Worse Than Weird

by Jody J. Little

  Willa doesn’t bother answering. “Sorry I’ve been quiet. Brie says you’re still hunting?”

  “Yeah. Actually, Joey and I just found the ninth clue.” I look toward Joey and give him a slight smile.

  “You heard that I’m going to move? Mom wants out of our house.”

  “Yeah, Brie told me. What about school?”

  Willa doesn’t answer right away. “I probably won’t go to Winterhill.”

  I can’t process that right now. I figure she can’t either.

  “I’m sorry about everything, Willa. You could have told me, you know?”

  Joey’s doodling around my hunt flowchart, but he looks up at me when I say that.

  “Yeah. I know.” She pauses. “I’m trying really hard not to be furious at my dad.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say again.

  “Anyway,” Willa says, “I’ve got some time now, and I want to stop thinking about this divorce. Need some hunt help?”

  “Wait. Seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  “You think Brie can help too?”

  “I’ll ask,” Willa says.

  I instantly know what we must do. With four unsolved clues and four hunters, clue number ten is practically at our fingertips.

  I snap my phone shut and say to Joey, “Let’s catch a bus. We’re going to find that last clue.”

  My thoughts churn with details of the nine clues; with Willa moving to a new school; with the hunt deadline looming; with Joey Marino and his mom, Isabel, on the streets, raving about light people.

  We board the bus and Joey says, “You know if Willa and Brie help and we finish this hunt, we’ll have to split the money four ways. Is that enough for your computer camp?”

  “It’ll be close. The camp’s five hundred dollars, but I owe people some money.” I think mostly of Coho and the money I stole. “What about for you? You never actually told me what you would do with your part of the money. You just said it was for your mom.”

  Joey slips his hand into an outside pocket of his backpack and hands me a brochure. On the front is a photo of a plain ranch house, painted in lilac. “This is Laurie’s House. It’s a transition house,” he tells me, opening the brochure. “I’ve checked out a bunch of these online and talked to Aggie.” He points back to the title on the front page of the brochure. “Laurie’s House helps people with mental illness who need to get off the streets. They offer medical care, counseling, job-seeking assistance, and more.”

  I hold the brochure, and unfold it section by section, glancing at the other photos, skimming the words.

  “I need enough money for a deposit for Isabel to stay there, and then anything left over can go to medical treatment for her.”

  I look at Joey’s eyes, the stone-gray eyes that match his mother’s. Joey seems so much more like a parent than a son. It’s so unfair that a twelve-year-old would have to do this for his parent. “But how will you get her to live there? Will she even go?”

  Joey grabs the brochure from my hand.

  Clearly, I asked the wrong questions, but I was trying. I really was.

  Maybe Joey and I aren’t the best teammates.

  “If I don’t get this money,” he says, “Isabel stays on the streets, hungry and ill. I keep searching for her. Ma continues working sixty hours a week. Nothing changes.” He shoves the brochure back into the pocket of his pack and scoots toward the window, away from me.

  “If I have the money, I have some hope.” His voice is a stirred-up mixture of sad and angry.

  I wait for the angry part to come out, the part where he shouts, “Get it, Mac?”

  But that part doesn’t come. So, I say it instead, but in a whisper: “I get it.”

  I’ve shrunk to the size of a pea.

  A mushy pea.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Team of Four

  Joey and I meet Willa and Brie back at the Sunnyville playground.

  It seems like my whole body lightens when I see my friends. They’re leaning side by side against the monkey bars, and they look okay. Willa sees me first and she pirouettes toward me, takes my hand, and spins me in a circle before giving me hug. It’s good to see her dancing.

  They wave politely to Joey, as though he’s always been around us and not just a phantom, and we all sit together on the grass. I pull out the four unsolved clues, handing one to each of them.

  Willa reads hers aloud. “‘Burgers, sausages, chickens, no way. The sun shines bright, not just in the day.’” She sets the clue down. “I have no idea what this means.”

  That’s the one we got today. “I think it’s a vegetarian or vegan cart,” I say.

