Made You Look

by Diane Roberts

  “We do now,” Dad said, puffing up like a peacock. “I bought Aunt Kate and Uncle Dan's ‘miracle of miracles.' We are now the proud owners of the famous Camp'otel.”

  I felt like I'd landed on a WHOOPS! It was the worst possible news he could have given me. Freddy was never going to believe this.

  “Sure, we'll be roughing it a bit, but camping will give us the opportunity to get in touch with Mother Nature,” Dad said. “Just like the pioneers.”

  “But Dad,” I argued. “Have you forgotten Uncle Dan's horror stories? Mother Nature doesn't want to be in touch. Have you forgotten what Aunt Kate said when they got home? She wished they had taken an ark instead of a camper because it rained a million buckets of water.”

  “Aw, Jason, what's a little pitter-patter?” Dad ruffled my hair. “We'll benefit from their mistakes. Uncle Dan has already given me a few pointers on what not to do. And I've been reading The Camper's Friend magazine.” He raised his hand to give me a high five. He slapped my hand so hard that he knocked me onto the luggage carousel.

  I was moving along the conveyor belt with the unclaimed luggage when this crazy idea hit me. I'm always getting crazy ideas when I need to solve a problem. And this was a huge problem. Maybe no one would notice me and I could stow away on a plane heading out west. It would take my family at least three days to drive to California from Texas, and I could hang out on Sunset Boulevard until they got there.

  No such luck. I felt Dad's hand on my neck as he dragged me off my perfect escape route.

  “Dad,” I begged again. “Can't we fly?” He held on to my sleeve as he scanned the conveyor belt for his remaining bags. My family didn't know the first thing about camping. We didn't even go on picnics.

  Jen still sat on the bench. “Jen!” I hollered. “You don't want to camp to California, do you?” When she realized she couldn't use her blow-dryer in the camper because we wouldn't have electricity, she'd freak.

  Mom was busy buckling Millicent into her stroller. Jen peered over the top of her magazine. “As long as I get to shop on Rodeo Drive, stroll down Santa Monica Boulevard, and see movie stars' homes, I don't care how we get there.”

  Dad smiled and picked up his luggage. “That's the spirit,” he said, giving Jen a thumbs-up. My parents started walking through the airport. I ran after them, pushing Millicent in her stroller.

  “Wait!” I yelled. I pushed the stroller between two little old ladies at a high rate of speed, knocking one of their purses to the floor. “Sorry,” I said, stopping long enough to pitch it to them. Millicent giggled. “Don't you guys ever watch commercials?” My parents continued walking. “Kids twelve and under eat free at the Holiday Inn,” I cried desperately. “Doesn't that count for anything?” I ran faster. “A nice airconditioned motel room with a king-size bed and a color TV. Room service. Privacy!” Everyone in the airport looked at me as my voice climbed five octaves. I felt a case of the hiccups coming on. “Not the Camp'otel,” I pleaded as we went through the wide revolving door. I ran after them to our SUV.

  “Waster,” Millicent cried, the wind blowing her hair back. “Waster.” She clapped her hands.

  “You're such a twerp,” Jen said when I reached them. “Who needs air-conditioning when they're going to get to stroll down Rodeo Drive? Who needs room service when they might get discovered on Hollywood and Vine?” She tossed her long brown hair to one side. Jen thought three years of playing Clara in The Nutcracker gave her the license to act like a prima ballerina. She opened the door and started to climb into the shady side of the car.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “It's your turn to put Millicent in her car seat.” I handed Millicent over and got in on the other side. I leaned against the window. “Who needs a sixteen-year-old sister?” I said out loud, but no one paid attention to me. I was doomed and we hadn't even left town. The Camp'otel was a joke. An overgrown sardine tin perched on top of a car. I'd be the laughingstock of North Hills Elementary.

  “Car trips are boring,” I said with a scowl. “Boring. Boring. Boring.”

  Mom turned around in the front seat while Dad put his bags in the back. “How can you say that, Jason? We're going to play games, sing songs, talk, and be a real family for a change. Dad's really looking forward to this trip. He wants to spend some quality time with us.” I grimaced. “He thinks a camping trip will be just the thing,” Mom pressed on. “If we flew he wouldn't have much time to visit with us before he's back at work.”

