The Last Great Adventure of the PB & J Society Read online

  “So Mr. Yay-we-get-clothes-for-dress-up is too old to believe in treasure?” I threw the words over my shoulder, not stopping.

  Jason ran to catch up like I knew he would. His chipmunk cheeks were red. “I was being polite. Besides, Halloween is coming up. It would be cool to be a pirate for Halloween. Did you see that eye patch?”

  “You won’t even be here on Halloween if we don’t find that treasure. And don’t change the subject.” I was annoyed. “Mrs. Schuster’s eyes practically bugged out of her head when she saw this map. It has to be real.”

  “We live in Utah, Annie. That’s like thousands of miles from the ocean. Even if Black Marge did exist, how in the world did she end up here? Especially with a heavy treasure. It’s not like they had cars. They probably didn’t even have trains back then. It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Why does everything have to make sense?” I asked. I wanted to slap him across the face to knock some sense into him. “What doesn’t make sense is that you have to move because of stupid money. What if there is a treasure and we don’t find it because you won’t even look?”

  Jason didn’t say anything as we crossed my front yard. When I plopped onto the top porch step, he cleared his throat. “Finding my dad a job is a better plan. Mrs. Schuster is probably lying.”

  “Why would she lie to us?”

  Jason looked away. “Adults lie all the time.”

  I knew he meant his dad. All summer long, Mr. Parker had backed out on every plan they’d made — fishing, hiking, camping. Jason didn’t talk about it, but best friends know.

  “But why? Why would Mrs. Schuster invite us over special to lie to us?” I plucked a dandelion from the grass and with a puff, sent the seeds dancing through the air.

  “Why would she lie?” Jason asked. “A better question is why would she suddenly decide to give a family heirloom to two kids she doesn’t even like?”

  I’d opened my mouth to answer when inspiration struck. I didn’t need to convince Jason about the treasure. He just needed to help me search.

  I tapped my mouth, pretending to think about what he said. “Hmm, maybe you’re right. What we have here is a bona fide mystery. Even if you don’t believe in the treasure, don’t you want answers?”

  Jason picked at a scab on his elbow, pretending not to care. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter.”

  “A real mystery, Jason. Plopped in our laps. You’re not seriously going to ignore it, are you?”

  Jason scuffed his foot on the walkway. I had him. “It would be our first real case,” he said softly.

  “Exactly! If we can’t earn the money, don’t you want to go out with a bang? We can solve this thing.”

  “Will we still look for jobs for my dad?”

  “Plan A, remember? Treasure will be Plan B, and I’ve got some ideas for C and D.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You still think the treasure’s real, don’t you?”

  “Geez, you act like it would be a bad thing if we actually found it.”

  Jason sighed. “Fine. What do we have to do?”

  “Look for the treasure. Report to Mrs. Schuster. Just like we agreed. Are you in?” I held out my hand. “Peanut butter.”

  Jason rubbed the back of his neck, then sighed. “Jelly.” He gripped my hand and we clapped our other hands over the top and bottom of them to make a sandwich.

  One final shake, and according to Society rules the pact was made. There was no going back after the handshake.

  We ran inside and up to the kitchen. No one was there.

  “Mom! Can Jason eat over?” I yelled.

  She answered from the laundry room downstairs. “As long as it’s okay with his mom!”

  I grinned at Jason and grabbed the phone just as it rang. I fumbled the thing, barely catching it before it hit the floor.

  “Nice show.” Jason looked like the Cheshire Cat.

  Ignoring him, I punched the talk button. “Hello?”

  “Is Mrs. Jenkins available, please?”

  Drat. I should have looked at the caller ID. Obviously a telemarketer. Mom hated it when we answered those. “May I ask who’s calling?”

  “This is Mr. Archer from the Regional Hospital. I’m …”

  I didn’t hear the rest because my mom came bounding up the stairs like a crazy person, balancing a full laundry basket on her hip. “Is that for me? Here! Give me the phone!” She dropped the basket and yanked the phone from my hand. “Hello?”

