Crazy Cat Kid (Crazy Cat Kids Book 1)

by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

  “Jesse invited me to go exploring with him and Bill and Maurie this afternoon.”

  “Exploring where?”

  I shrugged. “I never asked. Probably around here.”

  “Well, find out for sure and when you will be back.”

  “Mom, I’m almost fifteen. I shouldn’t have to ask him that. Why can’t I just go with him without having to do an interrogation?”

  “You know you’re not allowed to date until you are fifteen.”

  “It’s not a date. He just asked me to go with him and his brother. He’s a nice guy and he was being nice. After all, that’s why we came, so that we can meet the families of your team mates. And now that I have, you don’t want me to do anything with him.”

  Mom sighed. I smiled to myself. Usually, when she sighed, it meant that I had won. I just had to wait for her to say it.

  “I’ll talk with Bonnie and find out where they are going,” Mom said.

  It was my turn to sigh. “But Mom….”

  “I’m not letting you go off with someone we just met even if he is the son of one of my teammates.”

  “Okay, just go and embarrass me.” At home I would have stomped down the hall and slammed my bedroom door. It was hard to rush off in a huff in a motorhome. I went to the passenger’s seat, opened the door and swung out. I slammed that door but the tinny sound didn’t give me the same satisfaction.

  “Don’t go far,” Mom called out the screen door. “We’ll be eating lunch soon.”

  There wasn’t any place for me to go except the beach again. I avoided the fire ring where Dad was adding wood to the embers. He looked up at me and smiled.

  “Would you like to join me?” he asked. “There’s a screen to put over the fire to stop embers from flying around.”

  A week before we left I had overheard a conversation between him and Mom and I knew they were hoping this camping trip would help me conquer my fear of fire. Maybe it would, but not right now.

  “I’m going to the beach,” I said.

  I continued past the impromptu volleyball court that was now empty. I stopped at the edge of the bush. Bill and Maurie were wading slowly out into the water. Bill had on a pair of black shorts and Maurie wore a yellow bikini that showed off her perfect figure. She squealed as the cold water rose up her legs. Bill scooped up a hand full of water and threw it at her.

  “Stop,” she yelled, pulling her arms up around her chest.

  Bill cupped both hands the second time. Maurie turned her back and then decided to get revenge. Keeping her back to him she bent over and using her hands on each side of her legs churned up the water into a spray. Some of it hit Bill, some of it landed on her. Bill held his hands up in front of his face and laughingly took two steps towards her. He picked her up and carried her, kicking and screaming, further out into the lake. When he was far enough he bent his knees and both of them were covered in water up to their necks.

  Maurie broke free and began to swim out of the bay. Bill joined her and soon they were just small heads in the water. I didn’t know if I should leave. What if something happened to them? What if one got a cramp and the other couldn’t support them in the water? I was the only one who knew where they had gone.

  I couldn’t stay too long. Lunch would be ready soon and Mom and Dad would expect me. I was relieved when the heads began to get larger. I didn’t want them to think I had been spying on them so when they were close I headed to our campsite.

  On the way I had a conversation with myself. “Fire, like water, is safe if you treat it right,” I said out loud, repeating my mother’s words. “And there is a screen to stop the embers.” I really wanted to get back to enjoying a campfire and all the fun that went with it again. I really did.

  True to her decision to have most meals cooked over the campfire, Mom and Dad had something on a stick and were slowly rotating it over the fire. Even though the screen was over the metal ring, I rubbed the scar on the inside of my arm as I stared at the blaze.

  “What are those?” I asked, pulling my eyes away from the flames. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know so I sat at the table trying to picture what else was in the camper that I could eat.

  “They are called Stuffed Campfire Biscuits.”

  “And they are stuffed with a stick?”

  “No,” Mom laughed and Dad chuckled. “There are scrambled eggs and diced ham on the barbeque that we can fill them with or there is butter and jam on the table. Or if there is something else you want to try, go ahead.”

