The Last Great Adventure of the PB & J Society

by Janet Sumner Johnson

  He was actually going to eat it!

  It was halfway in his mouth.

  “Don’t do it!” I said.

  Jason jerked the fork away and the carrot flew to the table, sticking in place like a suction cup.

  We stared at it, relieved.

  “Here.” I ripped my sandwich in half (diagonally, according to Society rules) and held it out. “As your friend, I can’t let you eat that.”

  “You sure?” He sat up straighter.

  “Duh.”

  Jason smiled. “Thanks!” He held out his hand for the PB&J shake, but I shook my head. Not in public!

  I divvied up the other stuff. “Maybe I should ask my mom to send an extra tomorrow. Just in case.”

  “Would you?” Jason’s grin widened. “That’s a plan I can get behind.”

  I frowned. “Just remember, you owe me.”

  “Awww … you guys are so cute.” Lila popped onto the seat across from me, nearly bouncing right back out with perkiness. Her blond ringlets hung in two perfect ponytails. She reminded me of one of those miniature poodles that couldn’t stop yapping.

  Ugh. It’s not like she didn’t have friends. Why did she always come to torment us?

  “Annie, your hair is totally growing in. I almost can’t tell anymore.”

  I forced myself not to touch it. The haircut incident was just one reason of many I did not like this girl.

  “So is it official yet? Are you two going together?”

  “What does that even mean?” I snapped.

  “You know — boyfriend, girlfriend. You spend all your time together anyway, so you might as well announce it so we can all …”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.” I got enough of that from Kate. Last thing I needed was for Lila to start some vicious rumor.

  Jason scootched to the far edge of his seat. His face was bright red.

  “Oh.” Lila tilted her head and squinted at us. Finally she opened her milk with a little shrug. “Still. You two are cute together.”

  Jessica and Jenny sat down on either side of Lila. The twins wore matching purple sweat suits with their names bedazzled down the sleeve. Double ugh.

  Jason and I shared a look. We needed to finish and finish fast. We concentrated on stuffing our faces while Lila talked. And man could she talk.

  “So did you see my earrings?” Lila turned her head to show off a diamond stud. Jess and Jen oohed. “They’re real, of course. I asked for a new iPhone because who knew you’re not supposed to take them in the shower? I mean, they cost enough, you’d think they’d be waterproof. But anyway, Daddy said there’s a new version coming out soon, so he didn’t want …”

  Did Lila even hear herself? Seriously, how could the other girls listen to this without gagging? Yet Jess and Jen sat there nodding like bobble heads as though she spoke gospel or something.

  An image of that For Sale sign floated through my mind, and I choked on my cookie. If Jason moved, this was what I’d be stuck with.

  I nudged Jason, ready to bolt out to recess, when Lila changed the subject.

  “Oh, Jason. When we were standing in line, I noticed your jeans are fraying in the seat. I wanted to tell you because I know I would want someone to tell me so I could get to the mall pronto … unless …” Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth. “I forgot. Your dad doesn’t have a job. You probably can’t afford a new pair. You live so close, I just think you’re normal like us.” She turned to Jess. “That’s why I am so totally going to college some day. And my future husband has to, too, because I refuse to be poor.”

  Jason’s cheeks flamed. He gripped his half-eaten PB&J so hard that I was afraid we’d have to bury the rest. I couldn’t let them treat a member of the Society like that.

  I was about to tow Jason away when I caught sight of his uneaten lunch.

  Lightbulb moment. It was all too perfect. Lila would never see it coming. She was too busy blabbering on about her future career as an interior designer.

  Jason grabbed my arm like he could read my mind. After all these years, he probably could. “Annie, forget it.”

  I shook him off, snatched the container of Vegetable Yuck, but before I could launch it, Jason knocked it from my hand.

  It splattered all over us. Everyone jumped back from the table as though it might contaminate them. I couldn’t really blame them. With all the different colored chunks, it totally looked like puke.

