They both said “Wood Ape” in defiance, but I got the photo anyway.
My mom wiped her forehead with a bandana. Her face was flushed with excitement, but she looked beat, too. “I guess we should pack and head back to camp.”
After fifteen more minutes of shooting scenery shots, Colin and Hal decided that the walk to the camp would probably be uneventful and it would be a lot faster to carry the camera and mics in their cases, rather than film the whole time. I guessed they were eager to get away from the mosquitoes and back to their comfy trailers.
I followed my dad and Colin as they wound their way along the narrow path through the trees. I slowed down, letting the others walk ahead of me, so I could fall into step with Sophie, who was quieter than usual.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked.
“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing really. I was just thinking about the other team. I wonder how they did today.” She stared off into the forest, squinting like the answer was in front of her carved into a distant tree. A light blush on her cheeks threatened to spread over her whole face.
I nudged her shoulder with mine. “Are you thinking about anyone in particular on the other team?” I knew my sister. When she fell for someone, she fell hard. She’d only spent a grand total of five minutes talking with Kyle, but she was definitely a like-at-first-sight kind of gal. Judging by what I’d overheard, he seemed pretty into her as well.
“Yeah, I think I have a little crush on Kyle.” Sophie’s cheeks got redder by the second. “I’m having a hard time thinking of him as the competition. He doesn’t seem that competitive.”
I pursed my lips. I needed Sophie to concentrate on winning, but I didn’t want to burden her with our financial difficulties. “Then picture Devan and Caroline’s smug-ass faces. It’s gonna be sweet beating those jerks, right?” I chortled. “Can you imagine them having to go back to their fancy school after losing to us?”
“Yeah. I guess it would be pretty sweet,” Sophie said, but without confidence.
“They’d never be able to wear those matching polo shirts again. Netherfield would demand them back.”
Sophie usually hated when I made fun of others, but she let out a giggle. I laughed in a far less ladylike manner, which may have involved a couple of snorts.
Chapter 8
“Unfortunately, we don’t have genetic proof of Bigfoot. We can only rule samples out by comparing them to DNA of known animals.”
—Caroline Bing, Future Geneticists Club
We arrived at base camp for judging uncharacteristically late. Lyssa and I had gone several rounds over her choice of attire this morning. The only backup my mom offered was, “Well, those shorts are rather short. But Lyssa does have nice legs.”
Not helpful.
The other team was gathered around one of the picnic tables and plotting out something. I snuck a peek to see if I could figure out their tactics, but I was too far away. As if he could hear my thoughts, Devan’s head popped up and he caught my stare. I quickly turned away, pretending to look for something in my backpack.
Dad put his arm around my shoulder. “Isn’t this exciting, kiddo? Look how nervous the other team is.” I gave them one more quick glance, careful not to make eye contact with Devan. Unless they exhibited their nervousness by ending their huddle to play Hacky Sack and sip bottled water, they were doing just fine.
“There’s no way they have anything as good as our footprint. Right?” Dad added and pumped his fist high above his head, not a good look for a middle-aged science teacher.
After I checked my mom’s teeth for lipstick, and everyone’s body mic was on and tested, we were ready and waiting. And waiting and waiting. Colin gazed at his watch, and put his head in his hand.
“I’ll see what the holdup is,” I said to my folks and walked over to Colin, giving him a casual wave.
“Hey,” Colin said, his face brightening a little.
Hal and Steve had taken out a pack of cards and were playing poker, and the rest of the crew milled about, gossiping and checking their phones. Even Jake sat idly, reading the Hollywood Reporter and looking bored, not bothering to flirt with anyone.
“Are we getting started soon?” I asked.
Colin twisted his mouth in annoyance. “Yeah, we’re just waiting for the judges.”
A loud vehicle approaching interrupted our conversation. It made a helicopter sound like a six-hundred-pound purring kitten.
