Girl Power (10 page)

“But I still don’t get this,” said Emily. “Why is this guy’s yearbook in our bus?”

“Maybe it was his bus,” suggested Amy.

“Dan the man?” said Emily. “Living in a funky old bus like this?” She shook her head. “It just doesn’t add up.”

“And why would Mr. Greeley have this bus?” said Carlie. “I mean, if it belonged to Dan Watterson?”

“It does seem a little weird,” admitted Morgan.

“Maybe Dan is Mr. Greeley’s son,” suggested Emily.

“But his name is wrong,” Amy pointed out.

Emily considered this. Sometimes names were wrong. For instance her own last name wasn’t really Adams … but this was top secret. Other than Morgan, no one in Boscoe Bay knew her family’s story.

“And here’s what’s been bugging me,” said Carlie. “Why did Mr. Greeley have this bus here—I mean, for all this time?”

“We don’t know how long it’s been here,” Morgan pointed out.

“Well, you saw the big heap of dead blackberry vines that Mr. Greeley removed,” said Carlie.

“That’s probably what he was doing while we were cleaning up the trailer court,” said Amy. “Remember how he was gone all the time?”

“Anyway,” continued Carlie, “that suggests that the bus has been around here a few years.”

“That and all the dust,” added Emily.

“Plus all the stuff that we found under the bed,” said Carlie. “It reminds me of those boxes that people put stuff in and bury, you know … what are they called?”

“You mean a time capsule?” said Morgan.

“Yeah. Like a time capsule from …” Carlie tapped her finger on the cover of the yearbook, “a time capsule from 1979!”

Emily nodded. “She’s right. It does.”

“Do you think the bus has been here that long?” asked Morgan.

No one answered.

“I wonder why …” said Emily. “Why was it parked back here in the first place?”

“Maybe it was a friend of Mr. Greeley’s,” said Morgan.

“Then why did he leave it here?” persisted Emily.

“Maybe we’ll never know,” said Amy, hopping off of the bed. “But don’t forget, we have things to do if we’re
going to enter the sandcastle-building contest. Remember, it’s only a few days away.”

“Let’s put these boxes and things away first,” said Morgan. “It’s getting pretty crowded in here.”

“I’ll take care of it,” offered Emily. “You go ahead and get your sketch pad out and—”

“See,” said Morgan, patting Emily on the back. “That’s why she’s my right-hand girl.”

“And I’ll go see if can find that old newspaper,” said Amy.

Carlie looked at her watch. “I have to go home now. I’m supposed to watch my brothers while Mom goes grocery shopping.”

“Let’s reconvene back here after dinner tonight,” suggested Amy.

Morgan handed Emily the key, which was now hanging on a hand-beaded necklace created by Morgan. “You lock up, Em.”

The girls agreed, and just like that the bus was evacuated—except for Emily who continued to carefully replace the boxes and things back beneath the bed. At least there was plenty of room now. And for the most part, the dust and grime had been cleaned. She was tempted to hang around and put the books up on the shelf. But she felt a little guilty for being in the bus by herself. The girls hadn’t really made any rules yet, but this was supposed to be a
clubhouse to be shared, not Emily’s own private retreat. Even if she wished it could be.

She put the book box in last, standing before the still-opened bed as she tried to imagine what kind of a person this Dan Watterson really was and whether or not this bus had actually belonged to him. She’d noticed his name inside some of the other books and suspected that everything they’d discovered today had at one time belonged to Dan.

As she locked up the bus and slowly walked back to her house, she wondered something else too. If all that old keepsake kind of stuff really did belong to Dan Watterson—whoever he was—why didn’t he want it back? And why had it all ended up in Mr. Greeley’s possession? If she wasn’t so intimidated by Mr. Greeley’s grumpy personality, she might be tempted to ask. As it was, this might be a mystery she’d have to solve on her own.

By the time they regrouped after dinner, Morgan had drawn several sketches for possible sandcastles. And everyone seemed to have a different opinion.

“I like the French one,” said Carlie. “It reminds me of a fairy tale. I expect to see a dragon coming around the corner.”

“But it’s so expected,” said Amy. “I’ll bet half the sandcastles on the beach will look just like it. We need something special, something that will stand out.”

“Why not the English castle,” said Morgan. “I thought we could do all kinds of things with that open courtyard.” She glanced at Carlie. “You could be in charge of landscaping.”

“But it’s so boxy looking,” said Carlie.

Determined to not get into the middle of this, Emily was carefully reading the article about the contest from the newspaper that Amy had brought. “Hey,” she said suddenly. “It says here that you can make
anything
—well, as long as it’s not obscene. It’s supposed to be ‘family appropriate.’”

