Dear Bess,
When does your school year end? Ours is almost over. Only three more long, hot weeks.
Mr. Harper told us we have to do a final project for social studies. It’s due in two weeks—the Friday before Regatta Weekend. The project is to research some part of Foyes Island history and present a report on it to the rest of the class.
It’s a group project. Mr. H. assigned the groups.
Here is my group:
Me.
Henry.
And Webby.
I don’t see how this will work.
Webby has been meaner than ever. When they serve peas in the cafeteria, he saves a few in a napkin, loads them into a straw, and then shoots them at me in the hall. Somehow, when I turn around to catch him, he’s standing around in a crowd looking innocent.
But I know it’s him. Right after one of his attacks, I saw him toss a crumpled napkin in the trash. I pulled it out and uncrumpled it. It was stained pea green.
That’s just one example. But you know Webby. I don’t have to tell you what he’s like.
Maybe he’s mad because I refused to crew for him. If that’s true, he can go on being mad forever, I don’t care.
Mr. H. told us to split up into our groups to brainstorm ideas. I have a GREAT idea for THE BEST HISTORY PROJECT EVER. Henry thinks it’s a great idea too. But guess who doesn’t?
Right. Webby.
Webby has his own idea for a super-great history project. He says mine is impossible!
But it’s not impossible. Just because I don’t know how to make it work doesn’t mean it can’t work. There’s got to be a way.
Here are the two projects, Bess. You tell me which one you think is most likely to get an A.
Project 1: We tell the story of Wally the Wahoo, the biggest fish ever caught off the coast of Maryland, while showing the stuffed trophy version of the real Wally.
Project 2: We find Smuggler Joe’s treasure. Or at least make a map to the treasure, so the final presentation can be a field trip to go dig it up.
Duh … Project 2 wins, right? I mean, which would you rather do, dig for treasure or look at a big dead fish?
Of course, Wally the Wahoo happens to be mounted in Webby’s rec room, because the champion fisherman who caught Wally in 1973 happens to be Webby’s grandfather, Robert Webster Peterson.
Here’s how our brainstorming discussion went.
Webby started by saying, “I have the best idea. We should tell how my grandfather caught the biggest fish ever in the history of the world. It’ll be so cool because we can show the fish! I’ve got it in my rec room.”
Me and Henry exchanged glances. Then I said, “I’ve got an even better idea. Let’s research the history of Smuggler Joe and find his treasure.”
I could tell Henry liked this idea … but I could also tell he wasn’t going to say it because he didn’t want to argue with Webby.
And we all know Webby never goes down without a fight.
“That’s not a good idea,” he said. “It’s a dumb idea.”
“What’s so dumb about it?” I asked.
“Smuggler Joe wasn’t real! He’s just a story people tell, like the Booger Man or the Headless Horseman.”
“It’s the Boogey Man, not the Booger Man.”
“Wrong again, Einstein. Want me to look it up?”
“Yeah!” I said. “Let’s look it up.”
I thought Henry might jump in to back me up. But instead he jumped in to say, “We’re getting off the subject. We’re talking about Smuggler Joe, not the Boogey Man.”
“See?” I said. “Boogey. I might accept bogey, but never booger.”
Webby told me to shut up. I told him to shut up. This went back and forth for a while. Then I said, “I think Smuggler Joe was real. But even if he wasn’t, it’s a good topic for a history project. Foyes Island was a smugglers’ port and a pirate haven a long time ago, so searching for Smuggler Joe is a good way to show our early history.”
Webby wasn’t swayed. “It’s stupid,” he insisted.
Henry asked, “Do you really think we can find the treasure?”
I nodded. “If it exists, we can find it. And if we find it, that will prove Smuggler Joe was real, and not just a legend. And that will be huge! Plus—treasure!”
“My project is better,” Webby huffed. “We can call it Wahoo! That’s a Dang Big Fish! Here’s how we’ll start …”
Webby cleared his throat and straightened an imaginary tie.
