Bagels the Brave

by Joan Betty Stuchner

  “Maybe he’ll phone back,” says Dad.

  Before bedtime, we have a glass of milk in the kitchen while Mom reads to us from Peter Pan. Becky and I both like that story. It reminds us of Bagels’s first acting gig.

  My favorite line is Second star to the right, and straight on till morning.

  When we go to bed, Mom closes the door to the kitchen.

  “So Bagels won’t escape through the open kitchen window,” she says.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Never Trust the Weather Forecast

  Becky hits the top bunk. I snuggle into the bottom bunk. Mom shuts the door. She thinks it will keep Bagels out.

  I’m tired. My eyelids are getting heavy. As I start to close my eyes, I see a hairy face at the window. It grins at me. It has big yellow teeth. They look like blank mahjong tiles.

  Wow, I’m so tired my imagination’s playing tricks on me.

  “Weroo, weroo.”

  I dream there’s a dog howling in my ear.

  The dream dog stands on my chest. I can’t breathe.

  I open my eyes. It’s not a dream. It’s Bagels.

  Bagels and Becky have joined me in the bottom bunk.

  “What are you guys doing?” I say. I reach under my pillow and take out my alligator flashlight. Becky and Bagels are staring at me. They look scary.

  “It’s raining on our bed,” whispers Becky.

  “That’s impossible,” I say. “The weather forecast said clear skies.”

  “My bed’s wet,” she says.

  I reach up and touch the top bunk. It’s wet.

  “Becky,” I say, “are you sure you didn’t…” “

  I’m sure,” she growls. She hands me Blanky. It’s wet too.

  “Maybe Bagels?” I suggest.

  “Grrr,” says Bagels.

  “No,” says Becky. “It’s rain.”

  Then I hear it. The rain is coming down pretty hard.

  I also hear Mom and Dad in the living room. The light’s on in there.

  Becky, Bagels and I head for the door. I step in a puddle.

  In the living room, Mom and Dad are standing under a picnic umbrella. Mom’s wearing a long nightshirt that says Books are a Girl’s Best Friend on the front. Dad’s wearing his Spider-Man pajamas.

  Mom says, “Looks like the weatherman lied.”

  Dad smiles a fake smile. “This is just what the old pioneers had to endure. Is this fun, kids, or what?”

  “Yip, yip, grr-ip!” Bagels chases raindrops.

  “What shall we do?” says Mom.

  I’m just about to say something when Bagels rushes to the front door. He growls.

  “Rrrrr, grrr, gwrr.”

  “What now?” says Dad.

  Bagels backs away from the door. He does a backflip, then runs back at the door and starts to scratch on it.

  “Grr, rrr, weroo, roo!”

  We all huddle under Mom’s umbrella.

  “Listen,” she says. We listen.

  “What?” says Dad.

  “Didn’t you hear it?”

  We all shake our heads.

  “Hear what?” I ask.

  Mom frowns. “I heard something out there. Footsteps. Heavy breathing. When Bagels barked, I thought it ran away.”

  “A bear?” Becky asks.

  “This isn’t bear country,” says Dad.

  “Why don’t you check, Dad?” says Becky.

  “I’m not checking.” He looks at Mom. “Why don’t you check?”

  “I’m not checking,” says Mom.

  Becky and I look at each other. No chance.

  Bagels rushes from the front door to the kitchen door. He barks. He does more backflips.

  Becky says, “Bagels wants to protect us. Brave Bagels.”

  Becky’s forgotten about the sheep.

  Finally, Dad agrees to check outside. He puts on his baseball cap. He takes the picnic umbrella.

  I grab Bagels as Dad opens the front door. He squirms. Bagels, not Dad. Dad steps outside. He opens the umbrella. The wind blows it inside out, and Dad falls into a big mud puddle outside the door.

  He gets up, then falls down a second time.

  The third time he says, “There’s no one out here. May I come in now?” He doesn’t sound happy. Mom says he can come in.

  Dad has a hot shower. “At least something’s working,” says Mom.

