Sea City, Here We Come (9780545633222)

by Martin, Ann M.

  Jessi nodded. “I think so. If you step on one.”

  Claire and I crouched down to look, but we stayed pretty far back.

  The pool was amazing. Around the horseshoe crab were a starfish, some snails, sand crabs, and a school of teeny black fish.

  “Wow!” Claire said.

  The starfish wiggled a little. That made the sand crab crawl sideways. The fish swam back and forth. The snails just sat there.

  Then the horseshoe crab moved.

  We ran away. But when we looked back, we could see it had barely gone anywhere. I guess it didn’t really want to leave the water.

  “Horseshoe crab-silly-billy-goo-goo!” Claire yelled.

  Jessi and I burst out laughing.

  “This is soooooo cool,” I said. “They’re all trapped. The water’s like a cage, because the fish can’t escape. If they did, they would dry up and die.”

  “Mm-hm,” Jessi agreed.

  “It’s like a zoo,” I went on. “A beach zoo.”

  “Yeah!” Claire said.

  A beach zoo. What a great idea.

  “I want everybody to see my beach zoo,” I said. “We could put up a sign and charge admission.”

  “Admission?” Jessi looked at me as if I were crazy.

  “Yeah. Come on!”

  I ran all the way home. In the living room I found an empty cardboard box we’d packed stuff in. “Can I use this?” I called out.

  Dad stuck his head out of the kitchen. “Sure. What are you going to do with it?”

  “Make a sign.”

  I ripped off one side of the box (with Dad’s help). Then I ran to my room and found a black marker and some tape.

  In no time I had finished my sign. It looked like this:

  My dad came in and looked over my shoulder. “What’s a beach zoo?”

  I told him, and he said, “I’ll get your mom.”

  I hurried outside. On the porch was a green shovel with a long handle. It was perfect. I carefully taped the sign to it, using lots of tape.

  I could see Jessi and Claire by the water, with my brothers and sisters and the Barretts. I marched down there, holding my sign high. “Everybody come to the beach zoo!” I shouted.

  “Beach zoo! Beach zoo! Silly-billy-goo-goo!” Claire shouted.

  Jordan groaned. “You sound like Vanessa!”

  Vanessa was building a sand castle with Buddy. She picked up a gloopy handful of wet sand and ran after Jordan.

  Adam, Byron, Suzi, Jessi, and Mal followed me. Stacey promised she’d come later, after Buddy finished his castle.

  When we reached the tidal pool, I stuck the shovel in the sand. My sign was standing straight up.

  “Cool!” Adam said, crouching to see the horseshoe crab.

  I stood in front of the zoo and held out my hand. “Only fifty cents for the experience of a lifetime.”

  “What?” Adam stood up and made a face. “Why should I pay you? I can see this for free! This is a public beach!”

  “Adam …” Mal warned.

  “Well, it’s true, right, Byron?” Adam said.

  “Yeah,” Byron replied, trying to peer around me.

  Adam turned away. “Let’s go.”

  Byron followed him, then Suzi.

  “Sorry, Margo,” Mallory said.

  “Tell the others the zoo is open,” I said.

  “Okay.”

  Jessi was the only one who stayed with me. I stood on the cliff. “Come to Margo’s Beach Zoo!” I announced. “Only fifty cents.”

  Some people on blankets looked over but didn’t get up.

  A gray-haired couple walked by and peeked over the cliff. They just smiled and kept walking.

  Some stupid kid ran by and tried to step in the beach zoo, but Jessi chased him away. She should have let him get bitten by the horseshoe crab.

  Soon Mom and Dad arrived with Mrs. Barrett. They each paid their admission fee — and they loved the zoo! Dad even turned the horseshoe crab over. It was gross, with all these claws around a small hole (Dad said it was its mouth).

  I stayed there the rest of the afternoon. I noticed the waves starting to come closer and closer to the pool.

  Then Jessi and I saw a family set their blanket down. They had three kids. I told them about the zoo and they all came to see it!

  Their oldest boy, George, reached the cliff first. He looked over and asked, “Where is it?”

  “Right th —” I began.

  But the waves were crashing against the edge of the cliff. The starfish, the snails, the sand crabs, and the fish were all gone.

