Dawn, Delaney, and I exchanged surprised glances. Well, Dawn’s glance was more of a glower.
At that point, all six of us were just standing there, but no one was saying anything. After a while the silence felt weird.
“Okay, well … see ya,” Jay said. He pivoted around on his hiking boots and headed for the snack display with Nelson right behind him.
Robbie smiled at us and gave a small wave. Then he trotted fast to catch up with the other boys.
Delaney and I waved back, but Dawn just scowled. Dawn had been surly ever since we first discovered those boy campers. I’m not sure why she saw them as a threat. I didn’t exactly like them, but I didn’t dislike them, either.
“So … now that we said we’re staying at the campground, does this mean we’re actually staying?” Delaney asked.
“Of course,” Dawn said, still frowning at the boys’ backs. “No way am I giving those fellows the satisfaction of us leaving.”
Delaney shouted, “Yay!” and I high-fived her. I went to give Dawn a high five, but she had her arms folded across her chest.
“But I have another ominous feeling,” Dawn said, “that this campground isn’t big enough for the six of us.”
We decided to have lunch at Camp HQ instead of our campsite so that Dawn could stay off her feet a while longer and let the medicine work. The skin on her leg was all pink and the stings had blistered. It reminded me of chicken skin. So when Aunt Jane suggested the chicken tenders, I said “No, thank you” and asked for grilled cheese instead. It was yummy, but then I gobbled it lickety-split and ended up with nothing to do.
I don’t understand how Mom and Lily say “time flies,” because to me it’s the opposite. To me, time moves like a sleepy snail or molasses running uphill. My sisters didn’t seem bored. Across the table from me, Dawn was staring off into the distance, tapping her chin, and occasionally grumbling to herself. She was probably pondering something related to those boys. Darby sat beside me, lost in la-la land, slowly eating the rest of her crinkle chips. Darby is the most adventuresome of the three of us, but she’s also the daydreamiest. She can sit still for hours just thinking or doodling or reading. Then again, the way she was tilted toward the long wooden counter made me wonder if she were trying to eavesdrop on Aunt Jane and Mrs. Kimbro, who stood talking on the other side.
I drummed my fingers on the table, but the rhythm just made me want to dance around more. I bounced on the wooden bench a bit, but that wasn’t any fun since it had no cushion.
“I feel antsy,” I said to Dawn.
She grimaced. “Please don’t use that word around me.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
I glanced around searching for a distraction. Over by the cash register was a tall circular rack full of postcards. There were lots with wildflowers on the front, and some with wild animals. My favorite was of a bobcat with big round yellow eyes.
“Aunt Jane, can I buy a postcard?” I asked.
“Good idea. As long as we’re here, why don’t you girls all pick out postcards and write messages to folks back home?” She turned to Mrs. Kimbro. “Got any stamps?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mrs. Kimbro headed over to the cash register, opened it, and pulled out three stamps. “Here, darling,” she said, setting them on the table by Dawn.
“Thanks,” we all said.
Mrs. Kimbro’s grin widened. “Sure thing. I’ve also got a cup full of pens and pencils up here. Y’all help yourself to whatever you need. When you’re done you can post them there.” She pointed to the door near the patio. Next to it stood a tall wooden box with the words OUTGOING MAIL stenciled on it in dark blue.
It took a few minutes for me to look over all the options. Finally, I decided to get two with the bobcat picture. It was still my favorite.
“You guys want any?” I asked Dawn and Darby.
Darby shook her head. “Postcards are too small — I can’t fit a proper letter on them.”
“Dawn, do you want one?” I asked.
“Maybe. Are there any with pictures of fire ants on them? I want everyone back home to see the danger they’ve put us in.”
I looked and looked, but there were no ant postcards.
“Fine,” Dawn said when I told her. “Is there one of anything that crawls on the ground?”
“There’s a horned toad.”
“Perfect.”
