“Passwords are too exclusive,” I said. “So we’re not doing that anymore, remember? Re-read the proclamation we all signed on your way in.”
“Okay! I love the agreement!”
I shook my head. You can’t stop Hunter’s enthusiasm.
As Hunter took a minute to read the framed proclamation that hung on the wall next to the door, I watched my cousin-and-now-roomie, Kendall, stroll up the small hill toward the Lickety Split. It was funny to watch her change the angle of her head to point toward the breeze so that her straight brown hair could flow evenly back behind her shoulders.
She held Eleanor Rigby—her black miniature poodle that she rescued from the animal shelter. She took the name from a Beetle’s song that talks about lonely people. One day last month, our Jr. high group from church went to help pull some weeds at the shelter, and then we all ventured in to see the pups. Ellie and Kendall hit it off immediately—and now Eleanor Rigby isn’t lonely anymore.
Hazel Mae ran down the stairs when she spotted Ellie.
“Hey, you could have played with her at the house earlier, instead of escaping to Madison’s house to get me in trouble,” I said, chuckling a little.
“Kendall’s here,” I said. “We can start the meeting.” I smiled and turned to enter the Lickety Split. We had a lot to talk about.
CHAPTER 3
Canine Carnival
So, Allie . . .” Lola grabbed a donut hole from Ruby’s basket, chomped a bite, and swallowed. “We all know you’re going to be voted Student Project Manager for the carnival this year. What’s the theme going to be?”
“It’s not a done deal yet,” I said. “I still have to give the speech on Monday. I may chicken out.”
“Yeah, and the boys might not vote for her,” Hunter said.
An orange “throw” pillow shot from Kendall’s hand across the room to where Hunter sat on an orange Adirondack chair.
“Hey, I didn’t say I wouldn’t vote for her! We have a lot of boys at the school, that’s all. You need to present a theme that they’ll like too. So don’t pick princesses or glitter ducks . . .”
I put my hand out. “How about dogs?”
Hunter’s face lit up. “Dogs? That’ll work. I love dogs. Most guys love dogs too!” Hunter’s dog, a brown-and-white corgi named T-Rex, was adopted from the shelter just a few days after Kendall got Ellie.
Ruby smiled. “What about dogs?”
I petted Hazel Mae, who seemed to like the idea too. “Well, how about having a Canine Carnival and Dog Show, with all the proceeds going to the animal shelter? That place needs some upgrading.”
Lola put both hands over her heart. “Oh, Allie, that’s a beautiful idea. You’ll be voted the Student Project Manager for sure with that one.”
Every year, Ouachita Middle School holds an end-of-the-year carnival that benefits an organization in town. The faculty advisor for the project, Mrs. Mellon, who is the nicest, most caring teacher anyone has ever met, started the tradition ten years ago, during her very first year of teaching. The student body always elects an eighth-grader as the Student Project Manager for the event, and that student, who I hoped would be me, works with Mrs. Mellon, an appointed committee of students, and the rest of the kids at the school to pull off something spectacular.
But first I needed to give an outstanding speech, one that would get the students excited about my idea, and as I looked out at my amazing cousins, I decided they would have to be involved.
“So, I’m thinking that I need you all to help me with the speech.”
Kendall put Ellie down and she looked at me through narrowed eyes. “I’m only really good at writin’ songs . . .”
“I don’t need you all to write it. I need you to be in it. With your dogs.”
Hunter jumped up and pumped a fist in the air. “Oh, yeah! T-Rex will win the election for you.”
All our dogs had come from the animal shelter. Ellie and T-Rex were the newest additions. Hazel Mae had been around for a few years, and Lola and Ruby had adopted twin chocolate labs, Max and Monet, from the shelter when they were puppies.
“Has T-Rex learned the Catapult yet?” I asked.
All Carroway dogs love jumping on the huge trampoline in Ruby and Lola’s front yard. So, one day, we taught them all how to jump off a mini-trampoline through a hula hoop. Hazel Mae can do a roll and land on her feet. We call it the “Carroway Catapult.”