  I’ve put Bagels down on the floor. He goes back to running and backflipping from door to door. We leave him to it. Becky and I sit under the picnic umbrella, playing Snakes and Ladders. We’re starting to think this is kind of an adventure.

  Dad comes back wearing a tracksuit.

  “How are we going to sleep when the roof ’s leaking?” he asks.

  “I almost forgot,” I say. I rush to my room. I head for the big duffel bag.

  A minute later I’m back in the living room with two tents.

  Becky shrieks. “We’re going camping after all.”

  Dad shakes his head. “Those tents won’t stand up to that wind.”

  “We can pitch the tents in here, Dad.”

  I press a button on each tent. They pop open like giant umbrellas.

  “The kid is a genius,” says Dad. I blush. Mom brings in spare blankets and pillows.

  Dad and I are in one tent. Mom and Becky are in the other tent. Bagels stops running around. The imaginary bear must have gone.

  I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mystery Burglar

  Next morning, I’m awake early. Bagels and Dad are both snoring next to me.

  I poke my head out of the tent.

  The sun is shining again.

  At breakfast, Mom admits the tent wasn’t so bad.

  Bagels is licking his kibble dish around the kitchen again.

  “By the way,” says Mom. “Which one of you played a trick on me?”

  “What trick?” asks Dad.

  “Someone took the peanut-butter jar. And the jar of Great-Aunt Minnie’s homemade kosher pickles. They were right next to the sink. Now come on—own up.”

  Everyone stares at Mom. I didn’t take them. Becky didn’t take them.

  “Sorry, don’t like peanut butter,” says Dad.

  “Hmm,” says Mom. “That’s odd.”

  Mom takes the wet bedding outside, along with Blanky, the Spider-Man pajamas and the baseball cap. She hangs them on tree branches out back.

  “What’ll we do today?” asks Dad. “Might as well take advantage of the sunshine. There’s a rowboat and life jackets behind the cabin.”

  Sounds like a plan. Only first we have to mop the wet floors.

  We’ve just finished when Dad’s phone starts to play “All Shook Up.”

  He answers.

  “Hello, Bernstein summer residence.” He listens, then says to us, “It’s the grunting guy again.” He looks at the screen. “It’s your mom’s number, Josh.” He hands me the phone.

  “Ask him to please return my phone,” says Mom.

  Bagels looks at the phone. He frowns. He growls.

  The phone goes dead.

  Mom comes back and announces that she’s going to bake Becky’s birthday cake. “Before anything else goes missing.”

  “So why don’t the rest of us go into the forest and see if we can find your mom’s phone?” says Dad.

  “Don’t run into any trouble,” says Mom.

  She looks at Bagels. “Take care of the family.” Bagels chases his tail, then grins at Mom. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Mom says.

  I put Bagels on the leash in case we run into any scary lambs.

  Becky and I try to retrace our steps. Dad follows.

  We must take a wrong turn. The forest is thicker here.

  Becky stops and points. “What’s that?”

  Carved into the hillside is a doorway without a door.

  “It’s a cave,” says Dad.

  Bagels growls. He’s angry. He wiggles his bum as if he’s ready to att
ack. That’s a cat move he must have learned from Creamcheese.

  We head for the cave.

  “Hello,” I say at the entrance. No answer. Bagels sniffs the ground. He growls. He smells something, but it’s not sheep. He’s angry, not scared.

  The cave is dark inside. I switch on my alligator flashlight.

  “Well,” says Dad, “will you look at that.”

  It’s an empty peanut-butter jar. There’s also an unopened jar of pickles. I pick it up. It’s labeled Great-Aunt Minnie’s Homemade Kosher Pickles.

  “Those are our pickles!” Becky says.

  “I see that,” I say. The lids on Great-Aunt Minnie’s pickle jars are always too tight. Mom usually has to run hot water on them before she can open them. Even Dad’s not strong enough. That’s because Great-Aunt Minnie can bench-press two hundred pounds.

  Bagels is still growling. He pulls on the leash.

  I pick up the pickle jar. I look around. This cave is a mess.

  There are slices of old salami on the ground. They don’t smell so good. There’s also a scattering of hot-dog wrappers and empty bread bags.