  “They don't let you talk on airplanes?” I said. She ignored me.

  “He wants to know what you've been up to since he's been gone. I need for you to give him a chance to make this work.” I just stared at her. “End of sermon,” she said as Dad slid behind the wheel.

  How was I going to tell Freddy? My pizza wouldn't be still any longer. My stomach gave a huge rumble.

  “Mom,” Jen shrieked. “Mr. Pinkie is barfing!”

  “Let's shoot some hoops,” I said to Freddie. “I need to work off some steam.” We had time for a short game in our driveway before Masquerade Mania came on. I'd been too embarrassed to tell Freddy about the Camp'otel yet, but I knew I was going to have to do it. I pitched the ball to him but it went way over his head. He had to chase it across the street.

  “Sorry.” I took a breath. Between the art project and Amberson and the camping trip it was hard to focus. Freddy tossed the ball back to me. I started dribbling in circles but I was too preoccupied to shoot. “Let's take a break.” I sat down in the driveway.

  “What's going on?” Freddy said. “You seem off in space.”

  I immediately got the hiccups.

  “What's with the hiccuping?” he said.

  “There's been a switch in plans about our trip.”

  “What? Aren't you going to California?”

  “Yeah, we're going to California all right, but my dad's changed how we're getting there.” I shrugged, trying to look casual. “No biggie.”

  “So? How are you going?” he said. “By covered wagon?”

  My hiccups grew louder. “You might say so. Dad bought Uncle Dan's camper.”

  “What?” he yelled. “That thing your aunt and uncle almost got killed in last summer?”

  “You got it.”

  “That thing that looks like a giant sardine tin?”

  “I tried to tell my parents that, but no one will pay any attention to me.” I couldn't look at Freddy's face. I was too embarrassed.

  Freddy let out a war whoop and collapsed to the ground laughing. He rolled around until I felt dizzy. Tears ran down his face like a waterfall. I had never seen him so hysterical.

  “You're kidding,” he said when he finally stopped laughing. “I didn't know your dad hated your family.”

  “You have to swear in blood you won't tell anyone,” I begged. “If Amberson ever finds out he'll never let me forget it. On second thought,” I said, “this is probably the one thing he wouldn't ever want to copy.”

  About that time, Mom came to the door and said our show was starting. “Come on,” I said. “Let's go.” I looked across the street as we headed into the house. I thought I saw a shadow lurking behind a tree. It was probably just a stray cat, but I wouldn't have put it past Amberson to spy on us even there.

  Jen was already curled up on our den sofa eating popcorn and Mom and Millicent were sitting in a recliner across the room. Dad was in his favorite TV chair. I grabbed sodas for Freddy and me and filled up a bowl with popcorn. We plopped down on the floor. The theme song began, Jasmine floated down the stairs, and the show was off and running.

  “Look at that guy,” I said as Desmond raced across the stage riding a unicycle and juggling balls. “You never know what's he's going to do. He's fantastic.”

  The camera scanned the audience and focused on this kid dressed like a pig. He held up a sign that said OINK,

  OINK, I'M A PIG. GIVE ME A CHANCE AND I'LL DANCE A JIG. Desmond O whizzed past him. The kid didn't get chosen to sit in the Hot Box but he made one terrific-
looking porker. I punched Freddy in the arm. “He looks great. I wonder why Des didn't pick him for the Hot Box.”

  “He probably had to get back to the campground so they could roast him for dinner,” Freddy said, laughing. I punched him in the arm again.

  Mom chimed in. “He wasn't original enough. We see pigs on this show all the time.”

  “Yeah,” Freddy said. “Pigs are out. We've got to think of something better than a pig for Jason.”

  Baby Millicent clapped her hands. “Oink, oink,” she said. “See the pig. Oink, oink.” I laughed. I didn't want to be a pig, anyway. I could come up with a costume better than that.

  A girl in a straw hat stood up and sang “Hound Dog,” and Desmond O rushed to her side. The audience stomped their feet to the music.

  “Have a guitar?” Des asked her, grabbing her hat and sailing it into the audience. A million hands reached up to grab it.

  “I bet she has one,” I said, and before anyone could doubt me, she opened her purse and held up a toy guitar. “That girl is gonna win some money,” I told everyone. “Watch.”