  “How do I make one of them?”

  “There is some dough from crescent rolls in the fridge. Bring one out on a plate.”

  I followed mom’s directions and came back to the table with my plate.

  Dad handed his piece of wood to Mom and came over to me with a stick. He showed me how to anchor one side of the dough onto the end of it and wrap the rest around the stick until the sides met. Then I had to press the sides together.

  He took it from me. “Now I’ll turn it slowly over the fire so that the dough cooks.”

  Dad reached for his and the two of them sat on their lawn chairs, intently staring at the dough making sure that it cooked without burning. Around us the other team members and their families were also making and eating lunches. Most had fires going and I could smell roasting wieners and chili.

  It was times like this that I wished I could get over my fear of fire and that I could get near one without a feeling of panic. My mind went back to the week-long, summer visits I used to make to my aunt and uncle’s acreage east of Vancouver. My cousin Christine and I liked to sit around a fire every evening and roast marshmallows and talk about our lives, our friends, our parents and anything else that came to mind. I looked forward to those visits every summer. But I hadn’t been there for the past three years, not since….

  “How do you know if the inside is done?” Dad asked Mom, bringing me out of my reverie.

  “According to the instructions, we are supposed to get the outside to a light brown color and then move it a little away from the fire so the inside cooks.”

  Since they had started theirs ahead me, Mom and Dad’s biscuits were done before mine. Dad gave his to Mom and she brought both over to the table.

  “I’ll have ham and eggs in mine,” Dad said, as he continued cooking mine.

  By the time I had stuffed the ham and eggs into his, he had brought mine over. I also pushed the ham and eggs into mine and we agreed the combination tasted good. We each wrapped another piece of dough around the sticks and Mom and Dad cooked them over the fire. This time we dropped butter in the hole then when it melted added jam.

  “That sure makes a great dessert,” Dad said.

  I nodded as I chewed the last of mine. The flames had died down. I stood and took a couple of tentative steps towards the fire ring. I felt the anxiety knot start in the pit of my stomach. I tried another step keeping my eyes on the fire. The knot grew bigger and I stopped. I was a lot closer to a fire than I had been since my accident and I felt proud.

  I looked up and saw Jesse walking towards us. Behind him Bill and Maurie, both dressed in shorts and t-shirts, were waiting by Bill’s car. My heart sank. Had Mom talked with his mother? Would she go and do that now in front of them? Why couldn’t I be fifteen so that I could say yes when a boy asked me if I wanted to go exploring without my mother running to his mother.

  “We’re ready to go,” Jesse said.

  I held my breath. Please, please, please, Mom, don’t embarrass me.

  “Oh.” Mom sounded surprised, as if just remembering our conversation. She looked at Jesse. “Will you be back for the mystery potluck tonight?”

  “Yes,” Jesse replied. “Mom insisted we be here.”

  She turned to me. “Do you have some money and your cell phone?”

  I patted my purse on my hip.

  “Enjoy yourself.”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything to her. This had gone so much better than I thought it would. I start
ed towards Jesse.

  “Where are you going?” Dad asked, as he gathered the sticks together. He seemed more curious than confrontational.

  I stopped. I hadn’t told Dad but Mom must have.

  Jesse seemed to take it in stride. “We’re going to check out what’s in Lake Cowichan.”

  “Well, have a good time.”

  Chapter Six

  Jesse and I hurried over to the car. Bill and Maurie were already inside, Maurie snuggled against Bill’s arm. I went to the nearest door and Jesse went around to the far side.

  Bill drove out of the yard and turned onto the highway towards the hamlet of Lake Cowichan. I couldn’t think of anything to say and it seemed neither could anyone else. We drove in silence. I looked out the window as if interested in the scenery.

  “Has anyone been to Lakeview Park?” Bill asked.

  The three of us answered no.

  “Well, we will find out what’s there.”