  “I don’t want to spend money on vegan food,” Willa says.

  Brie bumps Willa with her good arm. “Here. We’ll trade.”

  Willa reads her new clue. “‘Creamy, spicy, and sweet. Let them eat! Sip very slow, and then find the beat.’” Willa raises her arms and bobs her shoulders. “This is more like it. I can find a beat, but I have no idea what this means either.”

  “I have some thoughts on that one.” I point at her clue. “I’m thinking it’s a dessert cart. Joey has a clue that we’re pretty sure leads to a coffee cart, and I have this one. It says, ‘One meat, one fruit. Can you find the mate? It just might come from a small red state.’”

  “These are tough, Mac,” Brie says.

  “I know. That’s why we all need to work together. One of these leads to the final clue.” I glance at my little flipper. “It’s three o’clock. We have several hours left today until the carts close, and we have all day tomorrow, but that’s it. First, I think we need to do some serious internet work to find possible carts. Then the tricky part will be traveling to all of them, and then, of course, paying for the food.”

  Joey speaks for the first time since we’ve arrived at Sunnyville. “We also need to figure out where to take the clues once we have them all.”

  “True, but let’s find the last clue before we worry about that.” I look at my three teammates. “For the rest of today, we’ll split up. Joey, maybe you can search a few pods and check in with your connections.” I pause for a reaction, but all he does is nod. “Brie, you can be our research center. Stick by your laptop and look up carts, pods, addresses, and other leads as needed. Willa, you can track down dessert carts, and I’m going to tackle this new clue and try to decode it. We’ll text each other to keep tabs on our progress. Keep your phones charged.”

  I give all my teammates a thumbs-up and hope they’re ready for this.

  Willa reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a small wallet. She hands each of us a twenty-dollar bill. I attempt to rein in my bulging eyeballs. “Divorce guilt money from my dad,” she says. “I might be getting a lot of this for a while.”

  “Thanks, Willa,” Joey says. “And I’m sorry about your parents.”

  “You’re the best, Willa,” I add.

  “Before we start,” Brie says, “I should tell you guys something. I told my parents I’m quitting. I’m not swimming anymore.”

  I feel the corners of my mouth stretch from one edge of my face to the other. Brie told her parents the truth. And if Brie Vo can do that, then so can I. I can tell Hank and Coral that my future doesn’t include chickens and goats, and rainwater collection systems, and recycled CD-case chandeliers, and public nakedness. I want a different life that will probably include a lot of beautiful technology. I need Hank and Coral to understand me.

  “What did they say?” I ask.

  “They said no. They said my shoulder would heal, that I have too much talent to waste.”

  “And?” Willa prods.

  “I told them that maybe I could try something new. There’s a cross-country team I could join, and I’ve always wanted to play soccer. It looks fun. Swimming all year has never let me do anything else.”

  “What’d they say to that?” I ask.

  “They didn’t like it. Then I started bawling. But I wasn’t crying to make them feel bad.
I was crying because I feel like I let them down. They refused to talk about it anymore, but I think they heard me.”

  Brie tears up, and Willa rubs her back.

  The four of us sit quietly for a while with our thoughts. Then Willa leaps up and says, “Come on! What are we waiting for? Out with our old lives, in with our new! Let’s hunt!”

  Those are words we can all agree with.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Texts

  When I arrive home, I’m relieved to find that Hank and Coral aren’t here, and I don’t bother texting them to find out where they are. There’s no time for that. I park myself on my futon island and open my hunt folder. I’d written down the three clues I gave to Willa, Brie, and Joey so I could study them all more.

  Five minutes later, texts start buzzing in.

  3:45 Brie: I’m home. Send me your research requests.

  3:52 Willa: Mom is driving me to cart pods.

  3:53 Me: Brie, search dessert carts and locations.

  3:54 Brie: On it.

  3:56 Me: And vegan carts too.

  I read the clue I’m in charge of over and over. I need to figure this one out.

  One meat, one fruit. Can you find the mate?

  It might just come from a small red state.

  I blend words together to see if I can make any links, but nothing makes sense.