  “I think we’ve found our food thief,” says Dad. “Let’s go back to Leaky Laurels.”

  “Forest Glade,” Becky and I say together.

  “Right,” says Dad.

  Bagels is the only one who doesn’t want to leave. He’s looking at the back of the cave and growling. Something’s there, I just know it. But what?

  All the way back to the cabin, I have the feeling someone is watching us. Bagels feels it too. He’s walking backward. Something is very strange.

  And I still don’t have Mom’s cell phone.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Happy Birthday, Becky (Almost)

  The cabin smells of baking.

  Dad hands Mom the pickles.

  “We found them in a cave,” I tell her. “The peanut butter was there too. But someone ate it.”

  “While you were gone,” says Mom, “I bumped into a couple from another cabin. They told me there’s been a lot of food stolen lately. Even some clothes. Maybe there’s a homeless person living in that cave. If so, we should help him out.”

  Dad agrees. “Poor guy, having to steal food.”

  “Meanwhile,” says Mom, “take a look at Becky’s birthday cake.”

  We head for the kitchen.

  The cake is on the table.

  “Whoa,” says Becky when she sees it.

  It’s chocolate on the outside and Mom says it has vanilla icing and custard on the inside. On top is Becky’s name in pink icing and a candle shaped like a number six.

  I get out my camera and take a photo. It’s lucky I do.

  “Let’s leave it here so the icing sets,” Mom says. “How about we go boating now and then eat the cake later?”

  Dad looks at Bagels. “You’d better stay here,” he says. “There aren’t enough life jackets.”

  “He can wear mine,” says Becky.

  “Absolutely not,” says Mom.

  Dad closes the kitchen door so Bagels won’t get in.

  We’re halfway across the lake when Becky asks, “Dad, why do they call it Sasquatch Lake?”

  “Just some silly story,” says Dad. “One of the old pioneers thought he saw a Sasquatch here years ago.”

  “What’s a Sasquatch?” I ask.

  “It’s supposed to be some creature that looks like a human but has hair all over its body,” says Mom. “Some guy even took a photo of one once. But it was fake.”

  “How did they know it was fake?” I ask.

  “Because,” says Dad, “the man who faked it eventually owned up to what he’d done.”

  “So there’s no such thing as a Sasquatch?” asks Becky.

  “I doubt it,” says Dad.

  I wonder.

  Just then we hear “All Shook Up.” Dad’s phone is beside him on the seat. He’s busy rowing, so I answer it.

  Mom’s number shows up on the screen.

  “Hello,” I say. I hear a grunt.

  I also hear Bagels barking in the background.

  Then the phone goes dead.

  “Dad,” I say, “we have to get back.”

  “Was it the guy who sounds like King Kong?” asks Dad.

  I nod. “And Bagels.”

  Dad rows us back to shore.

  As we get out of the boat, I hear Bagels.

  “Woof, grr, woof, gerrerr, smrfflllrr.”

  Dad pulls the boat onto the shore. “What’s with Bagels?” he says as they all take off their life jackets and throw them in the boat. All except me. I don’t want to waste any time.

  I run to the kitchen side of the cabin.

  I see someone heading for the forest.

  He’s wearing Dad’s Spider-Man pajamas, a baseball cap and a Hudson’s Bay blanket.

  “Hey,” I shout. The guy turns. His face is hairy. And I mean hairy. Only there’s white stuff all over it. And something that looks a lot like custard.

  He smiles. He has teeth like yellow mahjong tiles. He waves Becky’s Blanky at me before he disappears into the forest.

  “Dad,” I yell as I run into the cabin.

  Dad’s in the kitchen.

  “BAGELS!” he shouts.

  “Smrffllr?”

  Bagels is sitting on the kitchen table. His mouth is filled with cake.

  Becky lets out a wail of woe. “MY CAKE!”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Bagels Saves Dad

  “Bad dog,” says Dad.

  “It’s not Bagels,” I say.

  “You can’t fool me,” says Dad. “I’d know that dog anywhere.”

  “I mean Bagels isn’t guilty,” I say. “Someone got here before Bagels and ate most of the cake. Bagels is eating the leftovers.”

