Finders Keepers (9 page)

The lady was already texting. I could imagine it:
We're here! Outside looks nice! Hope it has a toilet LOL.

I crossed my arms. Soon she would not be LOLing.

Minutes later, they skedaddled out of the cabin with frowns on their faces.

Alex and I rolled on the grass laughing. It wasn't funny for very long, though. An hour later, when my parents drove up to the cabin, even the car looked angry.

“Christa Boyd-Adams!” Dad yelled. “What were you thinking?”

I was thinking,
Hooray! Alex and I are geniuses!
But that's not what my face and body showed. I stood with droopy shoulders in the kitchen, wearing my extra-extra-extra sorry face, while my parents took turns yelling at me.

“Worms in the sinks?” Dad waved his arms around. “That's beyond disgusting.”

Mom looked at me like she didn't know who I was. “And fish guts? In a glass bowl? On the table? Do you have any idea how long it'll take to air the stink out of the cabin? It's … it's…” She looked at Dad. “I can't even finish that sentence.”

“Where did you get the taxidermied animals? The ballet-dancing squirrel made the woman scream. Yes, she screamed.”

Then it was Mom's turn. “And you'll be thrilled to hear Olivia Stanger fired us! She was particularly offended that her teeth were blacked out on her sign. I've never even heard of a realtor dropping a property—ever. That's how awful this is. I supposed you're pleased with yourself.”

I needed the eye sweats to help me out of this mess. My dad always went soft when I looked sad. I pinched my leg as hard as I could.

“Don't even think this changes anything, Christa Boyd-Adams,” she said. “We've already called a new realtor, and he's coming tomorrow. What do you have to say for yourself?”

I hadn't prepared for a new realtor thief. Alex and I had been out-geniused. I gulped. “Well, I didn't know the fish guts would take forever to air out of the cabin, and it sure does stink in here. That's bad. I'm sorry. Very sorry.”

Dad paced the small kitchen, around and around the table. He turned on the fan and set it to blow out the window, taking some of the fish stink with it. “Your mother and I want you to write a letter of apology to Olivia. It won't change anything, but you're going to do it anyway.”

But there was a problem. A big problem. My parents had seen the worms in the sinks, the zanimals on the furniture, and the fish-gut centerpiece on the table, but they didn't say anything—not a word—about the snake Alex put in the bathtub. He'd snatched up that snake without blinking. If the snake was no longer in the bathtub, I had a snake escape on my hands. Snakes are the most terrifying things on the planet, which is why I didn't like them.

Dad continued, “Under normal circumstances, I'd be tempted to ground you for a month, but … but it's our last summer here, and I can't stand the thought of your being locked up inside.”

Still not a word about the snake. Was it a trick? Were they holding back to see if I'd confess?

“Did you hear me, Christa?”

“What?”

“I'm tempted to ground you for a month.”

How long would he be tempted to ground me if a snake slithered across the kitchen? Two months? Three months?

Mom snapped her fingers to get my attention. “Christa? Your father is talking to you.”

“I'm listening. I just feel too bad to talk.”

“Did Alex help you with this fiasco?” Mom asked.

The worst ending to this fiasco would be me ratting out Alex to my parents, especially about the snake escape. My parents would rat out Alex to his parents. His parents might ground him for a month, because it wasn't
his
last summer here, and what would I do all summer by myself?

“No. I didn't have a helper in this fiasco.”

I was basically telling the truth. This fiasco had been Alex's idea, which made him the idea person for a change and me the helper for a change. Mom never asked the right questions.

My parents sent me to bed early. I threw a fit, not a full-blown fit, just a little fit, so they'd think they'd been really tough on me. But I was happy not to be grounded for a month. I also was happy to have the top bunk. A snake couldn't climb up the metal pole and slither into bed with me, but maybe it could get into the bottom bunk. Amelia's bunk. If she saw a snake, her glittery nails might curl up and catch fire. She'd freak out and scream and cry and text all her stupid friends.

Better her than me.

