Arcade and the Golden Travel Guide

by Rashad Jennings

  The claw machine was still there, but it was turned off and only had a few stuffed animals in it. One of them was the green and yellow cockatoo!

  “Poor Milo. No one wants you and your annoyin—”

  Right then, the claw machine came to life! Lights flashed and the claw shot up and down. It knocked the few animals around and music blared, attracting the attention of all the kids in the arcade.

  “Arcade, what did you do?” Zoe pointed to the Triple T Token. It was flashing inside my shirt. “We have to get out of here!”

  I checked above our heads for glitter clouds, but there were none.

  This would be a great time for the coin slot and the doors to appear . . .

  I popped my head around the corner. No Mr. B in sight.

  “Let’s go.” I made a beeline for the side door.

  Please, let Jacey’s SUV be there.

  I took the longest strides I could and practically leapt through the doorway, hoping everyone was following me.

  “ARCADE! I KNEW you’d return!” A deep, scary voice echoed over the Forest Games and Golf loudspeaker.

  Chills shot down my spine and I froze right there in the parking lot. “Did you guys hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Zoe stood at my side, her hand on my shoulder. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  This is not good. Where is Jacey? We need her NOW!

  I felt a finger tap on my other shoulder. “Hi.”

  I jumped about a mile. It was her. And she was holding what looked like a full bakery bag.

  “We’re parked right over here.” Jacey pointed to a red Suburban with the name “Bridgeview Bakery” painted on the door. It was pulled right up to the side entrance. “Y’all can climb on in. I’ll be right back.” She took off toward the arcade, the bakery bag swinging back and forth in her hand as she walked.

  “Now, where’s she goin’?” Derek looked puzzled as we made our way to the SUV. “I hope she doesn’t run into Mr. B and give away our location.”

  I watched her walk in the door, her smile brighter than any of the lights in the run-down old arcade. “Something tells me she won’t.” I walked up to the rolled down, driver’s side window. A woman I had seen somewhere before smiled and greeted me.

  “Hello, Arcade. Jacey told me you were back in Virginia for a visit.”

  “Hello.”

  Where do I know you from?

  The lady jumped out of the SUV and greeted everyone else. “Wow, look at how you’ve all grown! Do you remember me?”

  The girls stepped in closer. Zoe spoke. “Mrs. Green? From Sunday school?”

  The lady smiled. “You remembered! Yes! I taught you all in the elementary class a few years back. Arcade and Derek were just little guys then.” She turned to Doug. “I don’t think I know you, though.”

  “I’m Doug. Arcade’s new friend from New York.”

  The lady’s eyes lit up. “It’s a delight to meet you.”

  “So, what happened?” Celeste shoved her hands in her pockets. “Why aren’t you at church anymore?”

  “I’m still there. When my husband and I opened the bakery, we had to switch to the Sunday night service.” She laughed. “People have to have their donuts in the morning.”

  “You got that right!” Doug rubbed his belly.

  Mrs. Green turned to me. “Jacey always used to talk about that nice little boy with the special name. Ahhhcade. She couldn’t say her r’s very well back then, and she liked you because you never made fun of her like some of the other kids.”

  Okay, now I remembered the little girl from Sunday school. She was crying one day because someone said she talked funny. I gave her my snack. It was all I could think of to do. I never did know what happened to her. Till now.

  Just then, Jacey exited Forest Games and Golf and walked to the SUV. Empty handed.

  CHAPTER 17

  Cinnamon Ride

  I hope you kids don’t mind a little detour before I take you home.” Mrs. Green gestured toward the back of the SUV. “I have a few baked goods to deliver.”

  “Baked goods? What kind of baked goods?” Doug breathed in deep, hogging all the cinnamon aroma out of the air.

  Mrs. Green laughed. “Anything we have left over at the end of the day, we deliver to places around town. Depending on how much we have, we visit the homeless shelter, a senior center, and an apartment complex where we know there are people who don’t have much money for groceries.”

  “That’s cool,” Celeste said. “It looks like you have a huge pile back there. Was business slow today?”

