Sea City, Here We Come! Read online

  You know what the best part is? It faces the ocean.

  “Oooooh, honeysuckle, honeysuckle!” Vanessa cried, running to the blossoming bush.

  “Makes me want to laugh and chuckle!” Nicky said. “Hey, Vanessa, did you hear that?”

  Nicky was very proud of himself, but Vanessa was too busy sniffing away to pay attention.

  The station wagon pulled up just moments later. “Let’s go to the beach!” Adam and Margo were screaming.

  “Let’s unpack!” Mom answered.

  I have to admit, it was hard to unload the car when the beach was staring us in the face. But this year I was not only the oldest Pike kid, I was a mother’s helper (parents’ helper would be more accurate).

  Somehow Dad, Mom, Jessi, and I managed to help everybody settle in. Jessi and I staked out the yellow-wallpapered bedroom on the second floor, where Mary Anne and Stacey stayed when they had been parents’ helpers last time.

  “I love this view!” Jessi said, gazing out the window. Her grin was so big, I thought her face would crack. “I can’t believe how beautiful Sea City is!”

  “Hi, up there!”

  We looked down to see Stacey with Buddy and Suzi Barrett (Buddy’s seven and Suzi’s five). “Hi!” we both called.

  “We’re going to claim the beach!” Buddy said.

  “Us too!” cried some voices from below and above us. Instantly the Pike herd began stampeding. Their footsteps rattled the stairways.

  “We better go,” I said to Jessi.

  In a few moments we found ourselves running through the sand toward the ocean.

  I have never seen Jessi so happy. She was like a little kid, jumping and screaming.

  Stacey had run ahead of us. She was already talking to two guys, near a couple of blankets close to the beach. A group of kids was busy digging sand castles nearby. Our charges quickly joined them.

  Typical Stacey, I thought. She would find the guys right away. Once she had this huge crush on a lifeguard named Scott, who unfortunately had no interest in her. Then she met a boy named Toby. He was the cousin of a parents’ helper named Alex. Alex and Mary Anne became good friends, and Stacey and Toby actually dated. But poor Stacey had bad luck again. He broke up with her at the end of the vacation.

  I stopped in my tracks when I saw the guy’s face. He was Toby. I remembered him. The same wavy brown hair, freckles, deep brown eyes …

  Deep, luscious brown eyes. Wow, he was cute. I didn’t remember that about him.

  “So, you’re going to be here awhile?” I heard him say to Stacey.

  “Mm-hm,” Stacey replied.

  “Perfect tanning day,” Toby said. “Huh?”

  Stacey shrugged. “I guess.” Then she looked away and shouted, “Suzi, stay back from the water!”

  “Who’s bringing Mary Anne down?” asked the other guy.

  I tore my eyes away from Toby for a moment. The other guy was fairer-skinned and had lighter brown hair. It took me a minute to realize he was Alex.

  “The boyfriend of the woman I’m working for,” Stacey said. “Uh, excuse me.” She went running off toward Suzi, who really wasn’t doing anything unsafe, as far as I could see.

  “Oh, hi,” Toby said, looking at me. “I’m Toby and this is my cousin Alex. I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “Mal,” I said. “I mean, I’m Mallory Pike.” My voice sounded as if I’d swallowed a fur ball.

  Toby’s eyes widened. “Pike? Are you one of the ones Stacey and Mary Anne used to sit for?”

  I felt deflated. “Yeah. But now I’m sitting, too.”

  Toby seemed to find that funny. “I can believe that. You sure have changed.”

  “Well, it happens,” I said, laughing.

  “Yeah.”

  Soon we separated to watch our charges. But I could see Toby looking at me off and on during the afternoon. And smiling, too.

  Could it be? It didn’t seem possible. He was so much older. Fifteen, probably.

  But I liked the way he was making me feel. I’d never felt that way before.

  Let me say it right out. I hated my first day at Sea City.

  I don’t know why I was being so polite in my card to Claudia. Maybe I thought someone at the Sea City post office would read it and tell Mrs. Barrett.

  What I really wanted to say was this: Mrs. Barrett was being a big pain in the neck.

