The Last Great Adventure of the PB & J Society

by Janet Sumner Johnson

  “Too bad! You’re caller number eleven, keep trying.”

  Big sisters were so overrated. Well, two could play at that game. “If you don’t let me make my call, I’m telling Emma about your last journal entry where you …”

  “Okay! Okay. I’m hanging up, but you have two minutes. Got that?”

  Emma was yelling over Kate, making it hard to hear. “Wait! What journal entry?!”

  “Hello! You’re caller number sixteen, try again.”

  Then it all went silent. I hung up, my heart pounding, and dialed again as soon as I heard the dial tone. I only had seconds.

  Jason glanced at me from the computer and shook his head. Pessimist.

  I held my breath, and yes! The phone was ringing! My heart pounded as I waited.

  Two rings. Three.

  “Congratulations! You’re caller number twenty-two! You’ve just won a thousand dollars!”

  I screamed. “Oh my gosh! I won! I won!”

  “You won?!” Jason jumped up from the computer and danced with me.

  “And who do we have on the phone tonight?”

  I was so excited, I couldn’t remember. “Um … My name? Uh, it’s Annie. My name’s Annie.”

  “Well, Annie … you sound kind of young. How old are you, sweetheart?”

  “I’m ten! And I can’t believe I won!”

  Jason stopped dancing when I said my age. He stared at me, then smacked his forehead.

  “What?” I mouthed.

  But the deejay answered my question.

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry, sweetie, but you have to be eighteen to win. Looks like our winner tonight will be caller twenty-three. Let’s go back to the phones.”

  The line went dead. He didn’t even say goodbye.

  Jason and I stood there in silence until Kate exploded into the room.

  She grabbed the phone from my hand, then got in my face. “And just so we’re clear. You are so dead for reading my journal.”

  She spun around and stomped back upstairs.

  Great. Not only did I not get the money, now I’d be fearing for my life until Kate exacted revenge.

  “So.” Jason smiled. “On the bright side, I found some jobs that could work. Can I print them off?”

  7

  “Are you sure she’ll be awake this early?” Jason hung back at the end of Mrs. Schuster’s driveway.

  I spun around, hands on my hips. “Don’t be such a baby! All old people get up early because of the Great Depression. Or something. Seven o’clock is late to them.” Gripping the rolled-up map, I marched straight to the door and knocked.

  Another minute, another knock. I put my ear to the door, hoping to hear something. Anything. Finally a shuffling sound approached.

  I smiled big waiting for Mrs. Schuster to answer.

  “Don’t you people know what time it is?!” The door slammed open, and I shrieked. I couldn’t help it.

  Mrs. Schuster looked like an alien — green goo all over her face, a plastic hair net, and a flapping bathrobe. I tried to look away, but the horrific sight held me like a deer in headlights. Ewww! Sure, people looked like this on TV and it was funny then. In person, not so much.

  “Annie! Jason!” Mrs. Schuster clutched at her bathrobe and opened the screen door. “What in Larry’s name are you doing here so early on a Saturday?”

  “Don’t you get up at five?” I prepared to flee.

  “Where did you get a fool notion like that? Come on, come on.” She ushered us to the kitchen and waved toward the table “I guess you’ll be wanting breakfast now, too.”

  “Oh, no. I had Fruity Discs before I came. Jason, too. Right?” I smacked him with my elbow hoping he’d take the hint.

  “Oh. Right.” He spoke in monotone.

  That boy needed to work on his acting. Pitiful.

  “Fruity Discs do not count. You give me a minute to take care of this,” she motioned toward her face, “then I’ll get us breakfast.”

  The “minute” felt like hours. We squirmed in our seats at the table waiting for Mrs. Schuster. I stared at the clock as it tick-tocked our Saturday away.

  Jason tapped at the table, a frown etched on his face. Waiting was dull, but not that horrible. Then my stomach dropped. What if his house had sold!

  I tried to act casual. “What’s wrong? You look like someone smushed your peanut butter and jelly sandwich on purpose.”

