Surviving Summer Vacation

  We could smell hamburgers and chicken and steaks cooking all around us. I was beginning to feel hungry after all.

  And then I saw the light blue Crown Victoria again. It was almost hidden under the trees, but I was pretty sure it was the same one.

  “Funny,” I said to Alison. “You’d think ­people traveling in a car would go to a motel, not a campground.”

  She wasn’t paying any attention. “Ariadne, don’t get too close to that dog, it might bite!” she called. “Billy, we’re going this way! Lewis, catch him!”

  Billy changed directions, laughing, when I started after him. If Harry hadn’t cut him off, he probably would have run right into a family roasting hot dogs.

  I didn’t think any more about the blue car.

  Chapter 4

  “This was a very stressful day,” Mrs. Rupe said. “I sure don’t feel like fixing a meal. Let’s order in some pizza. They’ll deliver out here to the campground. I saw their sign.”

  So we all pigged out on pepperoni and sausage pizza, washed down with Cokes and grape soda. They were having an ice cream social at the rec hall, so we got in on that, too.

  I didn’t have seconds, like Harry. Maybe I’d eaten too many cherries earlier.

  The rest of the kids wanted to go in the water again, but I didn’t feel like doing that, either. I sat on the edge of the pool and gave Billy another dog-paddling lesson. He was doing pretty well. If he fell into the water accidentally, he’d probably be able to keep himself afloat without panicking.

  The pool was across the road from the office, where there were a pair of pay phones. Dad had said to check in with them at home and let them know how we were doing. Just about the time I got ready to go call, though, I saw that both phones were busy.

  One of them was being used by a lady in a big hat with a little dog under one arm. I stared at the guy at the other one.

  He seemed familiar, somehow. I couldn’t think why. Kind of short and stocky, going bald on top. He waved one arm while he talked, and then he hung up as if he were annoyed. He went into the combination office/store when he was finished, so I told Alison I was leaving Billy and went to call.

  I talked to Dad for about five minutes. It was hard, in a way, because I didn’t want to admit that Mr. Rupe was having trouble with the motor home. If I had, Dad would have jumped into the car and come after us. So I talked about the campgrounds and pools and the petting zoo. And when Mom came on and asked if we were eating right, I said, “Oh, sure, we’re eating whatever they serve, and it’s been great. We have one more day of riding, I guess, before we get to the camp outside of Yellowstone, and then the next day we go into the park.”

  “How’s Alison doing with the baby-sitting?”

  “You know Alison. She’s real good with kids,” I evaded. I didn’t mention that she seemed to have wound up taking full charge of these two.

  “Well, have fun,” Mom said. “Tell Alison we miss you both.”

  Alison had the kids out of the pool by the time I got back, and Harry said he’d had enough, too. We cut through the campground on the way back to our site, and we went past that blue car I’d noticed several times. I suppose because I watch too many cop movies, I glanced at the license plate. Washington number AVA 703.

  It seemed funny, a nice car like that sitting there with no trailer or anything. They hadn’t even put up a tent the way some of their neighbors had.

  A few spaces down some college guys were spreading out sleeping bags on the ground and eating off the back of their van. Maybe the people in the blue car had sleeping bags.

  As we went past the blue Crown Victoria, the man who’d made the phone call just ahead of me came up and got into the car. I got a good look at the guy. Maybe the only reason he looked familiar was that I’d seen him looking at us when they passed us earlier that day, I reasoned.

  We all changed out of our swimsuits and walked over to the playground. The little kids climbed on all the equipment and made a lot of racket while Alison kept them from killing themselves. Harry and I played catch for a while, until his mother called him.

  “Harry, run over to the store and get me some cough drops,” she said.

  Harry grimaced. “Okay. Come on, Lewis.”

  I threw an uneasy glance at my sister. One of her charges was on a swing, the other one at the top of the slide, and I knew how fast each of them could run—in opposite directions.

