How Raspberry Jam Got Invented

  Part Three: Uninvited Guests

  11. A Speedy Trial

  “Uh ... hi, everybody,” Davis pants, badly out of breath. “Imagine meeting you here.”

  He smiles sheepishly and looks at us with sad, pleading eyes. He seems like a puppy that has just been caught tearing up the sofa cushions. If he had a tail, he’d be wagging it.

  “I was just out for a walk,” he says, “and I, uh ...”

  “Too bad you can’t walk faster,” Quentin says. “You might have got away.”

  “I suppose you know nothing about this?” Melissa shoves her knotted T-shirt into Davis’ face.

  “I ... well,” Davis sputters.

  “Come on, admit it,” Tommy says.

  Chin trembling, Davis looks around for sympathy, finds none.

  “Yeah, it was me,” he says at last.

  “Nice going, Davis,” I say. “What have I ever done to you?”

  “And how about that glove guy in the water?” Quentin demands. “Was that your big idea?”

  Davis gulps. “Yeah.”

  An angry silence as we all stare Davis down.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I was mad because you wouldn’t let me come along. I was lonely!”

  This sad little apology hits me hard. Suddenly I feel mean and cheap and about as big as a cicada bug.

  “While you’re at it,” Quentin says, “tell us about our lunch.”

  Davis looks baffled.

  “Lunch?” he says.

  “Yeah,” Melissa snaps. “Did you eat it all yourself or throw it away?”

  “I didn’t take anything,” Davis says. “I’ve been at the concession area. I just got back a minute ago ... I was kind of hoping you’d let me join you. I was going to say that I chased off the guy who tied up the clothes.”

  Melissa jabs a finger at his chest.

  “Oh yeah?” she accuses. “Look at that jelly dribbled on your shirt. Don’t say you didn’t eat our sandwiches!”

  Davis backs away, Melissa pursuing him while the two boys close in behind.

  “No,” Davis wails. “Let me explain!”

  “Explain that jelly on your shirt!” Quentin says.

  “That’s from a donut I bought at the vending machines.” Davis looks desperately around. “I was hungry.”

  “Yeah, right,” Melissa says.

  I feel sorry for Davis, even if he is a thief. And I’m mad at Melissa for chasing him away earlier. Not only that, but I am ashamed of myself for going along instead of telling Melissa to go jump with her stupid picnic. Plain meanness brought about this situation, and I had been part of it.

  But what can I do?

  The others have him cold. Quentin yanks Davis’ shirt hard, stretching the front with the jelly blotch until it seems about to rip. Davis is bigger than Quentin, but his size is mostly just flab. Quentin is all angry muscle. Even Tommy, usually so kind and gentle, looks ready to attack.

  Davis cowers, as if bracing himself for a shower of punches. His mouth trembles, and tears begin rolling down his cheeks. Then something clicks in my mind.

  “Hold it!” I yell.

  Three angry faces turn my direction.

  “Tommy,” I say, “you brought the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, right?”

  “Yeah,” Tommy says. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “What kind of jelly was in them?” I said.

  “Strawberry,” Tommy said, “it’s the only kind Mom buys.”

  “Look at Davis’ shirt,” I say. “That’s blueberry, isn’t it?”

  I pause a couple of seconds to let this sink in.

  “Of course, I could be wrong,” I say. “Maybe the farmers are growing blue strawberries these days.”

  The boys trade glances, and the anger drains out of them. Quentin lets go of Davis’ shirt.

  “Sorry,” he says.

  Tommy looks very awkward and embarrassed, but Melissa looks like a dog that’s just had a juicy bone yanked away from it.

  “Well, if Davis didn’t take our lunch, who did?” she says.

  “Yeah,” Tommy says, “Somebody else must be here ... ”

  His voice trails off. Suddenly all warmth flees from the summer day, and the park seems as cold and threatening as the dark side of the moon.

  12. Investigation

  “Well, whoever it was, he must be gone by now,” Quentin says.

  “Yeah, right,” Tommy says. “Guess we might as well get going – as soon as we finish untying our clothes.”

  “At least the basket will be easy to carry now,” Quentin says.

  They try to sound joking and casual, but I can tell they are nervous, scared even. I’m a bit scared myself and not afraid to admit it. This is a day of nonstop weirdness, and I want it to be over.

