“What time is it?” I asked.
“Ten o’clock,” Mom said through gritted teeth. “He’s lost. I just know it.”
“Can’t we call him?” I asked.
“Uncle Leo doesn’t have a cell phone,” Mom said. “He owned one once, but lost it. He said he never used it anyway.”
When 11:00 arrived, I was thinking about hollering “Uncle Leo!” at the top of my lungs. It couldn’t hurt. I was missing out on the fun. The other Gypsy Club members would be there by now and they’d be able to start putting our plan into action.
Thirty minutes later, I spotted an old beat-up truck with a silver trailer coming down the road. “There he is!” I hollered. “There’s Uncle Leo!”
Then he drove right past the post office without even stopping.
“Was that him?” Sam asked.
“Yes.” Mom and Chief groaned at the same time.
“Should we catch him?” I asked.
“Yazoo isn’t that big. He’ll turn around and figure it out,” said Chief.
Mom frowned at Chief. “Don’t bet on it.”
Then I said, “Remember when Uncle Leo forgot how to get to Grandma’s home?”
“And he grew up in that house,” Tori said.
“Let’s get out of the car, girls, so that he’ll see us when he turns around.”
We climbed out of the van and waited. Sure enough, ten minutes later Uncle Leo came back our way. We waved our arms high above our heads. We looked like we were signaling airplanes.
“Uncle Leo!” We yelled.
But Uncle Leo drove right on by.
Mom shook her head. “How could he miss us?”
Finally Chief said, “Let’s catch him.”
We climbed back into the van and Chief pressed the accelerator. Our van turned into a NASCAR racecar. The wind blew through the open windows. Our hair and Bruna’s ears flew like kite tails.
“Watch out, Karl,” Mom said. “I wonder what the speed limit is in this little town?”
That’s when our family met the sheriff of Yazoo, Alabama.
5
CAMP CHIC-A-DEE
Chief pulled over to the side of the road.
“Are we going to jail?” asked Sam.
“Behave yourselves, girls,” Chief said as the sheriff approached our van.
Chief pulled out his wallet and gave the sheriff his driver’s license.
“Mr. Reed,” the sheriff said, “we may be a small town, but we have laws.”
“Yes, sir,” Chief said. “I’m sorry. I was trying to catch up with—”
The sheriff held up his palm.
Chief stopped explaining. That hand trick must work on everyone.
Just as the sheriff handed a ticket to Chief, Uncle Leo drove up.
“Finally,” I said.
Uncle Leo rolled down his window. “Excuse me, sir. Could you tell me where I could find the Yazoo branch of the United States Post Office?”
Mom leaned over Chief and waved her hand out the window. “Leo! We’re right here.”
Uncle Leo squinted in our direction. “Oh, hi, Edie.”
“Hi.” Mom sounded mad.
“Hi, Karl.”
“Hi, Leo.”
“Hi, girls.”
“Hi, Uncle Leo.”
After the sheriff drove away, we headed to the post office. Uncle Leo helped Chief attach the Airstream to our van. Then we stopped at a diner for a soft drink before heading to the camp. My stomach growled as I watched the waitress serve hamburgers to another group. But Mom wouldn’t let us order anything, except a drink, because she had told Yolanda we’d be there by lunchtime. I gulped down my cola while Mom and Chief asked Uncle Leo about Grandma and Grandpa Morris. But Uncle Leo always seemed to answer by telling them something else about hummingbirds. Most people are interested in all kinds of things. Not Uncle Leo. He’s interested in only one thing—hummingbirds. Uncle Leo is a hummingbird expert. He’s even traveled around the world studying different species, like the Stripe-tailed Hummingbird. Finally we took off for the campgrounds.
A couple of miles out of town, Chief glanced in the rearview mirror. Then he quickly looked again. “I hate to tell you this, Edie, but Leo is following us.”
Chief pulled over on the shoulder of the road. Uncle Leo just waved and kept driving in the wrong direction.
“Maybe he wants to take the scenic route,” I said.
