Finding Cabin Six

by Missy Robertson

  Mom pulled out a stool and sat down. “Well, when you put it like that, no. But Louisiana is not going to kill you. We’ll work it out, you’ll see.”

  I hopped up on the stool next to her, swallowed hard, and gripped the cushion to hold on tight.

  You can handle this, Allie. Whatever it is.

  I took a deep breath and blew it out.

  “Okay, give me the news. I’m ready.”

  Mom’s blue eyes popped open wider than usual, and she slapped the counter.

  “You’re getting a new cousin!”

  Another cousin? Well, that didn’t seem like huge news at all. My dad has three brothers who are married to women who tend to have babies from time to time.

  Mold seemed to be a bigger deal. But I pretended to go along with the excitement anyway.

  “Who’s pregnant this time? Aunt Janie?”

  Mom shook her head.

  “Aunt Kassie?”

  “No.”

  “Well, Aunt Lorraine’s a little older, but that would make for an interesting TV episode.”

  “Allie!”

  “I’m just saying . . .”

  My whole family stars in a reality TV show called Carried Away with the Carroways. For some reason, millions of people are interested in how all my uncles, aunts, grandparents, and cousins live in the Louisiana Bayou. I have a hard time understanding the fascination, because it’s just something I’ve always known. And to be honest, I think we can be a little boring at times. Most days are spent filming what’s going on around here—just us, living out our regular lives. It’s kinda nuts. But at least not the kind of nuts that will cause me to stop breathing.

  Mom leaned in close to me, and pushed my long, dark-blonde hair back behind one ear.

  “Allie, nobody’s pregnant. Kassie and Wayne are adopting Hunter!”

  Now, if we had been filming a Carroway TV episode at that very moment—this is where the editors would have added the “dun, dun, dun,” music into the scene.

  Hunter . . . is going to become a Carroway?

  Hunter?

  Mom nudged my shoulder.

  “Allie, isn’t that exciting?”

  I held onto that cushion with all my might to keep from bolting.

  “Um . . . yes, ma’am.” I tried not to make eye contact, but Mom wasn’t having it.

  “Well, you don’t look too excited.” She reached over and pulled down on my cheek with her thumb. “And your eyes are all glazed over. What did you eat for lunch?”

  I shrugged.

  “Mac and cheese.” It’s a good thing I’m not allergic to dairy or wheat, or I’d starve to death.

  “Then why do you look so pale?” Mom put her hand on my forehead and scrunched her eyebrows together. “How’s your breathing?”

  I breathed in, held it, and then blew out. I wondered for a moment if this mold issue could get me out of filming TV episodes in the swamp.

  “I’m good,” I said, but I’m sure my fidgeting was giving me away. “Just trying to process the news.”

  Mom pulled her hand back and tilted her head to the side. One eyebrow shot up a little.

  “Hey, I know you don’t love change. And I know that Hunter can be a little rowdy at times.”

  “That’s not a problem. Kendall’s way rowdier than Hunter.”

  Kendall is my thirteen-year-old cousin who always sings at the top of her lungs. She’s the daughter of Kassie and Wayne, so after the adoption, that would make her Hunter’s sister. And that would make for a loud household.

  Mom continued. “And I know he can be messy.”

  “Nope, Lola’s got him beat. Have you ever seen her room? You could hide Ruby’s entire preschool Sunday school class in her clothes piles.”

  Lola and Ruby are also my cousins, ages eleven and ten. They’re the daughters of my Uncle Josiah and Aunt Janie. You’d never know they’re sisters. They don’t look a thing alike and their personalities are the exact opposite.

  “Okay then.” Mom laughed a little. “I will admit, Hunter goes a little overboard in his collecting of reptiles for pets.”

  I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes.

  “Mom, reptiles swarm this place. I’m glad he catches some to keep them from crawling all over me.”

  Mom slid off her stool, walked around the kitchen island, and opened the refrigerator door. She poured a glass of iced tea and took a sip.

  “Then I don’t understand, Allie. What’s the problem?”

  The truth is—I love Hunter. He’s funny and smart, and I love his big laugh. Sometimes he uses complicated words that I have to look up. But my vocabulary grades have been improving because of it. I’d been praying for him to find a loving family ever since Kassie and Wayne took him in as a foster child a couple of months earlier.

  But . . . there was a problem. A big one.

  “Allie, I asked you a question.”

  Mom’s eyes narrowed. She put one hand on her hip, and with the other she shook her cup, rattling the ice cubes.

  I struggled to pull myself out of the twilight zone.

  “I’m sorry. I’m really happy for everyone.”

  “Then why do you look like you just whiffed fish guts?”

  “I do not look like that. Really, everything’s fine.”

  I tried to slip off the stool and run away, but Mom grabbed me by the shoulder.

  “Allie Kate, you will stay put until we finish this conversation.” When she whips out “Allie Kate,” she means business.

  I scooted back up to the middle of the stool and put on my serious face.

  “Yes, ma’am. What was the question again?”

  “What’s the problem with Hunter becoming a Carroway?”

  It appeared there was no getting out of it, so I tried to explain.

  “Well,” I sighed. “You know how all us cousins hang out all the time?”

  “Of course. You can hardly avoid it. You work together, go to school together, live within shouting distance of each other . . .”

  “Yes.”

  I opened my left hand and spread the fingers out to count on them.

  “And there’s me, Kendall, Lola, and Ruby.”

  I ticked off all four fingers, leaving the thumb without a name.

  “Yes, but you have a bunch of other cousins too.”

  “But they’re either a lot younger or a lot older. I’m talking about the ones who are the same age. Me, Kendall, Lola, and Ruby.”

  I ticked my fingers again.

  “Okay, yeah.”

  “Well, now we’re getting one more in the same age group.”

  Mom stared down at my fingers.

  “That seems perfect. It’ll make a whole hand full of cousins.” She laughed.

  I made a fist. The fingers all folded in together, and the thumb, well—it stuck out. No matter what I did with it, it just didn’t seem to fit in. And there was only one reason for it.

  This was going to be a challenge.

  “Mom, the problem is . . . Hunter’s a boy.”