“Lunch is on me, ladies,” said my mother, handing me some money. “And take your swim things with you,” she reminded Mackenzie and me. “You’ll save yourselves a trip that way.”
Mackenzie and I grabbed our swim bags—last practice!—and we all headed for town. The rain had cleared up, and everything smelled of freshly washed earth. Jasmine and Cha Cha rattled on about their vacation as we walked, but while Mackenzie hung on their every word, I listened with only one ear. Beaches, boys, bikinis—been there, heard all about that.
I scanned the trees for owls. Was it a barred owl call that the Underground Railroad used, I wondered? Or another one? A great horned owl, perhaps—now, that was a distinctive call. Hoo-h’Hoo-hoo-hoo. They sounded just like what you’d expect an owl to sound like.
Reverend Quinn was waiting for us at the church.
“Hello, girls,” he said with a welcoming smile. “You must be Truly’s cousin Mackenzie.”
Mackenzie nodded.
“I’m sure you’ve heard all about our steeple from Truly.”
I blushed. The last time I’d been up in the steeple, disaster had struck. Disaster in the name of Scooter Sanchez, who had accidentally on purpose rung the bell while I was in the belfry. I’d been deaf for days.
But Reverend Quinn didn’t know about that. I’d managed to make a clean getaway while he was bawling out Scooter.
“This is so awesome!” Mackenzie said happily as we climbed the ladder leading to the steeple. “I can’t believe I’m actually getting to go up here! With a bell made by Paul Revere and everything! Wait until I tell—”
“Mr. Perfect?” I said, the words popping out before I could stop myself.
Mackenzie’s happy smile faded. Once again I’d put my size-ten-and-a-half foot into my mouth. Felicia was right—I really was cretinous.
I hung back while Cha Cha and Jasmine explained the history of the steeple to my cousin and showed her the view. I was feeling worse by the minute. What was wrong with me? Could I never do anything right?
When Reverend Quinn offered to take a group picture of us after the tour, Mackenzie made a point of making sure she stood as far away from me as possible.
“What’s up with you two?” Cha Cha murmured, watching her.
“Nothing,” I lied.
“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”
I sighed. “It’s just—you know, kind of hard to explain.”
“She seems really nice,” said Cha Cha.
I nodded. “She is.” I blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. I really wanted things to be okay again between my cousin and me.
At Lou’s, Mackenzie took a seat at the opposite end of the counter from me. I ended up with Jasmine on one side and Ella Bellow, of all people, on the other.
“How are those socks coming?” Ella asked just as I bit into my grilled cheese.
“Mmmph mmmph,” I replied.
“That bad, huh?” Her dark eyes glinted with amusement. She seemed to have gotten over her snit at the bookshop last night. “We’ll have to see if we can do something to remedy that.”
After lunch Cha Cha took us across the street to the Starlite and showed Mackenzie around. One of the dance studios was empty, and she made my cousin laugh as she grabbed Jasmine and mimicked how Scooter and I looked together at first at Cotillion.
“It’s amazing you have any toes left at all, Truly,” Jasmine joked. “My brother really flattened them.”
“The two of them got better, though,” said Cha Cha. “Competition will do that.”
“And you should have seen how Cha Cha transformed Calhoun!” Jasmine crowed. “She’s a genius—he looked like someone on one of those dance competition shows by the time she was done with him.”
I looked away, remembering how Calhoun had asked me to dance. Now, if he had the chance, he’d probably ask Mackenzie. I wasn’t so cretinous that I didn’t know that.
Glancing down at my watch, I frowned. “Gotta go,” I told my friends, shouldering my swim bag. “Last swim practice of Spring Break awaits.”
As I turned to leave, my cell phone buzzed. It was Scooter.
“What’s up?” asked Jasmine.
I frowned at his text message. “Um, I’m not sure. It’s from your brother. He says ‘Big foot brigade reporting in.’ ”
Mackenzie gasped. “Did he get footage?” She and Cha Cha and Jasmine all crowded around.
WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I texted back.
GOTTA SEE IT TO BELIEVE IT, Scooter replied.
My cousin squealed. “He got Bigfoot on camera!”
My fingers flew over my cell phone keyboard. WHERE R U GUYS?
MY HOUSE, Scooter texted back. YOU?
DANCE STUDIO. MEET US AT THE BOOKSTORE?
I looked over at my cousin and my friends. “Wow, you guys! This could be huge. If we got Bigfoot on film, we’re going to be famous!”
“You should tell Lauren too,” said Mackenzie. “It was her theory, after all.”
I made a face. Just what I needed. Little Miss Tagalong, tagging along again. Olive branch, I thought. “Fine,” I replied, and sent my sister a quick text too.
The four of us left the dance studio and ran back across the street.
“What do you think of the name ‘Cup and Chaucer’?” Aunt True asked as we came through the front door.
“Cup and what?” I looked around for the boys. They weren’t here yet.
“Chaucer.”
“Um, as a name for what?”
“For the mini café I’m thinking of adding over there,” my aunt replied, waving a hand at the space to the left of the cash register. “We could serve tea and coffee to go with our signature treats. As another income stream.”
Aunt True is always thinking up new ways for our bookstore to make money.
“There’s room at the end of the counter for an espresso machine,” she continued, “and I think we could squeeze in two or three little tables and chairs.”
“Cool, Ms. Lovejoy,” said Jasmine. “I’d totally hang out here if you do that.”
“You already totally hang out here,” Cha Cha reminded her with a grin.
“Cup and Chaucer.” My mother nodded slowly. “That’s cute, True.”
“Who’s Chaucer?” my father asked, emerging from the back office.
My mother and my aunt gave him a look.
He grinned. “Kidding! I’m not a complete philistine.” And striking a pose, he began to recite aloud in what sounded like a foreign language:
Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote
The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour . . .
We all stared at him, speechless.
“Um, what was that?” Mackenzie asked.
“Unless I’m mistaken, that was your uncle Jericho spouting Middle English.” There was a note of awe in my mother’s voice.
“Middle English?” I asked. “Isn’t that something out of The Hobbit?”
“That’s Middle-earth,” scoffed Lauren, the bell over the door jangling as she came in to join us. “Duh. Everybody knows that.”
I glared at her.
“Middle English was the dialect spoken and written in the British Isles in medieval times,” Aunt True explained hastily, spotting the look on my face. “I have to say, J. T., I’m impressed.”
“Contrary to popular opinion, I didn’t just wrestle at the University of Texas—I actually received an education,” my father told her smugly. “My freshman English professor happened to be a Chaucer nut, and one of the requirements for passing his course was memorizing the opening stanzas of Canterbury Tales.”
“Will wonders never cease,” said Aunt True, shaking her head.
“Apparently not,” my mother agreed.
The bell jangled again, and we all turned to see Mr. Sanchez stride into the bookshop. He had Scooter firmly in his grip. Calhoun and Lucas slunk in behind
them.
“Was your daughter in on this too?” Mr. Sanchez demanded, his face like thunder.
My father frowned. “In on what?”
“This!” Mr. Sanchez shook the video camera at him.
Uh-oh, I slid a glance at Scooter.
He gave Mackenzie and me a hangdog look. “I kind of borrowed it without asking,” he muttered.
My father pinned me with one of his signature Lieutenant Colonel Jericho T. Lovejoy glares. “Truly? Were you involved in taking this camera without permission?”
I squirmed, hoping that someone would jump in and help me out. But I was on my own. Nobody wanted to face the wrath of Lieutenant Colonel Jericho T. Lovejoy when he was in full commanding officer mode.
Lying wasn’t an option. Not to my father. It was time to face the music. “Yeah,” I admitted. “I mean, yes, sir.”
Before either my father or Mr. Sanchez could say anything more, Scooter held up his phone.
“Here’s the thing, though,” he told us. “It worked.”
CHAPTER 25
“What worked?” demanded Mr. Sanchez.
