Piper Reed, Campfire Girl

by Kimberly Willis Holt

  “Not like that, Stanley,” Michael said. “Like this.” Michael had been fishing with his dad a lot. He was an expert rower.

  “Oh, okay. I get it.” Stanley stroked the water with such force that the oar escaped out of his hands and started to float away. Chief grabbed hold of it, just as it was about to be out of reach.

  “Oops,” Stanley said. “I told you I wouldn’t be any good at it. There’s not much that I do well. If you would have asked my brother Simon he could have rowed you anywhere you wanted. My brother is an excellent sailor. He’s also won trophies for all kinds of things and earned a whole mess of them … .”

  Simon, Simon, Simon. I was glad we’d rowed our boat away from the guys’ boat and I couldn’t hear Stanley’s gibber about his perfect big brother anymore.

  “Let’s stop right here,” Mom said. She pointed to a log covered with moss that had fallen in the water. “That would be a great place to find fish.”

  “There aren’t any goldfish in that spot, are there?” Sam asked.

  “No,” Mom said. “Just some perch.”

  Sam might be a spelling bee prodigy, but she doesn’t know much about science. What did she think a lake was? A giant koi pond?

  Mom dug in the bait box and pulled out real, live, wiggly worms. She baited Tori’s and Sam’s hooks, but I wanted to do my own.

  My right hand held the hook. My left hand searched in the bait box. When I found a worm, I gently pulled it out. It wiggled and wiggled. I moved the hook toward the worm. But when the hook reached an inch from the worm, I froze. The worm wiggled and wiggled. I could have sworn I heard it squeaking: “Help me, help me!”

  I guess I never thought about what happened to a worm once it was on a hook. Now that’s all I could think about. It was as if I was that worm. The stab. Ouch, ouch! The water. Gurgle, gurgle! The fish. Chomp, chomp.

  While I held the worm and the hook, Sam hollered, “I got one! I got a fish!”

  Her float bobbed under the water a few times.

  “You sure do, Sam,” Mom said. “Hold the rod tight.” Still seated, Mom scooted to Sam’s side and fixed her hands over Sam’s. Together, they yanked. Then Mom let go and Sam reeled by herself. Soon a silver fish appeared above the water.

  “Now reel him in quickly,” Mom told her.

  Sam turned the handle. But before she finished, she pointed her rod straight in the air and the fish swung back and forth above our heads. Sam squealed, still reeling.

  The fish swung toward me and hit me in the face. I dropped my worm a few inches from Tori’s sneakers.

  “Ahh!” she screamed.

  “It’s just a worm,” I told her.

  Mom grabbed the fish. “It’s a beauty, Sam.”

  Sam rubbed her hands together. “I’m going to eat him!”

  I tried to dig for another worm, but my fingertips barely touched the surface of the dirt. Now that I saw what happened to Sam’s worm, I felt like a murderer.

  Mom watched me. Finally she said, “Piper, why don’t you be my guinea pig and try this new bait.” She handed me a box. I wondered what was in this one. Crickets? Grasshoppers? Maybe I wasn’t cut out for fishing.

  “Aren’t you going to open the box?” Tori asked.

  “Sure, I am.” I held my breath. Slowly, I lifted the lid and stared down at the worms—fake worms, red, yellow, and green worms. This was more like it.

  The sunrise turned the sky pink and blue. I heard Bruna barking and I looked toward the dock. Brady and Yolanda were there with her. Yolanda waved to us. Brady held a fishing pole that must have been three times taller than he was.

  “Look, Piper,” he yelled. “I’m fishing!”

  “Get off the bus, Brady!”

  “Look, Sam!” he shouted. “I’m fishing!”

  “That’s great, Brady. Me too. I even caught a big fish.”

  “Look, Mrs. Reed,” Brady hollered. “I’m fishing.”

  “My, my!” Mom said. “Leave some fish for us, please.”

  “Okay,” Brady said. Then he was quiet.

  Tori’s tongue made a snapping noise. “What did I ever do to him?”

  I cast my fishing line into the lake. “The kid has good instincts.”

  Suddenly we heard Yolanda yell, “Oh no!”

