Then, just as quickly as it had started, the storm stopped. The rain turned to a drizzle and it felt like a simple evening shower. That was what Texas weather did best. Kept you on your toes.
“Are you kids all right?” Dad called down to us. I poked my head through the tent flaps.
“Sure,” I said back to him as droplets of water landed on my face. “What's a little pitter-patter?”
“What a mess,” Freddy said the next morning. The sky was as dark as a licorice stick.
I moved my flashlight across the ground. The redand-white awning lay in a puddle of mud. Leaves were scattered everywhere. Lawn chairs were turned upside down and toys were blown across the road.
“Yeah. Maybe we can start by drying some of this stuff off,” I said. I picked up the overturned camp stools and stacked them next to the car.
I flashed my light on Clyde's RV and couldn't help wondering if they had eaten all their fried chicken. I was starving. They had probably watched videos and eaten a nice dinner. “I bet if we had asked we could have seen Masquerade Mania on their TV.”
“Too late now,” Freddy said.
Our route today was going to take us into Las Cruces, New Mexico. Then sometime in the afternoon we'd be in Arizona. I let my flashlight take one more sweep around the park, surveying the damage. Across the way a boy was walking a golden retriever. I felt a pang. The RWU brochure had advertised a fax machine. There was a light on in the office. I still had on my jeans and I felt in my pocket for my money.
“I'll be back in a second,” I told Freddy. “I'm going to send Carey Anne a fax about Patches.”
“Tell her to leave my stuff alone,” he said. “I set a trap for her. If she opens my door, boom! She's a dead duck.”
“What kind of a dead duck?” I said.
“A wet dead duck,” he said. “There are water balloons waiting for her if she opens my door.”
“You've been around Amberson too long,” I said.
I ran to the office barefoot so my shoes wouldn't get muddy. The man with the silver bullhorn sat in a chair behind his desk. His hair was sopping. Muddy boots sat by the door. His bare feet were propped up on the desk. He was watching a rerun of I Love Lucy and laughing like he was seeing it for the first time.
“Sir?” I said. “Can I use your fax?”
“It'll cost you two bucks,” he said.
“I've got money.”
He shoved a piece of paper at me and handed me a pen, then turned back to his program. It was the one where Lucy and Ethel climb over Jimmy Stewart's fence and the Japanese gardener calls the cops when he discovers them by the swimming pool. It was one of my favorite episodes. I watched it for a second and then I wrote a short message to Carey Anne. I asked the man for the number of the camp's fax so she could fax me back.
“I'm over in slot three-oh-three,” I said, pointing in the direction of our camper.
“I know where you are,” he said, not bothering to look at me. “Everyone in the campground knows where you are.”
“If my friend faxes me back would you let me know?” I asked. “It's important.”
“Yeah, sure,” he said absently, taking the paper and my money.
There wasn't much else I could do. I ran back to our camp. My feet were covered in mud and the bottoms of my jeans were wet. There were paper towels in the car and I grabbed some so I wouldn't get mud in my sleeping bag. I checked on my allosaurus head to be sure it hadn't gotten wet and then I crawled back into our tent.
Before long, I saw Jen climb down the windshield. Mom slid Millicent down to her.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, “Freddy and I will help clean up and we can be out of here before you know it.” She looked like a soggy mess but she managed a smile. She wiped off the lawn chairs and picked up things that were scattered around the campsite. She was a real sport.
Dad trudged back from the bathhouse. “Aloha, folks. We'll eat at a Muffin Man restaurant on the highway since everything's still wet. But tonight I'll fix a real campers' dinner.” Jen grabbed Millicent's hand and headed for the bathhouse.
“Don't be too long,” I told her. “We're leaving as soon as possible.” She gave me one of her looks.
“Hey,” I said, “you forgot your orange shower cap.” She stuck out her tongue and kept walking. It didn't take long to get things in order. Some of the people around us began to stir. Freddy and I dressed in our tent.
The man in the site next to us came out on his patio. “That was quite a storm we had last night, wasn't it?”