I was afraid of snakes, especially nighttime snakes. When you're sleeping, and it's dark, and you feel something tickling your arm, and it's a snake, well, that's just too much. That's a moment for screaming, even if you're me. I was fearless except for snakes and sharks, which is why I will always be a lake person and never an ocean person.

It was too early to sleep, so I got up and pressed my ear against the door. I figured Mom and Dad would be talking about me.

For at least fifteen minutes, all my parents talked about was Amelia The Princess going out with Matt Drat-Fat. Then they talked about some students. Finally—finally!—they talked about me and the cabin.

Mom said, “It's hard to be angry with her. I get it. I don't want to sell the cabin, either. It breaks my heart.”

Dad was all quiet. There was a long, long pause. I made a tiny crack in the door because I couldn't hear. If I shut one eye, I could see just a sliver of the kitchen where they stood talking.

Mom hugged Dad. After about a minute of that, she pulled away and put her hands on his face and said, “It'll be okay, honey. It will.”

My dad was crying.
Crying!
I almost gasped. I'd never seen him cry. Ever, and I mean ever.

“It's my fault,” he said, wiping his face with the palm of his hand. “I'm sorry I've let you down, all of you. Guess nobody wants to hire a history teacher.”

“Sweetheart, please. Don't do this. It's not your fault.”

“I should've gone into Dad's construction business. The old man was right. Following your passion won't pay the bills.”

“You would've been miserable. You wouldn't be the man I love. The man we love.” She kept talking, but my ears buzzed. I didn't want to hear more. I backed up and sat on Amelia's bunk.

I'd thought if they'd wanted to save the cabin, they could. I didn't think they wanted to save the cabin and actually
couldn't
. I felt a new kind of scary, and this scary wasn't like nighttime snakes or sharks.

 

THE NEW REALTOR THIEF AND YONDER GOLD

I glared at Shawn Weller's picture on the for-sale sign. His blue eyes sparkled, and his big smile showed teeth straight as fence posts. Bright-white fence posts.

“I hope you don't have a problem with my sign.”

The voice was Shawn Weller himself. I dropped the stick I was holding. I'd thought he was in the cabin talking to my parents.

“I don't have a problem with your sign,” I said. “I like it. Your sign is big. It gives you the face of a giant.”

“That's so people can see it from the road.”

“Very smart,” I said.

Even though I was sweating through my tank top, Shawn Weller wore a brown suit with a tie. His face shined from the heat. I was never, ever going to be a realtor because I didn't want to steal or sweat that much.

He picked up the stick I'd dropped. “When I was a kid, we'd find sticks like this and some rocks and use them to play baseball.”

“The game is easier with a bat and ball.”

“Agreed.” Shawn Weller took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. “I hear you're not very happy about selling this cabin. I understand. It's a great place. I wouldn't want to sell it, either.”

I was suspicious. This was the stuff adults said when they were about to trick you into liking them or doing something you didn't want to do.

“Then maybe you should buy it and donate it to us.”

He laughed. “I wish I could do that. I would if I could. Your name is Kristin, right?”

“Yeah. Kristin Kristine Kristopher Boyd-Adams.”

“It is not!”

That voice was my mother. My sighing, head-shaking mother. I hadn't heard her come outside.

“I apologize for my daughter's manners, Shawn,” Mom said. “I promise you'll have no problems from her whatsoever. Am I right, Christa?”

Before I could agree and promise and all that, there came a man-scream from the cabin: “ARRRRGH!”

The door opened, and Dad leaped outside, gasping. Mom rushed to him. “Todd! What's wrong?”

A little shiver went through his body. “I think my imagination got the best of me. I thought I saw a snake.” A little shiver went through my body, too.

Mom said, “A snake? Are you certain?”

“Never mind. That's crazy. It was just a shadow, I'm sure. Guess I need new glasses.”

Shawn Weller looked concerned. “Are there any cracks in the foundation that need to be sealed?”

That's when I walked away. It was messed up. My dad crying. Amelia The Princess acting crazy about Matt Hat-Gnat. The snake escape. A new realtor for the cabin. Even Chase Truegood couldn't fix this mess. It seemed like it was all my fault, definitely.

