The Last Great Adventure of the PB & J Society

by Janet Sumner Johnson

  “Get it off! Get it off!” Blinded by the mass of wild bird in my face, I chose a direction and ran. When Jason started yelling, I followed the sound.

  “No! Annie, stop!”

  I deciphered his words just before slamming into him.

  The turkey finally let go at impact, but with the momentum, it flew smack into the wall of the turkey house. Jason and I splatted into the manure pile.

  We sat there, stunned, until Jason slapped his hand in the muck. “Why don’t you listen? I told you to stop! You were scaring that bird senseless with all your screaming and flapping.”

  My jaw dropped. My shoulder stung where the turkey had clawed me, my shirt was ripped, and my pride had taken a mortal blow. But the injustice of Jason’s words burned the worst. I wiped green slime from my face before grabbing a handful and chucking it at him. The manure bomb exploded on his chest. “That bird came from nowhere! You were supposed to lock them up!”

  “If you weren’t such a chicken, it wouldn’t have mattered.” A green blob sailed past my ear.

  I got him on the arm as one exploded on my leg. I slogged to my knees to better attack when the door of the turkey house slammed open.

  A gobbling mass of feathers and beaks tumbled from the structure and headed straight for the gate. The one I’d forgotten to close. I froze in terror.

  Jason sprinted to stop the flock. It was too late.

  Turkeys poured into the yard and squawked their way to the garden. I hadn’t known the creatures could hack through a zucchini plant so easily.

  “Annie, help!” Jason glanced anxiously at the back door. “Shoo! Go on!” Waving his rake at the birds, he attempted to herd them back to the pen. “Annie, please!” The strain in his voice was like a slap to the face.

  My life flashed before my eyes — cowering in fear while Jason chased away the turkey on the kindergarten field trip; facing down a bully in first grade with a quaking Jason at my side; burying my Miss Piggy alarm clock while Jason stood guard; pleading with the man at the bank; and confronting Jason’s dad. There was hardly a memory without Jason in it. He had been there for everything. Even the rotten stuff. Even when he was scared.

  The truth of the situation struck hard. This was it. When Jason’s dad saw this mess, our friendship was over. And how was I going to end it? By hiding while he struggled alone? I couldn’t do that. Jason certainly wouldn’t.

  I imagined I was back on Black Marge’s ship. Blue Beard’s pirates streamed onto our boat, cutlasses glinting in the sun. Only I, Cap’n Annie, could save them.

  Grabbing my rake — er, sword — I charged the battle. “I’m coming, Jas—” something caught my foot just outside the gate, and I belly-flopped to the ground. I threw a dirty look at the offending object, but when I saw what it was, I caught my breath.

  The garden hose.

  I left my rake where it lay, grabbed the hose and dashed to the spigot. With the water on high, I sent a quick spurt at Jason with my thumb.

  “Hey!” He swung around, ready to fight.

  I held up the hose. “I’ll spray, you herd.”

  Jason grinned. “Great idea.”

  I hoped the turkeys wouldn’t attack me for spraying them. Thumb over the water, I aimed at a fat one feasting on a tomato bush.

  Gobbles broke out on contact. The bird tumbled backward and immediately retreated. I inched forward thinking only of my aim.

  The turkey tried to get back to the garden, but I sprayed it again. The bird ran toward Jason, who stood waiting in a football stance. Another shot, and Jason herded it into the pen.

  One by one, we cornered the turkeys until they were all back inside. Jason thunked the gate latch down, then joined me by the spigot.

  After spraying the mud, manure, and feathers off ourselves as best we could, we surveyed the damage. The grass was flooded. It looked more like a rice paddy than a yard. Except, of course, for the feathers floating on top. The water will go away, I told myself. The grass will look fine once it’s mowed. Surely Jason’s dad wouldn’t banish me for this.

  But one glance at the garden and my hope died. It barely resembled a garden anymore. Several cornstalks hung limp, snapped in two by the weight of the turkeys. The rows of zucchini, squash, and lettuce looked like a mesh of leaves and mud with mushed and half-pecked vegetables sticking out at odd spots. Garden soup, I thought.

