Church Camp Chaos (7 page)

“It tasted like the bottom of a shoe after a walk on the beach,” Dad said, using a spoon to scrape the taste out of his mouth. “Salty and gritty. Any idea how you managed that, EJ?”

“I followed the recipe.” EJ shrugged. “Maybe it was sabotaged.”

“Maybe, but you’re competing against your mom,” Dad said. “She likes to win almost as much as you do, but I don’t think she’s so competitive that she would ruin her own daughter’s cupcakes.”

“Um, EJ,” Mom called from inside the pantry. “Where did you get the sugar you used for the cupcakes?”

“From a plastic bowl with sugar in it,” she said, envisioning the bowl she had found on the stovetop.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Mom said, emerging from the pantry with the bowl in her hands. “It’s not sugar. It’s salt I use for cleaning the copper bottoms of my pots. I must’ve left it out last time I was cleaning!”

“Mystery number two of the evening, solved,” EJ said, raising the magnifying glass to her eye. “Next time I need a Watson, you’re my man—er—woman, Mom.”

June 18

Reason 648 to love summer vacation: road trips!

Nana and Pops are taking Isaac, Bert, and me on an overnight trip to Minneapolis. I’m writing this diary entry from the comfy couch in their Winnebago, the Wisconsin countryside speeding by outside the window. Pops is behind the wheel, singing an eighteenth verse of “Down by the Bay” at the top of his lungs while Bert sits in the co-captain seat, howling along at the “back to my home, I dare not goooooo” part. (Bert likes to think of himself as a world-famous opera singer. So what if he is a dog?) Nana and Isaac are sitting at the kitchenette table playing “I Spy,” and Isaac is definitely winning. I’m pretty sure he’s cheating, because he keeps making up names of colors. (I just heard him say, “I spy something greepurlow,” which I’m guessing is green, purple, and yellow.) But Nana seems to be playing along, so maybe the names of colors have changed since I was in kindergarten.

If you ask me, this is a pretty great way to travel. The plans for today include spending the afternoon at the Mall of America. To be honest, Diary, I was a little nervous when Nana said we were going to spend most of the day at a mall. (I mean, you and I both know how I feel about shopping.) But apparently there is a LOT more to do at this mall than just shop—like an aquarium, a movie theater, miniature golf, and even an indoor amusement park.

That sounds like my kind of shopping.

EJ

EJ closed her diary before stretching out on the small couch.

“Hey, Pops, can I ask you something?” she called up to her grandpa, who was expertly driving the camper down the highway.

“Anything, DG,” Pops said. EJ loved it when he called her DG—short for “dear granddaughter.” He smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “Ask away!”

“How many verses of ‘Down by the Bay’ are there?” she asked, grinning.

“Not enough!” Pops replied, knowing EJ was teasing him about his never-ending singing. “Let’s come up with a few more.”

“Have you already done ‘Did you ever see a bear combing his hair?’ ” EJ asked.

“Please, do I look like an amateur?” Pops said. “That’s the very first verse Bert and I sang.”

“How about ‘a llama wearing his pajamas’?” EJ asked.

“Yep, did that one, too,” Pops said. “Come on—give me something new to inspire me.”

EJ thought for a moment, but nothing came to mind.

“Did you ever see a dino, falling on his spine-o?” Isaac laughed like it was the most hilarious thing he’d ever said.

“Spine-o? Really?” EJ rolled her eyes.

“Now there’s a fantastic verse to add to the mix, sport,” Pops said, chuckling. “Here we go. Altogether now—“ Pops began to sing at the top of his lungs:

“Can’t hear you, EJ!” Pops said. “Come on, now. Without you, our four-part harmony is a sad three.”

Bert yipped and glared at Pops.

“Oh right. My apologies, Bertie,” Pops said to the pup.
“Five-
part harmony.”

“All right, all right,” EJ said, giving in. “Just so you know, I’m singing under protest that
spine-o
isn’t an actual word.”

Pops winked at EJ in the rearview mirror, cleared his throat, and picked up where he left off:

Fifteen minutes later, after they’d gone through about a dozen new verses (EJ’s favorite was “Did you ever see a possum doing something awesome?”), Isaac asked, “Who are we going to see when we get to America?”

Nana looked at EJ with a “Do you know what your brother is talking about?” look. EJ shrugged. She rarely knew what was going on in her brother’s head.

“What do you mean ‘when we get to America,’ sweetie?” Nana asked Isaac. “We’re in America now.”

“Well, I
think
we’re still in America,” Pops said from behind the wheel. “I’m not sure I completely trust the navigation system in this camper. We might actually be in Canada by now.”

EJ hoped that meant they’d hear some French-Canadian accents at their next stop. But when she saw the twinkle in Pops’s eye, she realized he was just kidding.

“But Mom told me last night at bedtime that you guys were taking me and EJ to America to see them all.” EJ could see that Isaac was getting a tiny bit frustrated as he tried to explain himself. “So I want to know who ‘them all’ is.”

“Them all. Them all,” Nana repeated the phrase, mulling it over until her face lit up with recognition. “Oh! Isaac! The mall! We’re going to the Mall of America! Not ‘them all’—it’s ‘the mall’! Can you hear how they sort of sound the same?”

Isaac nodded, his cheeks and ears turning red. EJ could tell he was embarrassed at his silly mistake. It wasn’t like usual when Isaac was being goofy on purpose. This time he actually didn’t know what he was saying, and EJ knew this could end badly—maybe in tears. Even though her brother was a Space Invader, she didn’t like to see him cry. Without hesitating, EJ started laughing and even threw in a snort for believability.

“Isaac, you really had us going!” EJ said in between fits of laughing, wiping away nonexistent laugh tears from her eyes. “Seriously, kid, you really know how to tell a good joke.”

Nana and Pops joined in, laughing. Isaac looked from face to face, not sure at first how to respond, but he quickly brightened and took his cue from EJ’s words.

“If you think that joke was good, wait till I pull out the big guns.” Isaac grinned a missing-tooth grin. “Knock-knock.”

EJ groaned and put a couch pillow over her head.

“The crowd holds its breath while world-famous golfer EJ Payne sizes up the hole. The youngest golfer ever to qualify for a professional tournament, Miss Payne has the eyes of the entire world on her as she takes the most important putt of her career.”

“No pressure or anything,” EJ mutters to the unseen announcer voice
.

“This particular par-four has quite a few tricky obstacles, including banked inclines, two bowling ball–size rocks right down the middle, and a waterfall hazard that could pose a problem for EJ.”

EJ gets down on her hands and knees and looks toward the pin. She’ll have to hook the ball around the waterfall to reach the hole—a nearly impossible shot for even the most skilled putter
.

“No sweat.” EJ flashes a winning smile to the spectators as she stands up and grips her putter. “Hey kids, eat a good breakfast and you can be a superstar golfer, too. Watch this.”