  As the waves went back, we could see the horseshoe crab. It was slowly trying to crawl to the water.

  My sign was floating beside it.

  The three kids ran after the horseshoe crab. I looked at Jessi. We shrugged. “That’s why it’s called a tidal pool,” Jessi said. “The tide comes in.”

  I reached into my pocket. I had a dollar fifty.

  Oh, well. If it weren’t for the dumb tide, I know my zoo would have done really, really well. I could have been a millionaire.

  “Ice creeeeeam …”

  “Ice creeeeeam …”

  “Ice creeeeeam …”

  “Ice creeeeeam …”

  Four guys wearing white aprons were singing in front of Ice-Cream Palace. They were probably high school age, maybe college. I guess they were supposed to be a barbershop quartet. The last guy who sang “Ice cream” had a voice like a high squawk. His neck veins stood out and his face turned bright red. He looked ready to explode.

  But the singers were really good.

  Claire, Margo, and Suzi stood in front of them with their mouths hanging open. If I didn’t know them better, I’d think they’d forgotten about their ice cream.

  It had taken us awhile to get to Ice-Cream Palace. The Sea City main drag is full of distractions. In fact, it’s like one long distraction. There are souvenir shops, candy stores, a miniature golf course, and a place for every bad-for-you food imaginable. Like these:

  Kotton Kandy Korner (why kan’t they just spell the words korrectly?)

  Hercules’ Hot Dogs

  Taffy ’n’ Things

  Burger Garden

  Pizza Falafel (I think they mean pizza and falafel)

  And my personal favorite, Chili Fotorama (do they put your snapshots in the chili or on the side?)

  Of course, we had walked into almost every one of those places on the way to Ice-Cream Palace. But the Pikes and Mrs. Barrett had given me just enough money for cones. That was a wise idea, but it didn’t make the trip easy for me.

  I was constantly saying things like, “Are you sure you want taffy instead of ice cream?”

  Anyway, the barbershop quartet finally reached the end of the song. For a flourish they reached into their apron pockets, took out metal ice cream scoops, thrust them in the air, and shouted (what else?) “Ice Cream!”

  A big crowd had gathered. We all applauded. The guys bowed and ran inside — and we all went in after them.

  The four singers scurried behind the counter, ready to serve customers. The one with the deepest voice was very cute. He also happened to be an African-American, which didn’t hurt. “Hi,” he said. “Can I help you?”

  “I want Rocky Road!” Margo blurted out.

  “Pistachio Mustachio!” Claire shouted with a giggle.

  “Chorcolate!” Suzi said.

  “Chorcolate?” I repeated.

  Suzi smiled. “That’s how Goofy says it!”

  “How many scoops?” the cute guy asked.

  “Two!” (Suzi.)

  “Four!” (Margo.)

  “Seven!” (Claire.)

  “Whoa, I only have enough for one scoop for each of you,” I said.

  Triple moans and groans.

  “Don’t worry, I give big scoops,” the guy said.

  He was right. The kids walked out with little mountains of ice cream. (I had ordered a vanilla frozen yogurt. I was determined not to feel like a blimp when
I returned to ballet class after vacation.)

  On the way home, we passed by Pizza Falafel. On its counter, which faced the boardwalk, someone was buying a falafel plate. It looked like fried meatballs covered with a yummy-smelling sauce. “What’s that?” Margo asked the counter man.

  “Fried mashed chickpeas!” the man answered cheerfully.

  The girls hurried away.

  “Ooh, can we play miniature golf?” Suzi asked.

  “Too hard!” Claire said. (According to Mal, Claire practically set a record for the most strokes per hole at Fred’s Putt Putt.)

  “Oooh, can we go in one of those?” Margo pointed to a small, wheeled, wicker carriage that was being pushed by a muscular guy. An elderly couple was sitting on the seat.

  “Uh, maybe another time,” I replied, imagining the puddles of ice cream between the wicker strands.

  “Look! Look! Come here!” Now Suzi had plastered her face to a souvenir shop window. In it was a smiling, stuffed toy seagull, wearing a bib that said SEA CITY.

  “Aw, he’s cute!” cried Margo.

