“You've had your breakfast,” Dad said.
“That was a long time ago,” I reminded him. “I'm a growing boy. Have you forgotten?”
Jen leaned over the backseat. She had a silly smile spread across her face.
“What?” I asked. “Don't you want something to eat? You've never passed up anything before.”
“Remember how you used to think the voice in the microphone inside the Muffin Man was your special friend?” she said. “Mom would let you order your own kiddie meal? You liked ordering food so much you wouldn't eat Mom's food unless she'd let you yell in her face?”
Freddy started laughing.
I glared at her. “What's your point, Jen?” Other than to make me look like a dork, which was always her point.
“You'd drive your tricycle up to the table and Mom would say, ‘May I take your order?' And you'd say, ‘Hi, it's me, Jason. A kid's meal with no sauce, just plain meat and a bun, and a basket of hot muffins. Thank you very much.' ”
Freddy was cracking up. I wanted to strangle him.
“We're going to have to go to a drive-through,” Jen said loudly. “Jason is having muffin withdrawal.”
“Mom!” I yelled. “Jen's making fun of me.”
“Jen,” Mom said, “don't start.” I couldn't believe it. Someone was taking my side for a change. When he saw a Muffin Man restaurant, Dad pulled off the highway. We got out of the car to stretch our legs. Jen held on to Millicent's hand and we walked around the parking lot. After we got back in the car, Dad started through the drivethrough. An employee bounced out the door, stopping beside each car.
“Have a box of muffins on us,” he said. “It's a promo for Muffin Man's newest muffin.” He shoved the box through the window. The hot muffins smelled terrific.
“What kind are they?” I asked, reaching for the one on top.
“Ooey-Gooey-Chewy Chocolate Delight,” he said, smacking his lips. He handed Dad a card. “We'd like your opinion of our new muffin. If you'd fill out this card and mail it in to our office we'd appreciate it. And,” he added, handing Dad a certificate, “your next stop at a Muffin Man is on us.”
Dad took the muffins and passed them around. Jen handed Millicent a pinch of one. She took a bite and hot chocolate frosting oozed down her face.
“Yummy,” she said. “More.” She gave Lulu a bite. “More.”
Dad ordered hamburgers and sodas. Since Mom had taken up for me, I decided that after I had eaten I would study her packet. The car was silent after we got our food. Traveling made us hungry, I guess. After I finished my hamburger and soda, I grabbed another muffin. They were delicious.
What is the capital of Texas? I wrote Austin in the blank. Where is the Alamo and what is the date on it? I knew the Alamo was in San Antonio but I wasn't good with dates. I was about to ask Freddy when Jen poked me. “No cheating!” she whispered. “Look it up!”
“I wasn't!” I whispered back.
Name some of the men who fought at the Alamo. Mom's questions were getting harder. But I didn't feel like using her books to help me. That made it too much like school.
“This is good trivia, Mrs. Percy,” Freddy said. “You may have hit on a question they'll use on the show.” He was right. I hadn't thought of that.
“Yeah, Mom,” I said. “You've helped out a lot.”
Davy Crockett fought at the Alamo but I was stuck after that. Freddy's pen raced down his paper. At the rate he was going, he was going to finish first and get to put an extra wish in the box. It looked like we were all going to see the Queen Mary.
The state of Texas has had three men serve as presidents of the United States. Who were they?
I wrote George Bush and George W. Bush but I couldn't think of anyone else. I skipped down to the next question. In the blank next to state flower, I wrote bluebonnet. Everyone in Texas knows that!
We drove all day long. Mom told stories about when she was a little girl, like how she and her family took a trip across Minnesota. True pioneer times.
We pulled into El Paso about the time the sun was setting. “Pass your packets up to me in five minutes,” Mom said. I had left some of my questions blank and I noticed Jen had done the same thing. “I'm going to check over them tonight,” Mom said. The sky was streaked with orange. I noticed on the map Mom had put in our packets how close we were to Old Mexico. I forgot about the Minnesota landscape and stared out the window. El Paso looked different from the other cities we had driven through. The houses were adobe, and there weren't many trees in the yards. We passed a school and I saw lots of kids playing ball and racing on skateboards.