  “Uh, I think I’d better stick around here and help Alison ride herd on the little kids,” I said.

  He shrugged. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, then.”

  It was a good thing I stayed. Before Harry had gone twenty feet, Ariadne fell out of the swing and scraped her knees. While Alison was picking her up, Billy came down the slide head first and could have cracked his skull if I hadn’t been there to catch him.

  “What a pair,” Alison groaned, after convincing Ariadne that she didn’t need Band-Aids. “Let’s sit down outside the motor home, and we’ll read a story. I brought a book with lots of good pictures to share with you.”

  “Don’t want a story,” Ariadne said. “I’m hungry.”

  “Me too,” Billy chimed in. “Let’s go have some ice cream.”

  I didn’t see how either of them could eat any more ice cream, but by this time I knew their eating habits were different from ours. “It’s all gone,” I told them. I was beginning to wonder how I wound up spending my fabulous vacation being as much a baby-sitter as my sister was.

  Billy smiled at me. “We’ll buy some more,” he said.

  “Sorry,” I told him. “Neither of us has any money.” We did have some in our suitcases, but I didn’t intend to use any of it for ice cream for these kids whose parents could—and usually did—buy them anything they wanted.

  “I’ve got money,” Billy said proudly. “See?”

  He reached in his pocket and drew out a bill. When I got a good look at it, I choked.

  “Where’d you get that?” I demanded.

  “Found it,” Billy stated. “Finders keepers, right?”

  He let me take the bill out of his hand, and I extended it to Alison. “Look at this. I never saw a hundred-dollar bill before.”

  She bit her lower lip. “Where did you find it, Billy? Whoever lost it probably needs it. It’s a lot of money.”

  “We can buy a lot of ice cream,” Billy affirmed. “I want chocolate, and Ariadne can have strawberry.”

  Alison’s eyes met mine, then focused on the little boy. “Billy, I think we have to find the person this belongs to and give it back. If it were only a dollar, it might not matter so much. But it’s a lot of money. Where exactly did you find it?”

  “I don’t know,” Billy said.

  I didn’t know whether to believe him or not.

  “I want strawberry ice cream,” Ariadne put in.

  Billy reached up and took back the bill before I could tighten my hold on it. “It’s mine,” he said. “When you find something, it’s yours. Dad says.”

  “Not always,” Alison told him, troubled. ­“Little things, maybe, but this is too much. Someone may be looking for it because they really need it. Did you find it by the swimming pool?”

  He hesitated, then shook his head. “No.”

  “Where, then? Here in the playground? No? By the motor home?”

  Billy hesitated. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe where? By the motor home?”

  “On the ground?” I asked.

  “No,” he said, and then, “I don’t remember.”

  That was the best we could get out of him. When Harry came back with his mom’s cough drops, we told him about the money.

  “A hundred bucks? Hey, show us where you got it, Billy! Maybe there’s some more in the same place.”

  He was treating it like a joke, which made Alison and me uncomfortable. I wasn’t
sure what to do, and I said so.

  “What’s the big deal?” Harry asked. “Somebody lost it, Billy found it. Unless the guy comes looking for it, it’s Billy’s, right?”

  “How’s the owner going to know where to look? Or whom to ask?” Alison wanted to know.

  “That’s his problem.” Harry shrugged it off. “You know, it could be changed into a lot of quarters. We could go over to the game room and play video games all night.”

  “It’s mine,” Billy declared firmly. “I want ice cream.”

  And then we forgot about the money because something exploded with a heck of a noise. When we looked toward the office, we saw smoke pouring out, and people started running in that direction.

  We moved along with everybody else, ­Alison grabbing the little kids by the hands. Even Mr. and Mrs. Rupe got up and tagged along, him carrying a cup of coffee and her with another cigarette smoking in one hand.

  “What happened?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Somebody call the fire department!”

  “The store’s on fire! There’s somebody in there!”