  Jason and I stared. I’d never seen my mom like this.

  “Oh, yes! Mr. Archer. So nice to hear from you.” She frowned when she caught us staring. “I’m sorry, can you hold for just a minute? … Thank you.” She covered the mouthpiece. “You two should be outside. It’s a beautiful day. I’ll let you know when the pizza gets here. You both like pepperoni, right?”

  “But we haven’t called Jason’s mom yet.”

  “I’ll take care of it when I’m done here. Now scoot.”

  “Can I at least get something from my room?”

  “One thing, Annie. But I’d better not catch you dawdling.” She uncovered the mouthpiece and headed for her room. “Sorry about that. Please, go ahead.” The door slammed shut and I couldn’t hear anything else. I debated using the Spy Bud 2000, but I was still on thin ice from the kidney incident.

  “That was weird,” Jason said.

  “For real. Talk about a mystery.”

  Still holding the map, I grabbed my spy notepad and a pen and we headed out back. We scooted two white plastic deck chairs to the table and made a list of everything we remembered from our visit with Mrs. Schuster.

  Mrs. Schuster invited us for milk and cookies.

  She gave Jason back his football.

  She claims she wants to change — be less crabby.

  “And don’t forget what she said about her family,” Jason added.

  “She had a husband?”

  “Who died twenty years ago. And she has a son.”

  “Who she’s mad at.” I still couldn’t believe she’d called him an idiot.

  Husband died twenty years ago.

  Son she’s mad at.

  Had a heart attack a couple years ago.

  Claims to have a great-great-grandmother named Captain Black Marge.

  Mysterious alarm went off at 4:30 p.m.

  Gave us a pirate’s chest full of pirate’s clothes and a “treasure map.”

  We argued about the quotes around it, but I finally gave in. If that kept Jason interested, whatever. He could think what he wanted as long as he helped me look for the treasure.

  Promised to help us if we report back to her on our search.

  Jason read through the clues. “I don’t know, Annie. It kind of just sounds like she’s lonely.”

  I frowned, afraid he was right. But it couldn’t be that easy. “But why us?” I asked. “And why now? If she’s just lonely, she could talk to other old people — like my mom or something. Wouldn’t that be better than inviting over a couple of kids who ruined her lawn?”

  Jason sat up straighter. “You’re right! Write that down.”

  After I added it, we pulled out the map.

  We studied every square inch of that thing, but the only hint we could find about where the treasure might be buried was the actual X.

  “Well I bet the treasure’s buried by the ditch. Pirates always bury their treasure near water.”

  Jason squinted at the map and did some more finger measurements. “I don’t know. We don’t have much to go on here. And now that I think about it, was the canal even built back then? I doubt the irrigation ditches are that old.”

  “Of course they are. Don’t you remember your Utah history from last year? The canals and ditches were like the first thing the pioneers built. Even before houses.”

 
Jason gave me a dirty look. He was usually the one who reminded me of stuff we were supposed to have learned.

  “Now come on. We have nothing to lose. We search for an X somewhere along the ditch, then report back to Mrs. Schuster for more info. Tomorrow before our soccer game. Besides, we haven’t explored the African jungle in ages.”

  “Fine.”

  We grabbed our ditch shoes from below the deck and stuffed my spy notepad and the map in our regular shoes.

  I was nervous about leaving the map. “Maybe you should use your shirt to cover it,” I told Jason.

  He backed away. “Are you crazy? I’m not taking my shirt off in front of you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “We’re going to the ditch. That’s practically like going swimming. You never have a problem taking your shirt off at the pool.”

  Jason’s eyes narrowed. “The ditch is like three inches deep. Nothing like going to the pool. You seem awful anxious for me to take my shirt off.”

  I couldn’t help it. My cheeks flamed. “I’m not! I wanted to protect the map, but forget it. If it gets stolen and someone else finds the treasure, don’t blame me.”