I also grabbed pens for both me and Dawn and sat down beside her. I wrote Dear Mom, on one card and Dear Dad, on the other. Then I couldn’t think of anything else to write. That pins-and-needles feeling was back. It wasn’t that I was bored exactly. It was that I could feel all the places outside that I hadn’t explored — all the things I hadn’t seen yet. I just didn’t want to sit any longer.
But then I remembered one of our rules for home and campground: No going off by yourself.
I glanced over at Darby, who had secured some notebook paper from Mrs. Kimbro and was in the process of composing a letter — filling the lines with her itty-bitty scrawl. In front of her was a stack of empty sheets and a few envelopes. No way could I wait for her to finish writing.
I looked over at my other sister, who seemed almost done with her postcard.
“So, Dawn,” I began in my friendliest voice. “It seems like you’re feeling better. Would you like to go for a walk when you’re done with that card?”
“You got the pent-up jitters, don’t you?” she asked without glancing up.
I hung my head a little. “Yes. I can’t help it. I want to go search for real bobcats, not just gaze at their pictures.”
“Ding-dang it, Delaney. Do you want to get scratched to pieces? Considering my mishaps, Darby’s daredevil antics, and you wanting to befriend wild animals, Aunt Jane is going to end up taking us all to the hospital!”
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t get too close.” The restless feelings were making me bounce on my toes. “I just want to see something.”
I wanted to say that I was jealous of Jay, Robbie, and Nelson because they got to go on an expedition. They’d probably already seen bobcats or jack rabbits or baby deer. But I knew those guys were a sore spot with Dawn, so I pressed my lips together hard to keep the words from escaping.
Dawn let out a big loud sigh. “Just go. Turn more cartwheels or something. Unlike me, you’ve got two good feet, so you should use them. As long as you stay close, Aunt Jane won’t worry.”
“You’re right! That’s still a lot of space,” I said, taking tiny hops closer to where Aunt Jane and Mrs. Kimbro were laughing over something. “Aunt Jane, I’m going outside, but will stay in sight of HQ, okay?”
“Sure thing, Delaney,” she said, turning to look at the three of us. “Why don’t you take your apple in case you want a quick bite?” I nodded and went back to get it.
“Here,” Dawn handed me her postcard. “Can you put this in the mail drop on the way out?”
I didn’t mean to read her private message, but Dawn has big writing and the mail drop was on the far end of HQ. This is what it said:
After I plunked it in the mail slot, I skipped outside and started turning cartwheels on the grassy area by the patio in order to get the jitters out. Then I headed toward the trees, careful not to get out of sight of Camp HQ, so that Aunt Jane could still see me if she checked.
I slipped off my sandals to be extra quiet, and scanned the nearby wilderness, searching for the tufted ears of a bobcat, but all I could see were leaves and branches and rocks. I also looked for horned toads, but didn’t spot any. There were lots and lots of orange and yellow wildflowers, though. That was pretty.
Scouring for animals was not as fun as I thought it would be. Eventually, my eyes got tired and my body got fidgety again, so I started tossing my apple up and catching it. Then I tried catching it one-handed and only missed a couple of times. Once it was on the ground, I started to kick it back and forth like a soccer ball. This was fun for a while, until I stepped on a prickle burr and it got stuck in the heel of my foot.
The ears twitched and started moving toward me. Whatever it was, it sounded big. Because its footsteps made heavy tamp-tamping sounds. I figured I should run away and give it space, but the burr was still stuck in my foot. And then suddenly, the thing in the bushes made a horrible, blaring noise like a broken tuba.
I couldn’t help it. I let out one of my intolerably loud screams and started crawling backward. I was about to get eaten!
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Aunt Jane, Mrs. Kimbro, and Darby dash out the door of HQ and race toward me. But they were far away, and at the very same moment the beast pushed its way through the brush.
I saw those twitchy, rabbit-like ears, and below that, a long muzzle. At the end of the muzzle was a mouth that opened wide, revealing huge yellow-and-brown teeth. Before I could scream again, the mouth came down down down …
… and started chomping on my apple.
