Driftwood Page 5

  “A thousand,” Mackenzie scoffed. “Wrong!”

  “Two or three million!” said Makayla. “No one knows the exact number.”

  “We know a lot of stuff like that,” Mackenzie bragged.

  “I know things, too,” I said.

  The twins gave each other a look that said they doubted it, but before they could challenge me, their cabin door opened and a man stepped out. He had on a chef-style apron and was carrying a metal tray with piles of wieners and buns on it.

  “Almost time for the big barbeque!” he said. That’s when he noticed me. “Hello, there. Would you like to help out?”

  “Sure he would, Dad,” one of the twins said. They were now standing together and I didn’t have a clue which one was Makayla and which one was Mackenzie. “He’s Adam and his family is staying in cabin number ten.”

  “Excellent!” their father said. I didn’t know if he meant because I was a camper, or because I’d just been volunteered to help out doing who knows what.

  “Come on, Adam,” said a twin. “We have to invite all the people in all the cabins to come for a hotdog.”

  “It’s our family tradition!” said the other twin.

  “We started it the first year we came to Schooner Point,” said their dad. “It’s a great way to get to know your neighbours.”

  “Let’s go to your place first, Adam.”

  I didn’t have much enthusiasm for that suggestion. It was hard to say what kind of mood my mom would be in. If she was having a good painting day, it would be fine. That always cheered her up, but it hadn’t been happening much since we’d started our holiday.

  Unfortunately, there was no time to think of an excuse. The girls were already down the steps and heading toward my place. I took a breath and started to follow, but Mr. Linden’s hand on my shoulder stopped me.

  “Makayla has a little scar above her left eyebrow,” he whispered. “I know it’s hard to tell the girls apart.”

  I thought it was cool of him to tell me that, which made me hope my folks would agree to come and eat one of his hotdogs. I hurried to catch up with the girls and then told them to wait outside the cabin, in case Mom was busy.

  “Why would your mom be busy on vacation?” asked Mackenzie.

  “She’s an artist,” I explained. “And actually, my dad is working on his laptop a lot of the time, too.” I hurried inside before they asked anything else. Mom was seated in front of the easel, staring glumly at the same painting she’d been working on for over a week.

  “I might as well face it,” she said, “There’s no life in my work anymore.”

  Dad glanced over from the table, where he was reading. “Maybe it’s time you took a break—did something other than paint,” he said. “They say a change is as good as a rest.”

  Mom scowled.

  “Guess what!” I said, “Makayla and Mackenzie’s father is making hotdogs and everybody’s invited!”

  “Who are you talking about?” Mom asked.

  “They’re twins. Their family is here for a couple of weeks.”

  Dad put his book down and stood up. “Sounds like a great idea to me. What do you say, June?”

  Mom glanced at her painting. “All right,” she said, though she didn’t exactly sound keen about it.

  “It’s at cabin four,” said a voice in the doorway. “Come on, Adam, we have to invite everyone!”

  “These girls sure are bossy,” I muttered. But I went.

  I trailed along behind Makayla and Mackenzie as they went from cabin to cabin inviting people to the barbeque. Almost everyone agreed to come. I was pretty much useless but they kept dragging me along and there was no reason not to go. Actually, I thought it was a good chance to find out if there were any other kids there that week who were around my age. By which I mean boys.

  It didn’t look good. Most of the other kids were too young. And then, at cabin one, there was a guy who was about sixteen. Mackenzie was in the middle of telling him about the hotdogs when he stepped back and shut the door right in her face. And I can tell you, that girl never missed a beat. She turned to Makayla with a strange kind of smile and said, “Well, I guess he’s going to have to pay for that.”

  It was the coolest thing I’d ever heard a girl say.

  Before we could walk away, the door opened again and a woman stuck her head out. “Don’t mind Nevin,” she said. “Tell your father we’ll be along. Some of us, anyway.”