  Jason sighed and shook his head. “I gave the list of jobs to my dad last night.”

  I could breathe again. “Yeah? Is he going to apply for any of them? Was he super grateful?”

  Jason snorted. “Well, he was super something. Just not grateful. He ripped up the pages and said he didn’t need a child to find him a job. Said he could do it on his own.”

  “What?! That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.”

  Jason raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.

  I crossed my arms. “If he doesn’t need our help, then why doesn’t he have a job already? Your dad should be asking for our help. But no, we have to sneak behind his back because of his stubborn …”

  One look at Jason and I cut my rant short. He stared at the floor like he wished it would swallow him.

  I thought of that thousand dollars the radio station cheated me out of. His dad would have taken that.

  “Well, whatever.” I pulled open the map to distract myself. Besides, with Plan A out the window (or in the garbage can, whatever), Plan B took top priority.

  “Maybe we can find a clue while we wait,” I suggested.

  Jason sighed. “Annie, it’s not real. I don’t know why you bother.”

  “Just because your dad got mad at you doesn’t mean we can’t help.”

  He glared at me. “The map’s not real.”

  I shifted so my back was toward him. “Fine. I’ll find the clue.”

  He scooted closer. “Look at it. If that paper were over a hundred years old, it’d be crumbling and fragile.”

  “It is crumbling. See the edges?”

  He fingered the paper. “But the rest of it isn’t. The edges just look burned to me.”

  I pulled away from him. “You’d doubt your own name if it weren’t written on your underwear.”

  He didn’t say anything. Just scooted his chair back and glared at nothing.

  I ignored him. He’s the one who had attacked first. I’d been defending myself. Besides, he was wrong about the map. I went back to studying, but I couldn’t focus. All I could see was the sturdy paper it was written on.

  What if he was right? I glanced at him, hoping to catch his eye, but he didn’t move.

  No. It had to be real. I shook my head to clear it of Jason’s poisonous doubts. Because why would Mrs. Schuster lie to us?

  We waited the next twenty minutes in uncomfortable silence until Mrs. Schuster poked her head in from the kitchen. The green goo was gone along with the hair net. “Now how do you like your eggs?”

  Jason came out of his trance. He still wouldn’t look at me. “Over-hard. And can I have three, please?”

  “Now that’s what I like to see. A boy with an appetite. How about four?”

  Jason looked like he’d been chosen first in kickball. Mrs. Schuster headed toward the kitchen.

  I cleared my throat. “I like mine the same way.”

  “Of course you do! You two aren’t best friends for nothing, are you?” She winked and hurried into the kitchen, causing a flurry of clinks and clanks.

  It wasn’t long before the smell of fried eggs had us both drooling.

  But the uncomfortable silence was back.

  Finally, Jason spoke. “Look.” He pointed at the family pictures on the wall. “Maybe we can find some clues there.”

  Did that mean he forgave me for the underwear comment? I dared a smile in
his direction, and he eventually returned it.

  “Great idea,” I said.

  At eye-level, an old black-and-white showed a boy on a Red Rocket trike. Another picture with a young-looking Mrs. Schuster and her husband had been painted. Not quite a photo, not quite a painting. A series of family shots showed the gradually aging Schusters. I giggled at the wide collars and funny hair-dos.

  By far, my favorite was the metal-framed picture of the teenage son in a football uniform. Mr. Schuster had his arm around him. The father looked so happy. You could almost feel it coming from the photo. Without thinking, I reached out to touch it.

  “Scott looked handsome in his uniform … his father was proud.”

  I yanked my hand back and Jason whirled around.

  Happiness softened Mrs. Schuster’s face for a moment. Then it was gone. Her whole body seemed to droop. “That was years before he became the idiot he is today. Taken not long before my Ned died. Back in ninety-five.”

  “Your husband?” I asked.

  Mrs. Schuster nodded. She set three food-filled plates on the table. “I’ll pour us some milk, and we can eat.”

