The Last Great Adventure of the PB & J Society

by Janet Sumner Johnson

  “But …”

  Mom waved me off. I glared at her back. I wanted to scream. My life was falling apart around me and there was nothing I could do.

  I stomped down the stairs as loud as I could and pulled open the door. I wasn’t even going to say goodbye. My mom didn’t deserve it.

  Halfway down the porch steps, she came flying out the front door. “You forgot your lunch, Annie.” She held up an overstuffed brown paper bag. I could tell she’d remembered to pack an extra sandwich for Jason.

  I debated if a hunger strike would get me out of visiting Mrs. Meany, but Society members keep their promises to each other. Grudgingly, I pulled off my backpack and stuck the lunch in.

  Mom kissed me on the forehead like she did every day. “I called Jason’s mom, so you’re all set. The two of you will come straight here after school to pick up the cookies before going to Mrs. Schuster’s. Now have a good day, Annie. I love you.”

  I almost cracked, almost smiled back, but a principle was at stake here. Instead I marched away.

  When the bus arrived, Jason and I plopped into our seat.

  “I hate visiting old people,” Jason said. “I don’t even like visiting my grandma, and she sends me money every year.”

  “I know,” I moaned. “This totally stinks.”

  Jason and I were gloomy the whole morning. Every time we caught each other’s eye, we’d pretend to gag.

  I was so bummed that for once I didn’t get sent to Mrs. Starry’s “thinking corner.” At lunch, we even listened to Lila’s ranting without comment — until she invited us over to play her new video game. No way would I fall for that again. My hair was finally starting to look normal.

  Maybe some good would come from this. I smiled sweetly. “Gosh. I wish we could go, Lila, but Jason and I have an appointment. Or I know! You could come with us. I bet Mrs. Meany wouldn’t mind.” My mom was always scolding me for not being nicer to Lila. Now I could honestly tell her I’d tried.

  “Mrs. Meany’s? Is that a punishment or something? No way.”

  The look on Lila’s face would make every miserable second of the visit worth it. But I forced myself to look disappointed she wouldn’t come.

  “Gee, too bad. Maybe some other time.” I imagined clinking my PB&J with Jason’s in a toast of good fortune, since doing it for real would have looked suspicious.

  The good feelings lasted right up until we were headed around the cul-de-sac. We stayed on the sidewalk because it took longer to get there that way.

  “Remember, don’t step on her grass,” I said. “We don’t want to be lectured the whole time.”

  “As if I’ll make that mistake again. Do you think she still has my football?”

  Even though it happened over a year ago, I cringed at the memory. We were practicing our spirals to show up Evan at recess the next day. But that got boring, so we upped the stakes. Super Bowl PB&JXVII.

  We were down by six with a second to go. Jason Parker hiked the ball to the new quarterback phenom, Annie “The Bomb” Jenkins. I dodged a sack. Jerked free from another, then looked downfield. Parker was wide open. Crowds screaming, my long bomb sailed through the air, a perfect spiral. Parker reached, it wasn’t enough. He dove for the catch and … Touchdown!

  It’d be a great memory if Jason hadn’t landed in a sliding mass on Mrs. Meany’s lawn. But for the record, spiking the ball was his idea.

  Not only did we suffer a lecture on the spot, Mrs. Meany confiscated Jason’s football and called both our moms that night.

  Ugh.

  But that was a whole year ago. For Jason’s sake, I played it cool. “I’m sure she’s yelled at so many kids she can’t keep them straight. I wouldn’t worry about it. I mean, she wouldn’t have invited us over just to yell at us some more. Would she?”

  “Um …”

  “Of course she wouldn’t.” I marched up the driveway past the perfectly trimmed grass. I resisted the urge to touch the pansies in the flowerbed along the porch. And though the garden gnome practically called my name, I didn’t splash any water from the basin it held. I gripped the plate with two hands and nodded at the old-fashioned knocker on the door.

  “You’ll have to do it.”

  Jason glared at me as he passed. He tapped it three times and then scooted behind me. The coward.