  Bill slowed and turned off onto a gravel road. It wasn’t long before we reached a spot with some vehicles. Bill found a place to park and we climbed out. He lit a cigarette while we stood and looked around. There was a large lawn with a lot of people sun tanning, picnicking, or sitting on blankets. The beach was wide and full of children playing in the sand.

  The park was in a small bay and there was a log boom that cut it off from the rest of the lake making a nice pool for the children. There were babies being held by mothers in the water, toddlers playing with Styrofoam noodles, and two older kids trying to control the direction of a small dingy with paddles. The water further out near the logs seemed deep enough for adult swimming as there were three young guys out there splashing each other, two girls laying on the logs, and one guy on a paddle board. It was a lovely day for a swim but I hadn’t thought to bring my bathing suit and neither had the others. There had to be something else to do here. I looked around and spotted a sign.

  “Anyone want to go to the Cowichan Lake Floating Walkway and Forest Trail?” I asked, pointing to the sign.

  “Sure,” Jesse said.

  “Yeah,” Bill said.

  We walked across the grass. Bill and Maurie were ahead. They held hands and suddenly stopped. Jesse and I almost ran into them. They wrapped their arms around each other for a kiss. Not just a quick one but a mouth open, tongue-down-throat, long one. I felt my face redden. Jesse and I glanced shyly at each other as we waited.

  Finally, they separated and we all carried on. Bill draped his arm around Maurie’s shoulders. The second time we had to stop and wait and try to act like we didn’t notice them kissing, Jesse gestured around them. I nodded and we each side stepped them and ran until we came to a ramp that went down to a floating walkway on the water.

  We sauntered down the ramp to the boardwalk, which went to the left. The walkway was long but fairly solid. It didn’t feel tipsy as we strolled on it. We went past four benches and at the fifth was an older couple. The man was sitting on a lawn chair reading while the woman stood with a fishing pole in her hand. Jesse and I walked along the dock past the man. He didn’t look up.

  “Any luck?” Jesse asked the woman, when we reached her.

  “No,” she said, smiling. “But I have hope.”

  “She has more hope than luck,” the man said, grinning. “And she has a lot of patience.”

  Just past the couple the walkway curved around an outcropping of land and we could see another ramp up to land.

  “Do you want to get your feet wet?” Jesse asked, when we were out of sight of the couple.

  “Sure.”

  We took off our sandals and sat on the edge of the dock. The water was cool on my feet as I swished them around.

  “Your brother really likes Maurie,” I said. “How long have they been dating?”

  “Six months. They’re already talking marriage.”

  “Marriage? How old are they?”

  “Bill is nineteen and Maurie is seventeen.”

  “Aren’t they too young?”

  “Not according to them. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  I grimaced. “A sister who is six years older than me. She stayed in Vancouver.”

  “Why?”

  “She hooked up with a guy who Mom and Dad don’t like. They had many fights over him and she decided to stay with him instead of moving with us.”

  “Hey, there you guys are,” Bill called.

  We turned to see Bill and Maurie coming along the dock.

  “We’re leaving,” Bill said.

  Jesse and I scrambled up and put on our sandals. We followed them up the ramp, through the trees, and across the lawn to the parking lot.

  We continued into Lake Cowichan. Bill turned into the Saywell Park parking lot. He stopped and we climbed out. To the left was a short set of railroad tracks with a black steam engine pulling a flat car, a railway car, and a caboose. There was also a brown building with a ‘Museum’ sign hanging from the eaves and an ‘Open’ sign in the window. None of us were interested in seeing old stuff.

  To the right was another large lawn. There were benches for people to sit on to look out over the river. There were also picnic tables and a net and sand for beach volleyball. A family of parents and three kids were carrying tubes down to the river to join others who were already floating on the water.

  Bill went up to the father. “Is there a place where we can rent tubes?”

  The father lifted his chin. “There’s a shop over there.”