  The others move off, leaving me alone with Davis.

  “You saved my life, Amanda,” he says.

  “Forget it,” I say.

  “Honest, I didn’t steal anything,” Davis says. “I went to the concession area right after dumping the glove guy into the water. I-I know I shouldn’t have tied up the clothes – especially not yours, Amanda. You’ve always been okay.”

  I can’t help a little smile.

  “Where did you get those awful gloves, anyway?”

  “There was a bum wandering around outside the park,” Davis says. “I bought them from him for a quarter.”

  “I see.”

  I don’t care about the gloves, or the food, or about how many knots are in my T-shirt. All I want is to start feeling better about myself. I pull a box of mini-donuts out of my backpack.

  “Here, have some,” I say.

  “Thanks!” Davis grabs a few.

  I take out one for myself and return the box to my backpack. I don’t want to share with the others. I haven’t forgiven them yet for being so nasty.

  “We’ll finish these later,” I say.

  My bathing suit is damp and uncomfortable, but I’m not about to change. To do that, I’d have to go into the girls’ bathroom, and Melissa would certainly follow. I don’t want to be alone with her and have to listen to her ugly talk. We are definitely not on speaking terms.

  Despite her tough girl act, I can tell that she’s nervous. She’ll be scared to enter the bathroom by herself. Who knows what kind of weird person might be lurking in there? Anyone desperate enough to steal our lunch might be pretty dangerous. So, she’ll just have to walk home in a damp swimsuit, too.

  Better yet, maybe she has to go real bad. I’m not about to stand guard in the bathroom, though. Use the bushes Melissa! Pick up some poison ivy while you’re at it.

  I tuck my clothes, knots and all, into the backpack side pocket and drape my towel around my shoulders. I wish the others would hurry. This whole place is really getting to me.

  Melissa approaches with her freshly unknotted clothes.

  “Are you going to change, Amanda?”

  “No,” I say. “I enjoy wearing wet clothes. Don’t you know it’s the latest style? The damp look.”

  “Suit yourself, Amanda.”

  She starts walking toward the girls’ bathroom, then pauses and looks back to see if I’m following. When she sees that I’m staying put, she starts walking again, then stops outside the bathroom door. She glance around the building, trying to see if anyone suspicious is lurking nearby.

  I almost feel sorry for her a little, but not enough to go with her. Finally she enters the bathroom, propping the door open with a rock. Well, she has more nerve than I thought.

  Tommy and Quentin have already changed and packed up the ruins of our picnic lunch. They plop down beneath the big tree shading the picnic table.

  “I’m beat!” Tommy says. “Too much exercise on an empty stomach.”

  “Yeah,” Quentin says.

  They glance my direction, but I ignore them. My donut supply remains safe inside my backpack.

  “Come on, Melissa,” Quentin shouts toward the bathroom. “H
urry it up.”

  An angry reply echoes through the open door.

  “We should have stayed to play soccer,” Quentin gripes. “We wouldn’t be in this ‘jam’ so to speak.”

  “I was all for it,” Tommy says. “You’re the one who backed out.”

  “It was not!” Quentin says.

  “Were too!”

  Soon they are tussling in the grass, each trying to pin the other down.

  “Cut that out, you two!” I yell.

  The battle continues a while longer. Quentin is the stronger of the two and could have won, but that isn’t his style. Pinning Tommy down, in front of a girl no less, would have embarrassed him. Quentin doesn’t believe in embarrassing people unnecessarily, so he merely fights to keep to keep from getting pinned himself.

  Finally, the ‘battle’ ends in a draw.

  I don’t think you can take it at face value, anyway. Tommy and Quentin are only trying to cover up their own fear. They want to be superheroes, like all boys, but this situation is not a heroic one.

  I’m starting to feel really weird – like a person in some horror movie waiting for the guy in the rubber mask to show up. Cicadas whir ominously, adding to the creepy atmosphere. The mystery of the missing food gnaws at me, and I still have a little while to try to figure things out.

  So, I begin an investigation.

  I study the area around the picnic table. Mostly just our footprints in the bare dirt, but also some peculiar little scratchy marks, too – as if somebody has dragged a pointy stick over the area many times.

  I examine an empty potato chip bag. It is neatly slit open as if somebody used a razor blade on it. I see a sandwich wrapper a little farther on, then more stuff scattered around. I follow this trash trail to some thick underbrush.