  We looked toward the dock, but she was pointing to the lake. One of the boats had flipped over. Chief, Abe, Michael, and Stanley were in the water, and Stanley was saying, “I’m sorry. I knew I’d be lousy at fishing.”

  7

  PROJECT STANLEY

  Chief and Abe gathered the oars and flipped the boat back over. Michael swam to the edge and climbed in. I wish Stanley would have been with us. Then I could have gone swimming.

  Stanley was still a few yards away from the boat, treading water, the orange life vest framing his head.

  Chief held out an oar and told him, “Grab hold, Stanley.”

  Stanley gripped the oar, and Chief pulled him toward the boat. Then Abe and Michael helped drag Stanley into the boat.

  “I guess Stanley isn’t that good at swimming either,” Sam said.

  Mom’s right eyebrow shot up. “Sam, we can’t all be good at everything.”

  “That’s true,” said Sam, “but I’m good at a bunch of things.”

  “Like what?” I should have known better than to ask.

  Sam gently placed her fishing rod on the floor of the boat and began to count on her fingers. “One, spelling. Two, writing stories. Three, dancing. Four, reading. Five, taking care of Peaches the Second—”

  “Peaches the Second is a goldfish!” I told her. “What’s the big deal about taking care of a goldfish?”

  “It’s a very important job,” she said.

  “And don’t forget about Peaches the First,” I told her. “God rest her soul.”

  Tori squinted her eyes at me. “Piper Reed, you are mean.”

  “Fact is fact,” I said.

  “Okay, girls, that’s enough,” Mom said. Then she let out a great big sigh.

  Tori shook her head. “It’s strange that Stanley isn’t good at swimming. His brother Simon is a champion—”

  “Stop!” I said, “Don’t tell me another thing about Simon. Stanley Hampshire is going to do something wonderful and fabulous before we leave this camp. I’m going to see to it, if it’s the last thing I do.”

  I could hardly believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. One minute ago I was wishing Stanley wasn’t a Gypsy Club member, that he wasn’t in my class, that he wasn’t on our camping trip. Now all I could think about was how I was going to make him shine.

  All of a sudden, Sam’s fishing pole started moving.

  “Get your pole, Sam!”

  Sam grabbed hold of her pole and yanked. The red-and-white float bobbed up and down. “Oooo! I think I have a big fish.” She pulled and pulled.

  Mom helped her reel. The handle seemed to become harder and harder to turn.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Sam said. “It must be really big!”

  Figures! I hadn’t caught one miserable fish and Sam was on her second. At least Tori hadn’t caught any either.

  Suddenly Sam’s big catch appeared above the water’s surface—a great big stick!

  “Sam, you forgot something on the things you’re good at list,” I said. “Six, catching sticks.”

  Even after the boat turned over, Chief and the guys caught a dozen fish altogether. Although Stanley was quick to point out that he didn’t catch any.

  By mid-morning, Mom caught two and Tori and I caught one each. Sam caught one fish and two sticks.

  “You’ve got a real knack for that stick catching,” I told her.

  I was starting to feel sorry for Stanley. “Don’t worry,” I told him later. “Not everyone can be good at everything. You’re good at something.”

  “If you say so,” Stanley said. “I just wish I knew what that was.”

  I was starting to wonder, too. What could it be? It wasn’t sailing, swimming, fishing, or m
aking a campfire. But that left a lot of things. Now I just had to think of them.

  After we got back from fishing, Chief, Abe, and Michael’s dad cleaned the fish. “Do you want to learn to clean fish, Stanley?”

  “Not really. I have a queasy stomach.”

  He wasn’t the only one with a queasy stomach. Nicole was feeling sick. “I wonder if I’m allergic to fishing,” she said.

  Mrs. Austin told her to go lie down in their trailer. After she checked on Nicole, she came back out. “She has a bit of a fever. Could Hailey stay with you?” she asked Mom.

  “Of course,” Mom said. “Do you think it could be serious?”

  “I’m going to keep an eye on her. But right now I don’t want to get alarmed. She might’ve just gotten overexcited.”

  Mrs. Austin was a lieutenant, but she always said, “I’m a mom first.”

  Once Chief overheard her say that, and he said, “Yep, and I’m a dad first.”

