“Thirty days? That’s smack-dab in the middle of duck season.”
“What does that mean—thirty days?” I pushed Mom in the shoulder. “Well, what does it mean?”
“Shhh, Allie, I’m trying to hear.” Mom leaned her head over near Dad’s. He pulled the phone away from his ear and put it back on speaker.
Ellen rattled on.
“They need to move in quick because the man is starting a new job in your town. Do you think you can swing it? It’s the most solid offer you’re going to get this time of year, Jake. Wait, what am I saying? It may be the best offer you’ll ever get.”
Mom opened the passenger-side door and flew out of there, into the house. I waited to hear Ellen’s last few words.
“I know it’s sooner than you planned to move out, but hey—this could make a great episode for the TV show!”
I rolled my eyes and slumped back in my seat.
“It’s right in the middle of duck-hunting season,” Dad said, like he was in a trance.
“We’ve got forty-eight hours to respond with a counteroffer. You and Maggie take some time to think about it and let me know.”
“Duck. Hunting. Season.”
Ellen laughed.
“You Carroways crack me up. Or, should I say ‘quack’ me up? Ha! Happy Halloween, Jake.”
Ellen hung up, and Dad dropped the phone onto his lap. He sat there, frozen.
I climbed from the second seat into the front and grabbed Dad’s cheeks between my two hands.
“Dad! Are you okay? We don’t have to move in thirty days, do we?”
He stared ahead and talked in a monotone.
“I suppose we could live in one of the bigger duck blinds.”
“Dad! What are you saying to me right now?”
Dad grabbed his beard and clenched his teeth.
“Allie-girl, hold on to your camo hat, because I think we just sold our house.”
CHAPTER 4
Pack or Puke?
Mom? I don’t feel very good.” I emerged from my room after sleeping in until ten o’clock the next morning. It was November first, just three days until “Duck Day.” I sat at the top of the stairs, grabbing my stomach. Somehow, my dark-blonde wavy hair had fallen out of the bun on the top of my head and into my eyes, but I didn’t care.
“Mom?” I yelled.
“Hang on, Allie.”
Mom’s voice sounded like it was below me. In our game room.
Or should I say, soon-to-be-someone-else’s-game-room.
It was in moments like these that I missed my brothers, Ryan and Cody. Ryan, the oldest one, married his high-school sweetheart, Brittany, two years ago, and moved to California because they were both offered teaching jobs in Santa Barbara. They’re now considered the “West Coast Carroways,” and the producers fly them in to be in the show once in a while. If they were here right now, Ryan would find a way to make me laugh about this house nightmare, and Brittany—well, Brittany would be the perfect big sister and just hug me.
If my brother, Cody, were here, he’d boobytrap the house or figure out the perfect prank to play on everyone to buy us some time. Or to get the buyers to change their minds.
I lowered my face to my knees.
Maybe I should call Cody at college and ask him to come home this weekend and help. It’ll cost me some noogies, but it’s a small price to pay . . .
“Allie? What’s all the groaning about? Are you having an allergy attack?”
Mom came walking up the steps to greet me. She was wearing her grubby, light-gray sweats and oversized sweatshirt, and her blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a bun—but hers was staying.
I raised my head a few inches.
“How can you work out at a time like this, when I’m losing the only home I’ve ever known?”
Mom put her hands on her hips.
“Hey—at least you don’t have to figure out how to weed out and pack twenty years of stuff. And I haven’t been working out—I’ve been cleaning out the game room closet.”
I straightened up.
“You didn’t throw away any of the games, did you?”
“Allie, you never play them.”
“But I’m comforted knowing they’re there just in case.”
Mom stepped up to the top of the steps, turned around, and sat down next to me. Then she lay down flat on her back.
“Help me, Lord! How am I going to move out of this house when my husband’s out shootin’ ducks every day?”
I copied her helpless pose and stared up at the ceiling.
