The Last Great Adventure of the PB & J Society

by Janet Sumner Johnson

  “So why didn’t she just leave?”

  “Leave? Didn’t I just say she was captured? You don’t just leave a pirate ship.”

  I blushed, because duh.

  “No, Marge knew the only way she’d escape was by becoming feared. That was the period she was christened ‘Black Marge.’ And next thing she knew, she was made captain. And well, you know the rest.”

  I popped in my last bite of toast and wiped my hands on the linen napkin Mrs. Schuster insisted we use. “Wow, so Marge never even wanted to be a pirate, yet she managed to make off with all their treasure. Awesome!”

  Mrs. Schuster cleared the dishes. “So what would you do if you found the treasure?”

  Telling Mrs. Schuster was not the same thing as telling Lila. I decided to be honest. “I’m going to give it to Jason’s dad so they can buy their house from the bank.”

  Mrs. Schuster paused, plate midair. She gave me a funny look. “That’s … that’s generous of you. But no shopping spree at the toy store? No fancy gadgets? No zombie-making cell phone?”

  I laughed. “Well, maybe I’d splurge on that, but Jason comes first. He has to move if we can’t get enough money to buy his house.”

  “And if you don’t find it? Or … if there isn’t a treasure?” Mrs. Schuster didn’t look at me. She brushed a shaky hand at crumbs on the table.

  I put on my brave face. True, some of my back-up plans hadn’t worked out, but there was still my letter to Uncle Jim. Surely I could count on that.

  But the question made me worry it wasn’t enough. Maybe it was time to put Plan E in motion. “I’ve got back-up plans.” I sat up straight and tried to sound confident. “We’ll find a way for him to stay. We have to. I mean, my mom found a job like that.” I snapped my fingers. “Maybe his dad will too. It’s only fair.”

  I didn’t mention our attempt to help with that. Between the radio contest and his reaction, I was too mad to talk about it.

  The ceramic plates clinked as Mrs. Schuster walked toward the kitchen. “Life isn’t always fair, my dear. You can’t always get what you want. In fact, you probably won’t. Just ask Marge.” Her words sounded bitter. Harsh. Like the old Mrs. Schuster.

  I heard the water run for a moment, then the protesting squeal of the dishwasher opening. Tears stung behind my eyes, but I let my anger push them back. I scowled at the kitchen, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. I had thought Mrs. Schuster was different. That she believed in miracles, like I did. And what about all that talk about finding the good in the bad?

  So what if life wasn’t always fair? Did that mean you should sit back and not even try? Well I refused. I stood and walked stiffly to the kitchen. Mrs. Schuster stood at the sink. Her back was to me.

  “I better go catch the bus. Thank you for breakfast.”

  “Wait.” Mrs. Schuster turned. She stared at the floor and twisted a dish cloth in her hands. “I’m sorry. I — I shouldn’t have said that.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Guess I’ve been too nice lately, and the grouchy lady in me wanted out.”

  I’m pretty sure she meant that as a joke. I didn’t laugh.

  She cleared her throat. “Truth is, I was being selfish. I’ve gotten kind of used to you coming around, and I was afraid you’d stop once the treasure thing gets sorted out … one way or the other. Since this rift between my son and me happened — and a few other things,” she glanced at a pile of papers on the counter, “I’ve been more lonely than I care to admit.”

  My stomach flip-flopped. A clue! Something had happened, and those papers probably told the whole story.

  “You are completely right to hope and work for the best. I really admire that about you. Can you forgive an old lady her skepticism? I’ll try to be better. I promise.”

  Now it looked like Mrs. Schuster was about to cry. My heart melted. After all, she’d been an amazing friend. I didn’t really want to lose her.

  “Why wouldn’t I come visit you after we find the treasure? You’re my friend.” I imagined burying a dead peanut butter and jelly sandwich with Mrs. Schuster in the garden. She would understand.