  People were yelling and moving around. Dad always told us not to get in the way when there was an emergency, but Harry obviously never got any such instructions. He wanted to push right to the front of the gathering crowd and see what was going on.

  “Billy, stay right here with me,” Alison said, and made a grab for him, but Billy jerked away from her.

  “There’s the kitty,” he said.

  Sure enough, a big gray-striped cat had come bounding out ahead of the people hurrying out of the burning store. It ran right in front of us, and before I could react, Billy was chasing the cat, darting between the legs of those coming to watch.

  “Lewis,” Alison cried, “catch him! I can’t run hanging on to Ariadne!”

  I glanced toward where the Rupes were standing, but they weren’t paying any attention. Harry had already pressed right up close to the front of the crowd, so he wasn’t going to be any help, either.

  I wanted to stay and watch too. There was smoke billowing out of the store, and the manager was choking and gasping, and I could hear the fire engines coming.

  Alison gave me a pleading look, and I turned resignedly and started after Billy.

  By the time I caught sight of him through the tourists who were leaving their campers and motor homes to see what the excitement was, he’d barreled into an old lady and nearly knocked her down. I’d gained on him but couldn’t quite reach him yet when the cat changed direction and headed right for our campsite, with Billy a foot or so behind.

  “Billy! Come back here!” I yelled.

  I might as well have saved my breath. Nobody paid any attention to me.

  He followed the cat around the back of the motor home; I plunged after him, and ran smack into somebody pretty solid.

  The air went out of both of us.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, scarcely looking at the man. I made a final grab and caught Billy’s shirt.

  “I want the kitty!” he bellowed, almost jerking away from me.

  “Forget it! It’s not your cat, and you can’t take off by yourself that way,” I told him. By that time the cat had vanished.

  Billy turned around and kicked me squarely on the shin, and for a moment I wanted to smack him, but I didn’t.

  I held on to his shirt, though. “Behave,” I said through my teeth.

  It wasn’t until we were halfway back to where the fire engines were pulling in that I realized the guy I’d run into by the door of our motor home was the passenger from the blue Crown Victoria. He must have been taking a shortcut through our campsite, I thought.

  The fire was kind of an anticlimax. It had started in a dumpster up against the back wall of the store, and they put it out before it did anything but fill the place with smoke.

  The fire engines were gone almost before I got a good look at them.

  It was too bad, I thought, that the Rupes hadn’t put Billy and Ariadne in a kennel or something instead of bringing them along. They weren’t really enjoying this trip­—just spoiling it for the rest of us.

  Of course, if they hadn’t been there, Alison wouldn’t have come either.

  I sighed, hoping they wouldn’t be able to spoil Yellowstone itself. I forgot to wonder any further why that oddly familiar tourist in the car without a trailer had been practically by our door when I went chasing Billy back there.

  Chapter 5

  Harry was roasting marshmallows over the campfire and Alison was helping the little kids with theirs while Mrs. Rupe reclined watching the small portable TV from the bedroom compartment. During a commercial, she smiled at me. “Don’t you like marshmallows, Lewis?”

  “Uh, yeah, usually,” I said uneasily. Just looking at them after all that pizza and ice cream made me queasy. “Not tonight, though.”

  She looked around. “Where did Milton disappear to?”

  “I think he walked over to talk to those ­people in that mini motor home,” I said, ­gesturing.

  She nodded. “Oh,” she said, and then, “Did you want something, sir?”

  I glanced up, and there he was again. The guy I’d run into while I was chasing Billy.

  He smiled. It looked like he had false teeth. “I dropped my car keys earlier today somewhere around here. I wondered if you’d found them.”

  “No. I didn’t see any,” Mrs. Rupe said.

  Everybody else shrugged or shook their heads. “Nope,” Harry said.

  The false teeth vanished. “Well, thanks anyway,” he said, and went on across the grass.

  “Didn’t he look kind of familiar?” Mrs. Rupe asked nobody in particular. “Who is he?”

