Lions & Liars

by Kate Beasley

  “Oh, yes, that’s obviously the important thing here,” Sarah Anne said, her voice rising. “I’m sure the people who are evacuating their homes and hoping they don’t die are worried about Frederick Frederickson missing his vacation.”

  “Are you being funny?” Frederick said, lowering his arms and turning to look at her.

  Sarah Anne perched on the edge of the coffee table and crossed her legs. “Obviously,” she said.

  “Because your face makes it hard to tell,” Frederick said.

  Sarah Anne sprang up. She grabbed his ears and pulled him so close he could see her tonsils as she yelled, “What’s wrong with my face?”

  Mrs. Frederickson came into the living room carrying the yellow emergency flashlight.

  “Don’t grab his head,” she snapped, and shooed Sarah Anne out of the way. “He’s injured.” She clicked the light on and pointed it into Frederick’s eyes, grabbing his chin so he couldn’t squirm away.

  “Hold still, Freddie,” she said. “I’m checking to see if your pupils dilate. That blow could’ve given you a concussion.”

  “The nurse at school already did that.” Frederick squinted.

  His mom pointed the beam away from him so he could see her. “Really?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Huh.” She tapped his chest with the light. “I knew that was a good school.” Then she headed back to the kitchen to put the flashlight away. Frederick followed, right on her heels. Sarah Anne followed him, right on his heels.

  “I think you’re making a bad decision,” he told his mom.

  “Okay,” Mrs. Frederickson said, not looking back at him.

  “Okay?” Frederick repeated.

  “Okay, I heard you,” Mrs. Frederickson said. “You think Dad and I are making a bad decision.” She stuffed the flashlight in the Thing Drawer. “But you’re wrong. We’re not going. You need to get over it.” She closed the drawer.

  Sarah Anne leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms, smirking at Frederick.

  Frederick tugged his bloodstained T-shirt straight and shot an I loathe every atom of your being face at his sister, before ignoring her. He was going to have to be careful here, reasoning with his mom.

  Frederick knew—in an intellectual way—that his mom loved him and Sarah Anne. But being loved by her was like being loved by a bear. And not like a teddy bear or Pooh Bear. More like a grizzly bear. One that had just gotten its paw caught in a trap and was tearing through the forest, looking for a hunter it could rip to shreds.

  “Mo-o-o-m,” Frederick said, but he snapped his mouth closed. He had heard the beginnings of a whine in his voice. Ten-year-olds did not whine. He took a deep breath and explained, in a calm voice. “I’ve just been looking forward to this vacation for a really, really, really, really, really long time,” he said. “It’s been a bad day. A bad, bad day, and I need to go on vacation.” He folded his hands together prayerfully. “I need a daiquiri in the worst kind of way.”

  “You and me both, kiddo,” his mom said.

  She opened the refrigerator and peered inside. The refrigerator that had a note magneted to it. A note with a list of all the last-minute things they needed to lock, check, and turn off tonight before they got in the car with their suitcases. It was also the refrigerator that only had pickle spears, horseradish, and Cokes in it, because that morning, Frederick’s dad had trashed everything that would spoil while they were away for a week.

  Mrs. Frederickson slammed the refrigerator shut without taking anything out. “But we don’t need to get caught in a hurricane,” she said with a sigh.

  “It might not even hit us,” Frederick said.

  “It’s not pointing directly at Port Verde Shoals,” his mom admitted. “But storms can turn without warning.”

  “Probably the weather people are exaggerating,” Frederick reasoned. “It might not be a bad storm.”

  “Category Five,” Sarah Anne said under her breath. “Frederick wants to drown us all.”

  “I’m not worried about drowning so much as getting really seasick,” Mrs. Frederickson said, wrinkling her nose.

  “Gah!” Sarah Anne stomped her foot. “Don’t you think it’s pretty selfish of you to worry about getting nauseous when there are people who are evacuating—”

  “The word you’re looking for is nauseated,” their mom said. “And you’re being self-righteous, which is nauseous.”