  Jason was on his feet, his arms hanging like a scarecrow’s. I wanted to die. I tried to wipe it off, but it clung to me like snot.

  It didn’t take long for the laughter to start — a whole cafeteria of kids pointing and laughing. Except Lila. She stuffed a wad of napkins at me and acted all nice.

  “I’ll go get more.” And she turned tail.

  The phony. I bet she was off to tell on me.

  Our teacher’s high heels clicked across the cafeteria. “What happened here?”

  Jason uttered some apology about his clumsiness, which Mrs. Starry totally bought. We wiped off as much of the goo as we could, then followed her to the office.

  Noses were plugged. Phone calls made. And we were ushered to the nurse’s office to wait for our parents to bring a change of clothes.

  When we were alone, I slugged Jason in the shoulder. “You should have let me throw it.”

  “Yeah, I should’ve. Then I wouldn’t have to put up with you for the next two years while you’re grounded. Besides, I had a motive. Now I don’t have to worry about the hole in my pants.”

  I snickered. I couldn’t help it. Maybe Jason did have hope after all.

  “Clueless. I can’t believe she said that. Out loud. In front of everyone. Right to your face!”

  “I don’t think she meant to be rude. Exactly.”

  “Yeah, it just comes naturally.” I laughed, but Jason didn’t join in.

  Instead his shoulders drooped. “I just wish she weren’t right.”

  I deflated. All the funny was gone. Not even Lila was laughable in the face of my best friend moving. Then it hit. I jumped to my feet. “This is about money!”

  “Annie.” Jason narrowed his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

  “This is something we can fix!”

  Jason stiffened. “No, it isn’t. Do you even know how much houses cost?”

  Mr. Gloom-and-Doom was back, but I didn’t care. Ideas already swarmed my mind. I searched the room for something to write with. “I’ve got a plan.”

  3

  A long list of ways to save Jason’s house burned in my pocket the whole bus ride home. I tapped my foot and barely heard a word Jason said.

  I was the first one off.

  “Annie, wait!” Jason called, but I didn’t stop.

  “Come over as soon as you can.” I threw the words over my shoulder. I needed to act. My ideas were good. We could totally save his house.

  I took the stairs two at a time and dumped my backpack in the kitchen.

  “Mom?”

  “She’s not here, dweeb. She went to a meeting.” Kate glared from her homework spot. Her papers spilled halfway across our eight-person table. Sheesh. She had a desk in our room. I don’t know why she didn’t use it.

  “Matt got in trouble again?” That was the only explanation. Mom spent a lot of time meeting with his teachers.

  “Hey! It wasn’t me this time.” Matt poked his head in from the living room and stuck out his tongue.

  Kate narrowed her eyes. “You’re so mature.”

  Matt made a pig nose and snorted.

  Kate pulled another textbook from her bag and slammed it down.

  I jumped in before things got ugly. “So where is she, then? She’s supposed to take me to soccer.” She was supposed to be there, waiting for me to get home, like always. She hadn’t said anything about a meeting when she bro
ught my clothes after the lunch incident.

  Kate threw down her pencil and stuffed her things into her bag. “Can I not get a moment of peace here? She’s at the hospital, okay?” I cringed as her chair screeched against the ugly yellow linoleum. She pushed me aside on the way to our room. “Don’t follow me.”

  Matt cackled like a hyena and then returned to the living room.

  When the bedroom door boomed shut, I headed downstairs and pulled out the list. A meeting? My mom didn’t have meetings. She took care of us. And why would she have a meeting at the hospital? Yeah, she used to work there, but that was forever ago. Maybe her old boss was blackmailing her. Or maybe she was secretly diagnosed with some deadly disease. Or maybe both!

  As the computer finished booting, I flattened my list on our Goliath of a desk and read:

  Win the lottery.

  Sell appendix on eBay.

  Get a job (must pay $$$).

  Find Jason’s dad a job.

  Get a loan.

  Ask the bank for more time.