  (He wasn’t.) “Um, I don’t have enough to —”

  “I just want to look. Please please please please!”

  “Oh, okay.”

  The girls stormed into the store. Suzi ran to the seagull and hugged it. She called it Scuttle, after the seagull in The Little Mermaid. Claire was fingering the chocolate bars at the candy counter, and Margo had her eye on one of those little snow globes.

  The saleswoman was very nice. She gave each of the girls a pencil with Sea City stamped on it — for free.

  The girls were ecstatic. I felt guilty because we weren’t going to spend money there.

  On the way out, I glanced at a big bulletin board outside the store. I saw a sign advertising a traveling circus on Sunday. When I read that aloud, the kids were determined to go. But another sign was even more interesting:

  “Yea!” Suzi screamed. “Let’s all enter!”

  “We’re great at building castles!” Claire said.

  You should have seen the girls. They jumped around so much I thought they’d lose what was left of their cones.

  “Okay, when do you want to start practicing?” I asked.

  “NOW!”

  It was unanimous. The girls scarfed down their cones and ran toward the water.

  In minutes I was helping them build castles. They were good, too. Suzi was especially skilled with wet sand. She could take a fistful and let it ooze out, making weird, goopy shapes.

  We worked for a long time. We built a moat, a drawbridge, and a lookout tower. Claire tried to make a troll under the drawbridge, but it looked more like a stalagmite.

  As we were finishing up, Mal came over with the triplets, who were tossing a football around. Jordan was sucking on the last part of a Fudgsicle. “Hey, pretty good,” he said when he saw our castle.

  “We’re going to win the sand castle contest,” Margo announced proudly.

  I thought Jordan was going to choke on his Fudgsicle. “What? You think you’re going to enter the sand castle contest?”

  “We don’t think,” Margo snapped.

  “I know you don’t,” Jordan said.

  Margo stuck out her tongue. I stood up and took Jordan aside. “Come on, Jordan —” I began.

  “Have you seen the other castles?” Jordan asked.

  “What other castles?”

  “Down there.” He pointed toward the jetty. I could see people doing something in the sand. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  Mal agreed to keep an eye on the girls. Jordan and I walked toward the jetty.

  As we got closer, my jaw dropped open. The people I’d seen were building castles.

  Castles? These were medieval villages — kingdoms! I half expected horses to come out of them.

  The builders were mostly grown-ups, and they were working in teams. They were using fancy molds and carving tools. One group was even using sand bricks! The detail was amazing — plastic windows and doors, wooden drawbridges that worked, real pennants flying from the towers, different-colored sand (is there such thing as sand dye?).

  “Oh, boy …” I murmured.

  “I told you,” Jordan said.

  The girls’ castle was nothing compared to these. But I didn’t want to insult them by saying they shouldn’t enter.

  So far, my week had been great. I’d been a perfect mother’s helper, just like I wanted to be. But this was going to be trouble. Feelings were going to be hurt.

  I had no idea what to do.

  I don’t know how Dawn convinced me to hold an outdoor sleepover.

  I’m not the type of person who likes to camp out. I prefer a nice, soft bed with a roof over my head and an air conditioner.

  Anyway, we decided to hold it on Thursday night, the night before the last day of Mini-Camp. It would be in the barn if it rained, outside if the weather was nice. We called all the parents and got permission. Everybody loved the idea except the Prezziosos. They didn’t think it was appropriate for their angel to be roughing it. But they changed their minds when Jenny threw a tantrum.

  Thursday evening was cloudy. Dawn and I prepared for an outdoor campout hoping it wouldn’t rain. We had bought marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars for s’mores. (We had had a barbecue for dinner, so Dad and Sharon said we could use the glowing coals.) We set out several huge blankets, then rolled out sleeping bags for Marilyn and Carolyn, who didn’t have them.

  Jenny was the first to arrive. Her dad brought her over. She was wearing pink slippers and pj’s with unicorns on them. She was also clutching a ragged red doll that had been patched a million times.

  “She won’t go to sleep without it,” Mr. Prezzioso said in an apologetic voice. He set down the fluffiest, most expensive-looking kid’s sleeping bag I had ever seen. Rolled up with it was a foam rubber pad. “She likes a soft sleeping surface.”