  We stood there glaring for a minute until I bolted. “Beat you there!”

  “Cheater!” Jason wasn’t far behind. His pounding footsteps were getting closer.

  I made it to the end of the yard a millisecond before him and splashed water in his direction. “I win!”

  He kicked water back at me. “Only because you cheated.”

  Not that I’d admit it to him, but he was definitely faster than me. It was rather disturbing.

  I pretended I didn’t hear him and headed to the forest gateway.

  Most yards were fenced off from the irrigation ditch, so weeds and willowy trees grew high around it. But not mine. Dad planted grass right up to the edge so we could play in the water when it was turned on through the summer. With no fence to keep us out, the willowy archway into the rest of the ditch was like a magical door.

  Before going in, I gasped. “Did you see that?” I pointed at the gateway. “Hurry! It’s a leopard.”

  I sprinted into the jungle with Jason close behind.

  “It’s about to eat that penguin!” Jason hid behind a sprawling weed.

  “There are no penguins in Africa.” I crouched next to him.

  “Why not?” Jason shrugged. “It’s all pretend anyway, so why not mix it up?”

  I shook my head. “That’s like having a shark fly. There are rules, you know.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “You could probably get away with a koala,” I suggested. “See the one in that tree?”

  “Koalas live in Australia,” Jason said.

  “But it’s hot in Australia, like it is in Africa, so it’s okay.”

  Jason glared for another second, then a grin crept up his face. “Uh-oh. The koala just sprung a trap. I hear the hunters coming.”

  “Hey! Leave my koala alone.” I’d simply free the koala if I hadn’t been down this road before. Jason would keep coming up with rotten tricks till I gave in. Not today. There would be no penguins in Africa. I spun around and marched farther into the jungle.

  “Aren’t hunters allowed in the rules?” Jason called.

  I glanced back. Jason threw back his head and laughed evilly. “Bwah, hah, hah!”

  Splashing as much as I could, I stomped farther into the forest. I hadn’t gone far when Jason called out.

  “Oh my gosh! Annie, come see this!”

  “I’m not falling for it.” I stuck my nose in the air.

  “Serious, Annie. It’s an X!”

  One look and I knew he wasn’t joking. I raced back, grabbing a stick on the way. Jason hefted a rock where I could clearly see the rough scrapings of a white X-mark. It looked familiar. I’d probably seen it dozens of times on other explorations without realizing what it was.

  “Use this.” I pushed the stick at him, and Jason launched into digging.

  I held my breath and imagined finding a second chest to match the one Mrs. Schuster had given us — only this one filled with gold. I saw the awe in my parent’s eyes. The respect on Mr. Parker’s face. Mrs. Parker’s tears of gratitude when we paid off the house. A stray thought of an iPhone wiggled in — make that matching iPhones for Jason and me. I couldn’t help grinning.

  The stick clanged against something and Jason threw it away to dig with his hands.

  I saw a flash of silver. I wanted to dance. Celebrate. It was all I could do not to jump with excitement.

  Jason pulled the object free. He dipped it in the ditch to wash off the dirt, then held it up.

  My joy crashed into the mud. “My Miss Piggy alarm clock. I forgot about that.” That’s why the X looked so familiar. Jason and I scratched it on that rock with my dad’s best screwdriver forever ago. Man was he mad.

  Jason’s lips quivered. I was afraid he might cry until he snorted a laugh. He clutched his stomach. He laughed so hard, he shook.

  I wanted to be mad. That clock marked a tragic moment in my life. My five-year-old self had been deeply scarred. A chuckle escaped.

  Jason dropped to his knees. Gasping for breath, he held up the clock and tried to speak. “I can’t …” And he burst into another fit. Tears streamed down his face.

  Jason looked foolish, wheezing and pointing. I snickered then laughed harder. Soon I was wiping away my own tears.

  When we finally managed to stop, Jason shook his head. “I still can’t believe your mom actually said you were eating Miss Piggy.” He handed me the clock — a.k.a. the pig sacrifice.

