Allie's Bayou Rescue

by Missy Robertson

  “Not yet. First we have to do the dedication. Have a seat.”

  I gestured to a place next to me on the turquoise beans.

  “Sorry about the girly furniture. You’ll have to endure it one last time.”

  “I consider it an honor,” Hunter said, and then he plunked down.

  I stood up and pulled my prepared speech out of my tote bag. I unfolded the paper, pulled it tight between my hands, and took a deep breath, which came easily thanks to the new inhaler.

  I cleared my throat and began.

  “To all Carroway Cousins, far and near; to those we know about, and to those whom God may add in the future through birth, adoption, or other creative means—this place is for you. The Bible says this in Romans 12 ‘Don’t just pretend to love others. Really love them. Hate what is wrong. Hold tightly to what is good. Love each other with genuine affection, and take delight in honoring each other.’

  “Keeping this in mind, we hereby dedicate our new future duck blind—The Lickety Split—for the purpose of honoring each other. We are all God’s children. Unique and special. And it doesn’t matter if you’re a boy or a girl, a singer or a hunter, or whether you are allergic to peanuts or mud, you are always welcome here.”

  I looked up at my cousins. Lola was sniffling, but everyone else just had a little grin on their face. I folded up the paper.

  “And no more passwords are needed,” I said.

  The response was thunderous applause.

  “That was beautiful, Allie.” Lola pulled a tissue out of the purple crocheted box on the teacart.

  “Thanks. There’s a place for us all to sign and date at the bottom. Then we’ll frame it and put it at the entrance when The Lickety Split is finished.”

  “Ooh, this is just like the Declaration of Independence.” Hunter was the first one to sign, his signature taking up most of the room on the page, just like John Hancock. We all did our best to squeeze our signatures around his, and then we stood around eating Ruby’s delicious cookies.

  “I think we should wait to look at the plans,” Hunter said. “You girls might need a little time to prepare your minds. Mr. Dimple said this place is a dump, and it should all come down. Except the tree, of course.”

  “Good idea, Hunter,” I said. “Why don’t you bring them to my house Sunday after church, and we’ll spread them out on our big round table.”

  “Can we at least take down some of our stuff?” Ruby asked. “I want to keep my Bible verses.”

  “Sure. We have time.” I pulled the big beanbag to the center of the room. “We can stack it all on here and bring up some boxes later to pack it all up.”

  “Ruby and Lola,” Kendall said, “you can take the teapot clock, since there are two of you in the same house to enjoy it.”

  Lola, who happened to be hugging the clock at that moment, smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Someone needs to make these awful glitter ducks disappear,” Hunter said.

  “I will,” Kendall said, and she pulled them down from the hook on the ceiling. “They are a little over the top, I guess.”

  I walked over to my Allie wall.

  “Hunter, can I hand these boards to you?” I tried to pull the one off the wall that had the verse from 2 Corinthians. The one about being a new creation. It didn’t budge, so I applied a little pressure, pushing it from side to side, to loosen the nails. Finally, it came off.

  “Ewww, what is that?” Hunter moved toward the black goo that was left on the wall after I pulled the board off. He pushed his finger in, sniffed it, and pulled back.

  “Get away, Allie!” Hunter turned and pushed me near the entrance to the blind.

  “What’s wrong, Hunter? What is that stuff?”

  “I’ll tell you what it is. It’s mold! And I’m pretty sure it’s a bad kind. I knew this place smelled weird.”

  At that same time, Kendall and Lola pulled boards off their walls.

  “Yucko! It’s over here too!” Kendall grabbed her throat and stepped back from the wall. “Allie, you need to get out of here right now.”

  “We should all get out,” Hunter said. “This place is a biohazard. Allie, no wonder you can never breathe in here.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. What had Dr. Snow said? That I was overloaded with allergens, like a glass of water, filled to the brim and ready to spill over. Lately, I had been spending a lot of time in the Diva—sometimes even leaning my head against those moldy boards!

  And every time I left, I had an asthma attack!

  The Diva had been making me sick all this time . . . and God knew it.

  Could this be another reason that you told me the Diva had to go?

  Wow, God.

  “Well, come on, let’s go. We don’t want to have to drag you out of here coughing and sputtering.” Kendall grabbed me by the arm and pulled me down the steps of the Diva. “I’ll come back later and pack up. Your days in that mold castle are over, princess.”

  Princess.

  I’ve never liked that term, probably because it makes me think of ruffly dresses and tiaras, which aren’t really my style. But now, from where I sat there with my cousins, looking up at the Diva from the old wooden bench, I gained a new perspective:

  My God is the King of Kings, and I am his valued daughter. A princess! I’m a girl that God chose to be in his family, a girl that he knows everything about, and a girl that he cared enough about to rescue, so I can live a life that will bring honor to him. Being a princess doesn’t have anything to do with where I live, what my talents are, what I’m allergic to, or what I wear.