Mom sighed. I thought it was bad having sisters like Tori and Sam. I guess even really smart people are dumb about some things. Uncle Leo knew everything about hummingbirds, but he couldn’t read a map or find his way back home.
At two o’clock we pulled into the campgrounds.
“Where were you?” Hailey asked.
“We were worried,” Nicole said.
“Did you stop at McDonald’s?” Michael asked. “We had to eat turkey sandwiches. There’s only one time a year that I want to eat turkey—Thanksgiving. And I don’t even want it then.”
“We didn’t stop anywhere to eat,” I said. “I’m starved.” Even a turkey sandwich sounded delicious.
Mom shook her head and said, “Leo.”
Chief explained what happened. Everyone laughed.
“I hope Uncle Leo finds his way home,” I said.
“We tried waiting to eat as long as we could,” Yolanda said, “but we got hungry. I don’t know why we forgot to get each other’s cell phone numbers.”
While I ate my turkey sandwich, the other Gypsy Club members walked to the dock. I hurried and finished. Then I started to take off to join them at the lake.
“Piper, don’t forget Bruna,” Mom said.
I turned around and walked back.
Mom held out the leash. Bruna was at her feet, wagging her tail.
“You have the first shift,” said Mom. “We didn’t bring her so that she would be tied to a tree all day.”
Bruna stretched up, resting her paws against my legs.
“Sit,” I said.
Bruna sat.
Then I snapped the leash onto her collar. We ran toward the dock. The lake was sparkly with a few rowboats filled with people fishing. The trees were tall and thick around us. Before we got to the campgrounds, I could think only about Halloween. Now it was hard to think of anything but camping. I couldn’t wait to go fishing and roast marshmallows.
Tori wandered up, holding her notebook. She was probably going to write some boring poems about water.
“Do you think we’ll go fishing today?” Hailey asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s kind of late. When Chief goes fishing he usually leaves early in the morning.”
“My dad doesn’t like to fish,” Stanley said, “but he likes to sail.”
“Does your brother like to sail?” Tori asked. Her voice sounded sweet and gooey. I almost didn’t recognize it.
“Kirby doesn’t like the water,” said Stanley.
Tori shook her head. Her face turned red. “Not Kirby. S-Simon.”
Stanley looked down at the water, fiddling with his glasses. “Oh, Simon is a good sailor. Simon is good at everything.”
“Really?” Tori asked as if she hadn’t gone on and on about him all week. Simon this. Simon that. I’d had about enough of Simon Hampshire. Before long, he’d probably be the youngest inventor of a new candy bar.
Stanley got real quiet and stared at the clouds. I thought it was hard having two sisters who did great in school, but I knew I could do a lot of things they couldn’t. I could draw better. I could teach Bruna tricks. I could run and swim faster than both of them together. But poor Stanley didn’t seem to be good at anything.
Stanley looked at Bruna. “Does your dog bite?”
“Nope,” I told him. “Want to make friends with her?”
Stanley nodded.
“Let her sniff you first,” I said.
“Huh?”
“Like this, Stanley.” Michael put his hand under Bruna’s nose and Bruna smelled it.
Stanl
ey slowly put his hand under Bruna’s nose.
Bruna sniffed and sniffed at his fingers. Then she licked them.
Stanley laughed. “Hey, that tickles.”
Nicole started to sneeze. “I’m allergic to dogs.”
Michael sighed. “Yep, she’s allergic to the whole world.”
Nicole sneezed again. And again. She always triple sneezed. Nicole was a champion sneezer.
Hailey tugged at Nicole’s T-shirt. “Come on, Nicole. We’d better get you away from Bruna.”
Nicole followed Hailey off the dock and toward the campgrounds. Someone had made a fire.
Keeping the entire Gypsy Club together and taking care of Bruna was going to be harder than I’d realized. Especially when one of the Gypsy Club members was allergic to dogs. I couldn’t wait until it was Tori’s turn.
I played with Bruna for a while, running back and forth along the lake. When she started panting and slowing down, I walked over to the campsite. I tied her leash to the leg of one of the picnic tables and joined my friends.
