by Scott Ostler
I was wavering, and Mia could tell. She jumped in with, “Remember how Trooper tells us we should be open to life’s adventures?”
“Yeah,” I said, “but I don’t think he means sneaking around like spies, taking secret photos of the mayor.”
“We could just sit back and do nothing,” Mia sighed. “Let them get away with highway robbery.”
Hmm. “Well, I’ll ask my aunt and uncle if it’s okay to go with you for an hour or so. To help you with your assignment. Do you really think we can pull this off, Mia?”
“Are you kidding?” she said brightly. “Two people as clever as we are—what could possibly go wrong?”
SPIES IN THE TREES
ROSIE AND AUGIE WERE IMPRESSED THAT I WAS HELPING someone with a school project. They were especially glad I had apologized to Mia.
I felt a little sneaky about not telling them the real reason I was meeting Mia at the golf course, but I was helping her with her report.
I got off the bus right at the River Oaks Golf Club and when I got to the cart barn, Mia was sitting in a cart.
“Okay, Mia,” her cousin Chad said, “you’re good to go. I checked with my boss. He’s cool about you using the cart, as long as you don’t disturb the golfers and you drive very slowly and carefully. I trust you, and he trusts me.”
“Do you really know how to drive this thing?” I asked Mia as she pushed the button to start the motor.
“Chad gave me a crash course,” she said. “Oops, crash is probably the wrong word. Anyway, we know our sweethearts are out on the course somewhere, so let’s just start at the eighteenth hole and drive until we find them.”
“But carefully,” I said, “so they don’t see us.”
“I figure once we spot them, we can kind of hide behind trees and get our pictures,” Mia said, making it sound easy. “They won’t even know we’re there. It’ll be perfect!”
And it was.
Almost.
We drove along the cart path, keeping an eye out for our targets. When we got to the ninth green, we saw a group walking up to the tee on that hole.
“That’s got to be them,” I said. “The tall man with the big mustache is Stomper’s dad.”
“And there’s Stomper, driving the cart,” Mia whispered.
“Why are you whispering?” I asked. “They’re two hundred yards away.”
We laughed, and Mia pulled the cart off the path and behind a big oak tree. She got out and peeked around the tree, then looked back at me.
“You look worried, Carlos,” she said.
Great, now Mia was a mind reader. I’d been thinking of something my dad always said. “Partial honesty is complete dishonesty.” And I had been only partially honest with my aunt and uncle.
Mia was already taking pictures. I leaned out to peer around the tree. There was the mayor, with his slicked-back hair and a bright red golf shirt. And wraparound shades, of course. And there was Stomper’s dad, whose walk was more like a swagger. The third man was a pudgy, bald dude, older than the other two.
“That older man looks familiar,” Mia said. “I swear I’ve seen him before.”
The three men stood together on the tee box, pointing down the fairway like they were discussing strategy. Then the older man handed something to the mayor and Mr. Walkman.
“Cigars,” Mia said.
“Should I take some shots, too?” I wondered.
“No,” Mia said, “I’ll get plenty, and I have a better angle.”
Stomper’s dad pulled a lighter out of his pocket and lit the mayor’s cigar, putting one hand on the mayor’s shoulder. One of them must have said something funny, because they all started laughing.
“Great video,” Mia whispered as she got back into the cart. She grabbed my arm and said excitedly, “It’s like they’re posing for us! For two guys who supposedly don’t know each other, the mayor and Mr. Walkman sure are getting along great, eh?”
“Just like sweethearts,” I said, shaking my head, angry now as I thought about how these two men were responsible for us losing our Palace.
“William is going to love this stuff,” Mia said enthusiastically.
We heard the golfers hit their tee shots. I blew out a breath in relief.
“I have to admit,” I said with a chuckle, “I wasn’t sure we could pull this off, Mia.”
“Same here, Carlos. I’m glad you came with me. I know sometimes I talk big, but I didn’t have the guts to do this by myself.”
“We’ve probably got enough shots,” I said, still not quite over the nervousness. “Let’s head back.”