  I took a deep breath, and I never felt so grateful for it in my entire life. I closed my eyes and raised my face to the sun.

  Thank you, God. For loving me.

  Your Princess in Camo.

  Check out this excerpt from Book 2 in the Princess in Camo series: Running from Reality

  9–1–1!

  The day we filmed the Carroway Family Christmas episode— Friday, October 31st—was the day I ended up in the emergency room with a bunch of sick and injured trick-or-treaters.

  The whole scene was weird. A huge, decorated Christmas tree, strung with multicolored lights, stood in the corner of my Aunt Kassie and Uncle Wayne’s living room, and stockings— one for each person in our extended family—hung across their massive fireplace mantle. A bowl of Halloween candy sat on a tray by the front door, in case any of the little kids from the neighborhood came early to trick-or-treat. Christmas carols played on the sound system, and all my aunts, uncles, and cousins—dressed in ugly Christmas sweaters—took their assigned seats around three separate dinner tables and filled their mason jar mugs with sparkling cider for our traditional Christmas dinner toast.

  It was taking forever for the film crew to set up, and I was starving. So, before I sat down, I snuck into the kitchen and grabbed a Rice Krispy treat from the dessert tray. I hid it in my pants pocket and listened as our director, Zeke, barked instructions.

  “Okay, I know it’s spooky and Halloween-y out there . . .” Zeke curled up his fingers to look like spider legs.

  “. . . but in here we’re all merry and bright!” He smiled big and swung his arms around like a choir conductor. “Got it?”

  Most of us laughed, but Kendall, my thirteen-year-old cousin, sighed out loud.

  “What-ever.”

  “Hey—no grinches on the set!” Kendall’s dad—my uncle Wayne—threw a napkin ball at her, and it smacked her right in the throat, which was covered by a leather choker. This one had a blue gemstone in the middle of it.

  Kendall readjusted her choker and smoothed her straight, shoulder length, light-brown hair.

  “Then can we really sing something? That would help me get in the spirit.” Kendall loves to sing, and always looks for an opportunity. Lucky for us she’s good.

  “Not yet,” Zeke said. “First we have to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry.” One of my other preteen cousins, Lola, brushed her fingers through the pink
streak in her short, dark-brown hair and grimaced at the green bean casserole in front of her. “It may look good, but we kind of know better, right?”

  “But this is a new caterer, and I hear the food’s delicious.” Lola’s younger sister, Ruby—who is the best baker I know besides my Mamaw Kat—poked a finger in the green bean goo, licked it, and then smiled.

  “I’m willing to give eating a try.” Hunter, Kendall’s newly adopted twelve-year-old brother sat next to me and rubbed his belly. “I’m starving!” He reached for a roll, and right as he did, a freckled hand appeared from behind and knocked it down.

  “Not yet, mister.” It was Hannah, our wardrobe manager. Sometimes—okay, lots of times—her duties expand outside the boundaries of just controlling what we wear. She’s petite, but she can be scary. And tonight, she had styled her short red bedhead to make her look like a zombie, and had drawn some zipper lips on her face with an eyeliner pencil.

  “Here.” I broke off half my Krispy treat and discreetly handed it to Hunter under the table.

  Hunter smiled, took the treat with one hand, and pushed his rectangular dark-rimmed glasses up on his nose with the other.

  “Thanks,” he whispered.

  He started to lift the treat to his mouth, but stopped when Zeke began directing again.

  “Okay, everyone. Here’s how this is going down. Papaw Ray will give the toast. Then after you clink your glasses, Wayne will say a prayer. Then Kat’ll serve the turkey, and y’all take it from there. Just have a good time, talk, and eat. When we’re finished filming your table, we’ll let you know.”

  “I can already tell this turkey isn’t as moist as mine.” Mamaw Kat used to make the food for all our episodes, but when the producers started scheduling several meal scenes a day, she couldn’t keep up. That’s when all the caterers in town began competing for the job of feeding the Carroways, and if I had to rank them, they’d all tie for last place.

  “The turkey looks fine, Kat.” My mom picked up a piece of turkey to inspect it, but then frowned and dropped it in the gravy boat. “There. Now it’s moist.”

  Mamaw laughed. “Well, at least I’m cookin’ our real Christmas dinner.”

  My stomach gurgled right then since my Krispy treat was not filling me up at all. I stood and faced the family. “People— let’s get this thing done in one take. I want to hand out candy to the little monsters.”