  There was already a crowd around the Linden’s cabin when we got back. I was looking forward to having a hotdog—maybe a couple if there were extras—but the menu had gotten a lot bigger. In fact, the place looked like there’d been an explosion of things to eat. Everybody had brought something with them, and extra picnic tables had been carried over while Mr. Linden poked away at the barbeque. People passed around paper plates and napkins and spread out the food they’d brought. Besides the hotdogs, there were salads and pickles, doughnuts and cookies, and fruit. Pop and juice and milk were gathered in a corner beside paper cups. It was like a party.

  Nevin’s mom and dad came along and, after a while, he wandered over like he wanted to ask them something. Only, he forgot to wander back to his own cabin afterward. He sat in the grass off to one side working his way through a plate that was heaped with about as much food as it could possibly hold.

  Makayla’s eyes narrowed when she saw him. “Look at that,” she grumbled.

  “I see it,” muttered Mackenzie. “Who does he think he is—Joey Chestnut?”

  “Who?” I said.

  The girls gave each other a look like they felt sorry for me for knowing so little about the world.

  “A hotdog eating champion,” Mackenzie explained. “He’s won a bunch of times.”

  “How many hotdogs can he eat?” I asked.

  “More than sixty,” said Makayla. “In ten minutes.”

  I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not but it sounded impossible—and painful. I once gobbled three hamburgers plus cake and ice cream at a community picnic and my stomach hurt for hours.

  There was no point in asking them if it was true. I could see that they weren’t interested in talking about this hotdog guy anymore. Instead, I moved a bit closer because they had their heads together and they were whispering and giggling. It made me nervous even though I was almost positive they were talking about Nevin.

  Makayla noticed. “Are you trying to spy on our conversation?” she demanded.

  “Kind of,” I admitted. It seemed pointless to deny it. They made me feel as if they could see right into my head.

  Mackenzie laughed. “At least you’re honest,” she said. She nodded for me to join them.

  “He can be the photographer,” she said to Makayla, who seemed to like the idea. “Here’s my camera. Be ready to get some pictures of Nevin.”

  “Doing what?” I asked.

  “Just find a good place and be ready,” Makayla told me. “You’ll know when.”

  I made my way to a spot on the deck where I had a decent view of Nevin. I sat down with my legs hanging over the side and tried not to make it obvious that I was watching him. He was piling stuff into himself pretty fast. He’d gorged his way through half of the mountain of food on his plate in the time it took me to eat a single hotdog. By then, I was wondering if the girls had given up whatever they’d been planning.

  They hadn’t.

  It was Mackenzie who climbed up on one of the picnic table seats and got everyone’s attention. “We’re having a contest!” she hollered. “The first person who licks their own elbow will win an amazing prize! You’ll have thirty seconds, and it’s not easy, so start NOW!”

  I was awfully tempted to try it myself but I knew whatever they were planning must have something to do with this elbow-licking business, so I kept my eye on Nevin. Sure enough, he took the bait—put his plate down and went for it. I got a few pictures of him with his arm bent and his tongue stuck out, straining to reach it. And he wasn’t the only one who tried. It wa
s pretty funny to watch.

  “Time’s up!” Mackenzie shouted. “Sorry, everybody but there are no prize winners today. Better luck next time.”

  Nevin hardly missed a beat. He shrugged, grabbed his plate, and went right back to eating. At the same time, Makayla appeared behind me and whispered, “Okay, get ready,” which was my first clue that something else was going to happen.

  It took about three seconds and then I saw Nevin pause and look closer at his plate. His free hand reached down and grasped something. He lifted it up and I zoomed in for some close-ups as his face went from shock to horror.

  “Akkk!” he yelled, jumping to his feet and gagging.

  “What’s wrong?” Mackenzie asked, rushing to his side. That didn’t take long since she’d positioned herself behind him, just a few feet away.

  He looked at her wildly. “I ate half a worm!” he said. He held up his hand and I could see what appeared to be the other half of the worm dangling from his fingers.