  “I'll give you five hundred dollars for your guitar if you'll quit singing,” Des said. Wow. I couldn't believe my ears.

  “Did you see that? She got five hundred dollars for a stupid toy guitar!” The girl shut up and sat down. I made a mental note to take a toy instrument along. If I could get five hundred dollars for a toy instrument I'd be happy.

  “Where is that pig? Where is that pig?” Desmond O sang out at the top of his lungs. His bow tie twinkled as he ran up and down the aisles. He grabbed the pig's snout and pulled him into the Hot Box.

  “Hey,” Jen said. “That pig's getting to sit in the Hot Box after all.” We all cheered for the pig.

  Desmond shoved a boy dressed like a moose into the other box.

  “This must be the night for animals,” Dad said. He held up his hand and motioned for us to be quiet. “Jasmine is getting ready for her first question.”

  I edged closer to the TV. I didn't want to miss anything. My notebook was on the floor next to me in case I needed to take notes.

  “What was the most important consumer product of the twentieth century?” Jasmine said.

  Before they could answer, Mom screamed out, “Queen-size panty hose!” Everyone cracked up. My mom was a laugh a minute.

  The pig pushed his buzzer first. “Computers!” he oinked.

  “Right,” Jasmine said. “One point for the pig.”

  “Here comes another question,” I said, “everyone cool it.”

  Jasmine smiled into the cameras. “What is the only letter in the alphabet that does not appear in the name of any U.S. state?”

  “Q!” Freddy and I yelled together.

  “What are those guys waiting for?” I hollered. “Ring the buzzers. Ring the buzzers!” I slapped my hand on the floor. “Uh-oh, here comes Desmond,” I said. “Looks like trouble.”

  “Watch out!” Jen yelled out to the pig. “You're going to get it!” But she was too late. I was laughing so hard it was hard to hear Jasmine repeat the question. Just as Desmond reached the pig, he threw a cream pie in his face. He started after the moose but the moose rang his buzzer.

  “Q!”

  “Right,” Jasmine said. “A point for the moose.”

  “What is the capital of Texas?” Jasmine asked.

  We all screamed, “Austin!” The pig managed to push his buzzer first, and he got the answer right, too.

  Jasmine never ran out of questions. She spoke into the mike again. “What was the pig's name in Charlotte's Web?”

  “Unfair advantage,” Freddy said, shaking his finger at the TV.

  Before the pig could answer, the moose pushed his buzzer. “Samuel.”

  I put my head in my hands. “What a dork!”

  “It's easy being an armchair contestant,” Dad said. “Being on the real show is a lot different.”

  I shrugged. He was probably right, but I knew I'd have known that one.

  “Wilbur!” the pig yelled out.

  “You get to Spin to Win!” Jasmine said. I sat there holding my breath. When the pig spun the wheel he landed on a BMX bike and five video games. We all sat there not knowing what to expect next.

  “Here comes Desmond O,” Jen said. “He's after the moose.” We didn't take our eyes off the TV. Even though the moose didn't get a chance to spin, his dumb answers got him a WHOOPS! Desmond pelted him with water balloons and the moose doubled over laughing as he ran out of the Hot Box. Win or lose, it was the best show on TV. I just had to get on Masquerade Mania.

  After Freddy went home and it was time for bed, I checked over my costume sketches. Then I got one of my fantastic ideas. I raced across the room to my bookcase and grabbed my books on dinosaurs. As many times as I'd seen Mania, I couldn't remember seeing a dinosaur on the program. It was perfect!

  I had forgotten how much I liked studying them. I'd seen Jurassic Park five times and each time I'd been scared to sleep alone in my room for weeks afterward. But now that I was older, I wasn't afraid anymore. Back then, I'd slept by my parents' door. Every morning Jen would come out in the hall and pretend to be afraid. “Mom,” she'd fake shriek. “There's a stegosaurus in the hall asleep under his blankie!” She was such a pest.

  Molding a dinosaur head in papier-mâché couldn't be that hard. I flipped through the books. Triceratops was cool, but the horns would be hard to keep in place. Stegosaurus was big and ugly. His claws were long and frightening. I wasn't sure how I'd make them. Everyone knew Tyrannosaurus rex—I needed something more unique. When I turned the page to allosaurus, I grinned. I'd always liked the allosaurus. His head was enormous and his body was huge. The picture of the allosaurus showed almondshaped eyes. It made me think of Amberson.