“I've seen worse,” Dad said, picking up our camping gear.
“The missus and I were afraid you'd blow away in that camper of yours. How did you get along?”
“Couldn't have been better. This is our little miracle of miracles,” Dad said, patting the side of the camper.
“Guess your car didn't fair too poorly,” the man said, raising an eyebrow. “I was afraid with all that hail it would get ruined for sure.”
Dad rubbed his hand over the hood of our SUV. There were hundreds of pockmarks on it. Poor Dad.
“Camping's always an adventure,” Dad said with a nod. I knew he was sick about it but he didn't let on how he felt.
“Let's go,” I said. “The sooner we're on our way the sooner we'll get to the Pacific Ocean.”
“I'm with you, Jason,” Dad said. “Here come the girls. We can get going.” I jumped into the back. Freddy crawled in next to me and Jen got in on her side.
Just as we were pulling out of the campgrounds the man with the bullhorn came running out of his office. “Hey, kid,” he called. His voice boomed out through his bullhorn. “You got an answer to your fax.”
“Stop the car,” I said as Dad rolled down the window. “What did it say?”
“ ‘Dear Mania Man,' ” he boomed out. “ ‘Hope you have nice galoshes.' ”
She didn't even mention Patches! Next time I'd send an e-mail and ask her to get something for me out of Freddy's room. Boom!
New Mexico looked different from Texas. Mom's packet said it was called the Land of Enchantment. Most of the countryside was dry and barren. There were adobe homes out in the fields and along the highway. We'd see children riding bikes and playing tag when we passed through a town. All kids seemed the same to me. They liked having a good time.
We had turned our Texas packets in to Mom when we arrived in El Paso. I wondered if she had read them by flashlight in the Texas storm. She had passed out our New Mexico packets as soon as we got on the highway. “All of you did well with Texas,” she said. “I read them last night by flashlight.”
I knew it! “But you need to look up New Mexico answers because some of the Texas answers were wrong.”
“What was the date on the Alamo anyway?” Jen asked.
“You should have it looked up,” I said haughtily. “You had to find out for yourself.”
“You didn't,” she said. “You skipped around. I saw you.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Did not.”
Mom leaned over the back of her seat. “Listen, you two,” she said, “the one with the most correct answers gets to put an extra suggestion in the box. I think you should stop bickering and start reading.” That was enough incentive for us.
New Mexico has the oldest road in the United States. What's it called? I was stumped. I put a red check mark next to that question.
Freddy's grandparents had a summer home in Red River, New Mexico. He'd been there tons of times. I went once with him but I got altitude sickness and I never wanted to go again. The altitude was 8,750 feet! It was too high for me.
When did New Mexico achieve statehood? I opened the book about New Mexico. I guess Freddy knew all the answers because he didn't ask to see the book once. Jen was looking at her ballet magazine. I bet she planned on peeking at my answers later. I covered my paper so she couldn't lean over the seat and take a look. That would serve her right.
“We just crossed the state line fo
r Arizona,” Dad said. “Who knows the biggest tourist attraction in this state?”
“The Grand Canyon!” we all yelled.
“It's too far north for us to see it,” he added. I was disappointed. I wanted to see the Grand Canyon. “Not to worry,” Dad said. “Our next camping trip we'll make it a point to go there.” My stomach did two flips. Our next camping trip? No way was I gonna do this again. Freddy and I were already making plans to talk Dad into selling the Camp'otel to the kids who had bought our neighborhood newspaper. We'd cut them a good deal.
We pulled into the campground at the end of the day. At least I was more used to the stares now.
Freddy and I put up our tent while Jen and Mom set up the picnic table. Dad put up the awning. Millicent and Lulu sat contentedly on the camp stools and ate cookies. “One for you,” Millicent said. “Three for me. One for you. Two for me.” I kept my eye on her in case she decided to wander off and get lost. Jen was scanning the place for boys. I could tell by the way she was looking it all over.