  “Let me see,” she said, snatching it from him. She looked it over. “I guess you did,” she agreed. “But don’t worry. You probably won’t die.”

  Nevin seemed to lose his appetite after that. A few minutes later he headed back to his own cabin, holding his stomach and looking a little green.

  While the girls inspected the pictures I’d taken, I had a question for them.

  “What was the prize, if somebody had licked their elbow in time?”

  “It’s impossible. No one can do it,” Mackenzie said. “That was just a distraction so I could toss this onto his plate.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the half worm.

  “It’s not even real,” Makayla told me. “That’s why we had to get it from him quick, before he realized it was rubber.”

  I was starting to realize that these girls were geniuses. And I couldn’t help thinking that it was lucky I’d been a good sport about the trick they played on me when we first met.

  Thinking he’d eaten a hunk of worm didn’t do anything to improve Nevin’s disposition. Every time we saw him over the next few days, he went out of his way to glare at us and, if we were within hearing distance, he’d mutter something uncomplimentary about kids. Like he was so old compared to us.

  The girls found it entertaining, and went out of their way to cross paths with him as much as possible. I didn’t find it quite so funny. It looked to me like Nevin had a mean streak, and that made me a little nervous.

  I was worried that he’d figured out we were behind the whole worm incident. The one he thought was real and believed he’d spent his first day at the cabin digesting. If he was onto us, it seemed likely he was plotting some sort of revenge. I mentioned this to the twins.

  “He probably is,” said Makayla. She smiled.

  Mackenzie grinned at her sister and said, “Lotsa luck to him, then.” And would you believe they actually laughed, like it was a huge joke this nasty hulk of a teenager might be after us?

  These girls had nerves of steel. I hate to say it, but I felt braver when I was around them. Nothing seemed to bother that pair. And for girls, they were okay to hang out with. You know, since there were no boys and I didn’t have a choice. Their habit of showing off all the stuff they knew could get annoying, but then some of it was pretty interesting.

  One afternoon we were throwing a Frisbee in the field across the road when a huge Monarch butterfly came flitting through the air. Mackenzie made us stop what we were doing, so it wouldn’t get dinged by accident.

  “Don’t you think it’s beautiful, Adam?” she said, gazing at it all girl-faced.

  “It’s okay,” I answered. I mean, it was just a butterfly.

  “I bet you don’t know what the original name was for a butterfly,” she said.

  Of course, I didn’t. Anyway, it seemed that she’d turned a little grumpy, probably because I hadn’t swooned over the silly thing. I shrugged, so she’d see I wasn’t exactly excited about whatever the answer was.

  “Flutterby!” Makayla blurted.

  “Huh?”

  “That’s the butterfly’s original name. Flutterby.”

  “Really?” I have to admit, I found that a little bit interesting. And it was the kind of thing that was easy to remember. The girls were always reciting numbers and figures that I’d never have been able to keep track of, but this was a cinch.

  “Hey, you know what’s got a really fun scientific name?” Mackenzie asked. She seemed to be restored to good humour. “A gorilla!”

  “Oh, yeah? What is it?”

  “I’ll give you three guesses!” she said. Then she and Makayla looked at each other and giggled.

  I’m not great at guessing games. It was obvious that there was a clue in the way she’d emphasized three but it didn’t exactly help me figure out the answer. Besides, I knew that anything I said would come out sounding lame. So I refused to guess and just said I had no idea.

  “Gorilla Gorilla Gorilla,” Mackenzie squealed.

  It took me a couple of seconds to understand that “Gorilla Gorilla Gorilla” was the scientific name. It was a kind of cool thing to know and I was hoping they might have some more—especially if they were that easy to remember. But Makayla had something else in mind.

  “Let’s go see your mom,” she said.

  “My mom?” I asked. Which was kind of dumb, since I was the only one there whose mother wasn’t also her mother.

  “Sure. I want to see what she’s painting,” Makayla said.

