The Last Great Adventure of the PB & J Society

by Janet Sumner Johnson

  We kept a running total for the season, and so far I was in the lead sixty to forty.

  I wasn’t even halfway done when Jason squinted in pain. “Owwww!” He pressed his fingers to his head. Amateur.

  “Minus ten.” I peeked into his cup. He was farther than me, but that didn’t matter. I was so going to win.

  When he finally opened his eyes, I smiled around my straw. He went at it again, but I could tell he wasn’t fully recovered. He wrapped his hands around his head again in less than a minute.

  “Minus twenty.” I said.

  He squinched open an eye to glare at me, but I was already slurping up the dregs.

  “I win.” I marked my score on our sheet. “You going to finish?”

  “Geez. How do you not get brain freeze?” He took a sip of purple slush.

  For half a second, I debated telling him my secret, but I decided to hold out. If he moved — which he totally wouldn’t — then I would tell him as a parting gift.

  While Jason finished his Slurpee, I ran to my room for the map and notebook. I checked the area for spies, but all was clear. Kate and Matt weren’t home. I poked my head out the front door, and I could hear my mom and dad chatting as they worked in the garden. Perfect.

  I slid back onto my bar stool. Notebook open, I clicked the pen. “So what do we add?”

  Jason grinned. “The pills. Seven! Can you believe she takes seven at a time?”

  “I know! I can barely scrape down one.”

  “Add a note to number four and five. Her husband died in ninety-five, and her son played high school football in ninety-five. So he’s got to be what?” Jason did the math in his head. “Thirty-six, maybe thirty-seven or thirty-eight.”

  “Geez. As old as our parents. We can also add that Mrs. Schuster likes her yolks runny. Disgusting!”

  Jason frowned. “I doubt it matters how she likes her eggs, Annie.”

  I looked down my nose at him. As if he’s the only one who could add things to our list. “We don’t know what matters yet. That’s why we write down everything. It says so in the Junior Spy Guidebook.” I wrote it down in caps.

  “Whatever.”

  We stared at the list, hoping something would jump out at us.

  “The pills probably have to do with the heart attack.” Jason tapped number six. “You don’t think she’s dying, do you?”

  “Maybe. She is kind of old. But that still doesn’t explain why she chose us. Hey! Maybe she is dying and since she’s mad at her son, she wants to find a new heir for her fortune. She’s such a spunky old lady, I bet she wants a spunky heir. That’d be me.”

  Jason blinked. “Right. Mystery solved. Not.”

  “It could be true! All the clues point to it.”

  “Except the runny yolks.”

  I stuck out my Slurpee-red tongue. Clearly it was time to change the subject. Flipping the notebook shut, I spread out the map. “So. I had an idea.”

  “Another one?”

  I punched his shoulder. “Mrs. Schuster was right. We haven’t checked this thing for hidden clues.”

  “It’s a fake. There are no hidden clues.”

  I ignored him.

  “Do you remember reading about invisible ink? All we have to do is light a candle and hold the map above it. The secret message will just appear. It’s brilliant! Just the kind of thing a pirate captain would do.”

  “You seriously want to mess with fire? After last time?” Jason eyed the scorch mark on the counter where the marshmallow fireball had landed.

  “As I recall, you enjoyed those s’mores as much as me. Besides, it’s not like anything burned down.”

  “Lucky for you.”

  “Anyway, now we’re experienced. Practically professionals. And if we hurry, my parents will never know the difference.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we should get Mrs. Schuster to help us.”

  “But we’re going to the empty lot today. We need that message now.”

  “If there is one,” Mr. Gloom-and-Doom said.

  I climbed on the counter and pulled down the emergency candle and matches. It had already been used several times, so no one would know we’d lit it.

  “Can we at least do it by the sink?” Jason asked.

  I rolled my eyes, but I moved the stuff. I guess it was a pretty good idea.

  Striking the match against the box, I breathed in the smell of birthdays. Best smell ever. I lit the candle and carefully held the map well above the flame.

  A minute passed and nothing happened.