  “No way,” Jacey turned from her shotgun position to face us. “We were hopping! We usually make more than we know we’ll sell, so that we’ll have some to give.”

  “That’s so thoughtful,” Zoe said. “You must be such a blessing to those people.”

  “No, they’re a blessing to us.” Mrs. Green smiled back at us in the rearview. “I love all our Bridgeview Bakery customers, but this is the highlight of my day. This is what makes running the business worthwhile.”

  It was a comfortable feeling, riding along in the Suburban filled with cinnamon smells. I sat back and felt relaxed for the first time all day.

  “So, did you find Mr. Badger and give him his bread?” Mrs. Green glanced over at Jacey.

  Mr. Badger?

  “Yes. I told him to have a great day and that we’d be back to visit next week. He said thanks, and he kind of smiled.”

  “We’re wearing him down.” Mrs. Green turned back to us. “He lost his wife many years ago to cancer. The cinnamon bread was their favorite, so we always save a loaf for him and try to bring it by on Saturday afternoons.”

  “I always wondered why an owner of a business for kids was so grouchy,” I said.

  “Oh, it goes back even further than that.” Mrs. Green shook her head. “Not sure what happened. Seems like it started when that windmill fell down . . .”

  “Here we are!” Jacey pointed to a long, white building. “Forest Memory Care. The people don’t always remember me, but they are as sweet as pie.” Jacey’s cheeks were rosy, and her eyes beamed.

  Mrs. Green parked the SUV and opened the driver’s side door. “We’ll be back in a few minutes, then we’ll take you home. Your street is on our way to the homeless shelter.”

  “Ah, here we are! 2300 Cimarron Road. Derek, tell your mom to stop in the bakery soon and I’ll give her a dozen donuts.”

  “Oh, yeah, we’re comin’ tomorrow, baby!” Doug jumped out of the back seat.

  Mrs. Green laughed. “Tomorrow would be just fine. You kids, don’t be strangers, okay?”

  “Yeah,” Jacey added. “Don’t go back to New York without saying goodbye, Arcade.”

  She smiled at me, and my cheeks heated up. At least it wasn’t the token. It had been a long day, and I wasn’t ready for another travel adventure.

  “Thanks again for the ride!” Derek waved, and we all watched as the cinnamon-scented Suburban turned around at the cul-de-sac and headed back out toward the end of the street.

  CHAPTER 18

  Sprinkler Heads

  The next day was Sunday, so Aunt Weeda was home. We all went to church together, and then spent the afternoon snacking, watching movies, and playing football and Frisbee in the backyard. The golden envelope sat on the nightstand in Derek’s bedroom. Every time I thought about reading the rest of the clues, Aunt Weeda showed up with another activity for us.

  “Anyone want to play Monopoly?” Aunt Weeda brought out the gameboard after dinner.

  Who can pass on Monopoly?

  So we played and played and played, until we all crawled to our beds, half asleep, at about 1:00 am.

  When we woke up the next “morning” at noon, Aunt Weeda was already gone. She left Celeste a voicemail on her phone: “This would be a great day for y’all to mow the lawn and weed. Tell Derek to please fix the broken sprinkler heads in the garden. We’re floodin’ out our tomato plants!”

  Zoe stretched and lean
ed back on the living room couch. “I like it here. Things seem normal. It might be nice to enjoy the Virginia air, even if we are cleaning up the yard.”

  “Do you know how to fix a sprinkler head, Derek?” I turned to my cousin in the kitchen, where us guys were eating cereal for lunch.

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve fixed almost all the sprinklers at least once.” Derek and Celeste’s parents are divorced, and his dad doesn’t make it over to the house very often. So Derek has to fix things, since his mom is always working. Good thing he’s handy.

  We inhaled our cereal and had some cinnamon bread for dessert. That gave us the energy we needed to put on some grubby clothes and attack the big backyard job.

  “I’ll mow,” Doug said. “I don’t have grass at my house, so this is cool!” He made his way over to the mower in the side yard, where Derek showed him how to start it up.