  We slipped back to our places and stared at our over-hard eggs and toast. Jason clapped his hands over his stomach when it growled like a starving wolf.

  Mrs. Schuster returned with three large glasses of milk. “Well, go on! Those eggs aren’t getting any warmer.” She handed us each a glass, then sat down before placing hers next to a little cup of pills.

  “Eat!” She waved us on, then plunked a slice of toast into her runny yoke.

  I cut into my eggs, but I couldn’t stop the question that slipped out. “Are you sick?” I peeked at Jason and could tell he was mentally adding the pills to the list.

  Mrs. Schuster picked up the little cup and rattled it. “You mean these? These are my doctor’s idea of a practical joke. How many pills can an old lady take at a time without choking?” She emptied the contents into her mouth and with a big swig of milk, swallowed them. “We’re up to seven, and I still have the upper hand.”

  I laughed. She even made taking pills fun. My admiration grew. How could she possibly be lying about the treasure? She couldn’t.

  Mrs. Schuster finished her second wedge of toast before breaking the silence. She nodded at the scroll by my plate. “Have you done any searching? Are you ready to hear more?”

  I popped in my last bite of egg, but Jason was already finished. He told her about the X and the Miss Piggy alarm clock. I was a little irked. He could have left that out. And then he finished up with his doubts about the age of the canal and ditch.

  “We looked at the map for any clues, but we couldn’t find anything.” I pushed my plate aside and spread the map on the table. “Are we missing something?”

  Mrs. Schuster leaned forward and studied it for what felt like hours. I slumped in my chair when she shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t see anything either. Though that doesn’t rule out any hidden clues on the map. Cap’n Black Marge was a master of deception.”

  Hidden clues! Why didn’t I think of that? A memory of invisible ink joggled in my brain. I couldn’t wait to test my theory when we got back to my house.

  “Maybe if you told us more about Cap’n Black Marge, that’d give us a hint where to look.” Jason cast a look in my direction. He wanted to catch her in a lie. He just couldn’t accept the truth. Well, two could play at that game.

  “How did Black Marge end up in Utah?” I asked.

  Mrs. Schuster chuckled. “Well, the story goes that after being the terror of the seven seas for twenty years, Cap’n Black Marge got the urge to settle down and have kids. First, she debated kidnapping a couple of babies, but the Cap’n was smart. Smart enough to know that she didn’t want to end up with just any children.

  “So one May, in the middle of the night, when they were just off the coast of California, she packed her bags and the chest I gave you and slipped away on a dinghy. Of course, the crew never heard from her again.”

  “So how’d she get here?” I glanced at the clock. 8:15. We had time. Our soccer game didn’t start till nine.

  Mrs. Schuster cleared her throat. “Well, after leaving her crew, Black Marge decided she’d had enough of the seas, so she hired a wagon and headed east. They say she was so taken with the mountains, and relieved to find the smell of salt air, she decided to stay right here.”

  I threw Jason a smug look. Perfectly logical.

  Mrs. Schuster stood and collected our plates. “Well. My Ned always washed his breakfast down with a cup of coffee. Perhaps you two would like hot cocoa instead?”

  We both nodded (Jason a little overenthusiastically), and she disappeared into the kitchen again.

  “See?” I whispered.

  He crossed his arms. “Anyone can make up a story. I want details. Evidence.”

  I rolled my eyes, and neither of us spoke again until she came back in with three steaming mugs on a tray.

  “Sorry that took so long.” She placed a hot chocolate and spoon before each of us. “My hands just don’t work like they used to.”

  Jason picked up his mug and blew steam from the top all casual-like. “That’s okay. But could you tell us more about Cap’n Black Marge? Like what’d she do when she got here? Did she keep pirating?”

  Mrs. Schuster shook her head. “Nope. She gave it all up, if you can believe it. First she hid her loot, then she managed to secure a job at the local feed and seed. Orneriest clerk there ever was, but by golly she was good at getting people to buy stuff they didn’t need. Intimidated them all … right up until Edward Smith came to town. He refused to buy those gigantic belt buckles he didn’t need, and he wouldn’t even look twice at the lima beans Marge pushed on him.