“The surveillance feed,” Scooter explained. “We set up a stakeout at Freeman Farm to try and catch the sap rustler.”
My father and Mr. Sanchez exchanged a glance.
“And you’re telling us you caught the thief on film?” said my father.
Scooter nodded.
“This still doesn’t excuse what you did,” Mr. Sanchez told him sternly. “My colleague is hopping mad. He left his equipment at my office earlier this week, planning to pick it up first thing this morning for an assignment. He was worried that it had been stolen.”
Scooter hung his head. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that Franklin is my friend, and with all the stuff going on between his family and the Maynards, I thought—”
“The problem is that you didn’t think!” Mr. Sanchez retorted.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, son,” said my father.
We crowded around and watched over Scooter’s shoulder as he tapped on his cell phone screen to pull up the video feed.
At first there was nothing to see but a lot of dark. Then, some sort of movement must have triggered the motion detector, because all of a sudden the camera’s flash kicked on, illuminating the sugar bush. A cluster of maple trees was clearly visible straight ahead, along with the network of plastic tubing strung between them. A moment later, a dark shape skulked into view.
Mackenzie and Lauren both gasped. I clutched my cousin’s arm involuntarily. Here it comes, I thought. Bigfoot! Life as we knew it would never be the same. There would be magazine covers and movie offers. We should probably think about scheduling a press conference.
“Keep watching,” said Scooter, slanting us a glance. Behind him, Calhoun and Lucas had the oddest expressions on their faces. As if they were trying not to—
“Are you kidding me?” I blurted, dropping Mackenzie’s arm.
Behind me, Aunt True started to giggle.
“Oh my goodness,” exclaimed my mother. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen!”
The video camera had caught the sap rustler red-handed, all right. Or red-pawed, in this case. Out of the undergrowth waddled not Bigfoot—not even close—but rather a fat mama raccoon, followed by a trio of roly-poly babies. The mother raccoon climbed up one of the trees and ventured gingerly out onto a branch. Reaching down with her paws, she grabbed a section of the tubing that was attached to the spile and severed it neatly with her sharp teeth. On the ground below, one of her babies grabbed the dangling end and began sucking vigorously on it.
“Man, I can’t believe we thought it was Big—” I stopped short as I realized that everyone had turned to look at me. Scooter and Calhoun were drawing their fingers across their throats, desperately trying to get me to shut up. So were Cha Cha and Jasmine.
“Big what, honey?” my mother asked.
“Uh, nothing,” I mumbled, embarrassed. “Some big, uh, kids. You know, from West Hartfield.”
So much for a press conference, I thought glumly.
We continued to watch as the mother raccoon repeated the crime for each of her babies. By the end, we were all howling.
“I love the way she keeps looking around!” my mother said, wiping her eyes. “As if she knows she’s doing something wrong and might get caught!”
“You are so busted, Mama!” crowed Aunt True.
“So much for ‘sabotage in Pumpkin Falls,’ ” said my father, shaking his head.
“You have to take this down to the Pumpkin Falls Patriot-Bugle right away,” my mother told Scooter. “They can post the video on their website and get the word out. This will put a stop to any feuding. I’m going to call Grace Freeman and tell her the good news.”
“And I’ll call Coach Maynard,” my father said. He turned to me. “You’re not off the hook, young lady. I’ll speak with you later.”
My heart sank. I’d be lucky if I got to set foot outside the house before the Fourth of July.
“I’ll let Ella Bellow know, and the rest of the town will hear within the hour,” said Aunt True as my parents disappeared into the back office. “Thank goodness this is settled. Pumpkin Falls is too small a community for a full-blown feud.”
Mr. Sanchez blew out his breath. He looked at Scooter for a long moment, considering. “Well, I guess your heart was in the right place,” he said finally. “I’ll go see if I can patch things up with my colleague.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Scooter replied. “I really am sorry.”
“I’m still planning to take it out of your hide, though,” his father warned. “I seem to recall that the garage could use cleaning.”