  Celeste and Zoe put on flowery floppy hats and gardening gloves. “We got the weeds,” Celeste called as she took Zoe with her to the far corner of the yard.

  “Okay, Arcade,” Derek said, popping on his bright yellow visor, “that makes you my assistant. Grab a shovel and we’ll take out some of this grass around the sprinkler head. We’ll pull the broken one off, snap the new one on, and we’ll be in business!”

  “We doin’ this!” I followed Doug to the first broken sprinkler. I dug the shovel into the ground. Then I jumped on it, because I don’t like to do things halfway.

  The shovel dug in deep, but crooked. I fell back and watched as a huge geyser shot up from the ground. It took me a second before I realized what the yellow thing was that was getting pummeled around in the spray of water. It was Derek’s visor.

  “Duuuuuude! What’s goin’ on?” I lay there on the ground, getting soaked.

  “Arcaaaaade! What did you do?” Zoe came running over. Funny how she automatically blamed me for the problem.

  Celeste arrived next, pulling the brim of her floppy hat down on each side of her face. “Derek, didn’t you turn the water off?”

  “NO! I DIDN’T TURN IT OFF! I WAS GOING TO DO IT AFTER WE DUG THE HOLE.”

  I sat up and watched Derek struggle to stop the water flow from the pipe with his hands. He wasn’t having much luck. A stream blasted him in the center of his forehead. I turned my head to see Doug, mowing away on the other side of the yard, bopping to the music in his earbuds.

  “FLOODING! WE’VE GOT FLOODING, PEOPLE!”

  “WELL, YOU CAN’T STOP IT WITH YOUR HAND, DEREK!”

  “I KNOW, CELESTE!!!!”

  Water sprayed everywhere! It would have been a hilarious sight except that, if we didn’t do something soon, we were going to turn Aunt Weeda’s beautiful yard into a grassy swamp.

  “GO TURN OFF THE WATER, DEREK!” Celeste grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up on his feet.

  I just sat there, laughing and getting more soaked, until the token heated up and the water turned to glitter.

  Doug, finally getting a clue that something crazy was happening, ran over.

  “WATER and GLITTER! Arcade, where we goin’?”

  I stood up and tried to brush glitter off my wet pants, as streams of the little, gold, papery squares continued to shoot out of the sprinkler head like a firework fountain on the 4th of July.

  “I don’t know how to turn that off!” Derek ran over to his visor, which lay a few feet away, and he pulled it on his head. “Do you, Arcade?”

  Celeste shook her wet hands. “I can’t go anywhere looking like this!”

  The glitter shooting out from the sprinkler formed into golden doors, and a golden coin slot appeared before our eyes. It pulsed light straight into my chest.

  “You guys want to go somewhere and dry off?”

  “Well, you never know. We might end up at the bottom of the Atlantic.” Zoe gave me a cross-eyed stare.

  I nodded. “I promise not to pick ocean.”

  I pulled the token out from under my shirt. The thing was blazing hot! It singed my thumb and then shot from my hand into the coin slot.

  “UP or DOWN?”

  Why is this my choice? Every. Time.

  “NOT UP!” Doug hugged the back wall of the elevator. “I can’t handle up. Please, not up.”

  “No need to worry, Doug.” Zoe wiped water off her drippy chin. “Arcade never picks one of the options. Do you, bro?”

  Well, that was a challenge, if I ever heard one! I couldn’t let Zoe start predicting my actions. This time, I’d pick one of the options . . . sort of.

  “Okay, Doug, we’re not going up. We’re going to go . . . LOW!”

  I punched the one red button with the heel of my hand, and the elevator floor dropped out from under us.

  “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  CHAPTER 19

  The Low Life

  I‘m sitting on mushy ground. Much like we just left in Derek’s soggy backyard. But a quick look around confirms one thing: we’re not in Virginia anymore.

  “What’s with all the windmills?” Derek’s visor is a little bent now. His head probably hit the elevator ceiling just as hard as mine did when we dropped . . . low.

  “Is this Holland?” I look around and compare the scene to a picture in a travel book I read at the library.