Hunter scrunched up his face. “Not yet.”
“Hmm.” I crossed my arms, tapped my foot, and thought a minute. “Maybe T-Rex can add some comedy to the routine. I was thinking of having our dogs do the Carroway Catapult during my speech, and then I’ll tell everyone that we’re having a “Spectacular Dog Trick Competition” at the carnival. Anyone can enter, and we can offer to bring in a dog-training expert a few weeks earlier to show the kids some tricks they can teach their dogs. What do you think?”
“I love the idea!” Ruby said. “Max has been getting lazy. He needs to learn some new tricks.”
“Would you like me to sew some pink bows for the dogs to wear for the big speech?” Lola asked. “Well, except for T-Rex and Max.”
“How about some pink and green camo bandannas instead,” I said. “And we’ll meet later at your house to practice the Catapult to make sure they can all still do it.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Hunter said. Then he got up and walked over to the basket of donuts that Ruby had set on the writing desk.
“Hey, what’s this?” Hunter held up Madison’s birthday invite.
“Madison invited me to her birthday party,” Lola said. “And I’m not sure what to do, since I’m the only Carroway she invited.”
Hunter shrugged. “Why not go? I mean, she’s new to the neighborhood, and she needs friends, right? Maybe she’ll decide to like all of us if you’re nice to her.”
“I’m pretty sure she’ll never like me,” I said.
Hunter waved a finger in the air. “Never say never. She could end up being your best friend someday, Allie.”
We were all quiet for a minute. Hunter’s approach was kind and sensible. But we were talking about Madison Doonsberry here!
Plus, can an enemy ever end up being your best friend?
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Something smells fishy to me.”
Hunter laughed. “Maybe it’s because her dad stars in a fishing show!”
Hunter looked around at us like we were all crazy. “Oh, come on! Have you seen Lunker Law? It’s hilarious! Last night, Mr. Doonsberry was talking about some unusual laws in Louisiana, like you can’t have a fake wrestling match! So, he catches this huge catfish, right? And he flops around with it in the boat, and he keeps popping his head up and yelling, ‘This is not fake! I’m really wrestlin’ this fella!’ I was dying laughing!”
Kendall shook her head. “Hunter, we were all downstairs watchin’ Carried Away with the Carroways last night.”
“Yeah,” Lola said. “We thought you were up in your room doing homework.”
“Oh. Well, it was Friday night, so I took a little break and turned my TV on.”
“You should have come down with us,” I said.
“But I already know what’s on our show. I’m in it! Hey, speaking of that—aren’t we supposed to film today?”
“What? We’re filmin’ on a Saturday?” Kendall popped up.
I pulled my phone from my back pocket and checked the call sheet.
“Picnic lunch. Mamaw and Papaw’s house. Let’s go!”
CHAPTER 4
Picnic Pests
Some people think that if you’re in a reality TV show, cameras follow you around 24/7. But, nobody wants to experience that much of the Carroways.
So, instead, we have the cameras around more like 8/5. Eight hours a day, five days a week. Since the kids aren’t in every scene, and we have to go to school, for us it’s more like 4/3. And if something ridiculous happens when the cameras aren’t rolling, we reenact it for the cameras later. So you d
on’t miss the good stuff.
But on this particular Saturday, the cameras were rolling when the ridiculous happened.
Things were going smoothly. The scenes of us all debating about the best picnic lunch foods were hilarious. And the “super-long hike” we all took down to the river’s edge near Mamaw and Papaw’s was made not-so-boring by Hunter, who kept forgetting “important” things, so he had to run back to the house and then run to catch up. Important things, like the black cowboy hat he bought at the Dallas-Fort Worth airport, and his bucket of junk food and duct tape.
“You never know when that old gator will surface again,” he said with a grin.
When we finally arrived at our destination—which was only about a hundred yards from Mamaw and Papaw’s front porch—we spread the red-and-white checkered blankets out on the ground and plunked the baskets down.
Zeke, our director, seemed extra happy to finally get there. It’s not easy to move twenty-eight or so Carroways, even if it is only a hundred yards.