  “Why do you think she put a bench around that tree?” Balancing the cookies with one hand, I pointed to the white, metal bench that circled a slender tree in her yard. “I mean, if she’s so crabby about people walking on her grass, what’s the point?”

  “I just think it looks nice.” Mrs. Schuster stood in the doorway.

  I whirled around and the plate of cookies flipped out of my hand. I looked from Mrs. Meany to the crumbled cookies. “I didn’t mean that, honest, I was just …” A quick glance at Jason told me he’d be no help. He looked like a wax dummy.

  Not knowing what else to do, I scooped up the baggie and swished the crumbs back onto the plate. I held it out. Maybe I’d get lucky and she’d decide not to go through with this. “My mom made these.”

  Mrs. Schuster shook her head then stepped aside. “Please, come in. And thank you for coming to share some … er … crumbs with a crabby old lady.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Mean—” My face burned. I stared at her in alarm. “I mean, Mrs. Schuster.”

  Jason smacked his forehead with his palm.

  But to my surprise, Mrs. Schuster laughed. “You’d better come in before that mouth of yours gets you into real trouble. Lucky for you, I haven’t drunk my dose of sour prune juice today.”

  I hesitated. Was she for real? From anyone else, I’d know they were joking, but sour prune juice would explain a lot.

  Jason nudged me. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  Just inside was a for-show-only sitting room with perfectly straight vacuum lines. Mrs. Schuster ushered us down a picture-clad hallway and into the kitchen. It was as perfect as her yard and her sitting room. Not a dish out of place. She motioned toward a square table surrounded by chairs just off the kitchen. “Go ahead and sit. I’ll find some bowls for these crumbs … and maybe some spoons.” She winked like it was some big joke. “And I’ll get you both a tall glass of that prune juice I mentioned.”

  My mouth dropped open. She was serious!

  Mrs. Schuster wheezed a laugh. “I’m kidding. My drink of choice is milk. Sound okay?”

  “D-do you need help?” Jason asked.

  Mrs. Schuster waved him off. “When I’m in a wheelchair, I still won’t let my guests help. Now get on with you.”

  After what seemed like forever, the three of us sat facing each other with bowls of cookie clumps and tall glasses of milk. At first I was impressed she gave us glass glasses, until I realized she didn’t own anything else.

  We ate in silence for a good five minutes. Seriously, I could hear crickets. Still, the crumbs melted in my mouth. My mom’s cookies are good no matter how or where you serve them.

  Finally, Mrs. Shuster spoke. “Your mother’s cookies are legend in these parts. Be sure to thank her for me. Actually, you should really thank her for yourselves. My cookies are legend in these parts, too. But not in a positive light.”

  Jason and I shared a look.

  I stuffed a heaping spoonful of crumbs in my mouth so I wouldn’t have to say anything.

  She cleared her throat. “So. You’re probably wondering why I invited you two over, given our … rocky history. Now let’s be honest. I know your parents made you come. Otherwise there’s no way in … well, I doubt you two would spend a Friday afternoon with an old crab like me.”

  I nearly spewed crumbs across the table. Jason spit a mouthful of milk back in his glass and started trying to cough up a lung.

  Though I was shocked to my toes, I kind of started to like her. I mean the lady had spunk. “I don’t thin
k you’re a crab, Mrs. Schuster,” I lied.

  “I know all about my reputation in the neighborhood, young lady. And I earned every bit of it. I was awfully crabby, but I’ve decided to change. That’s why I invited you over. But first, a peace offering.” She walked around the table to a cedar chest in the corner and pulled out a football. “Here you are, young man.” Mrs. Schuster handed it to Jason. “I suppose it’s high time I returned your property.”

  Jason beamed. “Thanks!”

  Mrs. Schuster sat. “I was sulking, you know.”

  I’d never heard an adult admit to sulking before. Another point in her favor.

  “A couple years back, my son and I had a fight … well, we can call it a feisty disagreement. That sounds so much better. One little heart attack, and he insisted I move to a retirement home. At sixty, imagine! He drew up papers and everything assuming I’d just go along, the idiot.”

  Jason kicked me under the table and we shared a grin. She’d said idiot!