“So, we’re really moving out, then? This whole thing wasn’t just a big Halloween prank?”
Mom reached over and grabbed my hand.
“Your dad and I are still praying about it, but if the offer looks as good as Ellen says it is, yes, we’ll move out in thirty days—somehow. Kassie and Wayne already said we could move in with them. You and Kendall can share a room.” Mom turned her head to look at me. “That should be fun, right?”
Songs swirled in my head as I imagined what my life would be like with Kendall. It would be a musical, that’s what. Playing air-guitar while dancing on the bed, composing love songs on the ukulele at night, and there would be the never-ending recording of cover songs for social media. Could I survive it?
Mom took a deep breath and sat up. She pulled me up and wrapped her arm around my shoulders.
“We have to remember that this is a good change. You’re going to feel great living in our new house. So, we have a little inconvenience at first. We can do this, Allie-girl. We’re Carroway women!”
“Umm, may I remind you, I’m just a Carroway girl. I’ve never moved even once before.”
“But you’ve had to deal with much worse with all your health problems. Moving’s nothing compared to that.”
I smiled a little.
“If you say so.”
Mom reached up to release her hair from her bun.
“Oh, hey—that reminds me. This morning the producers of the show called . . .”
My throat tightened.
“Yeeeeaaaaaah . . .”
She ran her fingers through her hair, and I watched in amazement as the locks fell into place like she just got out of a salon or something.
“And they had an idea. Last night, they got some great footage of the peanut fiasco . . .”
My heart started pounding.
“Yeeeeaaaaah . . .”
Mom stopped with the hair fluffing.
“Why are you saying that?”
“Saying what?”
Mom crossed her arms. “Yeeeeeaaaaaaah.”
“It’s just that I already know what you’re going to say.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know how this works. Go on.”
Mom just stared and raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, Smart-Allie, the producers want to know if they can use some of the footage from last night in an upcoming episode so we can help people understand how serious food allergies are.”
I stared back.
“You know, kind of like a . . .”
“Public service announcement?” I finished Mom’s sentence for her.
She smiled. “Exactly.”
I shot up on my feet.
“No!” I stamped my foot for effect, and more of the hair in my bun tumbled out.
Mom stood up next to me and put her hand on my shoulder.
“No? Really? Allie, I’m surprised by your reaction.”
“What did you expect me to say? ‘Sure, go ahead, because I don’t mind being humiliated in front of millions of people?’ Does everyone always have to know everything about us?”
“No, they don’t.” Mom took her hand and swept it in the air. “In fact, I don’t see one single camera catching this glorious moment, do you?”
I dropped my face in my hands, breathed hard in and out, and then raised it back up again.
“I’m sorry. I . . . don’t know what’s wrong with me. I t
hink I need some fresh air. Maybe a little . . .”
Run. Run, Allie!
“I’m gonna go for a run. Is that okay?”
Mom gave me a hug. “It’s fine with me, but take your inhaler.” Mom started back down the steps, then turned. “We’ll talk about the show thing when your dad gets back from the realtor’s office. He went to find out more about this family who wants to buy our house without even looking at it.”
CHAPTER 5
Lickety Split
I had changed out of PJs into my favorite coral sweats, and was running on the path next to the river for at least five minutes before I remembered that I’m a gymnast—not a runner. I stopped, put my hands on my knees, and attempted to catch my breath.
“I wish I had some of Emmy’s energy.”
I smiled as I remembered the little girl with the fragile bones who had asked me to pray for her.
Lord, help her not to run if it’s going to hurt her. Help her grow strong so she can do whatever you’ve created her to do.
I sat down cross-legged in the plush grass next to the path, pulled up a thick blade, and began to rip it apart when my phone buzzed inside my pink wrist pack.
I pulled it out and looked at the screen.
It was a text from Lola.
I heard about your house!!!!!!!!!!!! What are
you going to do???????????