PANNING FOR GOLD IN AL CAPONE'S RIVER

The Adventure:
Cowboys seeking a fortune

The Place:
The Arizona River in gold country (lakeshore)

The Characters:
Chase Truegood (me) and Buck Punch (Alex)

The Wardrobe/Props
: Western vests (life jackets), cowboy hats (Mom's sun hats), panning-for-gold pans (pie pans), gold extraction tools (spoons, forks, noodle strainer), guns (sticks), and rope (rope)

Chase Truegood and Buck Punch have survived many adventures, but pannin' for gold in yonder Arizona, in Al Capone's own river, may be their last. Outlaws hid in them thar mountains, along with cowboy-killin' lions.

Buck swept off his hat. “Sun's burnin' me up.” Then he spat some chewin' tobacco.

“Can't be givin' up yet,” Chase said. “We ain't got no gold.”

The old-timer had told 'em the Arizona River was overflowin' with gold, but no cowboys were done brave enough to pan it. Capone and bandit-assistants Mr. Walt Miller and Matt Splat-That scoured the area stealin' and shootin' and drinkin' and killin' and fightin' with each other. Worse, Capone had hypnotized Chase's sister Jade and done made her a bandit, too.

Chase dug her pan in the sand, swirlin' it just so, and dumped the mush into the sand strainer. “Buck, that thar's a piece of gold.”

Buck licked the rock. “Old-timers say gold be tastin' like maple syrup. This thar rock tastes like snake soup.”

“How long can we be survivin' with no gold? We ain't got no money for supplies and grits.”

Buck jumped up and pointed yonder. “Bandits! It be Capone, Chase.”

Chase looked yonder, where four bandits peaked over rocks. Known as the best shot in the western territory, Chase whipped her gun and fired yonder. “I got Mr. Walt Miller, and I done wounded Jade! I mighta knocked the hypnosis right out of her head.”

Chase looked around. “Buck?”

Buck was floating facedown in the river. Chase pulled his vest with the strength of a passel of horses. “Buck? You done hurt?”

“Capone done got me. Right thar in the heart.”

Chase fired more rounds. “I got 'em all. Right thar in the heads.”

“Capone done got away,” Buck gasped. “I seen him gallopin' on his horse with gold and booze.”

“Buck, ya need heart-repair rub. I bought it from the old-timer at yonder camp because I'm your best buddy.” Chase pulled off his pannin' vest and smacked her hand against his heart. “Thar! You're done fine now!”

“My … leg…”

“What be wrong with yer leg? Yer bleedin' from the chest.”

“Got bit by a mountain lion lookin' for firewood. Didn't wanna be sayin'.” Buck gasped again. He pulled a rock from his pocket. “Been wantin' to surprise ya.”

Chase inspected it. “What's this thar rock?”

“Tastes like maple. It's gold!” He moaned. “Enough for ya to git a stagecoach back east.”

“A real partner wouldn't be leavin' ya in the Arizona River!”

“If I got to die, Chase, I want to be dyin' right here. Right in yonder Arizona. The old-timer can bury me.”

“He don't know where to find ya!”

“Tell 'em … tell 'em to follow them thar vultures.”

“Don't be dyin' Buck!”

“For the love of Gertrude! Who's Buck and why is he dying?” Grumpa stood on the dock, looking concerned.

“We're just goofing around,” Alex said.

“Want to play?” I asked. “You could be Buck's grandfather, Mr. Edmund Punch.”

“I'm too old for nonsense. And you got company. That cousin of Matt's is here. His parents just dropped him off. They must think I'm running a daycare.”

Alex splashed to shore and dropped his life jacket on the rocks. He didn't even look back. Just ran toward the house.

“Hop out, Minnow. You can't be out here alone.”

“I'm wearing a life jacket.”

“Are you trying to get me arrested for neglect?”

“Alex is the one who can't swim good. I swim great. Who's Matt's cousin and why's he here?”

“Neil and Sally want Alex to meet some kids before school starts. Matt volunteered his cousin.” Grumpa pointed at me, then the dock. “Out.”