When we heard Delaney’s scream, we all shot out of HQ like rockets — well, I moved more like a hurried zombie with my itchy leg and only one shoe on.
By the time I made it out there, she’d gotten over her fright and was laughing and patting that ugly donkey on his forehead. She would be mad if she knew I referred to him that way, but it’s the truth. He’s about the funniest looking animal I’ve ever seen.
Delaney and Darby started fawning all over the beast as if he were a big puppy. And there I was, trying to balance on one squishy sneaker. To tear everyone away, Aunt Jane reminded us that we were due our Daily Chocolate according to our camping guidelines. This made Darby and Delaney agree to go back to HQ, with me hobbling after them.
Mrs. Kimbro told us all about the donkey as we shared a small package of Oreos. The donkey belongs to her family and is allowed to wander free most of the time because he’s very gentle. Mrs. Kimbro said he’s getting kind of old and that his real name is Donkey — which is a lousy name, even if it is technically accurate. Apparently, Darby didn’t like it, either, because she suggested nicknaming him Democrat, or Mo for short. We all agreed that this fit him better and decided to call him Mo while we were there.
Then Mrs. Kimbro told us how Donkey/Mo had been good friends with their dog, a shepherd mix named Chiquita. But she died last winter and Mo has been lonely ever since.
“Poor thing!” Darby exclaimed.
“I’ll be his new friend!” Delaney said, and I could see her eyes starting to tear up over the story.
I have to admit, I also felt sorry for the poor animal.
When we left HQ and headed back to our camper, Mo followed us the entire way. Darby and Delaney were overjoyed. As friendly as he was, I still kept a safe distance. Donkeys are smaller than horses and cows, and Mrs. Kimbro said he was no trouble. Still, I’m pretty sure he could flatten me with his hooves if he wanted to — so I wasn’t going to give him a reason to want to.
Back at camp, Darby went into the trailer to finish her letter home. Mo started eating some plants over by our cartwheel spot, and Delaney proceeded to follow him around, telling him her life story.
I decided to spend more time with Aunt Jane. She was sitting at the picnic table staring out at the nearby trees with that same faraway expression she’d been wearing a lot lately.
“It must be so boring for you here,” I said, sitting down beside her.
Aunt Jane looked surprised. “Not at all. I love camping. Remember, it was my idea to bring you all out here.”
“I mean coming back to rural Texas. Boston must be so much better.”
“Oh, honey, no. It’s not better.”
“But it’s big and old and it has all those museums. Revolutionary War heroes actually lived and worked there!” I rested my chin on my hand and let out a sigh of longing. “It must be so much more exciting.”
“My last two days there were spent going to work, ordering supplies, making phone calls, coming home, and sleeping. My two days here have involved you falling into a creek and getting attacked by ants, cartwheels, running into a dear old friend, and Delaney getting freaked out by a donkey. I ask you” — she bumped my shoulder with hers — “which sounds more exciting?”
“You know what I mean. Boston has all that history. It has everything.”
“It’s just different, that’s all. The weather is different. The traffic is different. There aren’t as many donkeys walking around. But in most ways, it’s not so different. There are good folks there and folks you want to avoid. And remember, history is everywhere — not just in museums.”
“I guess.”
“Besides there’s one huge thing Boston doesn’t have.” Aunt Jane smiled slyly.
“What’s that?”
“My family,” she said, pointing right at me. “Don’t forget about family history. It’s precious, and we’re making it right now. Together.”
I thought about that for a second. Aunt Jane always made us feel remarkable. When other kids teased us and refused to play Presidential Trivia or do re-enactments of important historical moments, she told us it didn’t make us weird — it made us exceptional. That was the word she used, and I loved it. We were an exception.
“Thanks, Aunt Jane!” I reached over and gave her a big hug. Once again she looked surprised.
“Aw, shucks,” she said, patting out a rhythm on my back. “If I’ve helped you in some way, then it’s my pleasure.”