  I pause, chewing on a donut, and trying to figure out what everything means. A piece of donut falls on the ground. Suddenly, a pointy, whiskery nose darts out from the underbrush, a pair of disgusting little paws grabs the crumb.

  “Oh!” I drop the rest of the donut.

  13. Rat-o-phobia

  Something horrible brushes against me – an ugly black rat dashing right over my foot! I feel its prickly fur scratch against my ankle. The little monster leaps onto the fallen donut and begins fighting over it with another greasy black rat.

  I feel like vomiting, but there isn’t time as I am too busy screaming.

  “Ahhhhh!”

  I don’t remember what happens next. One second I’m standing on the ground, the next second I’m on top the picnic table screeching my lungs out. My towel flutters around my shoulders like some ridiculous Super Girl cape.

  Somewhere along the way I’ve dropped the another donut I’d been holding, and the two rats are having a field day gobbling it up.

  Melissa comes tearing out of the bathroom.

  “What’s wrong!” she cries.

  She wears only a towel wrapped around herself. My screams must have caught her halfway between wet swimsuit and dry clothes.

  “Over there!” I yell, pointing at the rats.

  “Ugh!”

  Melissa jumps back, practically leaving her towel behind.

  Quentin and Tommy roar with laughter.

  “Take it off, Melissa!” Quentin shouts.

  Melissa’s face turns deep red. She flashes Quentin a murderous ‘I’ll get you later!’ scowl. Then she stomps back to the bathroom.

  Davis climbs onto the picnic table with me.

  “It’s all right, Amanda,” he says, “they won’t hurt you.”

  I’ve calmed down a bit and am starting to feel foolish.

  “Thanks, Davis,” I say. “You must understand that I have severe Rat-o-phobia.”

  “I don’t think anybody likes them very much,” Davis says.

  Tommy and Quentin keep up their laughter roar.

  “You don’t suppose those rats took our lunch?” Tommy says.

  “Sure, why not?” Quentin laughs even louder.

  Could rats have taken our lunch?

  It hardly seems possible, not unless there was a big crowd of them. I’ve heard of rat hoards in big dirty cities, but out here? How could there be that many rats where there are hawks, owls, and foxes to eat them? The balance of nature would keep their numbers down. I learned that in science class.

  Besides, wouldn’t they have made a terrific mess? Wouldn’t there be rat hairs and rat poop everywhere? A friend of mine has a white pet rat and the awful thing is always leaving souvenirs scattered around. Our picnic lunch was neatly cleaned out, as if an army of tiny robots carried it off.

  Now that the first shock is over, I find the rats somewhat interesting, if not exactly lovable. I toss them a couple more donuts.

  “Here you go,” I say. “Bring your kiddies along.”

  The rats flee back to the underbrush when the donuts hit the ground, but they are soon out again chewing away.

  “You don’t have to waste those,” Quentin says.

  “Yeah, how about giving us some?” Tommy asks.

  I pretend not to hear them.

  Melissa arrives from the bathroom, fully dressed this time. She makes a wide detour around the rats and stands by the picnic table.

  “Is everybody having a good time?” she says.

  We watch the show a little while longer, nobody talking. Then Quentin suddenly grabs Tommy’s baseball cap and runs off with it.

  “Hey!” Tommy takes off after him.

  “How immature,” Melissa scoffs.

  She’s tries to look snotty, but I thinks she’s actually glad that some new event is taking our minds off the towel episode.

  Tommy almost catches up, but Quentin slips away and dashes into the playground. The two run around the place, kicking up wood chips and dodging around the various pieces of equipment.

  Finally Quentin runs back toward us. He tosses the cap into the air.

  “I think this is yours,” he says.

  Tommy catches it.

  “Imagine that!” he says. “Thank you, Mr. Quentin.”

  It’s all good fun, I suppose, but I’d have to agree with Melissa that it is rather immature.

  Then the atmosphere suddenly changes for the worse. The air becomes still and very hot. The rats stop their donut gnawing and point their snouts straight up, sniffing frantically. Then they take off, running like mad towards the creek, abandoning their feast.

  “What the heck?” Quentin says.

  “Something’s out there!” Davis cries.

  We all stand frozen in place. Time itself stands still.