  “She bullied, swore, stamped her feet, and threw a fit like the pirate she was, but Edward didn’t back down. He did invite her on a picnic, though.”

  Jason and I pretended to gag. “Marge doesn’t go all mushy, does she?” I asked.

  Mrs. Schuster laughed. “Between you and me, maybe a little, but don’t tell Marge. She’d never been on a picnic, so she agreed, and before long they were married.”

  “I knew it! Mush-city.” I shivered. “Why do all stories end in marriage? They should have had a duel or something more interesting. But marriage? Eww! She didn’t give him the treasure, did she?”

  “Why?” Jason asked. “Won’t you share your stuff with your husband when you get married?”

  I took a swallow of hot chocolate, then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I’m not getting married.”

  Jason frowned. He turned to Mrs. Schuster. “So what did Marge do? Did she give him the treasure?”

  Mrs. Schuster wheezed a laugh. “You two are priceless. No. Marge worried what Edward would think if he found out she’d been a pirate. So she buried it and made a map.”

  “And she never told him? Her own husband?” I couldn’t believe it. Was it even possible to keep a secret that long?

  We sat in silence, sipping from our mugs until Mrs. Schuster blew her nose with a great, honking roar. I nearly fell out of my chair.

  She dabbed at her eyes and cleared her throat. “You know, my grandmum told me that the secret was Marge’s greatest regret. She always meant to tell Edward. It weighed on her. But the time never seemed right.”

  “Well that’s just stupid,” Jason said.

  I thumped the table. “Yeah. It’s not like she stayed a pirate.”

  Mrs. Schuster stared at us. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally she nodded. “You really think that?”

  “Well, duh. It’s only, like, obvious. And if he left her because of that, then he didn’t deserve her anyway.”

  Jason gasped. “Annie! Look at the clock. We’ve gotta go. Soccer starts in twenty minutes.”

  I snatched up the map and we headed toward the door.
“I knew Black Marge was real. We wondered at first. But you wouldn’t lie to us. You’re way too nice.”

  Jason’s cheeks flamed red, as did Mrs. Schuster’s. She stared at the floor. “You’d say that about an old woman who chased you out of her yard and took your ball?”

  “Well you gave it back. And it’s not like you hadn’t already warned us.”

  Mrs. Schuster seemed to consider this. She cleared her throat. “What time do you two leave for school in the morning? You could come for breakfast and I could get you something a little more nutritious than Fruity Discs. And maybe … just maybe … I could scrounge up a clue or two about that map. Just remember, treasures aren’t so easy to find. Even with a map. Believe me, I know.”

  I hesitated. Visiting from time to time was one thing. But every morning? Still, if we got more clues about the treasure that way … well, anything was worth it if Jason didn’t have to move. Even if he was stubborn.

  I glanced at Jason, who grinned wide. He was nodding.

  “It sounds great!” he said.

  “But we’d have to ask our moms,” I added. What had gotten into him? Was he really that zealous about solving this mystery?

  “I’ll talk to them. In the meantime, I do have a suggestion for where to look.”

  “Really? Where?” I gripped the front doorknob, my knuckles turning white. Jason tapped his foot.

  “When these houses were built, contractors did an awful lot of digging. Laying pipe, preparing foundations. Seems to me, they dug deep enough to find a treasure if it were in any of those lots.”

  I gasped. “The empty lot!”

  8

  We lost our soccer game. Like usual. But with a losing streak as long as ours, it felt comfortable. Like a PB&J for lunch.

  And since Jason’s dad didn’t come (for the third game of the season), my dad treated us to Slurpees. The best part of game day.

  When Dad pulled into our driveway, Jason and I ran inside for our weekly contest. We took our positions at the kitchen bar.

  “Go!” I said.

  We sucked as fast as we could. Fifty points for finishing first. Twenty points for finishing second. Minus ten every time you got brain freeze.