“Like I would design an
obscene
sandcastle!” Morgan rolled her eyes.

“But the thing is, it doesn’t have to be a sand
castle
. Listen.” And Emily proceeded to read how a winner from a similar contest had sculpted a ten-foot-long mermaid.

“A mermaid,” said Carlie. “That’d be pretty.”

“Someone’s already done that, silly,” said Amy.

“Good work, Em,” said Morgan, pointing to the paper. “That’s why she’s my right-hand girl.”

“Enough with the right-hand girl stuff already,” said Amy.

“Yeah,” said Carlie. “Like what are we? Chopped liver?”

They all laughed.

“Okay, let’s get serious,” said Morgan. “Everyone think really hard … what would be cool as a sand sculpture?”

“How about a seahorse?” said Amy.

“Good, but too easy,” said Morgan.

“A dragon?” suggested Carlie.

“Maybe …” Morgan considered this.

“Maybe I should make a list,” said Amy, snatching up her notebook. “Then we can vote.”

“How about an angel?” said Carlie.

“Or a tyrannosaurus rex?” suggested Emily.

“How about a submarine?” said Morgan. “One that’s just coming out of the water, but it’s really on the beach.”

“What about a pirate ship?” said Amy.

“How about SpongeBob SquarePants?” said Emily, and they all laughed.

“Slow down,” said Amy. “I’m still on submarine.”

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea,” said Morgan.

“The submarine?” said Carlie. “That was your idea, Morgan.”

“No. SpongeBob SquarePants.”

“I was just kidding,” admitted Emily.

“But, seriously, it would be funny. And who else would do something like that?”

“And,” Emily held up the newspaper, pointing to a line. “I just noticed here that you only have three hours to build it.”

“Three hours?” echoed Morgan. “That would rule out pirate ships, dinosaurs, and submarines. They’re way too complicated for three hours.”

“But SpongeBob SquarePants isn’t complicated.”

“Go ahead and sketch it out for us,” urged Amy. “Let’s see what it would look like.”

Morgan started sketching a square on two legs then laughed. “I’ll have to watch cartoons to remember exactly how he looks. It’s no good unless you get it right.”

“But he’s got those skinny little legs.” Emily pointed to the sticks protruding from the pants. “How can he possibly stand up if he’s made of sand?”

“Maybe he can be sitting down,” suggested Carlie. “Like on a piece of driftwood?”

“Or maybe he’s sunbathing with his little friends,” said Morgan with excitement. “Remember, he has a crab and a snail and—”

“A starfish!” exclaimed Emily.

“That’ll be perfect for the beach.”

“Yeah,” said Morgan “and they can have a picnic basket and suntan lotion and everything.”

“It’ll be so cool.”

“And sure to win,” said Amy. As Amy mentally divided up their winnings, Emily imagined seeing dollar signs in her eyes. “Let’s fill out the application.” She snatched the paper from Emily and started to fill in the blanks. “Uh-oh,” she said suddenly.

“What?” they all asked.

“There’s a deadline, you guys.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.” She smiled. “Not a moment too soon, huh? Almost like destiny.” She turned and looked at them. “Did you guys bring your money for the fee?”

To Emily’s relief, they hadn’t. But she suspected they’d have it together before she would. Maybe even by tonight. And while she knew that $6.25 wouldn’t seem like anything more than chump change to most people, it was $6.25 more than she had at the moment. She knew she could ask
her mom, but she also knew how tight things were right now. She’d been afraid to ask her mom for anything lately.

“Hey, maybe your mom could turn the application in for us, Emily,” said Morgan. “Since she works there. That way we’d make the deadline for sure.”

“Yeah, how about if we drop our money off by your house before your mom goes to work tomorrow?” suggested Amy.

“Sure,” said Emily, trying to think of a quick way to earn six dollars and twenty-five cents by morning. At least she wouldn’t have to be humiliated by admitting to her friends that she was broke. At least not right now anyway. It was such a pain being poor!

It was getting late now and time to call it a day. “My mom and brother usually leave the house a little before nine to get to work on time,” she told them. They all promised to drop off their part of the deposit before then.

“Here’s the key,” said Emily, handing the precious key back to Morgan as they stepped outside.

“I don’t see why Morgan gets to have total control of the key,” said Amy. “I mean, doesn’t the bus belong to all of us equally?”

“Yeah, of course,” said Morgan. “I’m just keeping it because Mr. Greeley gave it to me.”

“But that’s just it,” continued Amy. “Why do
you
get to keep it all the time?”

“Why not?” asked Carlie.

“Because it’s not fair,” said Amy.