“Just a little more video as they walk up the fairway,” Mia said, setting up again behind the tree. “They can’t see us back here. Once they pass us, we’ll go back to the cart barn in the opposite direction.”
That’s when we heard a voice behind us, from back in the trees.
“Hey, you kids! What the hell are you doing?”
We turned around, almost in slow motion. There he was, about fifty feet behind us, the bald man. Apparently he had hit his shot into the woods and was looking for his ball when he saw us.
Mia and I looked at each other like we’d seen a ghost.
“We were just taking some pictures of the trees,” I said, trying to sound casual. “For a school report.”
“Really?” the man said. He began walking quickly toward us, still forty feet away. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed. “Hey, I know you two. You’re from that basketball team!” A mean smile lit up his face. “I’d love to take a look at those pictures. I’m a big tree lover.”
“Ohmygod, Carlos,” Mia whispered. “Let’s get out of here!”
She handed me her phone and I stuffed it into my jacket pocket, then held on to the dashboard with both hands. Mia jammed her foot down so hard on the gas pedal that the motor stalled.
Another exchange of terrified looks.
“Hey!” the large man yelled. We could hear him puffing along, getting closer.
Mia pushed the starter button and the motor kicked to life. She hit the gas pedal, and this time the cart shot out of the woods, running over a tree branch with a loud crack. That definitely got the attention of the mayor and Mr. Walkman, who were walking up the fairway.
Mia made a hard right onto the cart path and pushed the gas pedal to the floor. I looked back and the older man was hurrying out of the trees and yelling to the mayor and Mr. Walkman, pointing furiously at us.
“Those kids were taking pictures of you guys!”
“What’s happening, Carlos?” Mia shouted, her eyes glued to the road in front of her.
“The mayor just pulled Stomper out of the cart and jumped in, and he’s coming after us!”
“Hang on, Carlos!” Mia said. “If we can get to the cart barn, we can hide in there.”
I didn’t realize how fast those carts could go, or how curvy and hilly that cart path was.
We came to the bottom of the big hill that led up to the cart barn. Instead of staying on the cart path, Mia veered left off the path to take a shortcut around a pond. I held on for my life as we shot up the grassy hill.
“I think we can make it,” Mia said. “How far back is the mayor?”
“He’s gaining on us!” I shouted above the wind in my ears.
“I can’t go any faster!” Mia yelled.
I kept looking back at the mayor, who had his cigar clenched in his teeth. Instead of going around the lake to the left like we did, he went right, around a sand trap. As he cut around the trap, the left front wheel of his cart caught the lip of the trap and the cart flipped onto its side into the sand.
“He crashed!” I said, my heart jumping into my throat.
Mia’s eyes got huge, but she kept her eyes ahead.
As the mayor’s cart skidded sideways through the sand, he dove out and landed flat like he was sliding headfirst into third base, kicking up a cloud of sand.
The mayor quickly got up, so I knew he was okay. His careless driving was our ticket to freedom.
/> Almost.
As we reached the top of the hill, seconds away from our would-be hiding place, Mia slammed on the brakes. A man was blocking our path, standing with his arms folded.
It was the club pro, as we soon learned.
I looked back down the hill. The mayor climbed out of the sand trap and started walking quickly up the hill, brushing sand off his clothes. His shiny black hair was coated with white sand, which from a distance made him look like he was wearing a blond wig. His wraparound shades were twisted and one lens was missing. He still had the cigar in his teeth, but it was snapped in half.
“Hey,” the mayor said gruffly as he got near the top of the hill, out of breath. “You kids are on that basketball team.”
Mia and I looked at each other. She whispered mournfully, “We are so, so dead.”
Then she gave me a little smile. “But at least we’ve got the pictures, so we’re not in as much trouble as the mayor and his sweetheart are going to be when we get these to William.”
I patted my jacket pocket, then panicked. No phone. Quick search around the cart. No phone. I looked at Mia, my eyes wide, and whispered, “It must have fallen out during the chase.”
“That’s okay,” Mia whispered. “I’ll just have to come back later and find it.”
