marked with a red sticker—50 percent off.

  I close the door quickly.

  “There’s nothing to eat around here.” I clutch my stomach for dramatic effect.

  Bea squeezes the bridge of her nose before she rolls the towel into a ball and throws it on the counter. “You’re right, I can’t even keep the cupboard full.”

  I rush to her. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She dabs at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I wish everything were the same, but it’s not. This is probably the worst visit you’ve ever had.”

  Seeing her like this makes me want to start bawling. I don’t like when grown-ups cry. It’s scary. I wrap my arms around her and she hugs me back.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” she says into my matted hair.

  I wish away that familiar sting in my eyes and will myself to keep it together. If we both start blubbering, I don’t know what we’ll do.

  A buzzing sound startles us apart. Bea hurries to her purse. “It’s my timer. Supposed to remind me to take my pills, but it’s only reminding me how much I hate that thing.” She turns it off and returns with a welcome surprise found in her magic bag: two packets of hot chocolate.

  We take our drinks to the deck now that the sky has been scrubbed clean of all evidence of rain. A bright sun warms my outsides while the sweet liquid soothes me inside. Bea waves to a neighbor chugging by on his rugged skiff while seagulls circle overhead until they find an appealing perch—a chimney, rooftop, or the rocks below. Out here, I feel calmer. Maybe Linc’s got a point with that tent of his. Things are getting too weird inside this house.

  “Hey, Bea, remember last summer when you took Poppy and me to Little Moose Cove and the three of us created our own Olympic games?”

  The corners of her mouth turn up. “What was it—swimming, obstacle course…”

  I finish her sentence, “and best shell collection.”

  “Which I won.”

  “Naturally,” I say, grinning. “Mom was convinced we were lost at sea since we were gone all afternoon, but it was so fun.”

  She smiles and sips her drink. “A good memory, indeed.”

  “I was hoping we could go again this summer, but… I doubt anyone’s got the time.”

  Bea grips her mug with both hands and stares at the spot in the cove where Grandpa used to moor his boat. “Tell you what—we’ll make time.”

  “Really? That would be awesome.”

  “Let me know which days are good for you and Poppy, and we’ll figure it out.”

  A pang hits me deep inside. “Yeah, about that, we’re not speaking at the moment.”

  She looks surprised. “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fixable. I can’t imagine you two staying mad for long. You should call her.”

  Thinking about calling Poppy makes me queasy, but maybe Bea’s right. “Fine. I’ll do it when she gets back from work.”

  “She’s at Quayle’s? Perfect. Let’s go.”

  “Now?”

  “You said it yourself: we need food.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “I’m sure you and Poppy will patch things up. It’s never a good idea to let a little tiff fester into something bigger. You need to let it go.”

  Funny, coming from the lady who can’t let go of anything, but I’ll take her advice and leave it at that.

  • CHAPTER 21 •

  WHEN IN DOUBT… MUMBLE

  Bea grabs a shopping cart and steers it to the produce section. Into the basket I toss potatoes, celery, and onions, ingredients for her famous haddock chowder. Then she heads to the fish counter and instructs me to get bread from the bakery section. On my way, I pass Poppy’s sister at the register, her nose buried in a book.

  “Hi, Mona.”

  She looks up. “Hey,” she says with the enthusiasm of a depressed penguin.

  My eyes wander to a bulletin board tacked with local flyers.

  QUILT SHOW SEPTEMBER 1ST.

  BEAN HOLE SUPPER NEXT TUESDAY.

  YARD SALE: 12 PERCY LANE, EVERYTHING MUST GO!

  “Can I help you?” she asks.

  Caught off guard, I stammer, “Uh… got a pen?”

  She hands me a blue ballpoint, and I scribble Percy Lane on my palm.

  “Is Poppy here?”

  Her eyes lower back to her book. “She better be.”

  I return the pen. “It’s no big deal. My grandma and I are just buying stuff.”