  “I am not,” Sarah Anne said. “I’m—”

  “Sarah Anne,” Mrs. Fredrickson interrupted in a mild voice, her eyebrows lifting in feigned surprise. “You are being very”—she paused a moment, and the air in the kitchen seemed to crackle—“unattractive,” Mrs. Frederickson finished.

  Sarah Anne paled.

  Ever since she’d become a teenager, Sarah Anne was obsessed with how she looked. If someone told her that her left arm was unattractive, she’d probably chop it off.

  “I am not,” Sarah Anne said in a strangled voice. “I am not being unattractive.”

  Unattractive red splotches erupted on her neck.

  “I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m being a good person. And—and neither one of you appreciates me!” Sarah Anne whirled around and fled.

  “On the bright side,” Mrs. Frederickson said cheerfully, as if she had a perfectly normal daughter, “you can go to Joel’s birthday party now.”

  It took Frederick a moment to understand what she was talking about.

  “I don’t want to go to Joel’s birthday,” he grumped.

  “Yeah, I don’t either,” his mom said, grabbing her key ring off the counter and looping it around her finger. “But it’s dinnertime, and I’m hungry, and I bet Joel’s family has food.”

  Frederick looked around the kitchen, panicked. He didn’t want to see Joel. Not now, when Joel had told him he was a flea. Not now, when he was supposed to be in the backseat of the family’s car on the way to Port Verde Shoals. Not when he’d told Joel he was missing his party to go on vacation.

  “Sarah Anne!” Mrs. Frederickson yelled. “Get ready to go! We’re taking your brother to a party so we can get burgers!”

  “Couldn’t you just…” Frederick waved his arms, indicating the stove, the fridge, the oven. “Cook something?”

  Slowly, his mom turned to face him. Her eyes focused on him, and she seemed to be stretching taller and taller, filling up the entire kitchen.

  “That thing you just said,” she growled. “Why don’t you say it again?”

  3

  And Then It Came Unattached

  A greasy, sizzling burger plopped onto the paper plate Frederick was holding. Joel’s dad pointed the spatula at it and declared, “That there’ll put hair on your chest.”

  Frederick looked from the brown meat patty to the curly chest hairs blooming from the neck of Mr. Mincey’s chef’s apron.

  Joel’s favorite rap song was bumping out of the portable speaker set up on the patio. Mr. Mincey was waiting for Frederick to respond, but chest hair didn’t seem like the kind of thing you were supposed to discuss. Of course, Frederick wouldn’t have to discuss it if he had been on his way to Port Verde Shoals right now.

  “Uhh … thank you,” Frederick said to Mr. Mincey, and turned away to carry his burger to some private part of the Minceys’ yard, where he could dig a small hole and bury it and then dig a larger hole and crawl into it and die.

  “Hey, what happened to your face?” Mr. Mincey called after him.

  Frederick pretended not to hear.

  The Minceys’ back patio was full of people. There were Joel’s aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents and step-grandparents and a great-grandma, who was bundled in several sweaters and tucked in a lawn chair. Frederick wove through the clusters of conversation, steering clear of his mom, who was holding a burger in one hand and a Coke in the other and chatting animatedly with Mrs. Mincey. He didn’t make it out of the crowd to enact his burger-burying plan before Joel and Raj found him.

  “T
here’s my best buddy!” Joel crowed. He threw an arm around Frederick and squeezed him. “I knew my best buddy wouldn’t miss my birthday party!”

  “Cut it out,” Frederick said, trying to shrug Joel off his shoulders without his burger sliding off his plate. “And stop calling me your buddy.”

  “But aren’t you supposed to be on your way somewhere?” Joel asked in mock confusion. With his free hand he tapped his finger against his chin, and then a smile broke over his face. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “You’re supposed to be going on a cruise, aren’t you? With a chocolate fountain. And world-class entertainment.”

  “Fresh ocean air,” Raj said, tilting his head back and raising his arms dramatically to the sky. “Ice-cold daiquiris.”

  “’S’not funny,” Frederick mumbled.

  “Snot is funny,” Joel and Raj said automatically.