  Mrs. Schuster sniffed. She wiped the dish towel over her eyes. “I’ve loved your visits. You’re like the granddaughter I never had. But there’s something else. Something I need to …”

  A cuckoo clock sounded in the other room, and I jumped.

  “The bus! I’ve gotta go.”

  With Mrs. Schuster trailing me, I ran to the door and grabbed my backpack. In that moment I had an idea. One I should have thought of sooner. “I have a soccer game at the middle school tomorrow. Ten o’clock if you want to come.”

  I felt shy inviting her after what had just happened, but the grin on Mrs. Schuster’s face said it all.

  16

  The letter was on the entryway table when I got home from school. My heart ka-thumped as I stared at the return address: Mr. James A. Hill. Uncle Jim. This could fix everything. I knew he’d come through!

  Clutching the letter, I ran upstairs.

  “Hi, Dad.” Without slowing down, I waved to him in the living room where he was reading the paper. “I’ll do my homework in my room.” I didn’t wait for a response. At my parents’ room, I paused long enough to poke my head in. “I’m home.”

  Mom mumbled something from the bed, like she had every day since she started the night shift. For once, I was glad. I barricaded myself in my room and ripped open the envelope: two typed pages, but no lottery tickets. I shook the envelope just to be sure. A butterfly tickled in my stomach till I came up with an explanation. Duh. Uncle Jim would have to claim the winnings for me. That made sense. I read the letter:

  Dear Annie,

  I thoroughly enjoyed your letter. You should write more often.

  While I can appreciate your limited options given the circumstances, as the acknowledged money expert (please tell your mom “thanks” for the compliment), I cannot in good conscience spend your hard-earned money on lotto cards or Powerball numbers. Besides, your mother would kill me if she ever found out.

  The butterflies were now a cement brick. Sitting. In the bottom of my stomach. I would have puked if bricks weren’t so heavy. I couldn’t believe Uncle Jim, Mr. I-eat-ice-cream-for-breakfast, was worried about my mom.

  As an apology for the ill-suited gift I unwittingly sent for your last birthday, I have taken the liberty of adding to your savings. I’m doubling what you sent me.

  Doubling was good. So why did I have such a bad feeling about this? Maybe because there was no money with the letter, either.

  But wait, there’s more. What could be better than more money, you ask? I have taken the liberty of investing your money in one of my favorite dividend-yielding stocks.

  Huh?

  I have set it to reinvest the dividends so by the time you go to college, you’ll have a tsubsantial sum. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. The perfect gift for any age. And now I won’t have to stress about birthdays and Christmas. I’ll just add to it.

  No need to thank me. Though I’d always enjoy another letter.

  Sincerely,

  Uncle Jim

  P.S. You can expect to receive your stock certificates in the mail in a few weeks.

  I read the letter several times before crumpling the thing. “What the heck is a dividend-yielding stock?” I moaned. “And what part of ‘buy as many lottery tickets as you can’ didn’t he understand?!”

  Not only did it sting that my uncle blatantly refused to help me, but I was shocked he would rob me blind. And I couldn’t even complain to Mom!

  I hurled the wad of paper at the trash can and flopped onto my bed. I’d have to start saving for an iPhone all over again! Rotten uncle.

  Now I knew why Uncle Jim let us have ice cream for breakfast — he was clueless.

  I stared at the ceiling.
Plan A hadn’t worked out, Plan B was iffy at best, Plan C had been a pointless waste of time, and Plan D went beyond failure into the realm of catastrophe.

  There was no other choice. I had to use Plan E. Jason wouldn’t like it, and neither would our parents, but Mrs. Schuster was right. What if we didn’t find the treasure? Or it turned out to be worthless? Or worse, it didn’t exist? I couldn’t take that chance, because based on the last two weeks, I simply couldn’t survive without Jason.

  17

  When I woke up the next day, I bolted out of bed. Today was the day. The end of being grounded. I didn’t care I was still in pajamas, I wanted to head to Jason’s house right then. But yesterday Mom had laid down the law before her stupid night shift.