“Why not?” demanded Emily. “Morgan was the one who led us in the cleanup of Harbor View. She’s the one who wasn’t afraid to talk to Mr. Greeley. Why shouldn’t she be in charge of the key?”

“Yeah,” said Carlie.

“Because we should vote,” said Amy.

“Vote?” echoed Morgan. “On what?”

“On who’s really in charge here.”

“In charge?” Morgan frowned at Amy. “Like someone should be the dictator? I thought we were all friends … and equals.”

“Yes,” said Amy quickly. “We are. But we’re also a club. And a club has a president.”

“You think we have to have a president?” said Carlie.

Amy nodded. “Yes. And I think we should have an election.”

Emily sighed and Morgan groaned and Carlie just laughed.

“Come on you guys,” Amy urged them. “If we’re going to be a real club, we should take ourselves seriously. We need someone who’s smart and able to make decisions to lead us. And I think I’d be perfect for the job.”

They all laughed, except for Amy. Her eyes began to tear and her chin quivered.

“I’m sorry, Amy,” said Morgan. “But I just don’t see the—”

“I knew you wouldn’t,” she snapped. “You guys really don’t like me, do you? I know it’s probably because I’m the youngest one here. But I can’t help it if I skipped a grade. I can’t help it that I’m smarter than average. But does that mean I should be persecuted?”

“No,” said Morgan. “Of course not.”

“I don’t mind if we have an election,” said Carlie.

“Me neither,” said Emily.

“In fact, we can do it right now if you want,” said Morgan.

“No way,” said Amy. “We need to nominate first. Then we campaign and make speeches and finally we vote—by secret ballot.”

Morgan groaned again. “That’s so much work.”

“But it’s the right way to do it,” protested Amy. “And I’ll bring paper and stuff. You guys just be ready to cooperate. Okay?”

With reluctance they all agreed. And as they walked back to their houses, Emily imagined that Amy was probably a natural leader after all. Except that she was sort of a dictator. Emily wasn’t so sure they were ready for that. But why should she worry? Morgan would easily be elected three to one.

The girls told each other good night, and Emily unlocked her front door and went inside. As usual, Mom
and Kyle wouldn’t be home for a couple more hours. Emily was used to it now. And at least the place didn’t look nearly as dismal and empty as it had when they first moved in. She looked around the house and realized that it had gotten pretty messy this past week. With Mom and Kyle working so many hours and Emily’s recent projects with her friends, things had been neglected here.

Maybe that’s how she could earn some quick cash. She kicked her idea into high gear as she went about cleaning up and straightening in the living room. She picked up soda cans, newspapers, and dirty socks. She dusted the few pieces of furniture that Morgan’s mom had donated. She plumped the pillows. And finally—since they didn’t have a vacuum cleaner yet—she actually got down on her hands and knees to pick up lint and crumbs from the dingy tan carpeting. After that she attacked the kitchen.

By the time Mom and Kyle got home, the place looked great. Well, as great as a somewhat rundown double-wide mobile home could look.

“Hey,” said Mom as she came in the door and kicked off her shoes. “Someone cleaned up in here.”

Emily smiled at her.

“What’s the big occasion?” asked Kyle. “Are we having a party?”

Emily shrugged. “No. I just thought this place could use some help.”

Her mom hugged her. “Thanks, sweetie. I appreciate it.”

Emily wanted to hit her mom up for some cash now, but after hearing her gratitude, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to spoil everything. She hated looking like she’d only done it for money … even if it was the truth.

“I’m so tired,” said Mom. “Such a long day. Do you guys mind if I just take a shower and call it a night?”

“Not at all,” said Emily. This had been the norm since they’d moved here. “I’ve been busy today too and I’m tired.”

“When are we going to get a TV?” asked Kyle as he poured a glass of milk.

“Hey, I almost forgot. Rita from the restaurant offered me an old TV that her mother-in-law gave her. She said it’s in a cabinet that’s as big as a house. I told her we have lots of room and that we’ll pick it up this weekend.”

“This weekend?” complained Kyle. “I’d be happy to go over and pick it up tonight.”

“It’s too late,” said Mom.

“How about tomorrow?” he begged. “Please, Mom. I’ve been working hard and I’m so bored that I’m about to go nuts. You don’t want me to start running around to find some excitement at night, do you?”

She shook her head. “No, of course not. And you have been working hard.” She was starting to cry. “You’ve both been working hard. I’m so proud of you—”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Kyle. “I wasn’t looking for thanks. Just say I can pick up that TV. I mean, like ASAP.”

“I’ll talk with Rita tomorrow,” she promised.

Before Emily went to bed, she read from the little New Testament that Morgan had given her. Then she prayed, finally asking God to help her to get six dollars and twenty-five cents by morning.