Tori stood smack in the middle of them. Tori, who thought she was too old for my friends. Tori, who thought the Gypsy Club was silly. Tori, who had no business sitting where I should have been sitting, announced, “We should write haikus.”
“Hi who?” Stanley asked.
I knew what a haiku was because I had Tori Reed for a sister. I guess all her poetry talk dripped on me or something. “Haiku is a type of Japanese poem,” I told him.
“It’s usually about nature,” Tori said, sounding just like the know-it-all she thinks she is.
“Doesn’t each line have a certain number of syllables?” Hailey asked.
“Well,” Tori said, “real haiku poets don’t use this form, but to make it simple we could go with 5-7-5.”
“Huh?” Stanley scratched his head.
“Five syllables for the first line,” Hailey explained. “Then seven for the second, and five for the third.”
“Oh, okay,” Stanley said. “I think I remember Simon talking about haikus.”
“Really?” The mere mention of Simon’s name caused Tori’s eyelashes to flutter. “What did Simon say about haikus?”
There was that name again. Simon.
Stanley shrugged. “Aw, I don’t remember. But Simon won a poetry contest when we lived in Norfolk. They printed his poem in the newspaper and everything.”
Sam rose on her tiptoes, trying to meet Stanley’s eyes. “My picture has been in the newspaper.”
“Well,” Stanley said, “Simon’s picture has been in the paper a lot for poetry and track and sailing and for earning the most Boy Scout badges and—”
“Okay, Stanley, we get the idea,” I said. “Simon can do anything.”
“Yeah,” Stanley said, “he can. He’ll probably be a famous author one day.”
“No doubt,” said Tori.
“I’m already an author,” Sam said.
“You are?” Stanley asked, truly impressed. “What’s your book? Maybe I’ve read it.”
“Princess Samantha, Ruler of the Fair Land of NAS Pensacola.”
“Oh,” Stanley said. “I haven’t read that.”
“Most people haven’t,” I told him.
“Well, how about it?” Tori asked. “We don’t have to work hard at it. We’ll just let the haikus come to us like all good poetry. Pretty soon you’ll find haikus everywhere.”
We just stared at her.
Tori sighed and walked away.
That night we all sat around the campfire and roasted hot dogs on stakes that Chief and Michael’s dad made from wire clothes hangers.
“Enjoy these hot dogs, folks,” Chief said. “Tomorrow we’re having fish.”
“Are we going to get to catch them?” I asked.
“You bet,” Chief said.
Sam wiggled. “I don’t think I should fish. Peaches the Second wouldn’t like it if I caught one of her relatives.”
“Sam,” I said, “there are no goldfish in that lake.”
Sam folded her arms in front of her chest. “They could be distant relatives.”
After dinner we slid marshmallows on the wire stakes and roasted them over the fire.
“Piper,” Chief said, “be careful. I think your marshmallow is about to catch fire.”
I took it out of the flames. It was burnt black to the crisp. “Ah, just like I like them. Crispy on the outside. Gooey on the inside.”
Tori laughed. “Let’s write a haiku about that. It could start: Gooey marshmallows.”
Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then Nicole said, “Burnt black in the campfire flames.”
“The way Piper likes,” Stanley said.
Everyone clapped. Except me.
“That’s great, Stanley,” Tori said. “See? Writing haikus is exciting.”
I should have known Tori would ruin this camping trip. She was going to squeeze out every bit of fun and use my friends to do it.
6
GONE FISHING
The next morning, it was still dark outside when Mom said, “Rise and shine, Gypsy girls.”
I popped up. Even inside the trailer, I could smell last night’s campfire. I slipped into my jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt.
Chief had to order Tori and Sam to get up. “Come on, team. The early bird catches the worm!”
Tori groaned. “Remind me, again, why I’m doing this.”
Sam kept her eyes squeezed tight. “I don’t want to catch a goldfish.”
“No problem there,” I told her. “If you find a goldfish in that lake, we’ve got another problem.”
“Tori and Sam,” Mom said, “fishing is fun. My fondest memories are fishing with my dad on Blue Lake. Leo never wanted to go, though. Maybe you both take after your uncle.”