  “It’s called the Netherlands,” Zoe pushes herself up from the spongy grass.

  “It’s called the Netherlands?” Doug stands up and scans the territory. “I hope they have food. And . . . I think I left the mower running back at home. Is that a bad thing?”

  “It means more broken sprinkler heads.” Derek shakes his head and adjusts his visor. “The place is gonna be flooded when we get back.”

  “Why do you think the token brought us here?” Zoe starts walking toward the windmill in the distance.

  “The lady said that we don’t find out the why until after we go.” I stand up and brush the wet grass from the seat of my pants before following Zoe.

  “All I know is this is the best summer ever.” Celeste straightens her floppy hat and runs to catch up to Zoe. “I’m so glad you guys came back to Virginia.”

  The closest windmill to us has an information kiosk out in front.

  Cool. I love reading about faraway places.

  WELCOME TO HOLLAND, it says on the table display. I make sure I point that out to Zoe. She pokes me in the ribs on my ticklish side, making me jump.

  Zoe begins to read out loud:

  “The windmills of Holland served many purposes. The most important was to pump floodwater out of the lowlands and transport it back to the rivers beyond the dikes.”

  “We’re in the lowlands! I chose LOW in the elevator. That’s DOPE!”

  “Ahem.” Zoe continues. “Without the windmills, the people of Holland would have had no land to live on or farm. Eventually, windmills were also used to grind grain and saw wood. There are over 1,000 windmills in Holland.”

  “That’s a lot of windmills,” Derek says.

  “Hey, look over there!” Celeste points to a large banner that says, “National Mill Day.” Next to the banner is a long line of bicycles for rent.

  “We’ve arrived on a special day.” I walk toward the bike rental. “Anyone want to go for a ride?”

  The young blonde girl manning the bicycle rental gives us a funny look as we approach. After all, we’re soaked and wearing gardening clothes, emerging from the marsh land.

  I pretend like I’m a regular tourist. “Hello, we’re here to celebrate National Mill Day.”

  She shakes her head. “Sorry, that was yesterday. You missed it.”

  “WHAT?”

  She jumps back.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m just surprised. Are you sure we missed it? Our tour guide wouldn’t miss something that important.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “We’ve come all the way from Virginia in the United States.” Zoe takes off her gardening hat and smiles her biggest smile. “Is there any way we can see inside one of these bea
utiful windmills?” My sister can be charming when she wants to be.

  The girl turns to look back at the windmill behind her. “I just work the bike rentals. But if you wait here a minute, I’ll see if Stephan can help you.”

  “Stephan,” Doug says. “That sounds like someone who knows windmills!”

  The girl disappears for a few minutes and comes back with a middle-aged man wearing a tweed cap. He gives us an even stranger look than she did.

  “Hello. Anna tells me you are all from . . . Virginia? And how is it that your tour guide missed National Mill Day? It is listed on the Internet and is widely known all throughout the Netherlands.”

  “Netherlands, huh?” Zoe smirks in my direction. “I like this guy.”

  “Sir, is there a way that my friends and I could take a closer look at one of these windmills? There must be a reason why we landed . . . er . . . uh, that our tour guide brought us here.”

  Stephan looks beyond us. “Where is this tour guide of yours?”

  “Oh, he went away for now. He’ll be back. Sometime.” I feel for the empty chain around my neck.

  Stephan nods. “All right, then. Far be it from me to turn away curious young people all the way from . . . Virginia.” He crunches his eyebrows together. “Follow me!”

  Our group follows Stephan toward the enormous blue windmill. It looks a lot like the one laying in the creek at Forest Games and Golf, only much larger.

  “Man, these “Hollandites” are nice,” Doug whispers as he crowds in next to me on the path leading to the windmill. “Do you think they have good food here?”

  “We’ll find out later, if we stay that long. For now, keep your eyes and ears open for clues.”

  “What kinds of clues?” Derek asks.

  “I don’t know.” I pull out my phone to show them the picture I took of the golden plaque on the windmill at Forest Games and Golf. The screen shows nothing but glitter. Ugh! I shake my head.