The sun was setting and the sky looked orange and red. Not a cloud in sight. Dad started a fire. Mom left Dad to cook and started working her magic with the people who camped near us. I heard laughter from across the way and I knew she was entertaining them with some of her stories.
Freddy started to inflate his air mattress. “You lucked out last night,” I said. “Mom's sing-along was a washout.”
He grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “I was thinking the same thing.” He looked at his jeans. They were covered with mud from the night before. “We look like one big mud pie,” he said.
As much as I hated to admit it, we were going to have to go into the public showers with total strangers and wash the mud from between our toes. “Guess we might as well get it over with,” I said. “Showers, here we come.”
We each had buckets where we kept our bathroom stuff. I had intended to refuse to wear the goofy yellow flipflops Mom had bought for me, but the threat of athlete's foot convinced me otherwise. Freddy and I piled our stuff together and headed for the showers. When we got to the building I heard earsplitting laughter.
“What's going on in there?” Freddy asked. I shrugged. Before we got the chance to go inside, Mom came flying around the corner of the building.
“Boys,” she said. “I'm glad I caught the two of you. When you're finished with your showers bring all of your muddy clothes over to the Laundromat. If I can grab a spare machine I'm going to do wash tonight.”
“But Mom! I'll have on my robe,” I complained. “People don't wander around wearing robes and yellow flip-flops. There's a law against it. I read about it before we left home.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “Your muddy clothes are due at the Laundromat in ten minutes. No excuses.” I looked around but Freddy had already gone inside. I ran back to our car and grabbed my allosaurus head. No one would know I was the kid from the silly camper.
The sign on the door of the men's showers said BUCKAROOS. I didn't know why people thought those signs were cute. I hated them. They put those same stupid signs in some of the Tex-Mex restaurants in Texas.
I put the allosaurus on my head and walked into the bathhouse. It was a perfect fit, and since there was no peanut butter inside it I knew I'd have no trouble getting it off. The Buckaroo shower was what I had expected: hot, steamy, and smelling like Lysol. I gagged. No one noticed me at first so I took a quick look at the strangers standing around. They were seasoned campers. They didn't act at all intimidated by standing around half naked with total strangers. I didn't see Freddy anywhere.
At the sink stood Mr. Neat and Tidy. He was trimming his mustache with a tiny pair of scissors. Over to the side stood Mr. I Don't Care. He reached into his mouth, yanked out a set of false teeth, and set them on the sink. “Can't forget my molars,” he said to no one in particular.
Gross, I said to myself. On the wet concrete floor was Mr. Please Don't Let Me Get Fat. He was doing push-ups and he was huffing and puffing worse than the ladies I had seen in my grandmother's aerobics class the time I went with her.
A shower door opened and out came Mr. Friendly Cowboy. He wore red-and-white-striped boxers, stovepipe cowboy boots, and a white ten-gallon hat, and he had a towel wrapped around his neck. He looked my way. “Well, I'll be a dadburned polecat if it isn't Tyrannosaurus rex.” Everyone looked at me. The cowboy tipped his hat.
Before he could say anything else I ducked into a shower stall. The latch was broken but the door closed tight. I put my flip-flops under the door so people would know my stall was occupied. Then I undressed. The wooden door had cracks in it and I kept a close watch out for any peeping Toms. Thankfully everyone seemed too busy showering, shaving, and laughing to be bothered with me. My dinosaur head came right off. I put it on the bench and stepped into the shower.
When the water came on it was ice cold! “I knew it!” I muttered. I made a mental note to share that juicy piece of information with Miss Ballerina of the World. I planned to write the RWU Campground Association a letter telling them that they advertised falsely in their brochures. I intended to sue. I had hopped in and out of the shower in record time when I heard a familiar voice.
“I'm looking for two twelve-year-old boys. It's my son and his friend.”
I wrapped my robe around myself, put on my allosaurus head, and opened the shower door. I marched out in front of everyone as if it was a natural thing for a dinosaur to be in the men's bathhouse. Dad looked shocked. I could see his face through the mouth of the allosaurus head. He wasn't smiling. Freddy opened up his shower stall and came out, too. He gaped at me.