Mom checked her map to see where the campground was. It wasn't far off the highway. “Time,” she called. We passed our packets up.
“At last,” I said, stretching my arms. My hands brushed Jen's hair. She was too exhausted to protest.
After ten hours in the car, my eyes could barely focus. Freddy and I had practiced game show questions, worked on the packets, and played video games. Jen and Millicent had sung “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” until Freddy and I begged for mercy. And if I heard “The Three Bears” one more time, I was going to suggest they put Goldilocks in jail for breaking and entering.
Dad turned down a dirt road and we saw campers in the distance. Airstreams the size of Greyhound buses were parked all over the place. As we drove to the office a million eyes followed us. I knew what these people were thinking. What's a nice sardine tin like that doing in a place like this?
I scooted down in my seat so no one could see me. The manager of the campground came out to greet us. He held a silver-and-black bullhorn in his hand. He bellowed out his directions as he motioned for Dad to follow him. I was sure they could hear him across the border in Old Mexico. The other campers in the park hung out their doors and windows. Our Camp'otel was the entertainment for the evening as we followed the manager to our campsite.
The manager looked at his clipboard and checked off our name. “Slot number three-oh-three,” he hollered. “Right this way!”
“Does that man need to use a bullhorn?” I asked. It was embarrassing enough being in the Camp'otel. “Everyone is looking at us,” I hissed. “Drive faster, Dad.”
“I can't run the poor guy over. I have no idea where our campsite is,” he said. Freddy and I scooted farther down in our seats. “I have to follow him to slot three-oh-three. Just cool it, boys.”
I peeked out the window. We had passed a couple of Airstreams. People were grilling steaks outside and kids swarmed everywhere. Mom waved at everyone as we passed. I knew what was spinning in her head. Mom is an organizer. She always coordinates the Fourth of July parade in our neighborhood, and she puts together a group of carolers at Christmastime. Dad pulled our SUV into the slot between two white RVs. The man with the bullhorn told Dad to come by the office to pay our deposit.
Dad hopped out of the car. “Will do,” he said, thanking the man. “Just as soon as I put up our bedroom.” Dad patted the sardine tin.
Mom crawled out of the car and introduced herself to the people in the next campsite. She would make friends with our temporary neighbors and before anyone knew what had hit them, she'd have the entire campground sitting around a fire roasting marshmallows.
Freddy and I started unloading the car. “I hope you remember the words to ‘You Are My Sunshine' and ‘The Eyes of Texas,' because I've got a feeling you'll be singing them tonight,” I said. “Look over there.” I pointed toward Mom. “I bet she's already signed people up for a sing-along.” I opened the cooler and grabbed a couple of sodas.
“You're not serious, are you?” Freddy said. “I couldn't carry a tune in my jeans pockets. Don't you remember in Cub Scouts? Your mom always asked me to clean up when it came time for singing.”
“I'm as serious as a broken leg. Wait and see.”
The aroma of sizzling steaks floated through the air and my taste buds were working up an appetite for a good dinner. I didn't mention being hungry to Jen. I didn't want to hear the
muffin story again.
“Mom,” I begged when she came back to the car. “Let's not invite anyone over tonight. Dad's tired from driving all day. Wait until tomorrow.”
She smiled but she had that look of “you're going to love a good game of hide-and-seek with your new friends” in her eyes.
“Nonsense, Jason. A few camp songs and games will do us good. It's a great way to break the ice. Just a couple of choruses of ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat' and you'll be in the swing of camp life before you know it.” She darted off. “I'll be back in a second,” she said over her shoulder. “I just want to say hi to those people across the road.”
Dad knew what to expect with Mom. He unlatched the sides of the camper, and when it popped up, a bedroom unfolded on top of our car like magic. Gasps sounded from RV to RV. I couldn't help feeling a little proud.
“Well, doesn't that beat all, Clyde,” I heard the lady in the camper next to us say. “I never saw a contraption like that.”
I wanted to tell her that we hadn't, either, until Uncle Dan and Aunt Kate had brought it to our house in the first place, but I decided if I kept quiet maybe everyone would forget about me. After I put up our tent, Freddy and I could sneak into it and stay out of sight.