“Mr. Harper, esteemed classmates: This is the story of the biggest fish EVER CAUGHT, EVER! And we have it right here. Look how big it is!!!!”
Henry and I were silent.
Then Henry said, “Is that the whole project?”
I pushed on. “Webby, trust me, if we do my project we’ll get an A, even if we don’t find the treasure.”
Webby decided to turn to Henry instead of trying to answer me, saying, “Henry, you’re not going to listen to this GIRL, are you?”
Henry looked really uncomfortable. Then he started to say, “Well …”
Webby put his hands over his ears and went, “Blah blah blah blah I can’t hear you!”
“Webby,” I said, “take your hands off your ears.”
“I still can’t hear you!”
“Webby!” I yanked his hands off his ears. “Stop it!”
“I won’t stop it. You guys better do what I want—or else.”
He shook his fist at us.
Such a boy thing to do!
“We’re supposed to be a team,” I reminded him. “Teammates don’t threaten each other to get their way.”
“I don’t need to threaten anybody, because majority rules, right, Henry? And it’s two against one. Me and Henry against you. We win. We’re doing the fish story.”
I was NOT going to let him get away with this. “We never took a vote!” I protested. “Henry, you’re not going to vote for that dumb fish idea, are you?”
“Well …”
It seemed like “well …” was all he could say. After that he clammed up.
For the rest of the class, Webby and I fumed, and Henry looked like he was caught in a bear trap.
After class I went to the clubhouse and drew a picture of our meeting on the wall. Here it is:
To be honest, Bess, I have no idea if Smuggler Joe was real or not. I don’t know where the treasure is, or how to find it, or if it even exists! I just think my idea is better. And I have to push hard to get it past Webby. I need Henry on my side.
This fight isn’t over. I’m going to start working on finding Smuggler Joe’s gold.
First stop: the library.
On the trail,
Claire
Dear Bess,
I had a wild adventure today. The kind of thing that people might not believe, if I told them. But I know I can count on you to believe me, because you’re my best friend. You know I don’t lie or make up stories.
Wait until you hear this.
I woke up feeling sad about Henry. I know he likes my idea better than Webby’s, but I can’t get him to tell Webby that.
I moped around the house feeling friendless and miserable.
“It’s too beautiful a day for moping,” Mom said. “Why don’t you go outside and enjoy it?”
Mom was right. It was sunny and warm out, so I decided to go out for a ride. I saddled up Starshine and we took off into the woods. As soon as I sat in the saddle, I began to feel better. Starshine does that for me.
I rode slowly along the path to Eliot Point, singing Starshine’s Good Morning theme song. Because it rained a lot this spring, the ground is soft and dark, and the trees are so green and full that the path looks like a glowing undersea tunnel. I reached up to touch the cool leaves while Starshine ambled along underneath me. We were both feeling calm and carefree.
You know how Starshine is: Nothing bothers him. He can’t jump high like some horses but he’s steady and not easily startled.
Most of t
he time.
But there’s one thing that scares the willies out of him.
And that thing is snakes.
So while we were heading calmly through the woods, all of a sudden Starshine snorted and tensed up underneath me. A long black snake wriggled across the path, right in front of us. Starshine stopped dead. He wouldn’t move.
I tugged on his reins. “Come on, Starshine. The snake won’t hurt us. Just step over it.”
But the snake lifted its head and hissed at us. That’s all it took.
Starshine reared up. Then he put his head down and charged.
I clung to his neck as he ran down the path. “Starshine, stop!” I cried. I yanked on the reins. But he was spooked.
So he kept running.
We rounded a curve. Up ahead a huge fallen tree lay across the path. Starshine galloped straight for it.
He was going to jump!
And he’s not a jumper. Not at all.
I sat up in the saddle and prepared to sail over that gigantic tree. But Starshine ducked his head and stopped short. I went flying off his back and landed with a thud on the other side of the tree trunk.