  Marilyn and Carolyn, who couldn’t come to the Stones’ farm, came next. Then the Hobart brothers, then Charlotte. Myriah and Jamie arrived last.

  Were they adorable! Mathew and Johnny wore short-shorts pj’s, but Jamie had Doctor Dentons on. “So my feet won’t get dirty if I have to get up during the night,” he explained.

  After the parents left, the kids rolled out their sleeping bags on the blankets. Charlotte began to look awfully worried about something. “Um, Dawn?” she asked. “What happens if we … you know, if we have to …”

  “Go pee-pee!” Johnny announced.

  “You can use the bathroom in the house,” Dawn said. “Or … go outside, if you want.”

  That made the campers explode with giggles.

  “Who wants to play games?” I asked.

  “ME!”

  Our yard is perfect for running around, so we played Red Light, Green Light; Freeze Tag; and some other games, until it got too dark to see.

  Then it was time for s’mores!

  We sat around the grill. By that time the coals were almost dead, but they did soften the marshmallows a little. Dawn had brought out some sesame sticks for herself (untoasted, of course) — and those caught on, too. She had to run inside and get a whole bagful.

  Things were going just great, until I began hearing a psssss … psssss noise.

  Mathew heard it, too. “What’s that?”

  “Maybe it’s a ghost,” Jenny said.

  Jamie’s eyes bugged open. “Um, I want to go home.”

  Pssss …

  Then I felt something. A drop. It was starting to rain. “You know what that noise is?” I said. “Raindrops hitting the coals. I hate to say it, but we have to move this campout inside the barn.”

  “Then it’s a campin, not a campout,” Carolyn said.

  We scooped up the sleeping bags and dragged them to the barn. I turned on the light. “Spread them out on the hay,” I suggested.

  After we set up again, I could see some yawning faces. And some sad ones. Like Jamie’s.

  “What’s up?” I said, kneeling besi
de him.

  “I — I just … I mimamandadee,” he mumbled.

  “You what?”

  In the teeniest voice, he said, “I miss my mommy and daddy.”

  I put my arm around him. “I know how you feel. And you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I thought we’d tell a few bedtime stories, and then if you still want to go, my dad can take you home.”

  I could see a flicker of interest in Jamie’s eyes when I mentioned bedtime stories. “Can you tell a scary one?” he asked.

  “You want a scary story?”

  He nodded. “With monsters!”

  “Dragons!” Mathew added.

  “Worms!” Johnny shouted.

  “Worms?” Jenny repeated. “That’s dumb.”

  “No, giant, slimy blood-sucking ones!” Johnny said.

  Jenny made a face. “Ew.”

  “How about a ghost story?” Charlotte asked.

  “Great idea!” Dawn said. “In fact, there may be a ghost, right on this property.”

  Charlotte smiled and settled into a pile of hay. Jamie, Myriah, and Johnny stared at Dawn, wide-eyed. Carolyn and Mathew looked skeptical. Marilyn giggled and said, “Get out of here.”

  “It’s true,” Dawn said. “Or at least some people think it is. You see, almost two hundred years ago, this house belonged to the Mullray family. But they ran into some trouble, and Old Man Mullray had to move the family to Vermont. Well, two of his children went, but his youngest son, Jared, refused to leave. On the morning of the move, when the bank officials came to claim the property, Old Man Mullray called for his son, and they all heard Jared answer, ‘I ain’t leaving!’

  “But the voice wasn’t coming from the house, or the barn. It seemed to be coming from someplace in between. No one ever found Jared Mullray, and to this day, some people think he’s still rattling around.”

  “R-r-really?” Jamie asked.

  “I heard that story before,” Jenny said.

  “Ah, but you never heard of Priscilla Gatlin, Jared’s fiancee,” Dawn said.

  Jenny shook her head. The kids leaned forward.

  I gave Dawn a Look (I had never heard of Priscilla Gatlin).

  “Priscilla was madly in love with Jared. But her father was a common blacksmith whose business had fallen on hard times. Old Man Mullray wouldn’t hear of the marriage. He figured a move to Vermont would solve his son’s crush on this unworthy girl.