  Jason felt the paper. “You’re holding it too high. The paper’s not even warm.”

  I lowered it an inch, and Jason snorted. “It has to be near the flames, or it won’t work. Plus you have to move it around since a hidden message could be anywhere.”

  Sweating from the pressure, I held the map closer to the flame. Ever so carefully, I moved it in small circles around every part of the map.

  Another two minutes, and still, nothing.

  Jason shrugged. “I —”

  “Don’t you dare say ‘I told you so.’” I poked a finger at him.

  He rolled his eyes. “I’ll save it for when you finally realize there’s no treasure.”

  “Good, ’cause that won’t happen.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

  Jason gasped. “Annie! The map!”

  I jerked the thing upward, but it was too late. A hole of fire burst through the center and quickly spread toward the edges. I threw it into the sink, the heat already biting at my hand.

  “What do we do?!”

  Jason leapt to the faucet and turned it on. Water doused the flames, but the map was ruined. The X was burned out, and the rest was a gushy mess.

  Worse, the kitchen now smelled like a full-on campfire. No way my parents would miss this.

  “It was nice knowing you.”

  Now we’d never find the treasure. And I’d be grounded for a month. At least, that’s what my parents had threatened after last time.

  Jason glanced at the front door. “Quick! Let’s clean it up and go to the empty lot now. Maybe the smell will clear out before they come in. Or even better, open a window, and maybe they’ll think one of the neighbors lit a fire. Hurry!”

  I opened the one above the sink, then picked up the remains of the map. It shredded in my hands.

  “No use keeping it now.” Jason held out an empty grocery bag.

  My stomach sunk to my knees. I wanted to find a way to fix this, but Jason was right. This wasn’t fixable. I dumped it in.

  Concentrating on the mess, I grabbed a wad of paper towels and wiped out the sink. For good measure, I sprayed it with Windex and wiped it again. Maybe that would mask the burn smell.

  Jason dried off the candle and put it back in the cupboard with the matches. I ran to get our bag of supplies while he tied up the evidence. We were halfway down the stairs when I remembered.

  “Our lunch! We can’t go exploring without a lunch. You go outside and distract my parents. I’ll be out in a sec.”

  I made the fastest PB&Js I’ve ever made (Jason wouldn’t count it because he hadn’t been there to time me, but according to the clock, I beat my previous record of one minute and twenty-seven seconds — recorded during our official PB&J Summer Olympics last year — by eight whole seconds!), then placed them carefully in my pack along with two granola bars and two bottles of water. By the time I got outside, Jason had disposed of the goods and convinced my mom to let us borrow her spare gardening spade. It was rusty like nothing, but it would sure dig faster than the plastic yellow shovel in my pack.

  Not that we’d know where to dig without the map.

  Jason cleared his throat. “Don’t you have something to say to your parents?”

  I trudged to the garden’s edge. “We’re going for a walk,
” I called. “Be back soon.” My parents waved and continued working in their precious garden. I shouldn’t have worried.

  We marched toward the empty lot in silence. I groaned at the thought of the map. How could I have been so careless? And how were we ever going to find the treasure now?

  Maybe tonight would be a good time to start Plan C.

  9

  We rounded the corner past Jason’s house, bringing the empty lot in sight. Though the corner of it touched my backyard, we had to walk around the block to get to it. Unless we wanted to crawl under the fence through the ditch. Which sometimes we did, but I didn’t need any more ways to get myself in trouble.

  We waved to Mr. Garcia, my backdoor neighbor, who returned our greeting from his garage. Not from the regular one attached to his house. From the new monster of a thing he’d built last spring. It even had a car lift.

  The story goes that Mr. Garcia inherited a bunch of money from some rich uncle, but my mom insisted he simply saved his money. I liked the first story best.

  “Don’t look this way while I’m welding!” he shouted. A quick check of his goggles and a flame shot from the welder, sending sparks flying around the hood of the Porsche he was restoring. The one that used to sit on his front lawn.