You can always count on Lola to feel your pain, but sometimes she comes up with new woes you haven’t considered. She buzzed again:
Are you really going to share a room with
Kendall??????????? You know how much she
sings!!!!!!!!!!! You can share a room with Ruby
and me!!!!!!!!!
I texted her back.
Too many !!!!!!s and ?????s.
My phone rang. Lola’s name flashed on the caller id.
I answered.
“I’m sitting here staring at the river and ripping grass.”
“Oh, you poor thing!”
“I don’t know what else to do.” I pulled up a few more blades and threw them into the wind.
“Let’s meet at the Lickety Split.”
“Uh . . . it’s still under construction.”
“Yeah, I know. We can meet at the bottom of the steps. I’ll text the other cousins and we’ll see you there in ten minutes.”
I heard a click on the other end. There was no point in protesting. Lola was the fastest texter in Louisiana, so I was sure that the cousins were already on their way.
I stood and brushed the grass off myself, put my phone back in my pack, and decided to cartwheel my way to the Split. It seemed fitting—considering my life was turning me in circles . . . again.
The Lickety Split is the name of our soon-to-be Carroway Cousin Clubhouse. It’s a replacement for our old clubhouse—the Diva Duck Blind. It was pink and purple and glittery, like a princess castle. The thing was decades old—my dad and his brothers used to play in that same clubhouse when they were kids. There were only two problems with the Diva Duck Blind. One, it wasn’t an inviting place for boy cousins, and recently we got one named Hunter. Two, the place was full of mold which was slowly choking me.
So, we tore it down, and started over, with Hunter drawing up new plans with an architect and overall handyman genius named Mr. Dimple, who happened to be hanging up in the tree when I cartwheeled over.
“Helloooo down there, Allie Carroway!”
“Hi, Mr. Dimple! How’s the Lickety Split coming along?”
Mr. Dimple climbed down the old pink and purple steps.
“Well,” Mr. Dimple took off his work gloves and slapped them on his work pants to release the dirt. “I’d like to say it’s being true to its name, but it’s more like the ‘Lickety Slow’ at the moment. But that’s how it is when you’re building a foundation. We gotta make sure it’s solid up there. It may seem like nothin’s happenin’, but you’ll see, all of a sudden you’ll have yourself a clubhouse.”
“Well, if it’s done before my new house, I might have to move in.”
Mr. Dimple chuckled. “Well, the Split’s gonna have some good square footage, but I’d still recommend you stay in your old house until the new one is done.”
“That was the idea, but my parents got an offer last night. If they accept it, we’re out in thirty days.”
“Whoa! Do the buyers know that’s right in the middle of duck-huntin’ season?”
“They might not, but my dad is very aware.”
“I hope to shout.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, that’s just an old phrase that means ‘You better believe it.’ My daddy used to say it all the time. You see, sometimes my mama would give him a rough time about goin’ out after ducks, day in and day out . . .”
Mr. Dimple is the friendliest, most talkative man in my whole town. If you’ve got a few hours to chat, you’re in luck, because Mr. Dimple does too. The trick comes when you don’t have much time, and you have to think of a way to move out of the conversation without appearing rude. Thankfully for me, right at that moment, my cousins came running up the hill.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Dimple. I’ve gotta go. I have an important meeting.”
He put his hand out. “Say no more, I understand how important it is for young folk to connect. I was about to take a break and go pick up some supplies anyway. You’ll be seein’ some real progress soon, I promise.”
Mr. Dimple smiled and gathered up some of his tools.
“Thanks for working so hard on it,” I said.
“It’s a pleasure, Miss Allie.” He started down the hill toward his truck, waving at Kendall, Hunter, Lola, and Ruby as he walked by.
“Hey, Allie! You lived!” Hunter’s curly blonde hair bobbed on top of his head as he ran up the hill. He wore an oversized green T-shirt and long black basketball shorts, and carried his white bucket, which was usually filled with snacks, duct tape, and other random boy things. The three girls followed, and Ruby swung a basket which I hoped contained her famous chocolate-chip cookies.