  Ugh, sometimes I say the dumbest things.

  When I find Poppy, she’s squatting in front of the frozen food case, spritzing it with glass cleaner and wiping it down.

  She flinches a little when she sees me.

  “Didn’t mean to scare you.” I chew on my lip.

  “Let’s go somewhere private.” She grabs my hand and leads me through the swinging double doors to the back room, a cramped mess of food crates, hot ovens, and Mr. Quayle’s paper-strewn desk. (Kind of like Bea’s place but with yummy smells.) We lean against a floury work surface where a sheet of oatmeal raisin cookies cool. Poppy removes one with a spatula and hands it to me.

  It’s a peace offering, and I accept it. I gobble the cookie in two bites, savoring the mix of crunch and syrupy sweetness.

  She helps herself to one, and we chew in silence for a few minutes. I don’t know where to begin. I probably shouldn’t have left the Ferris wheel. But she shouldn’t have tossed me aside like a taco wrapper.

  “Sorry,” we blurt at the same time.

  She flashes a crooked grin and gives me a second cookie. “That was so messed up.”

  I’m not sure if she’s talking about the fair or how we both said sorry together.

  “That was the worst night,” I say. “You were so mad.”

  “So were you.”

  “I wasn’t mad at you, but I was really annoyed. Can you blame me? As soon as you saw him, you basically forgot I existed.”

  She twirls a wisp of hair around her finger. “I didn’t do it on purpose, I swear. You don’t understand. He was paying attention to me. It’s rare when someone pays attention to just me. It, like, never happens.”

  I pay attention to you, I want to scream. Why don’t I count?

  She looks at me all concerned. “Wait a minute, you don’t like Gio, right? I mean,
I asked you about a million times and you always said no. Is that what this is about?”

  I groan. “No, Poppy, that’s not it at all.”

  “Then, what is it about?”

  How do I start? It’s about the fact that everything feels different this summer. That you’re supposed to be my best friend, but now it sometimes feels awkward to be in the same room; that all our traditions now fall under the category of babyish; that you’d rather spend time with a guy who used to call you Poopy.

  I take a deep breath. “We need some me-and-you time, don’t you think? No distractions. No drama. I was talking to Bea, and she said she could take us to Little Moose Cove again. I totally want to go, but… do you?”

  Poppy slides the rest of the cookies onto a plastic tray while I brace myself for I’m too busy or No, thanks.

  “That sounds like a perfect idea,” she finally says. “You’re right. No distractions.”

  Having her agree is the best thing that has happened to me all day.

  “I’ll need to clear it with my dad, though, and probably Leanne, too.”

  “No problem. You tell me when and we’ll do it.”

  She breathes a sigh of relief. “You’re the best.” She sticks out her arm and shakes her friendship bracelet. Unraveled threads stick up everywhere. “See? A little frayed, but still together. Just like us.”

  • CHAPTER 22 •

  WHAT HAPPENS AT GRANDMA’S STAYS AT GRANDMA’S

  I turn the dial on the portable radio until I find a song that both Bea and I can agree on. The Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun” wins and becomes the soundtrack for our cooking session.

  Singing at the top of her lungs, Bea slices the white fillets into large chunks while I chop carrots, celery, and onions and add them to the soup pot. Before long, the contents of the haddock chowder are simmering and the kitchen smells brackish from the boiled fish. Another song plays on the radio; one I’ve never heard of but has a faster beat. Bea cranks up the music and grabs my hands for an impromptu dance-a-thon. She tries to teach me a dance called the Lindy Hop, which is a lot of spinning and turning and some pretty fancy footwork, especially for a grandma. I step on her toes a couple times, but she doesn’t seem to mind. I’m about to show her some moves from my generation when she sees the time on the kitchen wall clock. She bolts to the family room, informing me that Antiques Roadshow started five minutes ago and she doesn’t want to miss a second more.