  Nobody answered.

  “Lewis,” my sister said, “would you get me a wet washcloth? I don’t dare let go of Ariadne until I’ve cleaned off her hands. They’re pretty sticky.”

  “I thought you were the baby-sitter,” I said, but I got up from the picnic table bench. I knew perfectly well one girl alone couldn’t keep up with both those kids.

  “Bring me a can of pop on your way back,” Harry called, and I gave him a wave of acknowledgment. How he could still be eating and drinking was beyond me.

  I went into the bathroom and got a washcloth, running water over it and then wringing it out. As I started to leave the rig, something clinked against my foot and I looked down.

  Keys. About eight of them on a key ring with a Seattle Seahawks medallion on it.

  I bent and picked them up. I hadn’t noticed how Mr. Rupe carried his keys, but I hadn’t seen anyone else have any, so I took them along, remembering at the last minute to get Harry a can of 7UP, and went back outside.

  Harry took the pop without saying “thank you,” and Alison did thank me for the washcloth, which she promptly applied to a squirming Ariadne. I extended the keys toward Mrs. Rupe.

  “I guess Mr. Rupe dropped these in the bathroom,” I said.

  She glanced at them, still half-absorbed in her sitcom. “No, those aren’t Milton’s. He doesn’t have a key ring like that. Oh!” For a few seconds she actually looked at me. “That man was looking for keys. Maybe they’re his.”

  “Inside our motor home?” I asked, ­incredulous.

  “Oh, probably one of the children found them and took them inside. Why don’t you go see if you can find him and ask?”

  I looked at Billy, who shook his head. “I didn’t find them. Can I have that thing? I like the Seahawks.”

  “No, it belongs to the guy who lost the keys,” I said. I hesitated, then glanced at Harry. “You want to come?”

  “Sure,” Harry said, drinking half his 7UP in one long gulp.

  We didn’t see the passenger from the Crown Victoria, but the man I guessed to be the driver was sitting at the picnic table beside the car, reading the
paper and drinking something out of a paper cup. He looked at us but didn’t speak until I held out the keys. “Are these the ones that were lost?”

  He gave me a neutral glance, then accepted the keys. “Thanks,” he said and went back to reading his newspaper.

  “You’re welcome,” I said. As we walked away I remarked to Harry, “Friendly fellow, wasn’t he? Listen, the other guy was right there by our coach during the fire. What if Billy and Ariadne didn’t find the keys. What if that guy dropped them inside himself?”

  “What would a stranger be doing in our motor home?” Harry asked. “Nah, Billy probably did it. He just didn’t want to admit it.”

  I didn’t see why he’d hesitate to tell the truth. Nobody ever punished or even scolded him no matter what he did. But I didn’t say anything.

  The next day we got out of the campground without running over anything but a hose stretched across the road. Somebody yelled after us, but Mr. Rupe didn’t seem to hear him.

  “Tomorrow we’ll be in Yellowstone,” he said as we drove along the highway. “It was the first national park, you know. And it’s still the most visited of them all. We’ll see all kinds of wild animals and geysers and those mud pot things.”

  “What are geysers?” Billy asked, and Harry said, “Mud doesn’t sound interesting.”

  “The geysers are hot water that spouts up out of the ground under pressure,” I said. “Dad looked it up online when we knew we were coming. They call the most famous one Old Faithful, because it goes off so often—­twenty-one to twenty-three times a day. It squirts as much as one hundred thirty to one hundred eighty feet up in the air; seventy-five hundred gallons a day.”

  Harry was scowling. “We came all this way to see tons of water and mud?”

  “It’s boiling mud,” I said. “My dad told us about it. And I think some of it’s colored.”

  “Big deal,” Harry said. “I’d rather see all the wild animals.”

  “Are there tigers?” Billy asked eagerly.

  “No tigers,” I told him. “Bears, maybe. And deer and elk and moose. And buffalo.”