The lady stood at the door of her trailer with a platter of fried chicken big enough to feed our family, too, but she turned and went inside without inviting us in. Clyde followed. I could almost hear them crunching juicy chicken legs. My stomach growled.
“Jason,” Dad called. “I need help. Bring me the ladder.”
Freddy had walked over to check out the basketball court while I stayed back to finish helping Dad. “Can I set up our tent first?” I asked.
“Hurry up, then,” Dad said. “We've got a lot to do to set up our camp before dinner.”
I used a battery-powered pump to inflate our air mattresses. The tent was next. There was going to be plenty of room for Freddy, Dad, and me. Dad had decided to sleep in the tent after we invited Freddy to come with us. Jen, Mom, and Millicent would sleep in the Camp'otel. The tent was up in a matter of minutes. Dad handed me the Coleman lantern and a couple of flashlights.
“Jen's tired,” I said. “She'll want to go to bed soon. Taking care of Millicent all day isn't easy.” I felt a scowl cover my face. I realized it would be my turn tomorrow.
“Jen doesn't look tired to me,” Dad said, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like she's already made a friend.” I looked across the road and saw Jen talking to a tall boy about her age.
“Traitor,” I muttered. Leave it to her to follow in Mom's mixing-and-mingling footsteps. Jen was becoming Miss Friendly number two. I ignored them. Millicent and Lulu stood beside them. Poor Lulu was upside down with her trunk in the dirt.
I grabbed the box of muffins from the car. They were next to Dad's laptop. Freddy and I had already discussed it. If dinner didn't work out, there were plenty of snacks left. We weren't going to starve.
“Where's the ladder?” I asked. “I thought it was attached to the side of the camper.”
“It is,” Dad said, looking up on top of the car. He walked around the SUV and came back empty-handed.
“Well, so much for the ladder,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I must have left it at home.”
Mom was still visiting with our neighbors across the road. A few drops of rain began to fall, and she came back to the car.
“Put up the ladder and I'll make the beds,” she said to Dad. She called for Jen and Millicent to come back to our camper. “It's going to rain. Get Freddy, too.”
“There is one little problem here,” Dad said sheepishly. “I forgot the ladder.” I moved behind him in case Mom exploded.
“What!” she said. “How could you forget the ladder?” She gave him an exasperated look. But knowing Mom, she wasn't about to let the lack of a ladder defeat her.
Soon the little sprinkle had turned into a hard rain. Mom climbed onto the fender of our car and crawled across the hood. As she climbed up the windshield, she held the bed linens under her arm. The expression on her face said more than any words could have. She grabbed one of the windshield wipers for leverage but the wiper popped off in her hand. She threw it on the ground. The rain pounded harder. She started up the windshield again.
“I've done harder things than this,” she called, her mouth set in a determined line. “I climbed the Himalayas when I was in college.” Dad laughed. I didn't dare.
Freddy, Jen, and Millicent were back and witnessed the entire spectacle. The windshield was slippery and Mom slid down the hood several times. Her face was the color of strawberries by the time she managed to get inside the camper. Dad climbed onto the hood next and handed Millicent up to her.
“Rain!” Millicent said happily. By now the rain was coming down in sheets. We were all soaked.
“You and Freddy get in your tent!” Mom shouted down. “It looks like we're in for a real storm.”
“Where's the ladder?” Jen yelled. Her voice was hard to hear over the downpour.
“I'm sure glad we set this up already,” Freddy said as we dove into our tent. His red hair was standing up in wet clumps.
“The ladder!” Jen shrieked again, stomping her foot in the mud. “Where is it?”
I stuck my head out. “Ixnay on the adderlay,” I said, relishing every glimpse of my wet sister. “Climb up on the hood and walk up the windshield just like Mom.”
Jen's mascara ran in streaks down her face. She looked ready to kill somebody.
“It's a different way of camping,” I said as she attempted to climb. “It's called ‘too bad you aren't sleeping in our tent.' ” Freddy and I doubled over with fiendish laughter.