  I kind of envied the guy. He could play with fire whenever he wanted, no threat of being grounded for a month. Then again, he probably wouldn’t have turned a treasure map to ash, either. Sigh.

  When we got there, we surveyed the lot from the sidewalk. We’d spent a lot of time here, but I’d never thought a treasure could be buried in it. Probably because of all the garbage. It was the only empty lot left in the neighborhood and some builder had used it as a dumping ground. The place was littered with boulders, tree stumps, and old lumber. A few dirt mounds lined one side, and weeds had overgrown the rest, except where some kids had cleared a bike trail.

  I kicked at a dirt clod. “Think we can find it without the map?”

  “There’s nothing to find. The treasure’s not real.”

  “It is!” I punched his arm. “Mrs. Schuster told us it was real to our faces. Besides, what about Black Marge? What more proof do you want?”

  “The actual treasure would work.” Jason grinned, clearly pleased with his joke. “And I’ve been thinking about it. Her story doesn’t even make sense. If Black Marge was the captain, she had to be old. And suddenly she wanted kids? Right. And how could she have moved that trunk by herself?”

  “Mrs. Schuster never told us her age, so you’re just guessing. And of course you doubt she could lift it. You’re a boy. But who always wins when we arm wrestle, hmm?”

  Jason sighed. “Fine. You win. Let’s just look for the treasure so we can tell her what we did and get more clues to solve the mystery. Because if I’m right and this story’s a sham … why would she do that? Why would she lie to two kids and lead them on a wild goose chase? The whole thing gets more mysterious every time we talk to her.”

  I crossed my arms. “Why would she do that? She wouldn’t. And you’ll be thanking me when we find the treasure and you get to stay. Just remember that.”

  “Or,” Jason said, “you’ll be embarrassed when we discover it was all a fake.”

  I bit back my reply. It’s not like we even had a map anymore. I’d made such a mess of things, I wanted to kick myself. No question, this afternoon was going to be a bust. Both in the treasure and fun departments.

  I set down my backpack, careful not to smush our sandwiches, and pulled out my mom’s gardening spade along with the plastic shovel. I handed it to Jason. I shoved my pack behind some weeds and stood.

  “So what do we do?” I asked.

  “Just look for an X, I guess.” Jason fwipped the plastic shovel against his palm. “We should probably split up so it’ll go faster.”

  “Are you crazy?” We may have been short a map, but that didn’t mean we had to throw common sense out the window (my mom’s favorite expression). “Don’t you ever watch movies? That’s the worst thing we can do. Unless we want to die a painful death, we search together.”

  Jason rolled his eyes. A month ago he wouldn’t have. I tried not to think about it.

  Side by side, we walked along the cleared-off bike path, searching for that X.

  We made it to the mounds on the far side. Still nothing.

  “Do you think the smoke smell is gone? How long should we wait before heading back?” Jason glanced in the direction of my house. I was losing him.

  “It hasn’t been nearly long enough,” I said. “Why don’t we walk back toward the ditch along the mounds. That’ll give us a better view.”

  “Sure.” There was that shrug again.

  We slid down the side of one mound, then trooped back up the second. Dirt kept sliding down the side, making the climb harder than it looked. I felt like a real explorer. At the top of the third mound I saw it. “Look!” Two rotting logs lay between the third and fourth mounds, forming a perfect X.

  Jason’s bored look was gone.

  “Those logs look like they’ve been there a thousand years,” I said. “This has to be it.”

  Together we dragged the logs off the spot and dug with all our might. Less than a foot into the hole, Jason’s shovel snapped in two. He chucked the pieces into the weeds. “At this rate, we’ll never find it.”

  I wiped at the sweat dripping down my face. “Maybe we could borrow one of your dad’s big shovels. It’d go ten times faster.”

  Jason snorted. “No way I’m asking him. Especially after last night. All he does is yell anymore. He’d just make me clean the turkey pen or something and our treasure hunt would be over. Trust me, it’s a bad idea.”

  “Well we can’t go back to my house. We’ll just have to take turns with this one.” I kept digging. “If we find it, it’ll all be worth it.”