The club pro walked up to our cart, frowning.
“I’m not sure what’s going on here,” he said, reaching into the cart and removing the ignition key, “but you should not be in that vehicle. You’ll have to wait here while we call your parents.”
The pro looked down the hill at the mayor huffing toward us, and at the cart lying sideways in the sand trap.
“This does not look good,” the pro muttered to himself.
“Amen,” Mia whispered to me, and we watched as Stomper, who had jogged along behind the chase, arrived at the flipped cart. He and his dad pushed the cart back upright, then climbed in and drove toward us. As they got near the lake, Mr. Walkman stopped the cart and leaned out to look at something in the grass. He picked it up and we saw the bright red case.
“My phone,” Mia moaned.
Mr. Walkman seemed to be thumbing through our photos.
“Isn’t it locked?” I whispered.
“No,” Mia said sadly. “It’s set to lock after five minutes, and it hasn’t been that long.”
Mr. Walkman tossed the phone back onto the grass, walked to the cart, pulled an iron out of his bag, and sauntered back to the spot.
Mia and I watched in horror as Mr. Walkman set his feet, waggled his club, and took a mighty swing.
The phone exploded into chunks that flew through the air and splashed into the lake like a gentle rain. I looked at Mia. Her jaw had dropped and her eyes were wide.
The older man caught up with Stomper and his dad.
“Nice shot,” we heard the old guy tell Mr. Walkman.
Mia squeezed my arm. “Carlos, I know who that man is!” she whispered. “Remember at the Breeze office, we looked at those photos on the wall? One of them was that man. He’s the owner and editor of the Breeze. He’s the guy who fired William.”
“No wonder he wasn’t interested in letting William do a story on our team and the Palace,” I said.
As the sand-blond mayor approached us, my head was buzzing with a thousand thoughts, none of them happy. I remembered what Mia had said.
What could go wrong?
THE LONG WEEKEND
WHILE WE SAT IN THE CART LIKE TWO CRIMINALS caught red-handed, the club pro and the other three men huddled nearby. The Breeze editor, Mr. Cook, was sweating and red-faced. The mayor was still angry and sandy. The club pro looked nervous. Stomper had driven the cart back to the barn.
“Cliff,” Mr. Walkman said to the pro, “sorry about littering your pond.”
“No problem, I Beam,” the pro said, sounding like he really wanted to please Stomper’s dad. “We clean that pond out every week.”
The pro turned to Mia and me and said, “You two kids had better call your parents.”
I swallowed heard. Augie and Rosie were not going to be happy about this.
I dialed my aunt’s number. Then I closed my eyes when she answered, trying not to picture the disappointment I was about to put on her face.
“Aunt Rosie, do you think you could pick me up at the golf course?”
“Of course, Carlos. Is anything wrong?”
“Uh, no. Uh, maybe.”
Her voice turned serious. “Carlos, are you all right?”
“Yes, but, uh…” My mouth went dry and I couldn’t finish speaking.
“Is there some kind of trouble?” she asked quickly.
“I’m not really sure,” I admitted. “Maybe a misunderstanding? We were taking some pictures and now, well, the mayor is kind of upset.”
“The mayor?” my aunt exclaimed. “Good lord. Augie and I will be there in a few minutes.”
I handed my phone to Mia and she had a similar conversation with her mom.
The pro, now with a stormy look on his face, turned to Mia and me. “How did you two get this cart?”
Mia jumped in. “We just came here to take some pictures of trees, for a school report. Since Carlos uses a wheelchair, we thought it would be a better way to get around the course. We saw this cart sitting there and figured nobody would mind if we just used it for a few minutes. We’re really, really sorry, sir.”
Good move by Mia, not throwing her cousin under the bus. But I felt another pang of guilt in my stomach. Here we were, adding another fib to the mix.
I was starting to feel powerless, stuck in that cart.
“Would it be okay if Mia gets my wheelchair back?” I asked the pro. “We left it in the shed.”
The pro nodded, like, Go ahead. Then he turned and walked back over to the mayor.