  “You two aren’t officially ungrounded until your soccer game. No sunrise visits.”

  “Will you be there?” I’d asked.

  Mom shook her head. “I’m sorry, kiddo. After working all night, I need to get some sleep before my next shift.”

  Of course she did. Because sleep is more important than her own daughter.

  I just nodded and pretended I understood.

  It wasn’t like she’d abandoned me, or whatever. She just had to work. A lot.

  Never mind that she missed last week’s game too. But I wasn’t going to think about that. Not today. Today was about Jason.

  By the time nine-thirty came around, I’d eaten breakfast, cleaned my room, watered the plants, taken out the trash, practiced the piano, and caught an episode of some random Japanese anime. The game was at ten and it only took five minutes to walk to the middle school, but I didn’t care. I was ready to leap out of my skin. I couldn’t wait another second.

  “Come on, Dad! Let’s go!”

  Dad laughed. “Just hold on. Matt, Kate, are you sure you won’t come?”

  “We’re sure,” they called from downstairs. The TV blared in the background.

  “We could kick the ball around. All four of us. And the traditional Slurpees afterward.”

  I held my breath. Please don’t let them come, I prayed.

  “Not interested,” Kate called.

  “Ditto, that,” Matt said.

  “Amen!” I said. “Let’s go!” Ball in hand, I clacked down the stairs in my cleats. I really liked that sound. The sound of game day. I clomped down the driveway as noisily as I could until my dad finally caught up.

  He pushed his glasses back in place. “Think you’ll end your losing streak today?”

  I tossed my ball in the air. “It’s not a losing streak. We could totally win if we chose. We just don’t want to destroy the other kids’ morale.”

  “I see. Very generous of you.”

  “Besides, winning isn’t worth the brutality. Some kids take this stuff pretty seriously. But I mean, geez. The ref doesn’t even keep score.”

  Dad pushed his glasses back up. Again. “You’re a pretty good kid. You know that?”

  “Da-ad!” I looked around to make sure no one had heard. The last thing I needed was to get a reputation as the “good kid.”

  Since he started staying home, Dad was always saying things like that. I didn’t mind so much at the house, but I was going to have to be more careful about taking him out in public. I debated the idea of training him on acceptable things to say, but I doubted he’d take me seriously.

  At the corner, I glanced at Jason’s house. No sign of him. It took all my will power not to go knock on his door to see if he wanted to walk together. But I didn’t want to muff anything up before we were officially ungrounded.

  With a sigh, I crossed the street and headed the opposite direction toward the middle school. I needed to distract myself. I glanced at Dad, who whistled “Yankee Doodle” out of key. Nothing like a second trauma to distract me from the first.

  “So, any luck with the job hunt? That’s why you’re always reading the paper, isn’t it? I bet you’ll have a job in no time.” I tried to sound casual. I didn’t want him to think I didn’t want him around. I did. I just preferred Mom.

  “I read the paper to stay informed,” Dad said, and there went those glasses again. He should really find a way to keep them up better.

  “Your mother and I have decided that I won’t look for a job yet. She misses you, of course, but she’s enjoying her work. And you kids are important to us. We can’t let just anybody take care of you.”

  “So you’re not getting a job?” I hoped I’d misunderstood.

  Dad laughed. “Yep, you’re stuck with me. Think you can handle that?”

  My knees trembled. Not that I didn’t love my dad. He was good for some things — like practicing soccer or going out for Slurpees — but no way he could replace Mom. I’d thought this whole thing was temporary. Until he found a job.

  I kicked a pebble into the street, where a passing car zoomed over it. Why couldn’t things go back the way they were? Back before my dad was laid off. Heck, before Jason’s house was for sale.

  But when I thought of Jason I felt ashamed. His situation was tons worse. Neither his mom nor dad had a job. And he was going to have to move.

  I should have felt lucky. I didn’t.

  But I was Annie Jenkins, super spy, master of deception. I could fake it.