Scooter’s face fell when he heard this.
“Next time you get a bright idea that involves someone else’s property, run it by me first, would you, buddy?” His father took the video camera and left.
As the adults scattered on their various missions, my friends and I were left standing alone in the middle of the bookshop.
“So I guess we can chalk up another win for the Pumpkin Falls Private Eyes, right?” said Scooter.
“Some win,” said Calhoun. “Talk about the biggest anticlimax ever. Even I can write tomorrow’s headline: Masked bandits unmasked!”
Mackenzie giggled, and Calhoun grinned at her. I looked away.
“So, what’s next?” Scooter asked. “You guys want to hang out or something?”
“Can’t,” said Cha Cha. “It’s Shabbat.” The Abramowitzes are Jewish, and Friday nights are special for their family.
I shook my head. “We can’t, either. It’s the last day of swim practice.”
“After that, maybe?” Scooter gave Mackenzie a hopeful look.
“We’re kind of in the middle of a project,” I told him before my cousin could say anything.
He frowned. “What sort of project?”
“Knitting, mostly. We have our last sock class tonight.”
Hearing this, Lauren looked over at me sharply. Before she could spill the beans about the diary, I added quickly, “Plus, we were going to head over to the library.”
That quickly extinguished any spark of interest on Scooter’s part. The library was not at the top of his list of Fun Things to Do in Pumpkin Falls.
“Okay.” His eyes slid over to my cousin again. “Maybe we can all hang out tomorrow?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Mackenzie.
“See you guys then!” Scooter said, beaming. Calhoun and Lucas both waved—at Mackenzie—and followed him out the door. Cha Cha and Jasmine went with them.
“Can you believe that video? It was so funny!” Lauren said to Mackenzie.
“I know!” Mackenzie replied. “I can’t wait to send a link to Cameron!”
“So now you remember Cameron,” I muttered.
She turned to me. “What?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
“No! I will not forget it! I’m sick of your snide remarks, and I’m sick
of your attitude. You’ve been a total pain this week, Truly!”
“I’ve been a pain? You’re the one who’s boy crazy!”
Mackenzie’s mouth dropped open. Lauren’s head whipped back and forth as she watched us. Ignoring them both, I grabbed my swim bag and stomped off to the rec center.
“Pool party!” Coach Maynard announced as I came out onto the deck a little while later. Mackenzie was still in the locker room. Neither of us had said a word to each other while we were changing.
There was a smile on my swim coach’s face and a spring in his step that definitely hadn’t been there this morning. Word must have gotten out about the surveillance video. Ella Bellow’s doing, most likely. Ella worked fast. “We have cause for celebration.”
I knew that Coach Maynard was talking about a lot more than just the effort we’d put into daily doubles this week. He was clearly just as relieved as we all were that the mystery was solved and the feud was over.
My teammates and I jumped in the pool and played water polo for a while, then just horsed around, happy we didn’t have to swim laps. There was cake and ice cream on the deck when we’d finished swimming, and Coach Maynard praised Mackenzie for her hard work and told her that she was bound to be a success, if she kept it up. He even gave her this goofy certificate he’d printed up, crowning her with the title “Flip Turn Ninja.”
As we headed up the front walk to my grandparents’ house a while later, I heard loud hammering coming from inside.
“What’s going on?” I asked, opening the door and tossing my jacket and swim bag onto the bench in the front hall. I poked my head into the dining room. My mother was seated at the table as usual, working on her research paper.
“Your father’s finally tackling the honey-do list,” she said absently. “He’s working on replacing the garbage disposal in the kitchen, and after that he promised he’d fix the squeaky step on the front stairs. Pizza should be here soon.”
Fridays are always pizza nights for our family.
“So where is everybody?”
“Hatcher and Danny just got back from wrestling. They’re showering, I think. And Lauren and Pippa are upstairs somewhere,” my mother said, flapping her hand vaguely toward the ceiling. “Annie’s with them.” She finally looked up. “How was your last practice?”