I used to wonder what it was like for the president of the United States to live and work in the same house. Surely it would be distracting, and sometimes annoying, to have family so close by. But just now, I realized it was a bonus.
Because sometimes it’s your family that teaches you things the way no one else can. Not experts or philosophers or elder statesmen — but family.
“Aunt Jane, when I become president, would you be one of my top advisors?”
“It would be a great honor, Dawnie.”
When I woke up the next morning, Aunt Jane was asleep on her bunk, but Dawn and Delaney weren’t there. Peering out the window flap, I could see Delaney feeding Mo some of our carrots.
By the time I got outside, Mo was done with the carrots and Delaney was waving different kinds of leaves and grasses in front of his face.
“Where’s Dawn?” I asked, glancing around.
Delaney pointed toward the other side of the campground. “She went to see if the boys were holding a meeting so she could listen in.”
I shook my head. Once Dawn sets her mind on something, she’s like our golden Labrador, Quincy, when he picks up the scent of a cat. She stays focused on it no matter what, and has been known to howl if she’s kept from her goal.
“I need to go to HQ and mail my letter to Lily,” I said, holding up the sealed envelope. “Plus, I need to buy more stamps for all the other letters I’m going to write. Would you come with me so that I’ll be following the rules?”
“Sure! Come on, Mo.”
I crept back into the camper and silently wrote out a note for Aunt Jane. Then we headed toward HQ. As we passed him, Mo fell into step behind us. I hated to think how Delaney was going to react when it was time to leave the campground, and Mo, behind.
Just as we reached the opening in the brush that led to the trail, we heard Dawn’s voice behind us.
“Hold up!” She ran over and wedged in between me and Delaney. “Where are you headed? Can I come?”
“To HQ and sure,” I said. “What have you been doing?”
“Those boys were holding a morning meeting and I …” She paused. “I just happened to overhear them.”
“Are you still bothered by Jay wanting to be president?” Delaney asked.
“Please,” she sa
id, waving her hand as if flicking away the question. “I pity the guy, actually. If I wasn’t so busy, I’d go over there and give him pointers.”
“What’s he doing wrong?” I asked.
“He’s letting each boy lobby for how he thinks they should spend the day. The speeches are taking forever! I finally got bored and snuck away.”
I was going to ask her why she was spying on them if she doesn’t care what they do, but decided it was best to let the conversation end. Besides, we were coming up on HQ.
An older man with a bushy gray mustache was heading the opposite way down the other trail that led to the lake. He was carrying a fishing pole and had a big green satchel hanging off his right shoulder. “Good morning, good morning, good morning,” he said, tipping his fishing cap at each of us as we filed past.
“Good morning,” we said.
Then he tipped his hat at Mo. “Good morning, Mr. Donkey.”
Mo made a snuffly sound.
“Name’s Ned Bartholomew,” he said. “To whom do I have the pleasure of introducing myself?”
“We’re Dawn, Darby, and Delaney Brewster,” Delaney said, pointing at each of us when she said our names.
“Honored to make your acquaintance,” Mr. Bartholomew said. I couldn’t see his mouth because of his big moustache, but I could tell by his eyes that he was smiling. “Y’all have a terrific day now.” He gave us a teeny bow and continued on his way.
“You too,” we called out.
“He’s nice,” I said once he’d walked out of range.
“He is,” Delaney said. “He kind of reminds me of Mr. Neighbor, only he doesn’t say ‘Make way for ducklings!’ ”
“He could have said, ‘Make way for donkeys!’ ” Dawn said, and we all laughed.
Camp HQ was the busiest we’ve seen it since we arrived. There were about five other people inside, all wearing floppy hats and carrying fishing poles or thermoses. Mrs. Kimbro was running all around, working the cash register, finding special tackle, and serving up the daily breakfast special — pigs in blankets. I plopped my letter into the OUTGOING MAIL box and we got in line at the counter.
Revenge of the Happy Campers Page 4