  Ignoring the knot in my stomach, I squinted at my dad. “Well … I guess so. But I might have to put you on probation if you keep burning the toast.” I even managed a wink.

  Dad grinned and wiped at his forehead. “Phew! For a second I thought you were going to say ‘no.’ Never you fear, I’ll figure out that toaster. I mean, I have an MBA and everything. Toast should be a snap.”

  I looked away. ’Cause two weeks of burned toast didn’t give a girl confidence.

  Dad cleared his throat, and when I looked back, he’d gone all serious on me. “I want you to know that our decision is about more than burned toast. I had these three amazing children who were growing up to be wonderful young adults thanks to your mother, but I rarely ever got to see you. Just weekends, and sometimes not even then. I wasn’t okay with that. So I guess you could say that my layoff was an opportunity. One I couldn’t pass up.”

  I’d never thought about how my dad felt. He went to work and came home. That’s the way it had always been. It never occurred to me that he might not be happy.

  I slipped my hand into his and we walked the rest of the way in silence. The comfortable kind that felt like a blanket. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have Dad stay home.

  At the field, we kicked the ball around while we waited for the rest of my team. When Lila got there I thought she’d try to butt in on our practice, like usual, but she didn’t even look our direction. Weird.

  Then Mrs. Schuster got there. Dad ran to carry the camping chair she’d brought. I ran and gave her a hug.

  “I can’t believe you came!”

  “Of course I came. In my day, invitations were neither given nor received lightly. I hope you score a home run for your team.”

  I snorted back a laugh. “You mean kick a goal.”

  “Whatever.” Mrs. Schuster tapped Dad’s arm and pointed to the ground. “This will do fine, young man.” While Dad set up the chair, she leaned in close. “So we’re good about yesterday? You forgive me?”

  I nodded and Mrs. Schuster stamped her cane. She gave a curt nod, then settled into her chair. “Go kick some booty, as you kids would probably say.”

  By the time Jason arrived, the team was huddled around the coach, the game about to start. The other players started whispering, but my attention was on my friend. I grinned so wide I thought my face would crack. Until I noticed his dad standing there.

  In Sunday school they say you’re not supposed to hate people, but I was having a hard time with Mr. Parker.

  “Ted, it’s great to see you!” My dad shook Mr. Parker’s hand, so I took the liberty of sending Mr. Parker the di
rty look he deserved before waving Jason over.

  He squished into the circle next to me. The whispering got louder.

  “I thought today would never come,” he said under his breath.

  “Mr. Parker, welcome!” the coach boomed. “Just in time. Now quiet down everybody. What did we learn in practice? First …”

  I eyed the bandage on Jason’s knee while the team droned the answers to his questions.

  Jason whispered in my ear. “Mom made me bandage it for the game. You know, all that slide tackling we do.” He rolled his eyes. “So did you find any more clues?”

  “Affirmative. Plus I …”

  “Annie! Jason! Are you two listening?”

  I caught Lila staring at us from the other side of the circle, and she hurriedly looked away. I’d have bet the cemetery she’d told on us.

  Jason and I nodded enthusiastically. Fake smile in place, I kept my eyes on the coach to make it look like I was paying attention.

  When he started drawing plays on his whiteboard, I glanced at Lila. She wasn’t Miss Perky today. At all. Her eyes had dark circles under them like she hadn’t slept. And I doubted she was listening to the coach either. Still, she’d already told on us once. I think.

  I scootched closer to Jason. “I’ll tell you later.”

  It was probably for the best. Between Plan E, the treasure, and the clue, I had a lot to tell him.

  “Go Penguins, on the count of three!” The coach put his hand in the center of the circle.

  We stuck our arms in with the rest of the team. “Go Penguins!”

  I heard the other team guffawing and I blushed for the billionth time at our stupid team name. Lila had been on a penguin kick the first week of practice, and Lila always got her way. As if being cute and blond meant anything in soccer. Thank heavens Jess and Jen weren’t on the team, too. I might have had to quit.