  “Piper,” Chief called out. “Do me a favor? Could you put these cleaned fish in the ice chest near the Airstream?”

  “Sure,” I said, then I had a great idea. I’d let Stanley do it. It was a small job, but maybe it would build his confidence. Accomplishing a small task could lead to a bigger one.

  I took the plastic bags of fish from Chief. Then I hollered to Stanley. “Stanley, could you do an important favor for me?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Could you put these bags of fish in the ice chest by our camper? It’s really important. We’re going to have them for dinner.”

  “Are you sure you trust me to do that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Stanley pushed at the bridge of his glasses, then reluctantly took the bags. I pointed to our trailer and left him.

  I felt better already. Building up Stanley was going to be a lot easier than I thought. Every time I had something important to do, I’d pass the job to him. Soon he would be walking proud. Soon no one would care about Simon Hampshire. Everyone would be talking about Stanley.

  “Piper,” Mom said, “don’t forget about Bruna.”

  I started to walk over to Yolanda, but then I noticed Stanley had returned from his first task. “Stanley, could you go get Bruna from Yolanda?”

  “Your dog?” Stanley asked.

  “Yep.”

  “I like your dog.”

  “That’s why I thought you might want to help keep an eye on her for me.”

  “Sure.” Stanley walked away, heading toward Yolanda’s tent where Bruna’s leash was attached to the picnic table.

  He brought Bruna back to me. “Gee, thanks, Stanley. I really appreciate it.”

  “No big deal,” he said.

  He was right. It really wasn’t a big deal to fetch Bruna from Yolanda and walk her a few yards. But it was another little step in building up Stanley.

  8

  NO EASY JOB

  “Is everyone ready for the nature hike?” Mom asked.

  Brady rose on his tiptoes “Yes!” Then he whispered, “Will we see any bears?”

  “Let’s hope not,” Tori said. “I didn’t sign on for any bear hunt.”

  “Well, I did,” I said. Then I chanted, “I’m going on a bear hunt.”

  Sam joined in, then Brady. Soon we were all walking and singing about going on a bear hunt. Even Tori joined in. And when she did, Brady said to her, “You’re silly.”

  Tori stopped singing and looked down at him.

  Then Brady smiled up at her. “I like silly.”

  Brady stretched out his hand to her and Tori took hold of it. Together they began again, “I’m going on a bear hunt.”

  Walking through the woods may not sound very interesting, but Mom and Abe both knew a lot about plants and birds and they made it like a treasure hunt. Mom must have pointed out eight different woodpeckers. Maybe she had more in common with Uncle Leo than she wanted to admit.

  Before we knew it, Chief announced, “We’d better return to the campsite and get started on dinner. I can almost taste those perch.”

  “How are you going to cook them?” Yolanda asked.

  “The best way,” Chief said. “The only way—fried.”

  “You can take the boy out of Louisiana,” said Mom, “but you can’t take Louisiana out of the boy.” Mom and Chief grew up in Piney Woods, Louisiana, population 492. And both our grandmothers believed in the same cooking motto: If it ain’t fried, it ain’t cooked.

  It would have been a perfect day, if Nicole hadn’t gotten sick. Just as I was heading to her trailer window, Chief yelled, “Piper! Piper Reed!”

  I knew that tone. It was not the Piper Reed, you are an outstanding camper tone. It was not the Piper Reed, don’t tell your sisters, but you are our favorite kid tone. It was the Piper Reed, you’re in trouble tone. But I had no idea why. I swung around and saluted. “Yes, sir?”

  “Get over here.”

  I rushed to where Chief was standing next to the ice chest. It was open and it was empty.

  “I thought I told you to put the fish in the ice chest.”

  “I did. I mean, Stanley did.”

  “What do you mean Stanley did? I asked you to do it.”

  Stanley stood by, studying the ground, his eyes darting about as if he was following an ant.

  Chief folded his arms across his chest. “The fish are gone, Piper.”

  My face burned. “Stanley, didn’t you put the fish in the ice chest?”

  Stanley slowly raised his chin. “In? You said in? I thought you said on the ice chest.”