It was a big, old truck with oversized off-road wheels, and considering it was a putrid, vomit-colored green and splattered in mud, it didn’t look any better than it sounded. The passenger-side door opened and out came Dr. DeGraw. Out of the driver’s side jumped a tall, hefty man in his fifties, who sported an impressively long, mangy gray beard. He was either an unemployed Santa Claus or the guest judge. Or both.
“Wait,” I said to Colin, grabbing his arm. “I thought you said there were two judges.”
He glanced away. “There’s one official guest judge for every challenge and they will rotate. This week is Jim Duckworthy, whose land we’re on. He’s the guy from the show about motorcycle gangs who also make artisanal candles.”
I laughed nervously. “Seriously?”
“I wouldn’t make up this stuff, even if I could.”
Then it hit me. I didn’t see any other new faces. “And what about the other judge?”
Colin stared at his clipboard. He lowered his voice, “Dr. DeGraw has generously donated her time to be the off-air, unofficial judge. In case of hard decisions. But she’s mostly here in an advisory capacity.”
I could feel the bile at the back of my throat reaching the top of my hairline. “What! But, ah . . . what the hell?” I tripped all over my words. “She’s clearly not impartial. She’s one of them!”
Colin took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly preparing to stand his ground. “Dr. DeGraw assured me she will be completely professional and won’t let her personal feelings interfere.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he looked at me with pleading eyes, begging me to accept the situation. I bit my lip to stop myself from quitting or saying something I shouldn’t and shook my head.
“I respect your feelings, Samantha. I get it,” he murmured close to my ear. “I don’t think you understand, though. I didn’t have a say in the matter. This is what the network agreed upon when we pitched the show. Roberta has a lot of connections.”
I continued to torture my poor lip and glower at him. I didn’t utter a word, but he threw his hands in the air.
“You have to trust that I’ll do my best to ensure the show is as fair as possible.”
“What choice do I have?” I sighed and watched Roberta make herself comfortable in Colin’s folding chair.
Well, that was just fan-freaking-tastic. The mentor of Team Evil was one of the judges. “Someone needs to get me some chamomile tea,” Dr. DeGraw ordered, instead of asking like a normal person, or getting off her ass and fixing her own damn cup of tea.
Devan appeared at her side in a matter of seconds. “I would be happy to.”
“Oh, don’t bother, dear, the girl will fetch me a cup,” she said, squinting at Beth and waiting for her to take a hint before Colin hurried over to make her the beverage himself.
“I need Beth behind the camera to help set up the shot,” Colin said. “Here you go.” He handed Dr. DeGraw a paper cup with some generic tea, a packet of sugar, and a plastic spoon.
Dr. DeGraw stared at the store-brand tea like she was holding a bomb.
Colin hustled back to the set and clapped his hands. “We’re ready to go, people. Places!”
Each team’s findings were arranged on a table covered by a sheet, to make the reveal more exciting. A chair was placed on set for our guest judge, as well.
We took our spots at our team’s table and Devan and company moved behind theirs. Devan stood stiffly with a grumpy expression, staring right at the camera. Kyle shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking
nervous. Only Caroline seemed unfazed by the whole situation. She focused her attention on writing something in a notebook and glancing at Jake. Something was definitely going on between those two and I didn’t like it.
Jake stood between the two teams, in red cowboy boots, a tight black shirt, and even tighter jeans. He was pretty hot, especially from behind, and especially when he wasn’t talking. Or testing his microphone by reciting Shakespeare—poorly.
“But soft, what light goes there? This is the west and Juliet is the south,” he said directly into his mic. “Test, test, one, two, three. We’re good?” he asked Beth. She nodded and Jake gave her a thumbs-up way above his head. Colin then gave Jake the signal to start.
“Our Bigfoot hunters have had one week to go deep into the woods in search of cement evidence . . .”
“Cut!” Colin put his head in his hand. “You mean concrete evidence, not cement.”
Jake tilted his head. “You sure, bro?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Okay, got it.” Jake nodded, and then preened directly at the camera.
“Let’s take it again,” Colin said.
“Our Bigfoot hunters have had one week to go deep into the woods in search of concrete, physical proof that the mythical creature does in fact exist, right here under our noses. Now, let’s see what they came up with. Okay, Devan Das, as team captain, show us what you found.”