  Usually I like her. For one thing, she is, like, stunning. She seems younger than a lot of moms. She wears the coolest clothes, which look great on her incredible, Cosmo-model figure. Her hair is a gorgeous chestnut color, with natural curls that spill to her shoulders. I would love to look like her when I’m older.

  Her personality? Well, nice but disorganized. She’s famous for calling the BSC during non-meeting times. Which isn’t totally her fault. She’s divorced and has to take care of three kids on her own. Buddy’s the oldest, and he’s a handful. He’s a skinny eight-year-old who can’t seem to sit still. His sister Suzi, who’s five, is a cute little pudge who loves to play pretend. And Marnie’s an adorable two-year-old with curly blonde hair and blue eyes.

  I was looking forward to being her helper — and going to Sea City. But I felt a little funny not working for the Pikes. Twice before I’d gone to the beach with them, and I loved it. I understood, though, that Mal was old enough now to be responsible, and Jessi’s her best friend. And the Barretts’ house was next door to the Pikes’, so it wasn’t as if I wouldn’t see them.

  Anyway, by the time we left Stoneybrook, I was totally psyched. Mrs. Barrett was excited and friendly when she picked me up. She kept thanking me for coming.

  I should have known I was in for trouble when she drove onto the curb, just outside her house.

  “Oh!” she cried. “What did I do?”

  “My dad does that all the time,” I said as the car bumped back onto the street. “He grew up in New York City, so he didn’t get his license till he was in his twenties.”

  That little story is usually interesting to grown-ups. But Mrs. Barrett simply said “Mm-hm,” and clutched the steering wheel tighter.

  Just outside Stoneybrook, Buddy began asking, “When are we going to stop?”

  “Buddy, can’t you see I’m driving?” Mrs. Barrett snapped. “I have to follow the Pikes or we’ll get lost.”

  I was sitting in the front. I turned around to face the kids. Marnie was already drifting off to sleep in her car seat. “Come on, Buddy and Suzi,” I said. “Let’s see who can spot the most out-of-state license plates.”

  I explained the game to Suzi. They played a pretty long time, but Mrs. Barrett’s mood didn’t improve.

  Honnnnnnk! “Stay in your lane, you creep!” she yelled to someone who pulled in between her and the Pikes.

  Scrreeeeek! She stomped on the brakes when someone swerved toward her from an entrance ramp. The car skidded a little, and she screamed.

  Suzi shrieked. Buddy looked pale with shock. Marnie woke up crying. Mrs. Barrett said — well, I won’t say what she said.

  Things just went from bad to worse. We got stuck in a traffic jam on the highway by New York City. And we lost track of both Pike cars.

  I reminded Mrs. Barrett we’d agreed to meet the Pikes at a Howard Johnson’s in New Jersey. That made her feel a little better.

  We did all catch up at the Howard Johnson’s. But Marnie decided she wanted to live there. She absolutely, positively did not want to ride another minute in the car.

  The problem was, we had a good hour to go.

  And she didn’t stop crying for even a second.

  Then the Pikes had to get off the highway when Nicky barfed. Well, Mrs. Barrett went ballistic trying to figure out what was wrong. She was convinced we were lost.

  By the time we reached the Sea City causeway, Mrs. Barrett’s knuckles were white around the steering wheel.

  “I have to go to the bathroom!” Buddy cried.

  “I want apple juice!” Suzi whined.

  “Waaaaaaaaah!” Marnie s
hrieked.

  I was a wreck. Even the purple cow didn’t make me smile.

  * * *

  Next to the Pikes’ house, the Barretts’ looked tiny. And not nearly as old. It was a plain, white-shingled bungalow with chrysanthemums and rhododendrons growing in front. It looked as though it had been built on what had been the side yard of the Pikes’ house.

  But when we stepped inside, Mrs. Barrett became human again.

  “Stacey, thanks for being so patient with me,” she said as we were unpacking the suitcases (the kids were busy changing into their swimsuits). “This is just such a new experience for me. It’s my first vacation as a single parent. It’s the longest I’ve ever driven. It’s the first time I’ve hired a mother’s helper.” She let out a deep breath, then smiled warmly. “I — I just feel a little overwhelmed, you know?”

  I smiled back. “That’s okay. Why don’t I take the kids to the beach and give you a chance to rest?”

  Her face brightened. “Thanks. Just don’t forget the sun lotion.”