  “Maybe I can find a stick.” Jason scrambled up the dirt mound and disappeared down the other side.

  I concentrated on shoveling. Each scoop got harder and harder. The spade clinked against rocks and wedging them out was no easy feat. I wiped at the sweat now dripping down my forehead in gallons. This was hard work. And Jason was taking his sweet time looking for a stick. He finally leapt on top of the mound with a small tree branch.

  Red berries clung to it like jewels, and Jason thrust it in the air like a scepter. “I’m King of the Hill! All must worship me.” He turned in a circle as though greeting his loyal subjects.

  I couldn’t resist. This was my game. We’d played it a million times before, and I was good. I stuck the spade in the dirt and darted up the hill. I meant to bump him softly. Just enough to claim Queendom. But I should have remembered the loose dirt. My feet slipped down the side, and I belly flopped on Jason’s legs.

  The rest seemed to happen in slow motion. Jason flew backward, arms flailing. He hit the dirt with a thud and his legs flipped over his head into a pile of abandoned lumber. The scream that followed stained my heart.

  “My leg!” Jason lay in a heap at the bottom of the mound, half of him buried in wood.

  I scurried to his side. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! Are you okay? It was an accident. I swear!”

  Jason never cries, but tears streamed down his face. “Get me out, get me out. There’s something sharp.”

  I carefully lifted the top piece of lumber. My stomach flip-flopped when I saw the blood-covered rusty nail. I bit my lip and kept going. Piece by piece, I moved the wood till he was free.

  Blood poured down his shin.

  With gasping breaths, Jason wiped at the stream with his hands. Red smeared everywhere. He gripped his calf until his knuckles turned white. “Take my sock off.” His voice trembled. “Hurry before it gets bloody.”

  “Who cares about a stupid sock? We need something to stop the blood.”

  Jason sucked in his breath. “My mom will kill me if I br
ing home more bloody clothes.”

  I remembered the acrobat incident two weeks ago. It had been my blood that time, but Jason had heroically offered his shirt to clean up the mess. I pulled off his shoe and sock, then my own. “Hold this while I get the water.” I pressed my sock to his shin and ran for my backpack.

  I grabbed it and was about to run back when I noticed a tall, pointy-edged plant. The leaves were fuzzy, soft-looking. A memory flashed through my mind of Matt studying for a merit badge: Aloe is a healing plant with green spiky leaves. This plant sure fit the description. I grabbed a handful and rushed back to Jason.

  Setting the plants aside, I peeled the bloody sock from Jason’s leg and poured water over the wound. “The cut isn’t that big.” I looked hopefully at Jason, who gave me a weak smile. “And I brought a special healing plant Matt told me about.” I held it up.

  “Maybe you should just get my mom.”

  I was desperate. The treasure was practically ours. Just a few more feet of digging. And if we went home wounded, we’d never get back. “We don’t need your mom. I bet once we rub your cut with this, you’ll hardly remember you got hurt. Please?”

  “Annie, it’s a nail cut. I need to go home.”

  “Can’t we at least try? I promise to get your mom if you still want to after that.”

  Jason sighed. “Why do I think I’ll regret this? Oh yeah, because I usually do.”

  My fingers tingled. “We have to hurry. My hand is already soaking up the plant’s power. I can feel it.” I lifted the sock again and rubbed the plant into his shin over his wound. My hand burned, but I wasn’t about to say anything. Jason would freak out. I switched hands and bit back the pain. I wiped his shin until Jason jerked away.

  “Is it supposed to burn like that?”

  Both my hands were burning and itching like crazy, too.

  “Of course it is! How else would it heal you?” I pressed the leaves to Jason’s shin again.

  “This really hurts.” Jason’s bottom lip trembled.

  I lifted the plant, and we gasped.

  “What did you do to me?” Jason’s leg had turned bright red. The skin around his cut was swelling. “Ow, ow, ow! It hurts.” Fresh tears streamed down his face. “I want to go home.”