“What's that?” someone said as I walked toward the outside door. Dad and Freddy followed me.
“Don't bother about him,” Mr. Friendly Cowboy said, “he's just a dinosaur who dropped by for a shower.” When I got outside I started running. It was hard to run fast in flip-flops and a dinosaur head but I managed. I didn't wait to hear what Dad had to say. Freddy was right behind me.
We raced to the Laundromat to find Mom. Two ladies screamed when they saw me but I didn't care. Millicent and Lulu were playing with a small boy. The Laundromat was worse than the men's showers. There was water all over the floors and one dryer squeaked like the wheels on the grocery carts at our supermarket.
“Jason, take that head off and go put it back in the car,” Mom said, laughing. She sat on a table where people folded clean laundry. Our clothes were in a pile beside her. I threw my muddy clothes down. Freddy pitched his in the pile, too.
“Aren't you hot in here?” I said, feeling sweat running down my neck.
“I would be if I had that silly head on. Go take it off ! I'll be back as soon as we have clean clothes.”
The dryers put out so much heat that I felt like I was going to pass out. “Let's get out of here,” I said to Freddy.
“Why are you wearing your costume, anyway?” he said. “You don't want to ruin it, do you? Have you forgotten? It's the only one you have.”
“I didn't want anyone to recognize me,” I told him. “I don't like people staring at our Camp'otel. I wanted to be inconspicuous. I don't want them to know I belong to it.”
“Well, that's one way of being inconspicuous all right,” he said. “Wearing a dinosaur head to the men's shower. That'll fool them for sure.” He laughed.
“C'mon,” I said. “Let's get back to our camp before I get into any more trouble.”
We made it back to camp and put my dinosaur head in the back of the SUV. Mom came back lugging our muddy clothes in her arms. Millicent and Lulu were with her.
“The washers are all taken,” she said. “I'll have to do laundry early in the morning before we leave.”
“Let's eat,” Dad said. He and Jen had set the table. “I didn't cook any dinosaur food, Jason, but would you settle for fried potatoes and hot dogs?” I filled my plate.
“Smells good,” I said. “Allosauruses eat anything.” After dinner, Freddy and I dressed again so we could go to the basketball cour
ts.
“Michael Jordan,” Freddy yelled, pitching the ball to me. I dribbled the ball down the court and made a slam dunk. “Yes!” I yelled, catching the ball when it fell through the net. I jumped up and did it again.
“Chicago Bulls superstar,” I said. “Everybody knows that one.”
“Name two L.A. Lakers,” he said.
“Not us,” I said. I knew most of the players but playing basketball and thinking at the same time was hard. “Wait a minute,” I said, stopping to gather my wits. I leaned over and rested my hands on my knees to catch my breath.
“No waiting,” he said. “You're gonna have to be fast.”
“Shaquille O'Neal,” I said. Then my mind went blank. My hands felt sweaty. I couldn't call another name. I dribbled the ball in circles. “Shaquille O'Neal,” I said again, wiping the sweat from my face.
“Kobe Bryant,” he yelled. “Faster, Jase. C'mon, you gotta be faster.”
“That's it,” I said. “I'm done. My brain is asleep.”
But Freddy wouldn't give up.
“Name five dinosaurs,” he said when we had crawled into our tent.
I groaned. Then I thought about the great prizes I'd win on the game show and the possibility of getting a real girlfriend when I got home. I named dinosaurs as fast as I could. I even threw in some dinosaur characteristics.
“Saltasaurus, covered in thumbnail armor; psittacosaurus, with its strong beak; apatosaurus, which ate vegetation from the treetops; triceratops, with its three horns, and stegosaurus—huge body, small head.”
“What about the camposaurus?” he said.
“Huh?” I said. Then I realized he was joking.
“I'll give you a hint about the oldest road in New Mexico,” Freddy said.
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