  “And then, to make sure I stayed good and angry, he put me on the mailing lists of every retirement home in a fifty-mile radius. But look at me … blabbering on.” Mrs. Schuster sniffed. “The point is I want to change my crabby ways. So come on. Let me show you something.”

  We followed her down a second hallway leading toward the bedrooms. She grabbed a hooked metal stick leaning against the wall and pulled a rope down from the ceiling. “You look like a strapping lad. Pull this.” She handed the rope to Jason, who had to drop his whole weight on it before anything would budge.

  To my delight, a section of the ceiling dropped down to form stairs. “A hidden room!” I’d only ever seen these in movies. The old lady was gaining my esteem fast.

  Mrs. Schuster chuckled. “Not really a secret room. That rope would give it away pretty quickly, but it is a fun contraption, isn’t it? Now up we go.”

  The attic was filled with boxes and all sorts of old-looking things: an old-fashioned mannequin wore a large hat loaded with feathers; an empty birdcage hung from a hook in one of the beams; an ugly green leather chair sat against one wall. But most surprising was how messy it was. Dust caked the floor and everything else, though a path had been cleared toward a chest in the corner.

  I caught my breath. A pirate’s chest! I could tell by the skull-shaped keyhole. Being the only dust-less item in the room, I guessed this was what Mrs. Schuster had brought us to see. Jason and I crossed the room in less than a second, running our fingers along the bone engravings on the black trim.

  “I finally decided to tackle the skeletons here in the attic when I came across it.”

  “Skeletons?” Jason jumped back from the chest.

  Mrs. Schuster wheezed a laugh. “It’s an expression, dear boy. It means facing your past. When my Ned died, my son helped me move his things up here. I couldn’t bear to look at any of it. It just made me too sad. I haven’t touched it since, but that was over twenty years ago. I figured it was high time I faced my past.”

  Wow. I didn’t know she’d been a widow for so long. I started to feel a little bad for calling her Mrs. Meany all those years.

  Mrs. Schuster pulled an oversized skeleton key from her pocket and handed it to Jason. “Go on. Open it.”

  “Was this your husband’s?” I asked.

  “Of course it isn’t. I haven’t gotten up the guts to look through his stuff yet. This belonged to my great-great-grandmother, Cap’n Black Marge. She was a pirate.”

  Jason stuck the key in the keyhole, and I shivered when it clicked into place. What if this was a real, live treasure chest? Mrs. Schuster had said it once belonged to a pirate. What if we opened it to find gold and jewels just like in the movies? I’d been praying for a miracle since I saw that For Sale sign, and maybe this was it! I mean, surely Mrs. Schuster would share since she’d invited us to see it.

  The hinges screeched as he pushed open the lid, and my excitement fizzled.

  Clothes. Nothing but clothes.

  “Cool!” Jason said. “Pirate clothes.”

  I guess he hadn’t been expecting gold.

  “Go on, see what there is. I thought you might enjoy playing dress-up with these. In fact, the whole trunk is for you two. I hope you don’t mind sharing.” She settled herself in the old green chair.

  I wanted to tell her that dress-up was for babies, but Jason beat me to the punch.

  “We get to keep this? Trunk and all?” Jason grinned so wide I thought his face would burst.

  Or not. Apparently he hadn’t gotten there yet. That place where he realizes that we can’t possibly share the chest because he’ll be moving to California if we don’t do something about it — and soon.

  Both Mrs. Schuster and Jason looked so excited, I put on a front, but my heart was with the list of plans I’d been making back home.

  Jason pulled out a silky purple cloth and shook it open. The neck opened in a wide V-shape, and the sleeves hung long with scads of extra material at the ends.

  “It’s an old-fashioned tunic.” Mrs. Schuster explained. “The men used to wear those if you can believe it.”

  I pulled at some crimson velvet that turned out to be a vest with gold, skull-shaped buttons. I held it up to me, but it was several sizes too big.

  Jason pulled out a brown leather eye patch with a pearl sewn in the center. He tried it on.

  “Aaaargh. Walk the plank, me hearties,” Jason growled. He flipped the eye patch back up. “I think I just decided what I want to be for Halloween this year.”