  4:06 Joey: Down on Powell. No coffee carts here.

  4:10 Brie: Dessert carts: Pies All, Tarts Today, Pastries and Puffs, Bavarian Bakes.

  4:11 Brie: French Finest, Ice Cream We Scream, Candy Corner.

  4:13 Me: The name has to do with music.

  4:15 Joey: Heading to Foster Road.

  4:20 Brie: Jukebox Jellies?

  4:21 Me: Probably not. Keep looking.

  4:25 Willa: Mexican Mecca has delicious tacos.

  4:28 Me: You’re supposed to be searching, not eating.

  4:30 Willa: I’m starving. They have shredded beef!

  4:40 Brie: How about Le Rythme de Paris? Rythme means “beat” in French.

  4:41 Me: YES YES YES!

  4:43 Me: Where is the Paris cart?

  4:44 Willa: Yes! I’m ready for some French dessert.

  Between text reading, I keep studying the small state clue, but I can’t make heads or tails of it. Hank and Coral still aren’t home, so I decide to catch a bus and join Joey to search for coffee or vegan or vegetarian carts. I text him first.

  5:05 Me: Any luck?

  5:08 Brie: Can’t find any info on the Paris cart.

  5:11 Willa: Mom’s still driving me around. Maybe I’ll see it.

  5:14 Joey: No luck.

  5:15 Me: Meet you at the Foster Road carts.

  5:18 Me: Brie, search carts with SUN in the title.

  5:19 Brie: Working on it.

  5:23 Me: Willa, did you find that Paris cart?

  5:27 Willa: Not yet. Still hunting.

  It takes me over an hour to get to Foster Road and 52nd Avenue, but when I arrive I see Joey Marino sitting at a picnic table in the middle of the cart pod. A person who might be homeless sits across from him. Maybe this man is one of Joey’s connections. I stand there and watch them. Joey’s talking to the man. His hands motion in the air.

  6:38 Brie: Can’t find anything with SUN.

  Joey gets up and kicks his combat boots over the bench. He glances around the pod and spies me. I wave, and Joey walks toward me.

  “Find out anything?” I ask him.

  “No. Nothing. Sorry.”

  It seems like Joey is smiling at me, like I’m a friend he’s happy to see.

  “I’m starving. Wanna eat?” He holds up the twenty-dollar bill from Willa.

  I’m starving too. I haven’t eaten since the Armstrong gumbo earlier in the day. I know we both need to save our money, but surprisingly, two meals in one day with Joey Marino kind of sounds like a nice idea.

  “What are you hungry for?”

  “Chicken,” Joey says.

  “Really?”

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen Joey eat meat of any kind. His lunches are always fruit, and . . . well, not much. The mystery of Joey Marino never ends.

  He leads me to a cart that serves only chicken sandwiches, each sandwich named after a chicken breed. Hank would be appalled by this cart, but I love it instantly. Just as I begin to scan the menu, my flipper vibrates.

  7:01 Brie: I think I found it! Sunny Day Thai Vegan cart.

  7:02 Brie: But it closed at 7:00.

  And then . . .

  7:03 Willa: We found the Paris cart!

  “Joey, look.” I hold up my phone so he can read the texts. We pump our fists. At the same time.

  MacKenna MacLeod and Joey Marino.

  In sync for the first time ever.

  I type a response back to Willa while Joey watches.

  7:05 Me: What did you order?

  7:06 Willa: Nothing. It’s closed.

  Joey and I sigh. Together. Still in sync.

  We both look up at the chicken food cart. A man leans out the window and says to us, “Sorry, you two, we’re closed for the day.”

  Sadly, all the food carts are in sync too.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The Rhode Island Red

  Lying on my futon island in the morning on the final day of the food cart hunt, I tell myself that yesterday evening wasn’t a waste of time. None of us found the final clue, but we made progress, and there’s still a chance for us. We have two leads: the Paris cart that Willa and her mom found last night, and the Sunny Day Thai Vegan cart that Brie discovered. The small red state clue remains a mystery.