  Chief started scouting around the campsite. I decided to help him. Maybe Mrs. Austin noticed the bags of fish on top of the ice chest and put them in theirs. But as I was about to go ask her, I found a plastic bag caught on a lower tree branch. An empty plastic bag. Then Chief found the other one. There had been only two bags, but he kept searching, brushing the ground with his hand.

  “Just as I suspected,” he said. “Raccoons.”

  “What?”

  “See.” He pointed to their tracks on the ground.

  “Get off the bus!” I’d never seen raccoon tracks. “Can I take a picture of them?”

  Chief frowned. I guess finding something as cool as raccoon tracks didn’t matter when the raccoons ate your dinner.

  Sam trotted over to us. “Did the raccoon eat my fish?”

  “Of course, Sam,” I told her. “They didn’t know you were special.”

  Stanley didn’t say a word. He just dug his heel in the dirt.

  Brady walked over and squatted for a closer view of the tracks. “I want to eat fwied fish.”

  Stanley moved away from all of us like he was trying to disappear. He walked toward the dock.

  I took off after him. I was looking forward to Chief’s fried fish and hush puppies, too. But I felt sorry for Stanley. Now I was going to have to work extra hard to build him up.

  When I met him on the dock, he was throwing stones into the water.

  “I’m really sorry. I guess I messed up big this time.”

  “It’s okay, Stanley. You didn’t mess up big. You only messed up by one word. On and in. In and on. They sound so much alike. And really you only messed up by one letter.”

  Stanley looked up at me. “Gee, Piper. You’re a good friend.”

  I’d had a lot of friends in my life, but I never had any of them tell me that. I was trying to make Stanley feel good about himself and he surprised me and made me feel good.

  Mom joined us on the dock. “Stanley, please don’t worry. This means we’ll have Just in Case Stew tonight.”

  “Just in case?” I asked.

  “Just in Case We Don’t Catch Enough Fish Stew. I bought ingredients to make a batch.”

  Although I guess in this situation it should be called Just in Case the Raccoons Eat Our Fish Stew.

  Mom and Yolanda cooked some ground beef in a big pot. Then they added vegetables—corn, beans, peas, carrots. I hated to admit it, but dinner smelled delicious. Fishing and hik
ing were like swimming. They made me hungry. And even though we didn’t have fish, Chief still fried his famous hush puppies.

  After dinner, we fixed s’mores with chocolate bars and toasted marshmallows and graham crackers. At least raccoons didn’t eat marshmallows.

  This was the best camping trip ever. I’d almost forgotten about Halloween. “Hey, what about tomorrow?”

  “What about tomorrow?” Mom asked as if she had no idea, but I could tell she was just teasing. “Is there anything special going on tomorrow?”

  “Halloween!” Brady and Sam said together.

  I hoped Stanley didn’t ruin Halloween. If Stanley couldn’t do a simple task like putting fish in the ice chest, I don’t know how he could get through Halloween without messing up something. I had other things to worry about though. I still hadn’t figured out what my Halloween costume was going to be.

  9

  CAMPSITE HALLOWEEN

  After breakfast on Halloween morning, Mom surprised us. She gave each of us a pumpkin and a black marker.

  “Real jack-o’-lanterns are supposed to be carved,” I told her.

  It was amazing how Mom could send a warning with her eyebrows. She didn’t have to say a word.

  I quickly added, “But there’s a lot to be said about being original.”

  Sam studied her pumpkin and then she announced, “I’m going to make a pr—”

  “Don’t tell me,” I said. “A princess.”

  Sam frowned. “Wrong! I’m going to make a pr—”

  “A prince,” I said.

  “No !” Sam let out a heavy sigh. “I’m going to make a pretty goldfish just like Peaches the Second.”

  “Sam, how are you going to make a goldfish from a pumpkin?”

  “Just wait,” she said as she drew long eyelashes on the pumpkin.

  Mom asked Hailey and me to carry a pumpkin over to the Austins’ trailer for Nicole. She was still sick.

  “How is Nicole?” I asked Mrs. Austin.

  “She said her throat feels a little itchy.” Mrs. Austin turned to Hailey. “Are you feeling ill, Hailey? You were in the boat with her yesterday.”