  Jason barely moved. He stared at the garden, horror on his face.

  My chest tightened. It hurt to breathe. “Maybe if we …”

  “Annie.” Jason held up a hand.

  Then someone gasped.

  Jason’s mom stood on the porch. Her hand fluttered in front of her open mouth as she gazed at the garden. The next instant, Mr. Parker boomed out the back door. “What the …” His shocked gaze swept over the mess, then turned on us.

  The turkeys gobbled in the background as though telling their side of the story. I tensed for a lecture.

  It never came.

  Mr. Parker pulled his wife into a hug and she buried her face in his chest. After a moment, he whispered into her ear and kissed her forehead. Step by slow step, he moved to the garden. With a gentleness I hadn’t seen in him for a long time, he brushed his hand over a broken cornstalk. He picked up a smashed tomato then let it drop.

  When he turned to face his wife, I was shocked to see tears in his eyes. He shook his head.

  Mrs. Parker’s hand tightened over her mouth. Tears poured down her cheeks.

  I didn’t get it. If he was so mad, why didn’t he just yell at us? But tears? Why would …

  And then it struck. Vegetable Yuck. Jason’s switch to school lunches. His huge appetite at Mrs. Schuster’s breakfasts.

  They were living off the garden.

  Jason had never said anything, but one peek at him told me it was true. He stood hunched in the pen, staring at the ground. I felt smaller than a turkey dropping.

  When the sound of the phone jangled through the back door, Mrs. Parker stumbled inside, then called in her husband.

  I slowly turned. “Jason, I …”

  He shook his head; there was a look in his eyes I’d never seen before. “Don’t. Annie, just go.”

  “But I can’t …”

  “For once in your life just listen to me! I want to be alone.” He turned his back on me and raked at the turkey droppings with force.

  I wiped at my drippy nose, struggling not to cry. Ever so gently I leaned the rake against the house, then with a sob, sloshed across the yard and exited out the fence gate. I didn’t stop running until I was under my bed.

  That’s when I remembered the treasure.

  I could kick myself. I’d been so caught up in saving his house, I hadn’t even asked how Jason was doing. My best friend barely had enough to eat, and I hadn’t noticed. How could I be so selfish? How could I even call myself a friend?

  I wished I’d never gotten that stupid treasure map. Now I was glad it had burned. But it wasn’t enough. I stumbled to my dresser and pulled out the list. With a jerk I tore it in half, then again and again till it was too small to rip.

  22

  “Ow!” I cringed as my mom yanked a brush through my hair. In normal circumstances, I’d never let my mom touch it, but the dried-on manure was a nightmare. Even after washing it a few times.

  “Almost done.” Mom grabbed some hair and pulled.

  “That hurts!” I jerked away.

  “Do you want me to cut it off?” The expression on her face said she just might do it.

  I grudgingly sat back up.

  “Now hold still.”

  I gritted my teeth while my mom stuck a thousand needles in my head. At least that’s what it felt like. It took all I had not to complain.

  “There, I think that’s the last tangle. Let’s try not to fall into any more manure piles, okay? Or at least wash
your hair a little sooner next time.” She sat on the bed next to me, her flower-print scrubs soft from so many washings.

  I snuggled in, enjoying the fresh smell of detergent and cucumber body wash. All the smells that said “home.” All the smells that seemed gone from my life lately.

  “Did you talk to them yet?” I wanted to ask if Jason and I were grounded from each other, but I kind of didn’t want to know. Besides, how could I worry about that when Jason’s family was starving? I stared at my feet, pretending they were fascinating.

  Mom gave me a squeeze. “They’re still not answering, sweet pea. But you can’t blame yourself for the garden. That bird attacked you. It’s not your fault.”

  “I left the gate open.”

  “And they chose to keep turkeys. Sometimes these things just happen. Your dad left a bag of food on their porch, plus he saw Mr. Parker slaughter a turkey. They won’t starve in one night.”

  I sniffed. Sure they’d be fine for a night or two, but what about all the other nights after that?