Everything went black for a second.
I opened my eyes. Little white pinpricks of light clouded my vision. After they cleared up, I saw Starshine’s head peering at me over the fallen tree trunk. The trunk was so big it came up to his haunches. He never would have made it over if he’d tried to jump it.
I tried to sit up, but I felt dizzy, so I stayed on the ground. “I’m okay!” I told Starshine. I could tell he was worried about me.
Then I heard a rustling through the trees. Starshine’s eyes rested on something behind me. I tried to sit up again to look, but my head hurt, just a little, and I couldn’t do it.
“What is it, Starshine?” I asked, even though I knew he couldn’t answer me.
Swish swish swish—the rustling sound got louder, closer …
“Hello?” I called. “Is someone out there?”
I groped around until my hand landed on the largest stick I could find. I held it up, weapon at the ready.
I saw the leaves moving first. Then some tawny brown-and-white fur. Then a flash of red.
It was the Killer Deer! A piece of Henry’s T-shirt was still stuck on his antler.
I tried to lift my head, but it felt so heavy. I waved my big stick.
“Try to get me, Killer Deer! I’ll bonk you right on the antlers!”
The deer stopped a few feet away and stared down at me where I lay on the ground.
I lay perfectly still. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do if a bear comes near you? I didn’t know if it would work for a killer deer too, but I didn’t have much choice.
And then—Bess, I swear this is true—the deer moved its little deer mouth, and words came out.
I’m not kidding. The deer talked.
He said, “I am the ghost of Smuggler Joe.”
I just stared in a stunned silence.
The Killer Deer continued. “Do not fear me. I won’t hurt you. I didn’t mean to hurt that boy, your friend. I was only trying to talk to him, but he panicked and then his shirt got caught on my antler. Will you take it off, by the way?”
He had a weird, squeaky voice. I don’t know what I thought a deer’s voice would sound like, but in case you’re wondering, it’s kind of breathy and high.
My own voice sounded a little strange when I said, “Um …”
The deer stepped forward and gently tilted his head down so that I could reach his antlers without getting up. I pulled the piece of red fabric off his horn. I thought I heard him sigh with relief.
“Thank you,” he said.
“I don’t understand. Are you a deer or a ghost?”
“I’m the ghost of Joe, temporarily using the body of a deer. I can’t speak to humans without a body. But I have been trying to give you a message! Haven’t you seen me lurking around your boathouse?”
“I thought that was you! But I couldn’t be sure. You’re so … shadowy.”
Killer Deer/Joe shook his head from side to side. “I can’t help it! It’s the ghost thing, not having a body and all. It’s hard to make your presence felt when you’ve been dead as long as I have.”
“So what’s the message?” I asked.
“It’s about my treasure—”
Just then Starshine neighed, really loudly. The Killer Deer tensed up like he was afraid. Starshine neighed again. He scared the deer, who leaped away through the woods.
“Starshine!” I cried. “He was about to tell me something very important!”
Of course NOW Starshine was quiet. He looked sorry. I guess horses can’t help neighing at deer, and deer can’t help getting spooked and running off, even if they have a human ghost temporarily living inside them.
I sat up. My head felt a little better now. I stood up carefully … I was okay. I waited a minute to see if the deer would return. The woods were quiet.
“Joe!” I tried. “Come back!”
Nothing.
“Joe!”
A breeze rustled the leaves. That was the only sound. The Killer Deer didn’t return.
I climbed up onto Starshine’s back and we rode slowly home. He seemed a little jittery from the whole experience. To tell you the truth, I was too.
But, Bess, I swear this really happened. I had proof.
I was holding the piece of Henry’s red T-shirt in my hand.
I led Starshine back to the stable, then went inside the house. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You have leaves in your hair.”
I reached up and plucked some leaves off my head. I hadn’t realized they were there.
“Starshine saw a snake and lost it,” I told her. “I fell off. But I’m okay! The ground was really soft.”