  I flicked one of the rusting silver bells on top, but it didn’t ring. From behind the scratched glass facing, Miss Piggy smiled broadly in her purple shimmery dress. Her arms still marked the exact moment my mom had shattered my innocence: the short arm pointed to the six and the long arm to the three.

  “I still don’t like pork chops.”

  Jason took a deep breath, wiped the last tears from his eyes, and stood. “Let’s go see if that pizza’s here yet. I’m starving.”

  We trudged back to my house. Though the dig had been a bust, I wasn’t about to give up. Cap’n Black Marge’s treasure could fix everything.

  6

  After I’d eaten three slices of pizza and Jason five, we headed to the computer. Matt was still chowing down on his, like, seventh piece, and Kate had shut herself away in our room, talking to her friend, Emma, on the phone.

  “Do you know where to search?” I asked.

  Jason shrugged. “That’s what Google is for.”

  As soon as the computer had booted, he cracked his fingers and began the search. He skipped over the Department of Workforce site, certain his dad had visited them a few weeks ago in person. After perusing several links, he settled on a local TV station and pages of jobs popped up.

  I flipped on the radio and waited through two songs while Jason scrolled through the lists.

  “Find anything?” I finally asked.

  Jason didn’t look away from the screen. “Hmm. Not yet.”

  I sighed. “Why don’t we just print the whole list off and let your dad choose?” I punched the power button on the printer.

  Jason rolled his eyes and pointed at the screen. “Look. Engineering, engineering, engineering. Manufacturing, IT, mechanical services. He doesn’t qualify for these. We have to find the good ones and print those off.”

  I crossed my arms. Jason had no imagination. Stuck in his little box of logic. “But isn’t that the point? If he could find a job doing what he used to do, he’d already be working, right? So we need to find him a new one. Preferably one that makes lots of money.”

  I scanned the list. “Here’s one. Director of Operations. Didn’t your dad run his own business before? He’d be great at that, and it probably makes boatlo
ads of money.”

  Jason clicked on it. “It’s for a funeral home, Annie. Plus it says right there you need a Bachelor’s plus ten years experience.”

  “Well doesn’t he have that? He’s old enough.”

  Jason’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “Nope.”

  “Oh.” I scanned the list again. “What about that one? ‘Shop Assistant (Entry Level).’ I mean, I know your mom does the shopping usually, but I bet your dad has learned a few things from her. Plus it’s entry level, so they won’t expect him to have experience!”

  Jason smacked his forehead. “Shop assistant, not shopping. That means he’d work at a car place.” He clicked on the job. “See?”

  “Oh.” I read through the job description. There were hardly any requirements for this one, and I still thought his dad could do it until the part where it said, “must have good attitude.” He’d been struggling with that one lately.

  “Look, why don’t you just let me search on my own for a minute. I know what I’m looking for.”

  “Fine.” I flopped onto the old orange and white barn-print couch. Ugliest couch ever. But at least it gave me something to do. I focused on finding the hidden cats and decided I could do it by the end of the current song on the radio.

  Except I overestimated how much of the song was left. The deejay was blabbing on about some hair growth product and I was about to change it until I heard the magic words.

  “Right now! Caller twenty-two wins a thousand dollars of cold, hard cash. 4-8-1, 5-8-1, or 6-8-1-CASH. That’s 4-8-1, 5-8-1, or 6-8-1-2-2-7-4. Caller twenty-two. Good luck!”

  I bolted to the phone and dialed the number, but when I held it to my ear, all I got was Kate screaming at me.

  “Hey! I’m on the phone! Hang it up. Now!”

  “This is urgent! I’ll only be two minutes and you can call Emma right back. Please!”

  The deejay on the radio was answering the calls live. “Hello! You’re caller number seven, try again.”

  “No way, squirt. I had it first.”

  “Please! With sugar on top and extra cherries.”

  “I hate cherries. Now hang up before I make you.”