  I felt much better. I gathered the kids and slathered them with lotion (the old gather and slather). Then we ran to the Pikes’.

  In minutes we were storming the beach together. The wind and sun felt wonderful. The sand tickled my feet. A wave broke on the shore, and I could feel its cool mist. My last bit of tension just melted away.

  And that was when I saw Toby.

  He tried to be so friendly. How could he even face me after dumping me? What nerve!

  I was determined not to let him ruin my trip. I hardly said a word to him. I pretended the kids needed me and I ran away.

  Toby’s and my charges played together at first, then drifted apart. That was fine with me. I didn’t look at him, didn’t even think of him again.

  Until suppertime.

  As the kids ran back into the houses, screaming and laughing, Mal pulled me aside. “Uh, Stacey … are you and Toby, like, you know, still … ?”

  “Mal,” I said, “if a great white shark were to hop up on the beach and take him away, I wouldn’t mind a bit.”

  Mal’s eyes opened wide. “Really?”

  “Well, I might feel sorry for the shark,” I said. “Why?”

  Mal giggled. “Well, um, it’s just that … I think he likes me.”

  “Whaaaat?” I didn’t mean to sound so surprised. I didn’t mean to imply that Mallory wasn’t attractive to guys. But I hadn’t expected to hear her say that.

  “He was so sweet to me, Stacey,” she said. “And the way he was looking at me … I could just tell —”

  I exhaled. “Mal, don’t get your hopes up.”

  “What do you mean?” She looked crushed.

  “Look, it’s not that he wouldn’t be interested in you. It’s just … it’s just him, that’s all. He talks a good game, Mallory. He seems so cool and friendly. But if you ever got involved with him, you’d just get hurt. He’d dump you like he dumped me.”

  Mal’s brow was furrowed. “Well, how do you know? I mean, maybe he’s changed —”

  I was losing my patience. The idea that that dweeb would flirt with an eleven-year-old made me furious. “Take my advice, Mal. Forget Toby. That’s all I want to say. I have to help Mrs. Barrett with dinner.”

  I began to walk toward the house. I heard Mal say, “I think you’re … you’re jealous, Stacey.”

  That made me turn around. I couldn’t believe those words came out of Mallory Pike’s mouth.

  “What?” I said.

  “If you don’t like him anymore, then you shouldn’t mind if he likes me,” Mal went on. “Besides, just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean I’m a baby. I can take care of myself with boys!”

  With that, she marched into her house.

  And I marched into mine.

  Mallory and Toby? This was the last thing I needed.

  “Which ones are hard-boiled?” I shouted, gazing into our refrigerator. I saw three egg cartons, neatly stacked on the bottom shelf.

  “The two cartons on the right,” Mary Anne called from the yard. She was busily setting up for the noon arrival of our Mini-Campers.

  “But all three cartons are in one pile!” I replied.

  “Oh, Dad must have restacked them,” Mary Anne said. “Just take an egg from each and spin it.”

  “Huh?”

  “Bring them all outside. I’ll figure it out.”

  I picked up the cartons and walked out the back door. Mary Anne had placed our picnic table and a card table next to each other, side by side. On them was a stack of colored oak-tag; three bottles of Elmer’s glue; containers filled with small seashells, sand, and uncooked elbow macaroni; and some smaller empty containers. (We had gotten permission to take the sand from a neighborhood playground, and Mary Anne had collected the shells in Sea City.)

  Today’s first project was my idea, “Summer Collages.” I figured it would be a great way to start our last week of Mini-Camp — impressions of the summer gone by and adventures yet to come.

  Mini-Camp had been hard work, but a lot of fun. We’d done face-painting and “sand sculpture” (layers of colored sand in a small bottle), and taken a trip to the Stoneybrook Fire Department. We’d even had a dramatic presentation of the Dr. Seuss book, The Lorax. (I think environmental issues are really important. If you don’t know what The Lorax has to do with that, you should read the book.)

  “What’s this about spinning the egg?” I asked Mary Anne as I put the cartons on the picnic table.

  “Watch.” She took one from the top carton and spun it on its side. “That’s hard-boiled.” Then she took an egg from the carton underneath and spun that one. It turned only once or twice, very wobbly. “That’s raw. It does that because of the liquid inside.”