  Mom glanced at her watch and sighed. “It’s nearly nine. I’ve got to go. Kate’s at a friend’s tonight, but if you need anything or your shoulder starts to hurt, your dad’s watching a movie with Matt downstairs. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I sat on my bed and listened to the creak of the stairs. Mom’s voice floated up as she said goodbye to Matt and Dad.

  When the hum of the automatic garage door started, I flipped off the lights and ran to the window. I wanted to cram in every last second with my mom. So what if she was driving away? Maybe if I willed it hard enough, she’d turn around and come home.

  The car turned the corner. I kept watch, hoping for that miracle. Hoping the car would suddenly come back. It didn’t.

  I stared at the empty street for a long time before noticing Mrs. Schuster’s house. The lights were on and the garage was open. I glanced at the alarm clock though I knew the time. Mrs. Schuster was usually in bed by now. Should I check on her?

  Something clinked against the window and I jumped. I peered down at the yard. My heart ka-thumped. Jason was there. He motioned for me to come out.

  I bolted for the door. Did he have news of the punishment? Maybe the garden wasn’t as bad as we’d thought. I crossed my fingers.

  Outside, Jason waited by the corner of the house. A duffle bag sat next to him. “I’m running away,” he said. “I came to say goodbye.”

  “What?” I shivered in my soccer pajamas. “Why?”

  Jason shifted from foot to foot. “You can’t talk me out of it. It’s my fault about the garden. I saw the open gate and didn’t do anything.”

  “I’m the one who left it open.”

  “I should’ve fastened the turkey house door better.”

  “That stupid turkey knocked it open. You couldn’t help that.”

  “And I should have counted the birds when I locked them up. There were only ten. It wouldn’t have been that hard. Then none of this would have happened.”

  “Only ten? I thought you had way more than that.”

  He shrugged. “Let’s just say I’d be fine if I never ate another bite of turkey the rest of my life.”

  “Oh.” I stared at the ground. I should have realized. “Jason, you can’t …”

  “I’m leaving,” he said. “You can’t talk me out of it. It’ll be one less mouth to feed. One less worry for my parents.”

  I recognized that expression on his face. It didn’t happen very often, but he could be more stubborn than me. I wanted to cry. One more thing to add to my list of reasons to feel guilty. I’d read The Thief Lord and seen Oliver Twist. I knew what happened to runaways. First stealing, then jail. And of course, I’d have to brave some daring rescue to free him. It would be an adventure, but Jason would never last in jail. I knew.

  There was only one solution. “I’m coming with you.”

  Jason started to smile then frowned. “You can’t. I won’t let you.”

  “Since when has that stopped me?”

  Jason crossed his arms. “You’re not coming. You’re in your pajamas and you don’t have your stuff. I’ll just leave when you’re inside.”

  I resented the smug grin on his face. Two could play at that game. I shifted to interrogation mode. “Did you pack enough food?”

  The smug look fell away. “I’m not taking any of their food. I’m a Cub Scout. I’ll make do.”

  “Cub Scouts.” I rolled my eyes. “Do you have a fishing pole?”

  “No.”

  “A knife?”

  “No, but …”

  “Any money?”

  “Thirty-two dollars.” He lifted his chin.

  “Where will you go?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Uh-huh. Let me guess, you plan to take the bus.”

  “Annie, I’ll be fine!” Jason grabbed his bag and started walking away. “I just came to say goodbye. So goodbye!”

  I ran after him. “At least let me make you some sandwiches.”

  Jason didn’t stop. “And why don’t we announce to the world that I’m running away while we’re at it?”

  “Mom’s gone and Dad’s watching a movie. No one will see you.”

  Jason spun around. “I can’t risk it. Plus, I don’t want to put you in danger. They’ll ask you first, you know. That’s why I won’t tell you where I’m going.” For the first time that night, Jason smiled. “I’ve got it all figured out.”

  If I wasn’t so worried, I might have laughed. “All except the food, you mean. I’m not letting you go without food.”