Dad had jumped into our car to stay dry. Finally the rain stopped and he got out to attach the patio awning to the side of the car. It appeared he'd also forgotten to bring a hammer, however, so he pounded the awning stakes with the heel of his shoe. He pounded so hard that the heel flipped off and flew into the bucket of water he had collected for our dish washing. I wished I'd taken our video camera out of the back of the car but it was getting too dark to use it anyway. Too bad. It would have made a great blackmail film when I got to be a teenager.
Dad finished attaching the awning by using our iron skillet for a hammer. At least he had a dry place to cook. He was determined to make us dinner on our first night in the campground. I had to admire his persistence.
“Jason,” he called. “Get me the stove. I'm going to cook us the best meal we've ever eaten.” I crawled out of my nice dry spot and dragged the stove over to him. It felt slimy and wet and it was covered in mud.
“Do you think the rain's gone for good?” I said, looking at the black sky. It didn't look quite so angry anymore.
He turned his palm upward and shrugged. “Looks like the worst is over,” he said. Then, as if we hadn't just been through the rainstorm of the century, he put on his apron. “Nothing like fried potatoes and bacon out on the open range,” he said. “Just wait until you hear potatoes sizzling.” He smacked his lips.
But instead of potatoes sizzling I heard rain falling. I dove back into the tent. I had to hand it to Dad. He was covered with rain and mud and he'd lost a shoe while putting his kitchen in place. His brown hair hung like wet strings in his eyes and his glasses kept sliding down his nose, but he was still trying to peel potatoes.
Mom stuck her head out of the camper. “Forget dinner, Pat,” she called down to Dad. Her hair was bunched into soggy ringlets. “The only thing that should be out on the open range in weather like this is cattle. Before you drown,” she said, “order pizza. We'll cook tomorrow night.”
“The cell phone needs charging,” Dad said. “Besides, we're out in the woods, Sarah. Pizza deliveries don't come out this far.”
“Use the office phone,” she said. “Tell them you'll give a tip. A big one!”
Dad folded up the lawn chairs and covered the cooler and the rest of our camping gear with a big plastic tarp. Uncle Dan had told him
to take one just in case we ran into rain. Ran into rain? We were in a Texas gully washer.
It rained so hard I thought we should be sleeping in our bathing suits. Freddy and I didn't want to read by flashlight and there was no TV. The rain pounded so hard that it was impossible for us to hear my portable radio. We went over trivia questions instead. Freddy was raring to go as usual.
“What's the highest peak in the continental U.S.?” he yelled.
“Mount Whitney,” I yelled back.
“How long does it take to climb the Himalayas?”
“About as long as it took Mom to climb up our windshield,” I said, laughing at my own joke.
“How long, Jason?”
“It takes three to four months from the northeastern side.”
“Why would you need a whingo?” he said.
“Beats me. I don't know. Why would I need a whingo?”
If you played quidditch you'd need one,” he said. “Better write that one down.” He took a breath. “Which animal makes no sound?”
“The giraffe,” I said, wondering why.
“How many notes are there in an octave?”
“Eight.”
I looked out of our tent from time to time to check on things. Water gushed in the ditches beside the dirt road. A raging river appeared out of nowhere. We zipped up our sleeping bags and lay still on the air mattresses, listening to the downpour. After Dad had covered everything, he scrambled up the windshield and crawled into the camper to wait out the downpour with Mom and the girls. It took him five tries before he finally made it inside their little tent. He would join Freddy and me when he was ready to sleep.
Then the hailstones hit. The noise sounded like someone was outside our tent with machine guns. The rat-atat-tat was deafening. Hail pelted our tent. Our car. Our lawn chairs and every single bit of camping equipment we had unpacked. And when it got through with us, it started on the trees. There wasn't a leaf in sight. It moved to the RVs and beat on them as hard as it could. I looked outside. The ground was covered with hail the size of jelly beans. The wind blew so hard that if I'd been flying a kite, I would have been airborne. The hail stopped after about three minutes but the wind and rain continued. I was afraid it would blow the camper off our car and my parents would be lost forever, but the camper stayed intact. It was a real trouper.
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