“Okay, Carroways, we’ll start with a prayer and the meal, and then we’ll film Papaw and the men doin’ a little fishin’ with the kids. How does that sound?”
“It sounds great if you give us time to eat,” I said. “I can’t sit still and do boring fishing if my stomach’s growling.”
No matter how hard I try, I can’t get used to the fishing part of fishing. And I really don’t like the baiting and the unhooking either. For that matter, the gutting and the cooking aren’t my favorite. And I only like to eat some kinds of fish. So, I guess fishing is pretty much a bust for me.
“Ruby and I want to fish too,” my Aunt Janie said.
“Did you bring poles?” Zeke asked.
Aunt Janie shook her head.
Zeke sighed. “Hannah, can you run back up to the house . . .”
“Sure, Zeke. I will return to the house for the SEVENTH time.” Hannah, who is our wardrobe manager—and also manages equipment, our food, and sometimes, our preteen attitudes—pushed her hand through her short and sassy red hair. “Good thing I wore my hiking boots today.”
She started back, but then turned to scowl at all of us. “Please, don’t wait for me.”
Zeke chuckled. “Hannah hates TV picnics.”
The film crew moved in, and Zeke worked with them to position us for the best lighting.
“I want to sit next to Hunter!” My six-year-old cousin Chase, Lola and Ruby’s little brother, scooted over and shoved himself between me and Hunter.
“That’s just because his bucket is always filled with cookies,” I said, and I reached in the bucket, pulled out a cookie, and popped it in my mouth.
“Allie,” Mom called from the next blanket over, where she sat with my dad and my aunts and uncles. “Show some discipline.”
I chomped and tried not to laugh. “Sorry, Mom. It’s hard for us ‘bayou people’.”
“Bayou people?”
I was about to explain when I was rudely interrupted by a loud boat. It was chugging and sputtering toward us on the river. A horrible sound.
But the sight of the thing was even more horrible.
It was a Doonsberry boat. Complete with Doonsberrys on board!
Another boat, containing a film crew, floated next to what appeared to be the broken one that Mr. Doonsberry, Parker, and Madison were riding in.
Mr. Doonsberry cut the engine. “I’m bringing her up over here, Ron!” He waved an arm and pointed toward our family’s private boat launch.
“Seems we got a party goin’ on,” my Papaw Ray said, and he rose from his picnic blanket, moaned and stretched a little, and walked toward the boat parade.
My mom and dad followed. Mamaw Kat stayed right where she was.
“Is that Andy Doonsberry? Hold on to your blankets kids, he may swipe ’em up and make boat canopies out of ’em.”
She yelled it loud enough for Mr. Doonsberry to hear, and he laughed out loud and put his hand up above his eyes to shade the sun. The boat floated forward with the river current just a bit—enough to bring it up next to the dock so the Doonsberrys could step out—and onto Carroway private property.
Mr. Doonsberry walked past everyone, over to Mamaw, and gave her a big hug.
“Now, Kat, are you going to hold me accountable for something I did when I was just a little boy?”
Mamaw hugged him back but then pushed him playfully away.
“Did you ask Jesus to forgive your sins yet?”
Mr. Doonsberry nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve been a Christian for three years. It took a while, but one day I remembered all the things you used to try to teach me, and I finally let the Lord have my heart.”
Mamaw shook her head. “Well, that’s a relief. Welcome home, Andy.”
Mr. Doonsberry grinned. “Thanks, Kat.”
Most of us were up off our blankets now. The little kids ran in circles, chasing each other, my preteen girl cousins chatted in a circle while munching on some of Hunter’s cookies, and Hunter took off to talk to Parker, who hung back near the disabled boat.
I stood alone, with my eye on Madison. She walked slowly over to the cousin circle, so I edged my way over there too.
My cousins parted to make room for Madison, and then me. Madison’s eyes glued on Lola, and she scanned her from head to toe.
“I love your outfit,” Madison said.
Lola smiled. “Thanks. I just threw a few things together.”
“Can you come to my party?”
It was an awkward moment, with all of us “non-invites” standing around.