  “Thanks, man.” Bill looked at Jesse and me. “We’re going tubing. Did you bring any money?”

  “Not enough for tubing,” Jesse said. I nodded in agreement. I’d only brought enough along for a pop or ice cream.

  “Okay, see you later.” He and Maurie headed to the tube shop.

  “There’s a couple of parks I noticed when we drove through here day before yesterday,” I said. “They are further down the road. Do you want to check them out?”

  “Might as well, we have some time to kill.”

  We walked down the sidewalk to the Ohtaki Park. We stopped at a large wooden sign with a Bonsai tree carved on it and the words: Ohtaki Japan and Lake Cowichan B.C. twinned September 14 1989.

  “I wonder where Ohtaki is in Japan,” Jesse said.

  “Yeah, I’ve never heard of it.”

  The park had benches overlooking the river and a small flower garden. Jesse and I walked up the pedway to a footbridge over the river. Someone had fastened small trinkets to the walls of the bridge. Some just had designs on them like flowers but one had RIP on it and the name Heather Maclean 1992-2010. I felt a little sad. She was just eighteen with she died.

  We looked down at the large number of tubers floating on the slow moving water.

  “Hey, Bill,” Jesse called and began waving.

  I looked and finally spotted Bill and Maurie kissing in one tube. They separated long enough to wave back.

  “Meet us back at the car in about an hour,” Bill yelled.

  “Okay.”

  We crossed to the other side of the river where there was a beach with benches and a playground. Out in the water was a floating dock that some teenagers had swum to and were sun tanning on.

  “If I had known this was such a lovely spot I would have brought my swimming suit,” I said to Jesse.

  “Yeah, me too. Do you want to go for a swim in our clothes?”

  “I have my cell phone with me.”

  “I left mine at the tent,” Jesse grinned. “That way Mom can’t be texting me all the time.”

  “Does she do that a lot?”

  “Yeah. About twenty times a day.”

  “I’m lucky in that my mother doesn’t like technology very much and she only has a cell phone for emergencies.”

  We went back to the street and waited until there was no traffic then ran across the road. The words ‘Forest Workers Memorial Park’ were spelled out in metal letters on a rock wall. In front was a red brick courtyard with gray bricks listing the names of p
eople who had died in the forestry industry or the names of families who had lost someone dear to them.

  “Paul Milne,” Jesse read. “1958 to 2008. Peace. Love. He was fifty.”

  “Here’s one,” I said. “Art Morris. Sept 23, 1903 to Dec 30th, 1947. He was forty-two.”

  “They were both pretty old when they died.”

  We looked at the huge rocks in the water fountain and the wood carvings of a logging truck, a man climbing a tree, and men balancing on logs in the water then continued walking down the street. We crossed the traffic bridge over the river and came to Central Park.

  “How many parks does this place have?” Jesse asked.

  “Lots, from the look of it,” I said.

  Central Park also had a fountain, this one made of cement with three arches meeting overhead. There were flower boxes and green grass and we walked on a trail down to the river where more people were floating in tubes. This definitely would be the best place to live.

  “What time is it?” Jesse suddenly asked.

  I pulled out my cell phone and checked. “Three-thirty.”

  “What time was it when Bill said to meet back at the car in an hour?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t look.”

  “Oh man. We have to get back.”

  Jesse sounded scared and he started running.

  “What’s the hurry?” I called after him.

  Jesse stopped and turned to me. “You don’t know Bill. He has no patience. He will leave us here.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Come on.” He ran out of the park and onto the sidewalk.

  I quickly followed. I didn’t believe Bill would actually leave us but I didn’t want to take that chance. We retraced our steps across the traffic bridge, past the Forest Workers Memorial Park and Ohtaki Park and back to Saywell Park. I didn’t realize we had gone so far.

  We pulled up at the car. All the windows were down and Bill and Maurie were inside, kissing of course. I figured we were lucky they had a diversion to keep them occupied while waiting for us.