Jake sounded friendly and professional, especially considering their confrontation in the woods. He may have some questionable morals, but he was charismatic on camera.
Devan’s hands shook a little as he took the sheet off the table to reveal his team’s evidence.
Trying not to appear like I cared, I took a discreet peek at their table. In a Lucite box was about four inches of coarse reddish-brown hair of some sort.
My stomach dropped. It looked good from where I stood.
“We were lucky enough in our tracking to find a hair sample that could very well belong to a mammal the size of a Sasquatch,” Devan announced in a monotone, pointing at the hair. “Based on the color, texture, and length of the fur, we think we have a good case to further investigate the area.”
Caroline stepped forward, gave Devan a sideways glance, and gently nudged him to the side. “The cellular structure of the hair is quite unique; clearly non-human. We tried to extract DNA, but the findings were inconclusive. We would need to take more time and use better equipment to do the more extensive testing needed to know for sure if it’s Bigfoot or something else.”
Just then, a loud popping noise caused us all to jump. “Cut! Everyone hold, please!” Colin shouted. Colin, Beth, and Hal huddled around a piece of lighting equipment with some sort of issue.
My dad’s eyebrows furrowed and he strained to get a better view of the other team’s evidence. He stepped back and frowned, his shoulders sagging. It was a good thing he didn’t play poker—the guy had no talent for bluffing. I had to do something to cheer him up before the cameras started rolling again.
“It could be anything,” I whispered. “My guess is it’s from a bear,” I lied. “A teddy bear.” I put my hands on my hips. “We’ve got this one.”
“Thanks, honey,” he said as he gave me a pat on the shoulder. “I needed that. Don’t think I don’t notice how you take care of your mom, sisters, and me.”
I shrugged and willed myself not to blush. “That’s my job. When Lyssa was little and Sophie was in the hospital because of her asthma, you made me promise to help Mom and to take care of my sisters.”
His eyes widened. “I’m surprised you even remember that. You were five years old. Listen to me. It’s not your job. But that makes all you do more special, even if I’m the only one who sees it, sometimes.”
“We’re back,” Colin said.
Beth cued Jake again.
“The anthropology students have presented an intriguing hair sample for the first challenge. Let’s hear from our guest judge.” Jake gestured to Mr. Duckworthy who stood. “Mr. Duckworthy, what do you think?”
Stroking his ample beard, he said, “Well, I’m no expert in anything other than motorcycles and sweet ass candles, but I’ve seen several photos of Washington Sasquatches and none of ’em were redheads. Maybe they come in all different colors, but round here, we only have ones with dark brown fur. At any rate, I’m gonna say that this could just as easily come from a fox or some other critter out there.”
Duckworthy sat back down on the metal folding chair and crossed his legs. Jake scratched his chin and waited for the judge to say something else, but Duckworthy remained quiet. “Do you have anything to add?” Jake asked.
“ ’Nuff said,” he replied. I was guessing his motorcycle gang show wasn’t heavy on dialogue.
“Okay, then.” Jake clasped his hands together. “Myron Berger, it’s up to you. Can your team offer something more substantial than an inconclusive piece of hair? Or will you lose your first challenge? Show us what you’ve got.”
My dad gulped, then inhaled a big breath.
Hang in there, Dad Don’t let the bastards rattle you.
He forced a polite smile. “Yes, we have found something more noteworthy.” Dad carefully pulled the sheet away from the footprint casting and Hal swooped in with the camera for a close-up while Steve, the other cameraman, stepped back to get a wider shot.
“Here, you’ll see a massive footprint that, unlike the hair our competitors found, cannot be attributed to a fox or a bear,” my dad explained in his best middle-school science teacher voice.
I snuck a peek at the other team to get their reaction. Maybe I was imagining things, but I thought they exchanged nervous glances.
Dad continued, “Based on the shape and size of the print, it’s very possible that it belongs to a Wood Ape, also known as a Sasquatch.” Having found his confidence, my dad’s voice grew stronger. “You’ll note by the way the toes are positioned and by the width of the print that this isn’t a common bear, but something bigger and more primate-like.”