“What?” Mom jumped to her feet. “Are you really okay? Did you hit your head?”
“Not very hard. I’m fine.”
She stared into my eyes. “Do you feel dizzy? Do you have a headache?”
“No,” I insisted.
She frowned. “I’m taking you to the clinic anyway, just to be sure.”
“Mom, I promise I’m fine!” I wanted to go see Henry and tell him what happened. Maybe he’d want his piece of T-shirt back. Not that it’s of much use to him, but you never know.
Mom herded me out to the car and drove me to the clinic anyway. Dr. Stacy checked me out. She asked me a bunch of questions like how many fingers she was holding up and shined a light in my eyes and said I looked okay to her.
“Whew, that’s good,” Mom said, and we drove home.
As soon as I got out of the car, I whistled for Bruno and walked over to Henry’s house. His mother said he and his dad had gone sailing.
I took Bruno with me to the dock and saw their boat way out in the river, almost as far as the bay. I sat down with Bruno and waited.
It was warm out today, but the air still gets chilly when the sun goes down. I sat with my hand warming on Bruno’s furry back, watching the water drift by, the boats in the distance. The oystermen puttered by in their skiff. Zach’s and Webby’s dads waved to me from a fishing boat. The sun floated down in the west and changed color, from lemony to butterscotchy to blood orange. The water changed color too, blue-green to silver-blue to blue-black.
I don’t know if you know this about me, Bess, but sometimes, when there’s no one else around, I talk to Bruno. So there I was sitting on the dock by myself and I told Bruno all about Henry and why we were waiting for him. He thumped his tail, which always makes me think he understands what I’m saying. Mom says I’m just imagining it, but I don’t think so.
I told Bruno how much I miss you, and how lonely I’ve been since you left, and how glad I am that at least I have him and Starshine to keep me company. I love animals but they’re not the same as people. I need animal friends AND people friends to be happy. My friends can be girls or boys. I really don’t care about that. As long
as they like me and I can be myself around them.
Maybe that’s why it’s been hard around the boys since you left, Bess. They don’t seem to want me to be myself. It’s like they’re afraid my girlishness will bring out their girlishness. I know they all have a little bit in them. Henry does. Remember that time all three of us slept over at your house, and you wanted to paint your toenails acid green, and then I wanted to too, and then Henry let us paint his toenails too? And we were laughing at how good he looked with acid-green toenails. And he liked it! But that was last year, when we were only ten. Everything gets different when you’re older.
I watched Henry’s boat tack back and forth, and I could tell his dad was teaching him things for the regatta.
He wants to win this time, I thought.
It was beginning to get dark when Henry and his dad sailed up to the dock. Bruno jumped up and barked and wagged his tail. Mr. Long said, “What did we do to deserve this welcoming committee?”
“I just wanted to talk to Henry for a minute.”
Henry’s dad nodded at him, like, Go ahead, I’ll catch up. Henry jumped off the boat, tied it to the dock, and walked down the path with me and Bruno.
I told him that the ghost of Smuggler Joe had just visited me in the form of the Killer Deer who’d attacked him a couple of months ago. I think you know Henry well enough to be able to picture the look on his face when I said this, but just in case you can’t picture it, I’ll draw it for you.
“Claire,” he said, “I think you’ve lost your mind.”
Honestly, I could understand why he might think that. But instead of backing down, I said, “Oh yeah?”
I pulled out the piece of red cloth.
I went on. “Is this, or is this not, part of the T-shirt you were wearing when the Killer Deer attacked you?”
Henry gasped. “It is!”
“See? Now do you believe me?”
Henry shook his head. “Not really. Maybe it fell off the deer and you found it in the woods.”
“But I didn’t!”
“Maybe you hit your head when you fell and this was all a dream.”
“Maybe. But when we find Joe’s treasure, that will prove my story is true. So we might as well just assume there was a Smuggler Joe, he had treasure, and we’re going to find it.”