  “And I’m not going inside your house.” Jason picked up his duffle bag,

  I glanced across the cul-de-sac at Mrs. Schuster’s still-lit house. Maybe she could talk some sense into Jason. “What if we ask Mrs. Schuster? She’ll help.”

  Jason shook his head again. “She’s a grown-up. They have to report runaways. It’s like a rule or something. I’ll be fine.”

  “We could leave your bag outside. We don’t have to say why we want the food.”

  “She’s old, not stupid. It’s nine o’clock at night. Where would we be going?”

  “We’ll tell her it’s for the treasure hunt. That we want to go early tomorrow morning and don’t want to disturb our parents.”

  Jason snorted. “I’m leaving.”

  I stepped in front of him. “You’re right. That was dumb. But what about the compass? She was going to give it to you, and it would help you get where you’re going.”

  Jason’s face softened. I could see in his eyes how much he wanted it.

  “We’ll knock and tell her we saw her garage door open, that we wanted to check on her. Then we can ask about the compass, and you know Mrs. Schuster — she’s sure to offer us food.”

  Jason stared at the house a long time. “You promise not to say anything?”

  I slugged him in the arm. Hard. “That’s for calling me a tattletale.”

  Jason scowled at me and rubbed his arm. “Well what are you going to say when she asks why we’re out so late?”

  “We’ll tell her we snuck out to say goodbye after the turkey incident.”

  Jason left his bag in the shadow of a tree and we walked to the door. Normally I would just go in, but being so late, I didn’t think that was a good idea. The green-goo-faced, open-housecoat version of Mrs. Schuster still haunted my dreams.

  A minute passed. I glanced at Jason and knocked again. I was starting to get worried. “Her car’s in the garage, right?”

  Jason peeked. “Yep.”

  She had to be home. I tried the knob. Unlocked. The door creaked open.

  “Hello?”

  Nothing. I bit my lip as we stepped into the house. “Mrs. Schuster?”

  Still no answer.

  We crept to the kitchen. “Mrs. Schuster?”
r />   The dirty dinner dishes were still in the sink. Mrs. Schuster was the cleanest person I knew. My heart beat like a drum in a parade. It was so loud, I bet Jason could hear it.

  “Mrs. Schuster!” I was frantic. I ran into the dining room and stopped dead. She lay facedown on the ground, paper scattered around her. A half-eaten piece of pie was still on the table.

  I dropped to my knees ready to shake her, then stopped. Hadn’t my mom said not to move someone who’s unconscious? Instead I lifted her wrist — that’s what they always did in the movies. I couldn’t feel anything. Panic rose in my throat. Vomit flavored. My mom had talked about this. I should have known what to do, but I couldn’t focus. I could barely breathe.

  “Is she breathing?” Jason stood behind me.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  Jason pulled on my shoulder. “Call nine-one-one. I’ll get your dad.”

  I numbly obeyed as Jason sprinted out the door. My hands were shaking when I dialed.

  “Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”

  I stuttered out the story, trying not to cry.

  “An ambulance is on the way, darling. Can you take the phone outside to watch for them?”

  When I got to the door my dad was already running across Mrs. Schuster’s lawn. I passed the phone to him and hurried back inside. Jason followed.

  I gripped Mrs. Schuster’s hand and she stirred. Her eyes fluttered.

  Relief felt like a warm blanket. “Mrs. Schuster! Can you hear me?”

  “Is that … Annie?” Her raspy voice whispered.

  “Yes, yes. And Jason’s here, too. We’ve called nine-one-one. Everything will be fine. Just hang in there.” I’d never understood how you could cry for joy, but now it made sense. It was all I could do to keep from sobbing in gratitude.

  Sirens started in the distance, getting closer and louder, blocking out Mrs. Schuster’s labored breathing. She beckoned me closer. “Getting old … stinks.” She slogged back into unconsciousness as the room exploded in a flurry of activity.

  Jason and I backed away when two paramedics rolled an equipment-filled gurney into the room. One thumped two red bags to the floor. The other slid a long board onto the floor next to Mrs. Schuster. The scene felt unreal, like being caught inside a TV show.