Jake leaned in closer. “Interesting. But I have to ask, can you prove it’s not a fake print?”
My dad grinned. “I can, Jake. If you’ll direct your attention to the pattern on the toes, like human fingerprints, as well as this scar here on the pad of the foot. Both are difficult to replicate and are generally accepted as proof that a casting is from a living creature.”
The hard part over, my dad smiled at my mom, like a kid who was winning a spelling bee.
“Thank you, Myron, and ladies,” Jake chimed in before directing the cameras over to the judge. “Mr. Duckworthy, what’s your take on the Berger footprint?”
The judge whistled. “That’s one mighty fine footprint,” Duckworthy said. “I’ve seen every kind of track, from birds to bears, and this looks like the real deal to me.”
“So, are you ready to declare a winner?” Jake asked Mr. Duckworthy.
“Yup. I call this round for the Berger family. There ain’t no mistaking a footprint like that. Plus, they’re scrappy, and I like rooting for the underdogs.” Duckworthy went over to my dad and shook his hand roughly.
I glanced over at Dr. DeGraw, who was gritting her teeth. I guessed she wouldn’t be able to influence this round.
“Congratulations, Bergers,” Jake said. “Better luck next time to Devan, Kyle, and Caroline.”
Of the three, only Kyle wore a small, hopeful grin.
“Keep in mind this is just the first challenge,” Jake said. “Now, the challenge winners will receive a special advantage as their prize. Would you like to know what you’ve won?” he asked my mom and dad.
Please let it be running water or cable.
“You’ve won a thermal imaging camera! Perfect for late night ghost hunts,” Jake said.
“It’s not a ghost show, Jake. Take that again,” Colin said from his chair off screen.
“Okay. Sorry, I got a little carried away,” Jake’s normally cocky smile was almost boyish. “This camera really helped me out wh
en I was locked in a haunted prison.”
“Who let him out?” I whispered to Lyssa.
Jake pointed the scanner at Lyssa. “Look, it gives digital readouts of the temperature and produces infrared images,” he said. “Too bad it doesn’t have x-ray vision, too.” He waggled his eyebrows and waved the thermal imager at my sister’s chest. I had no idea how someone as seemingly sweet as Melody Wright put up with Jake.
“It’s perfect for night hunting because the scanner detects body heat, so you can see the general size and shape of nearby creatures,” Jake added.
My parents, naturally, beamed.
“Oh, this is so exciting!” my dad said. “I’ve always wanted the Thermo-Meter 360.”
Jake shook my dad’s hand and nodded. “Use it well. We look forward to seeing what you can do with it.”
“Cut!” Colin yelled. “That’s it for today, everybody. The crew will meet back here tomorrow morning at five to set up for the introduction of the next challenge. Teams, your call is seven-thirty, and please be on time.”
A collective groan came from both teams, as well as some of the crew.
Colin sighed. “The craft services caterer will be here tomorrow with breakfast.”
The grumblings subsided and the crew got busy breaking down for the day.
My mom and dad hugged, excited about their victory, and wandered over to chat with Duckworthy. Lyssa crossed her arms and made it clear she’d rather be re-grouting the shower, a job she got stuck doing last spring when my mom caught her sneaking out of the house to meet a boy. However, Lyssa’s expression and posture changed when she discovered Jake eyeing her with interest.
Jake took off his body mic and swaggered over to talk to my sister. I stepped closer to Lyssa, intent on running interference. I wasn’t sure what that referred to in terms of sports, but for my purposes it meant “keep the slimeball creep away from my sister.” From across the set, I could see Devan raking his hands through his hair while talking to Caroline, who was pointing at something in her notebook as if she was trying to explain it.
“Hey, Lyssa. How’s it going so far?” Jake asked with a sly grin. He stretched one arm at a time over his head and across his chest, to show off his muscles and tattoos, no doubt.
Sasquatch, Love, and Other Imaginary Things Page 6