Lola’s eyes darted over to meet mine. I gave her a tiny shrug and a half-grin.
She hesitated, looked down at the ground, and then over toward Hunter. She cleared her throat.
“Um . . . sure. I can come.”
Madison’s face lit up and she stepped back from the circle.
“Oh, I’m so honored, Lola! You’re going to love all my friends. And, FYI, I love your necklace.” Madison giggled. “Just a little hint for when you’re shopping for my gift.”
“So, you’re Andrew’s beautiful daughter.” Mamaw pushed her way into our circle, right next to Madison. “I’m Mamaw Kat.” Mamaw grinned and looked Madison right in the eyes. Madison turned away.
“I can’t believe my dad used to live way out here,” Madison said, as she gestured toward the buildings that make up Mamaw and Papaw’s property. “Everything near the river seems so . . . run down.”
Oh no, you did not just rudely turn your back and then say that to Mamaw.
Mamaw nodded and waved her hand in the air. “Oh, honey, you should have seen it before we did the extreme makeover!”
My cousins laughed, but I steamed on the inside. How dare she come chugging up here in her broken-down boat and insult my family!
“WHAT is going on here? I just go for a couple of poles and the whole day falls apart?” Hannah had made her way back from the house with some pink fishing poles.
She turned to Madison. “Hey, Red. Where’d you come from?”
Madison turned toward Hannah and held out her hand. “My name’s Madison Doonsberry. I floated in on that boat over there. Maybe you’ve heard of my dad? Andrew Doonsberry? Star of Lunker Law?”
Hannah transferred the poles to her left hand and reached out to shake Madison’s.
“Oh, so you’re the rivals! I guess I’m supposed to hate your guts, but the show’s hilarious! Hey—do you think we can catch a lunker on these girly poles?”
“Lunker” is a term fishermen use to describe a big fish. No—a huge fish. The kind I hope I never catch when I’m forced to hold a fishing pole.
Madison put her hands on both cheeks. “I’m sorry to say this but . . .” she leaned forward and whispered, “I hate fishing.”
Oh. We have something in common.
“But, you could ask my dad. He’s the best fisherman around, and if you have any questions about the law, he can answer those too. He’s a brilliant attorney. He knows much more than just
those stupid Louisiana laws.”
I watched Mamaw’s eyebrows shoot up, and I wanted her to say something to defend our home state. Instead, she offered up some of her famous Louisiana hospitality.
“Madison, are you hungry? We have baskets filled with tasty food over here on the blankets.” Mamaw gestured to where our family had been sitting.
Madison grimaced and held a hand out. “No, thank you. I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Ummm, yeah. Too late.
“Plus, I’m sure Daddy and the crew will have the boat going real soon.” She put her hand to her throat and glanced over at the team that hovered around the disabled watercraft.
“Well, the boat’s dead.” My dad came over to give us that horrible news. “I’m goin’ into town to get some parts. I told everyone they could hang out here. We got enough food, right Kat?”
Mamaw smiled big. “We sure do. But let’s all head up to the house and eat there, what do you say? We can sit at real tables and then I can whip up somethin’ even more spectacular.”
I’m pretty sure I turned white, because I felt dizzy. I did not want Mad-girl in my grandparents’ house.
She apparently didn’t want to go either. She rushed over to her dad, and said something, her hands flailing in the air. Mr. Doonsberry pulled her aside, leaned over to look her in the eyes, and waggled his finger in her face. Madison kicked the ground, and dust rose in a cloud which floated in my direction. Then she turned and stomped up toward the house.
My cousins and the rest of the family followed. I hung back, considering whether I should spend the rest of the afternoon out on the porch swing.
Mamaw came up behind me and spoke softly into my ear. “Allie-girl, you better start prayin’ for that girl, but keep your eyes wide open. She’s got a chip on her shoulder the size of Louisiana.”
CHAPTER 5
Speech Impediment
I usually don’t get nervous speaking in front of people. But right before going up to give my Student Project Manager campaign speech at school on Monday, I broke out in a sweat, my palms got all clammy, and my hands shook.
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