  I smiled. “You’re a genius.”

  Mary Anne actually blushed. I carefully replaced the raw egg. Before I could take the carton inside, I heard a voice scream out, “Hiiii!”

  We turned to see Jenny “Our Angel” Prezzioso running toward us. She’s a four-year-old who lives next door, and she’s one of our campers. (“Our Angel” is what her parents call her, but she isn’t. She’s kind of spoiled.)

  “Hi!” Mary Anne and I both called back.

  “What are we doing today?” Jenny asked.

  I put the carton down and began to explain the project. Soon the other kids started filtering in: first Myriah Perkins, who’s five; Jamie Newton (four); Charlotte Johanssen (eight); and Mathew and Johnny Hobart (six and four).

  “Okay,” Mary Anne announced, “today we’re making summer collages. We have things here you can use. But first you have to find your own materials. Take the empty containers and go collect some natural objects that you can glue to your papers.”

  “Things that remind you of summer and Mini-Camp,” I added.

  The kids grabbed the containers and took off. Charlotte came back first, with grass clippings, leaves, a dandelion, and some twigs. She got to work with the Elmer’s glue.

  Before long all the kids were at their places, gluing away. Mary Anne sat beside them, breaking some hard-boiled eggs. She put the inside parts into one container (to be used for egg salad later) and the shells into another. “You can use the sand, elbow macaroni, and eggshells for different textures,” she said.

  Mathew Hobart was holding two small seashells over his eyes. Before I could figure out what he was doing, he’d managed to hold them in place by lowering his eyebrows over them. “Hi!” he said, turning blindly to his left and right.

  Well, everyone hooted with laughter. The kids tried to copy him. “Come on, guys,” Mary Anne said, “some of those edges are —”

  “Owwwwww!” Jamie Newton cried. A tiny trail of blood began to sprout from a cut high on his right cheek.

  “Ooh, let me clean that off,” Mary Anne said.

  As they walked inside, I heard a splat behind me.

  I turned to see Myriah Perkins staring at her collage. A broken raw egg was spreading across it. “Ooops,” she said.
“I thought they were hard-boiled.”

  Well, we all shrieked about that. Myriah had taken the liberty of reaching into the nearest egg carton (left there by yours truly).

  The kids were giddy now. Johnny began pouring Elmer’s glue on top of the egg.

  “Eww!” Marilyn, Myriah, and Jenny yelled.

  “Johnny, no!” I said.

  Crunch. Jenny had sat on … something. She’d stopped laughing. Slowly she stood up and looked underneath her.

  Another egg was there. This one was hard-boiled. And squashed into a white-and-yellow mishmash.

  Mathew was laughing so hard he fell to the ground.

  “Mathew Hobart,” I scolded, “did you do that?”

  “I’m going to tell!” Jenny said. “My bottom’s going to be all yucky.”

  The kids were gone. On another planet. Even Charlotte was laughing, and she’s the most mature, serious kid I know.

  I could see it was time to move on. I helped wipe off the back of Jenny’s shorts. As soon as Mary Anne returned, I said, “Uh, I think we should go to the Stones’.”

  Jamie seemed to be fine. He even looked proud of the little Band-Aid on his cheek. Mary Anne said, “I’ll call Mrs. Stone to make sure it’s okay to come early.”

  Johnny was now pretending a clump of grass was a mustache. Myriah was trying to make elbow macaroni into fangs. Charlotte, of course, was making a beautiful collage.

  “She says it’s okay!” Mary Anne said, running out of the house. “Let’s go see the animals!”

  “Yeaaa!”

  We left for our Mini-Camp Day at the Farm. (This was Mary Anne’s idea, and a great one.) Down the road from us is an actual small farm, owned by this friendly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Stone. They have the cutest baby goat named Elvira, and guess what? Mary Anne and I actually goat-sat Elvira for a few days when the Stones were out of town.

  It’s a loooong walk, all the way past the cemetery on the outskirts of town. But the kids were so excited they didn’t mind. They began running when they heard Mrs. Stone call, “Hello, kids!” from her driveway.

  Of course, we all wanted to see Elvira first. “Ooooh, hi, cutie!” Mary Anne said, scooping her up.