  Dad looks at me. “The kitchen door was closed.”

  Becky breaks the news. “Bagels can open doors, Dad.”

  “Bagels,” I say. I point to the open window. “Go get him.”

  Bagels cocks his head to one side. He looks at the window. He looks back at the cake leftovers. I can tell he’s torn.

  He makes the right choice.

  He leaps out of the window and heads for the forest. We all follow. Except we use the front door.

  “Wait for me,” shouts Becky. Dad picks her up and puts her on his shoulders. As they run ahead of me, I hear Becky saying, “Giddyup, Dad.”

  Running uphill is not as easy as you might think. Especially in a forest. Unless you’re a sheltie/Jack Russell/whippet.

  Bagels barks to let us know where he is. We soon reach him. He’s outside the cave—growling. I put him on the leash.

  Becky’s bedding is all over the place. Mom gathers it up.

  “Blanky’s not there,” says Becky. Dad sets her on the ground.

  “Grrrr,” says Bagels.

  “Josh,” says Dad, “before we go into this cave, I need to get something straight. Do you really think that someone climbed into our kitchen and ate most of Becky’s birthday cake? The same guy who has Mom’s cell phone?”

  I nod.

  “The homeless guy?” adds Mom.

  I nod again. “Except he’s not homeless. I think he lives in the cave.”

  “A cave is not a home,” says Mom.

  “Maybe not to us,” says Dad.

  And I think, That’s because we’re humans, Dad. But I don’t say it.

  Bagels is pulling on the leash. It’s now or never.

  As we head into the cave, Dad says, “Josh, let’s be careful.”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “We have Bagels.”

  Dad starts to say something. Then he changes his mind. Everyone follows Bagels and me into the cave.

  It’s empty.

  Except for the smelly mess of leftovers.

  Mom looks around. “It looks as if the mystery man isn’t here,” she says. Then she sniffs. “This cave stinks. I’m going back to the cabin. Who’s with me?”

  Dad and Becky are.

  But Bagels smel
ls something else. With his nose to the ground, he pulls on the leash.

  “I’ll be there soon, Dad,” I call as Bagels pulls harder.

  Bagels finds a smaller passage at the back of the cave. We zigzag down it.

  We go deeper into the hillside. It’s darker here. I switch on my alligator flashlight.

  Wait…I see an opening. What do you know! The cave has two entrances. Bagels runs faster. He’s practically dragging me.

  We reach the second entrance. There’s only one problem. I realize too late that this entrance has a ten-foot drop...

  …right into the lake.

  Lucky for me, I’m still wearing my life jacket—and Bagels is a good swimmer.

  “Josh! Bagels!” I hear my mother yelling from the shore.

  Bagels and I start to swim. Dad’s getting in the rowboat to rescue us.

  “Werooo,” says Bagels.

  Dad’s rowing like crazy. He reaches Bagels first, leans over and tries to grab him. He leans too far.

  Dad falls into the lake.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hi, Josh. Glubblub.”

  “Weroof?”

  That’s when Bagels and I learn…Dad can’t swim.

  Dad’s going down for the third time when Bagels bites into his jacket and heads for the shore. They’re both doing the dog paddle. Bagels is better at it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Another Cake

  Mom pulls Dad onto the grass. Bagels jumps on his chest. Dad spits up a lot of water. I didn’t know Bagels knew CPR.

  “Bagels rescued Dad!” says Becky.

  Dad spits up more water.

  He opens his eyes. Bagels licks his face.

  Dad says a word I’ve never heard before.

  From the look Mom gives him, I guess it’s a bad word.

  We all help pull Dad back on his feet.

  Mom and Dad head to the cabin with Bagels. Becky and I stay where we are.

  I look back. I see the cave entrance—or should I say exit? There’s someone moving up there. It looks like...Hairy Guy?

  Becky sees him too. She squints. Hairy Guy ducks behind a tree. But not before I take his photo.

  “Who is that?” asks Becky.

  I tell her what I think. Her eyes grow big. “Should we tell Mom and Dad?” she asks.