“I’ll call the police if you’d like, Biff,” the pro said, his voice back in kiss-up mode. “These kids should be cited for taking this cart for a joyride and putting you in danger. You could have been seriously injured.”
“Cited?” Stomper’s dad said. “They should be arrested for, you know, harassing a public official. Grand theft, uh, golf cart. Whatever. A crime is a crime.”
My heart sank even lower, but the editor held up his hand.
“I don’t think it would be a good idea to get the police involved right now,” he said quietly, shooting a glance at the mayor. “Things could get out of hand. Too many questions asked, know what I mean?”
The mayor nodded.
Just then Rosie and Augie arrived. They looked more worried than angry, but once they saw Mia and I were okay, it was more like all angry. And confused.
The golf pro told them we had taken the cart without permission and created a hazardous situation.
I tried to mouth the words “I’m sorry” to my aunt and uncle, but they weren’t looking my way.
The mayor, brushing sand off his shoulders, sauntered over to Augie and said, “You look familiar. Do I know you?”
“Possibly,” Augie said coolly. “We both work for the city. I’m the superintendent of parks maintenance. Last year, when you cut my department’s budget, I went to a city council meeting to express my objection to the cut. You were at the meeting.”
The mayor crossed his arms and nodded toward me. “Is this your son?”
“Yes, he is,” Augie said firmly. “I’m responsible for any damages. And I hope nobody was hurt.”
My cheeks grew hot and tears stung the corners of my eyes. Now I felt even more guilty. My uncle was going to bat for me even after I let him down.
“Maybe you should keep a closer watch on your son,” the mayor said sharply. “He seems to butt into other people’s business. That can cause a lot of problems.”
Augie said nothing, but his face changed into an expression I had never seen. He and the mayor were standing two feet apart, and my uncle narrowed his eyes. Suddenly the mayor didn’t seem like he was the one in charge. He shifted uncomfortably.
Rosie looked wo
rried. “Augie,” she whispered. My uncle didn’t turn, or blink.
That’s when Mia’s mom arrived and stopped to stare at my uncle and the mayor. The club pro, the Breeze editor, and Mr. Walkman also stood frozen, watching the silent showdown between Augie and the mayor. It lasted for what seemed like a long time. Finally, Mayor Burns turned away awkwardly and walked toward his group of pals.
“Let’s go have some lunch,” he said angrily.
The others turned to follow the mayor, but Mr. Walkman turned back and said to Mia’s mom, “We have a right to not have our privacy invaded. Please have your daughter delete those photos she took of us from her cloud account. I’m sure she doesn’t need pictures of our golf group. And she doesn’t need the trouble those photos might cause.”
Mia’s head drooped. “My cloud has been full for months,” she said. “Those pictures are all gone.”
“Where’s your phone, Mia?” her mom asked.
The Breeze editor butted in. “It accidentally fell into the lake.”
The four men walked off, and Stomper, returning from the cart barn, joined them. He was behind the group, and he turned, glanced at me, and rolled his eyes, like, I told you.
Rosie turned to Mia and me, frowning. “What happened?”
“Well,” I said, “we were taking pictures for Mia’s report—”
Mia jumped in. “But this was my idea, so please don’t blame Carlos. Yes, we were getting pictures of the trees, but we were also trying to get pictures of the mayor with Mr. Walkman to prove that they’re sweethearts.…”
The four parents exchanged puzzled looks.
“I think we should sort this out at home, Carlos,” Rosie said, and Mia’s mom agreed.
It was a quiet ride. Rosie looked out the window, not saying anything. Augie gripped the steering wheel like he was going to crush it.
When my aunt and uncle became my guardians, they knew they would face challenges, but I’m sure they never imagined they would wind up harboring a criminal. When we got home, Rosie motioned for me to come into the living room.
She and Augie sat on the couch facing me.
“Carlos, what the heck is going on here?” Augie asked. “You told us you were helping Mia with her report, but obviously you two had something more in mind. It seems like you weren’t completely honest with us.”