  Beg (find a good street corner). Sing? Kazoo?

  Win a radio contest.

  Bingo night (with Jason’s grandma?).

  Bake sale.

  Car wash.

  Back-up plan: convince Mom and Dad to let Jason’s family move into the basement.

  One was sure to work. Now I just needed to do a little research. Starting with #1. On Google’s homepage, I typed “Utah lottery.”

  The State of Utah does not have its own lottery. I frowned. Still. Only a small setback. I could find a way around this.

  I made a note on my sheet and then Googled the next idea. Jason came in dressed for soccer practice, cleats and all.

  He eyed me. “You’re not going in jeans are you?”

  “We have half an hour. I’m fine. I’ve been working on our plan.”

  “Plan?”

  “Duh. To save your house. Look.” I held out the paper.

  Jason studied it. “This is what you were working on in class? You’re lucky Mrs. Starry didn’t catch you.”

  “I’m a spy. I don’t get caught.”

  His eyes move down the page. His face twitched once or twice but was otherwise unreadable.

  When he finally looked up, he shrugged. “I guess one or two of these might work.”

  I snatched the paper away. “What do you mean, you guess? These are great ideas!”

  “Riiight. Like the lottery.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Utah doesn’t even have one. And even if we did, you’d have to be eighteen to buy a ticket.”

  “I know we don’t —” The idea struck. “My Uncle Jim lives in Chicago. I’ll ask him to help.” Why hadn’t I thought of that before? I scribbled a note on the page. He was a pushover of an uncle. Not even boring like most adults.

  “If he’ll help us.”

  “He’ll help us.”

  “And about selling your appendix …”

  “Yeah! I just Googled it. Look. It says right there it’s legal. And I already checked on eBay. There isn’t a single one for sale! No competition.”

  Jason brushed me aside. “Annie, no one wants your appendix.” He highlighted “appendix” and typed “kidney” in its place. “This is what you probably meant. But see? It’s illegal.”

  “What?” I squinted at the screen until I found something I liked. “Not in Iran.” I took the mouse from him and clicked on a link.

  We read silently. The writer of the article clearly agreed with me. Why shouldn’t I be able to sell a kidney? I had two after all. And imagine the money we’d make if both of us sold one.

  Jason cleared his throat. “Whatever. And getting a job? We’re ten. Nobody would hire us.”

  “What about Hollywood? Kids act in movies all the time.”

  “And how are we going to get there?” He crossed his arms.

  Here I was, trying to help him… . offering to donate an appendix, kidney, whatever, and all he could do was complain. Well maybe he should sell his own kidney.

  “Fine. I thought you wanted to stay. My mistake.” I swiveled my chair so my back was to him and counted down.

  Five … four … three … two … one.

  “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  It worked every time. I spun back around grinning. “That’s all right. I know you can’t help it. But what did you think would work?”

  Jason hopped on the desk and the old metal giant groaned under his weight. “Finding my dad a job. I mean, he’s looking, but in the newspaper. Hard copy. I bet we could find lots of stuff on the computer.”

  “See? We can do something.”

  I pulled a clean sheet of paper from the printer. I wrote in large print, all caps:

  PLAN A: FIND JASON’S DAD A JOB.

  “You know what kind of jobs to look for, right?” I tapped my pen on the paper.

  Jason nodded.

  “Then you can work on that one. I’ll start with one of these others on the list.”

  Jason turned as red as strawberry jelly (my second favorite flavor and Jason’s third). “Oh, but … I mean … what if my dad catches me? You should have seen him last night when my mom brought up food stamps. ‘Bianca! I can handle this. I don’t need your help or anyone else’s!’” He mimicked his dad’s voice.

  Food stamps? Were they that poor? I thought of my Uncle Rob and Aunt Tess — the only people I knew who’d ever used them. We’d visited their dingy apartment two summers ago, and I’d gotten stuck in their ratty old couch. My mom had had to pull me out.