  By now you know that this was a pretty touchy subject with my mother. I tried to tell them that I didn’t think dropping in on her for some art chat was such a great idea but it was hopeless. You could stand on your head and shoot flames out your toes easier than you could stop the twins once they decided they were going to do something.

  I followed along behind them hoping my mom wouldn’t say anything too rude. I didn’t think they’d sneak a rubber worm into her food or anything if she did, I just didn’t want them to know how Mom gets when her art is giving her trouble. Or, as my dad says (though, not in front of her) when she’s in one of her creative dithers. That makes Mom seem kind of mean, which isn’t what she’s really like, and I didn’t want the twins getting the wrong idea.

  When they got to my cabin they stopped and waited for me to lead them inside. I was still trying to think of a way to stop the visit as I stuck my head in and said, “Are you busy, Mom?”

  My best hope was that Mom would say she was and that would be the end of it, but she didn’t.

  “I’m about as busy as any other day,” she said, looking over from her usual spot in front of her easel.

  I was trying to think of what to do next when, from behind me, Makayla hissed, “Ask if we can come in!”

  “Can the twins come in?” I asked obediently.

  Mom gave a little wave with her hand so I stepped inside and the girls burst in after me. They went straight over to the easel and stood looking at the painting-in-progress. Although, there hadn’t been much actual progress for the last week or so, as far as I could tell.

  “That’s the world’s longest covered bridge,” I explained. “It’s in Hartland, where we live.”

  “That’s awesome!” said Mackenzie. “How come you never mentioned it before?”

  I didn’t want to admit that I thought they’d find it lame in comparison to all the facts and world records and curiosities they knew about. Luckily, they hardly ever wait for an answer when they ask a question and this was no exception.

  “This is amazing,” Makayla said, leaning closer to the painting. “Don’t you think it’s amazing, Mackenzie?”

  “Totally,” Mackenzie agreed, sounding awestruck. “It must be awesome to be able to paint like that.”

  “I know we probably can’t afford it, but how much would this cost, when it’s finished?” Makayla asked.

  When I looked over, I was alarmed to see that Mom’s eyes were filling with tears. But they weren’t upset tears, like I thought at first. She reac
hed out and tugged the twins over to her and put an arm around each of them. Then she started laughing and she kissed each of them on the forehead. Of course, being girls, they didn’t seem to mind.

  Once Mom got herself under control, she told them that when the painting was finished, she was going to give it to them as a gift. Then there was a bunch of squealing, followed by more hugging and sniffling. Joey was lucky he got out of here before he had to see that kind of performance, that’s for sure.

  I was happy because the twins had cheered Mom up. But there was more. Mackenzie, who’d plastered herself to Mom’s side, lifted her eyes from the painting to look up in Mom’s face.

  “How can you paint this when the bridge isn’t here for you to see?” she asked.

  “Memory,” Mom told her. “I’ve painted it so many times that I can see it with my mind’s eye.”

  “Is the bridge the only thing you paint?” Mackenzie said.

  “It’s what the tourists want,” Mom said.

  “If I could do something this fantastic,” Mackenzie said, “I’d paint everything. I’d paint the trees and the river. I’d paint that chair and this cabin and a bird soaring through the sky, and—”

  Her voice broke off and she stood, staring past all of us, into some place only she could see. She stayed like that, frozen in place, until Mom burst out laughing. That got everyone’s attention. It didn’t sound quite right, not like her normal laugh when something strikes her as funny. There was a bit of a crazy sound to it, enough that my dad came hurrying in from wherever he’d been.

  “Are you all right, June?” he asked.

  “I’m better than all right!” Mom said. “Do you see this?” she asked, pointing at the easel. “This is the last bridge I’m going to paint for a long, long time. I may never paint another bridge. I’ve been working in chains, but no more! This child has opened my eyes.”

  Then she crossed the room, threw her arms around him and gave him a big old kiss. The girls looked at me and giggled and raised their eyebrows up and down a couple of times, which made me about as nervous as I’ve ever been.