  “Seriously, though,” Joel said. He let go of Frederick, and the smile slid off his face. “I feel bad about your vacation. And I have something for you.”

  “You do?” Frederick said, knowing full well that Joel didn’t have anything for him. Joel never had anything for him, and besides, it was Joel’s birthday, which meant that people gave things to Joel, not the other way around.

  “Come on,” Joel said. “Follow me.”

  Frederick had a bad feeling. Actually, it wasn’t a feeling at all. It was a certainty. Frederick was certain that Joel had something mean or stupid in mind and that the whole point of the mean, stupid thing was to make Frederick unhappy so that Joel could be amused. And yet … Frederick found himself following Joel and Raj with his rapidly cooling burger patty.

  Later, if someone asked Frederick why he had followed his friends to his mean, stupid, not-good fate, he would’ve given them not one, but two answers: (1) He couldn’t think of anything better to do, and (2) Eh, why not?

  Joel led Raj and Frederick away from the party and the music to the edge of his yard. He took them down the short hill that led to the river.

  The river was the Omigoshee. The water was dark and cold and banked with white sand. Gnarled trees with twisting limbs stretched out over the water. Whenever Frederick wanted to go swimming or fishing, he had to get his dad to take him to the public parking area, and he had to use the public section of the river where fifteen other boys and their dads were doing the same thing. And all the boys had cooler swim trunks than Frederick’s, which had tugboats on them, and all their dads had bigger trucks than Mr. Frederickson, who didn’t have a truck at all—he had a Corolla. But Joel and his dad, they had their own private section of the river.

  They also had their own floating wooden dock that extended into the Omigoshee, and Joel led Raj and Frederick onto this dock and stopped. At the end of the dock was Mr. Mincey’s small white fishing boat with its shiny black motor. The motor was up out of the water. The lines tying the boat to the dock were pulled taut.

  Joel threw out his arm toward the boat like he was presenting Frederick with something fantastic. His mouth curved in a smile.

  “What is it?” Frederick asked suspiciously. Obviously it was a boat, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

  “It’s your own private cruise!” Joel exclaimed in delight. “Sail away and enjoy your chocolate fountain!” Then he burst into loud, braying donkey laughs.

  Frederick worked to keep his face expressionless and not show Joel his annoyance. “That’s not even funny,” he said.

  Raj rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s really not funny,” he said, turning to Joel. “Why is it funny?”

  Joel stopped laughing. His face shone with sweat. The music from the party drifted, tinny and distant, to the river, and a mosquito zinged around Frederick’s head.

  “You need to get your sense of humor checked out,” Joel said, shaking his head.

  “My sense of humor is fine,” Frederick answered. “I’m just sick of you acting like I’m some kind of reject.”

  “Well, let’s look at the facts,” Joel began.

  “Your theory of life is stupid,” Frederick cut him off, his voice rising.

  “Have you got a better one?” Joel demanded.

  “Yeah!” Frederick said. “You just want to think I’m a loser because you’re a loser,” he said recklessly, wanting to show Joel that he’d had enough of Joel picking on him. The effect would’ve been better if he could’ve waved his arms around and gotten up in Joel’s face, but he couldn’t do that because he might drop his burger. So all he could do was stand there, holding his paper plate, his hands shaking with anger. “I’m not a loser,” he said, his burger patty trembling. “I’m awesome. And I’m great. And I’m going to do awesome, great things and I don’t care what you do!”

  Frederick didn’t actually believe he was awesome or great. But he could sense that this was the moment in the movie when the hero took a stand. This was where he showed them what he was made of. Frederick needed to sound tough here.

  “So this is my cruise, huh?” Frederick said, his voice cracking. “You’re giving this to me?”

  Raj shrugged at him.

  Then Frederick stepped off the dock and into the boat. Holding his plate in one hand, he snatched off one of the lines that secured the boat to the dock and sat right down on the metal seat. He balanced his plate on his knees. Then he reached backward and awkwardly shook off the second line.

  “Thanks a lot,” he said when he’d gotten it off. “And tell your dad I said thanks, too.” Frederick shoved against the dock, and the boat drifted away, the current pulling the bow gently. “I hope he doesn’t mind that you gave away his boat.”