Tori’s and Sam’s eyes popped wide open and their feet hit the floor. It was amazing how being compared to Uncle Leo woke them up. They yanked off their pajamas and quickly dressed like they were hurrying down to open presents under the Christmas tree.
Everyone at our campsite was going fishing except Yolanda and Brady. They said they would watch Bruna.
I snapped the leash to Bruna’s collar and walked her over to Yolanda and Abe’s pop-up tent. Abe was outside gathering his fishing equipment. I could hear Brady whining inside the tent. “But I want to go fishing!”
Brady wanted to go fishing as much as Sam didn’t. They should trade places.
“Hi, Piper,” Abe said, giving me a salute. I’d saluted Abe when I first met him and he’d never forgotten.
“Good morning, sir,” I said, saluting back.
“Brady isn’t too happy about not going fishing,” he said.
“Maybe Mom would let him go with us,” I told him.
Abe smiled. “Thanks, Piper, but maybe next year Brady can go after a few more swimming lessons.”
Brady cried louder, “But I could wear my floaties!”
“I’m a great swimmer,” I said. “I’d save Brady if he fell into the water.”
“Thanks, Piper, but Yolanda will take him on the dock later.”
Yolanda unzipped the tent’s opening and slipped out. “Good morning, Piper.”
“Top of the morning to you,” I told her.
Brady stuck his head through the opening. “Piper, I want to go swimming.”
I had to think fast. “But, Brady, who would watch Bruna?”
“Mommy,” Brady said.
I cupped my hand around my mouth as if I was telling Brady a secret even though I knew Abe and Yolanda could hear me. “Brady, Bruna might not listen to your mom. She likes you best.”
Sometimes that seemed like the truth. Bruna listened to about half of what I said and all of what Brady said.
“Well …” Brady stared down, rubbing his chin. Then he looked me straight in the eyes. “Can I be the boss of her?”
“Of your mom?” I asked.
“No, silly. Boona. Can I be the boss of Boona?”
“Yep. Sure thing.”
/> “Can I make her walk on the leash?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Can I tell her to woll over?”
“Certainly.”
“Okay!” Brady said.
Bribing a little kid was exhausting work.
By the time we met at the dock, the sun was just starting to peek above the horizon. It was too early for breakfast, but we waited for Mom and Chief to drink coffee. I didn’t mind. Mom without coffee in the morning was not a pretty sight. They quickly drank a cup and then poured the rest of the coffee into two thermoses. Mom took the blue one and Chief took the green.
Everyone gathered on the dock and then divided into small groups. Hailey and Nicole went with Mr. and Mrs. Austin. Michael and Stanley went with Abe and Chief. That meant I was stuck in Mom’s boat with my sisters who didn’t want to fish. There’s nothing worse than being stuck with people who don’t want to do something you want to do. Those people were bubble busters.
“Here, Piper,” Mom said, “take an oar and make yourself useful.”
I took hold of the oar. Mom gave the other one to Tori. We began to row.
“You’re going too fast!” Tori yelled.
“Hurry up then, slowpoke,” I said, continuing my pace.
“Girls, you need to find a rhythm and stick to it. Piper, slow it down a bit.”
“See,” Tori said, her eyes turning into slits.
“Tori,” Mom said, “pick up the pace a bit.”
I didn’t say a word. I just smiled.
A few yards away Chief handed Michael an oar while Abe offered one to Stanley.
Stanley shook his head. “No, I better not. I wouldn’t be any good. I’m terrible at sailing. Rowing would be the same. If my brother Simon was here, he could do it. He—”
Abe interrupted him, still holding out the oar. “How are you going to know if you don’t try?”
Stanley shrugged. “Well, if you say so.” He grabbed the oar with such gusto he knocked Abe off balance. Abe tipped to the side, but held on to the edge to keep from falling into the water.
“Sorry about that.” Stanley dipped the oar into the water and stirred as if he was cooking a pot of soup.
Piper Reed, Campfire Girl Page 3