  I could only stare at Jason. He could be gone by then. This chest was turning into one big heap of gloom.

  I concentrated on the items in the chest: a royal blue jacket with gold trimming; thigh-high boots with large silver buckles; an off-white, puffed-sleeve tunic made of damask (or so Mrs. Schuster claimed); a boatload of bracelets and chain necklaces; a couple pairs of funny-looking trousers with square fronts that buttoned up on either side; silk scarves; and a tri-cornered hat with a fluffy green feather.

  Some of the stuff could make for awesome burial ceremonies. Instead of time-outs we could institute a speaking-hat. Or we could add a fancy inspection jacket to show how important it was. I made a mental note to suggest this at our next PB&J Society meeting.

  At the very bottom of the chest lay a rolled-up scroll of brown, crusting paper. I held it up for the others to see. “This must be the treasure map.”

  I’d been joking, but Mrs. Schuster’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “That was in there? Open it. Hurry.”

  I slipped off the rusty iron ring, then spread the paper smooth on the floor. Jason and Mrs. Schuster crowded around.

  “It is a map! And look, there’s an X, just like in the movies.”

  Mrs. Schuster rubbed her neck, which was splotchy with excitement. “I grew up on stories of Black Marge’s hidden treasure, but I never thought it could be true.”

  “Treasure? Real treasure?” Now she was speaking my language.

  “Hey! This looks like our neighborhood,” Jason said. He pointed to the thick blue wavy lines that ran along the top. “That would be the canal, and here’s the ditch.” He moved his finger along the thin blue off-shoot that trailed down the far side of the page. Next he pinched his fingers by the map legend at the bottom, then measured a distance from the canal. “There.” He tapped a spot by the ditch. “According to the legend, your house is here.”

  Right next to the X.

  I had long since stopped believing in fairy tales, but pirates had really existed. What if this was real? I mean, isn’t this how it always worked in stories? Just when it all seemed hopeless, a fairy appeared, a treasure was discovered, or a prince came to save the day. That was just what I needed.

  I looked at Jason and could tell he was thinking the same thing. A lost treasure could save his house.

  “Now I know what you’re probably thin
king,” Mrs. Schuster said, “and you can just get that thought right out of your heads.”

  My heart sank. Of course she was going to claim this map as hers. She may want to change, but my mom’s always telling me that change doesn’t happen overnight. The Mrs. Meany I knew would never give up a real treasure map.

  “This map absolutely belongs to you. I gave you that chest and everything in it, including the map.”

  My heart nearly leapt out of my chest.

  “But I have a proposal. I’ll tell you everything I know about that treasure and Black Marge if you’ll come visit me … keep me updated on your search.” She leaned forward. “You are going to search for Cap’n Black Marge’s treasure, aren’t you?”

  Jason didn’t say anything, but I was already up and shaking her hand on the deal. “Of course we are!”

  5

  It wasn’t a minute after shaking hands with Mrs. Schuster that an alarm went off somewhere downstairs. Mrs. Schuster rolled her eyes.

  “Stupid buzzard,” she said. “I’m afraid we’ll have to call it a day. I’ll ask one of your fathers to come get this old trunk out of my house.”

  I was actually disappointed to leave before hearing more about Black Marge.

  “Don’t forget, we agreed!” Mrs. Schuster called from the doorway.

  “You, too!” I grinned. A lost treasure! How could this not be fate? We would find it, and Jason would get to stay. No selling of kidneys necessary.

  “It’s pizza night. Think your mom’ll let you eat over? Then we can study this map for clues.” I gripped the scroll, wishing I could rip it open right there. But my fine-tuned spy skills would never let me do something so foolish. We couldn’t risk letting enemy eyes get a peek at this.

  “I’ll call from your house, but she’ll say yes.” Jason flipped his football in the air and caught it. “Maybe we can even look for some jobs for my dad.”

  “Good idea. A good spy always has a backup plan.”

  Jason stopped. “Annie. Looking for jobs is Plan A, not the backup. Remember? Besides, you don’t really believe there’s a treasure, do you?”