  He looked up at his friends standing on the dock, and he smiled and spread his hands wide. “What are you going to do now?” he asked.

  Raj and Joel stared at him. Their faces were blank, like Frederick had finally, at last, completely stumped them. Then …

  “What are you gonna do now?” Joel asked.

  Frederick looked down at the widening gap of water between the boat and the dock. The current had already carried him out into the river and was easing him downstream.

  “Ahh, shoot,” Frederick said, and he reached out for the dock. His fingertips brushed the edge, but he couldn’t grab on. He tried again, but he was too far out. His heart flopped like a fish out of water, gasping for air … or gasping for water or for … whatever.

  Joel and Raj went to the edge of the dock and looked down at Frederick.

  “What are you going to do?” Raj asked. “You know this isn’t really a cruise ship, right?” He was speaking in a slow, careful voice, as if he was afraid that Frederick was losing touch with reality.

  “Wow,” Joel said sarcastically. “I guess you really showed me.” But even as he spoke, he was kneeling at the edge of the dock and leaning forward, stretching out his hand toward Frederick.

  “Grab,” he said.

  Frederick reached as far as he could without overturning the boat. His fingertips touched Joel’s, but then they moved apart, out of reach.

  Joel wobbled for a moment, almost falling face-first into the river. He snatched his arm back and balanced himself. He shook his head. “Okay,” he said, “this is going to be fine. Drop the motor in the water. Then I’ll tell you how to start it. It’s really easy.”

  Frederick’s hands were sweaty as he moved toward the back of the boat. He hadn’t used the motor before. And he’d never paid attention when Mr. Mincey had been revving it up.

  He saw a lever that he thought he’d seen Mr. Mincey use to lower the propeller into the water. Frederick pulled it.

  A bolt dropped and clanged against the boat’s bottom. The heavy motor tipped over the edge with a solid thud. And then it came unattached and splashed into the water. It sank and was gone.

  “Ahh!” Frederick yelled. He looked down at his shadowy reflection wavering in the dark water and then up at the dock.

  Joel was on his knees, staring at him in horror. Raj was holding his head in both hands like he was trying to keep it from falling off hi
s shoulders.

  “Ahh!” Frederick yelled again, grabbing the sides of the boat as the river pulled him away from his friends.

  “I said drop it in the water!” Joel yelled. “I didn’t say drop it in the water!”

  “That’s the same thing!” Frederick yelled back. “It’s literally the same thing!”

  “It is literally the same thing!” Raj shouted.

  “Okay!” Joel said. “Okay, okay! Uh … Drop the anchor!” He grabbed the edge of the dock and leaned as far forward as he could, as if he would reach out and throw the anchor himself. “Drop the anchor!”

  Frederick looked around frantically and spotted the small anchor in the bottom of the boat. He dove for it, not caring how the boat rocked and dipped. He hauled the anchor up onto the seat.

  “Do you want me to drop it in the water, or am I supposed to drop it in the water?” he shouted sarcastically, and threw the anchor over the side. The anchor disappeared into the river, and Frederick felt a moment of relief. Then he realized the trees on the riverbank were still sliding by. “What…”

  “The line!” Joel cried. “Why isn’t the anchor tied off to the line?”

  Frederick looked down and saw the rope, which was supposed to be tied to the anchor, neatly coiled in the bottom.

  “Gah!” he yelled.

  Raj was still holding his head on his shoulders, turning it so that he could watch Frederick move farther down the river. “We need to get someone who knows more about boats,” he said to Joel. “We need to get someone who knows about rivers. We need—”

  “Just jump!” Joel yelled, ignoring Raj and getting to his feet. He hopped up and down on the dock. “Forget the boat! Just jump.”

  Frederick stood. The boat swayed under his feet, and he steadied himself. This was going to be lousy. His clothes would be wet. His mom would be mad. He’d have to tell Mr. Mincey what had happened to his motor. And his anchor. And his boat. But he didn’t have a choice. His legs tensed.