  I logged on to my computer and typed “Entrepreneur” in the address.

  Hey, Freddy. I've decided what I'm going to make in art class for a costume. An allosaurus. See you tomorrow. Mania Man.

  “I'll make the eyes big enough to see out of and the mouth large enough so people can hear me talk,” I explained as Freddy and I biked to school. “And long, sharp, jagged teeth.”

  “Totally perfect,” Freddy said for the fifth time. He'd decided he was going to make a volcano.

  “I'm going to put a bowl of vinegar and baking soda inside the volcano. When it bubbles, it'll look like it's erupting,” he said.

  “Cool.” I could hardly wait to get started.

  “Class, are we ready to begin?” Ms. Ware said as we filed into our room after lunch. She acted as happy as if she'd eaten her lunch with a roomful of clowns. Our desks were covered with newspaper and there were tubs of papier-mâché at the front of the class. I stepped around them and made my way down the aisle to the back of the room.

  I looked at May Ling when I got to my desk. “Sorry about the other day,” I said, scooting into my seat. She looked the other way. I didn't blame her. I'd be mad, too. She hadn't reported me, though, because Ms. Ware hadn't handed me a pink slip from the principal's office. Ambie Boy stood at the pencil sharpener. I knew May Ling hadn't reported him, either.

  “People,” Ms. Ware said. “You'll need to work fast. We don't have many days left before summer vacation.” There wasn't a kid in class that didn't know that.

  I loved working with papier-mâché. It didn't matter to Ms. Ware how messy we got as long as we created. The more we worked, the better she liked it. Through the entire art class I molded and shaped, barely stopping to catch my breath.

  Ms. Ware fluttered about the room, oohing and aahing over everyone's work. “Look,” she'd say, holding up one project after the next. “Isn't this beautiful? Oh, my! This one is wonderful.” She had a way of making everyone in class feel special. She stopped by Freddy's desk. “Interesting, Freddy.” My desk was next. “What do we have here, Jason?”

  I hesitated to tell because I didn't want Amberson copying me. But I remembered what Ms. Ware had said about copying. “It's a dinosaur head,” I sa
id. She walked around my desk, looking at it from all sides.

  “I'm not finished yet,” I explained.

  “What kind is it?” she asked, examining the jagged teeth with her fingers.

  “It's an Ambie-saurus,” I said. I heard some snickers from the back of the room. “I mean an allosaurus. One of the meanest meat-eating dinosaurs that ever lived. He ate anyone who got in his way.” I glanced at Amberson. He lowered his eyes.

  “Fascinating,” she said. “You're doing a wonderful job. I certainly would have been terrified to meet up with that fellow.”

  She moved on. “And what are you working on, Amberson?” I tried to sneak a look. He stood in front of his desk and it was hard for me to see. “It's an airplane,” he said. “A Learjet. My dad owns one.” He held up the fuselage so everyone could see. I rolled my eyes. He just couldn't resist bragging about how rich his family was.

  “Interesting,” Ms. Ware said. “Tell us about it.”

  “Well, everyone knows about air travel and how convenient it is when you want to get somewhere fast.” My stomach did a flip.

  Ms. Ware looked interested. She stood there with one eyebrow arched and her arms folded. “So you're making an airplane to show us about transportation?”

  “Yeah,” he said, shooting me a sly smile. “I guess you could say that.”

  Mom was hanging up the phone as I went into the kitchen the next morning for breakfast. “Great news! Aunt Kate and Uncle Dan will be here soon with their miracle of miracles, the Camp'otel.” My heart sank. Dad would set the Camp'otel up on top of our SUV as soon as Uncle Dan unloaded it on us. “The only reason they call it that is because they weren't killed on their first camping trip. It's a miracle they came back home at all!” I sat down at the table and reached for the cinnamon toast. Dad said he always knew when breakfast was ready. He heard mom scraping the burnt parts into the sink.

  “I'll admit,” Mom said, “some of their experiences were gruesome.” She poured herself another cup of coffee. “However, Aunt Kate will tell you herself that the good outweighed the bad. She's sure we'll have many memorable moments.”