Lola ran up to me, grabbed my hand, and squeezed it.
“You’re not alone,” she said. “We’re behind this a hundred percent.”
“Behind what?”
“Us taking a break from the show. Kendall told us everything. You’re moving, I’m tired of wearing camo, and next week’s scenes call for lots of it. It’s duck-hunting season, you know.”
I turned to Ruby.
“Are those cookies?”
Ruby smiled, and fiddled with the long, red braid that hung in front of her right shoulder.
“Yes, they are. Guaranteed nut free!”
“Perfect.” I reached out for the basket, and Ruby handed it to me. I looked up at the construction in the tree. “I wish the Lickety Split was ready. We could use a secret meeting place right now.”
Hunter plunked down in the grass, and brought out a bag of gummy worms to munch on. He also pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
“So, since I’m new to the family, I need you all to explain this.”
We sat down in a circle, and Hunter held up the paper so we could see the written part. It said, “Hunter’s Duck Season Chores.”
Lola groaned. “Oh, no. The lists are out. We’re doomed.”
“Let me see that.” Kendall took the list from Hunter and began to read it out loud. “Take out trash. Mow lawn. Sweep garage. Pull weeds. Rake leaves . . . Hey, that’s on my list too!” She smacked the paper with the back of her hand.
I crossed my arms. “It’s gonna be on all of our lists, people. The leaves never take a break around here.”
“But, I don’t get it,” Hunter said. “These are all Dad’s jobs. I help him when I can, but they aren’t on my official chore list.”
“Well, they are now, little brother, because Dad’s about to disappear into Duckland.”
“Disappear? You mean I won’t see him at all?” Hunter frowned.
Ruby patted him on the shoulder.
“You’ll ge
t to see him a little. When I start to really miss my dad, I set my alarm for four in the morning, and I go eat cereal with him before he leaves.”
“Four in the morning?” Hunter popped a worm in his mouth and chewed a little. “Isn’t that still night?”
“It might as well be,” Lola said.
“We’ll get to film an episode with them out in the duck blind.” Ruby was still trying to spin this as a good thing.
“Get to?” Lola threw her hands up in the air. “You mean we have to. And that’s not the worst thing. More camo.”
“And I don’t like the smell out there,” Kendall added.
“What does it smell like?” Hunter asked.
“Dirt and sweaty boys,” Lola said.
Hunter sniffed his underarm. “I’m used to that, but do we have to go?” Hunter passed the worm bag around the circle.
“Yeah, at least a couple of times,” I said. “The producers like to show us hunting with our dads.”
“I hate hunting.” Hunter slumped and popped a green worm in his mouth.
“Remember last year when that snake slithered up next to me, and I screamed on camera?” Ruby shook her head.
“Remember?” Lola dangled an orange gummy in front of Ruby’s face. “It made history! Fan Favorite number five. People still talk about that.”
“And I’m still embarrassed by it.” Ruby blushed.
“I totally get the embarrassing part,” I said. “The camera was rolling last night during my peanut scare, and they want to use it as a public service announcement to help people understand food allergies.”
“I knew it! Didn’t I just tell you that last night?”
“Yes, Kendall.”
“We need to stop the madness,” Kendall pounded her legs with her fists. “What’s gonna happen when we all start dating? Are they gonna follow us around with cameras to try to catch our first kiss?”
“Eww,” Ruby said. “I’m only ten. I’m not kissin’ anyone!”
Hunter grinned. “Maybe if we just ask nicely, they’ll take us out of the show.”
“Won’t work,” I said. “We’re Carroways. The show’s always been about our whole family.”
“Well, there must be a way for us to share our concerns.” Ruby took another bite of a cookie.
“We need some privacy and a break,” Kendall spoke in her fake British accent and flipped her hair.
Running from Reality Page 3