  I kept my eyes on the list and shrugged, trying to act casual. “You can use our computer. Then he won’t know unless we find something. Which we totally will.”

  Jason let out his breath, the red in his cheeks fading. “So if I’m doing that, what will you work on?”

  I stalled. I had a couple of ideas, but I already knew Jason wouldn’t approve. “Oh, you know …”

  “No, I …”

  “Annie!” My mom hurried into the room. I hadn’t even heard her get home. She looked me over and her shoulders slumped. “Aren’t you ready yet?”

  I was confused. “Ready for what?”

  “For soccer, Annie. What else?”

  She strode across the room, and I casually leaned over my lists.

  “Turn this thing off …” She grabbed the mouse then looked at the screen.

  Uh-oh. I’d forgotten about the article.

  “Kidney donation? An-nie?”

  I hated it when she said my name like that. It’s like her tone could pull out a confession even if I were innocent.

  “Tell me this is for school. Right? Some research project?”

  I glanced at Jason then back at my mom. I’m a world-class spy. I’m a world-class spy. I can do this. “Ye … no.” I couldn’t do it.

  I know I’ll be able to lie to a stranger when millions of lives are on the line, but not to my mom. “I heard part of a news show about it, and I was … curious.” All true. True-ish, anyway.

  “Annie Lynn Jenkins. Don’t tell me you were thinking about …”

  My face must have looked guilty because she got all stiff and pressed two fingers to her forehead. Never a good sign.

  “We do not traffic in body parts in this household, young lady! Do you understand me?”

  I nodded. Because even though I had no idea what traffic had to do with it, I was pretty sure she meant my kidney was officially off the market.

  “Now go upstairs and get ready before I regret not grounding you for a month.”

  4

  Mom was still giving me evil looks by the next morning. So when the phone rang, I had this feeling I was somehow in trouble.

  I stopped chewing my Peanut Butter Rice Pops mid-bite. My spoon dripped mil
k onto the counter.

  “Hello, Maggie,” Mom spoke into the receiver. “How are you?”

  Maggie? I didn’t recognize the name. Maybe my instincts were off. I continued eating.

  Mom glanced in my direction, smiled, and then stepped out of the kitchen.

  I knew that look. Mom was making plans for me with some stranger named Maggie! I leaned forward on my bar stool, straining to hear.

  “Annie would love to go. How very kind of you to invite her. But please, let me send a plate of cookies … I insist. And I’ll speak to Bianca about Jason. I can’t imagine there’d be a problem.”

  Was it a birthday party? Maybe Maggie was in the other fifth grade class with Mrs. Guppy. But it sounded like my mom was talking to an adult. Gah! What good was I as a super spy if I couldn’t figure this out?

  “Thank you again. Yes … You, too. Have a nice day.”

  Mom came back into the kitchen. She hung up the phone and leaned against the counter. “Well apparently you’ve made a good impression somewhere. That was Mrs. Schuster from across the cul-de-sac. She invited you and Jason over for cookies and milk this afternoon.”

  “What?! But Mo-om! I can’t go to Mrs. Mean —Schuster’s.” I blushed at the near-fatal mistake.

  “And why is that, Annie? Because you seem to have plenty of time to research illegal activities. One afternoon won’t kill you.”

  I frantically searched for a good excuse, because not only would I be in for a miserable afternoon, but we’d have to delay Plan A. Jason was supposed to come over after my piano lessons to start the job search.

  Piano lessons! Brilliant!

  “I have piano lessons, Mom. Remember?” Never in a million years did I think I’d actually be grateful for the hateful things.

  My mom frowned. “That’s right. I forgot.” She drummed her fingers on the counter, staring at nothing while I gleefully finished my cereal. I took my bowl to the sink and grabbed my backpack. I wanted to whistle, victory felt so good.

  Until my mom stood up straight. “I’ll just have to call your teacher and explain. Maybe we can do a make-up on Saturday. Hmm …” She turned her back to me, phone in one hand, list of phone numbers in the other.