  On the kitchen table, Coral has four large buckets, each filled with some water and those rhododendron leis she and Coho made the other day. She hugs me quickly. “Don’t mess with these flowers, MacKenna. They need to stay fresh for tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  Coral gives me a curious look. “Yes, the bike ride is tonight. I told you, right?”

  Bike ride? Flowered leis? This isn’t another . . .

  No. I’m not going to think about it. The hunt is all I should focus on.

  I head out to the coop garage to face Poppy and the leghorn trio and grab their daily eggs. Ziggy, Marley, and Emmylou greet me with their usual goat swarming and prancing in circles. I don’t understand why they have selected me as their favorite housemate. They need to go back before a neighbor complains and Hank and Coral get in trouble.

  Slowly, I pull up the garage door, push the goats away, and keep my eyes alert for Poppy and a potential attack. She sits in her new nesting box like a prima donna.

  Livie, Divie, and Bolivie perch on their roosts, like good, compliant hens. I gather three eggs from their empty nesting boxes.

  “Thanks, you three.” I actually speak aloud to them. Compared to Poppy, these chickens are okay.

  Very slowly, I move toward Poppy. The goats follow me. She’s not budging from the nest. She’s securing her egg, like she has every morning since Coho brought her to us.

  “You’re too dumb to understand that your egg won’t hatch no matter how long you sit on it,” I say. “That egg is Hank’s. You know Hank, the guy who loves you and drums for you, the guy who made you that new bed and roost.”

  I reach my hand out, staying calm, hoping that today will be different. “Be a good girl and move over. Let me have that egg.”

  But Poppy remains still. I inch my hand closer to her belly. My fingertips touch her, and I try to pry her off the egg, and that’s when she attacks, drilling that needlelike beak into the back of my hand.

  “Ugh!” I shake my pecked hand. “Why can’t you be a nice, calm White Leghorn?” I scream at Poppy, like screaming will really help. Nothing will help me against her evilness. But I scream anyway. “You are a mean Rhode Island Red! You . . .”

  I lower my injured hand to my side.

  Poppy, the Rhode Island Red, is no longer glaring at me. Her crooked neck does some little side-to-side chicken jerks. She rises from h
er nesting box and steps out.

  Rhode Island Red.

  Small red state.

  I can’t believe it.

  Poppy, the worst hen in the known history of my universe, may have given me the answer to the unsolved clue.

  I snatch her egg and hold it up. “Poppy. Truce.”

  And I mean that.

  Especially if it leads to clue number ten.

  My mood has taken a U-turn, and I even pat each goat on the head before returning to the kitchen.

  Hank’s already there when I enter. I hand him the basket. “These are going to be the best eggs you’ve ever had.”

  “Wow. You’re in good spirits today, Mac. How are the hens?”

  “Fantastic,” I answer truthfully. “Especially Poppy.”

  “The cleaning and new nesting box must be what she needed.” Hank pulls his eggs out of the basket and inspects each one.

  Coral hugs me for the second time this morning. “MacKenna, I can sense your energies balancing. When are you going to tell us about your food cart research and what you’re planning with all your findings?”

  “This is the last day of my research, actually, and I . . . I was hoping I could talk to you both tonight.”

  I planned this when I got home from the carts yesterday. Brie telling her parents that she no longer wanted to swim inspired me to talk to Hank and Coral. I’m going to be honest with them, tell them that I don’t want to always be part of their weird plans, their goat yoga, their drumming and guitar circles, their endless organic products they sell. I want to start living my life in a way that makes me happy, starting with the coding camp.

  “I have the bike ride tonight, MacKenna, and Hank might join me too,” Coral says.

  “I don’t know about that yet.”

  “Come on, Hank, it’ll be fun! It’s bonding, and it’s for community awareness.”

  Coral can spin any event into a community cause. It’s her gift.

  “Anyway, will you tell me all about it tomorrow, honey?” Coral asks.

  “Sure.”

  I absolutely will.

  But first, my team and I must find the final clue and win the hunt, and this morning in the coop garage I got my lead.

  I glance at the clock on my flipper phone.