Going, Going, Gone! With the Pain and the Great One (7 page)

“Not really,” the girl said.

“Vera, this is Jake,” the curly-haired woman said. “Jake, this is my daughter, Vera.”

“I want my dad!” I said again. I thought about crying.

But then Dad was pushing through the crowd. The Great One was right behind him, shoving people out of her way. When Dad spotted me, he called, “Jake!” I jumped up from the table and ran to him. He scooped me up and kissed me a hundred times. He held me so tight I could hardly breathe. But I didn’t care.

When he put me down, the Great One said, “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” I asked.

“Get lost,” she said.

“I didn’t get lost. You and Dad got lost.”

“That’s crazy,” she argued. “You lost us!”

“No,” I said. “I was looking in the window, talking to you. And then you were gone!”

“No, I was walking along talking to Dad, and then
you
were gone!” she said. “And you scared Dad so bad!”

“I did?”

“Yes, but you didn’t scare me! I always knew you were okay. I mean, who’d want to steal you? You were just being a pain, same as always!”

“Well, I had a really good time,” I told her. “So ha ha! I walked
down
the Up escalator.”

“Did you hear that, Dad?” the Great One said. “Did you hear what he did? He walked
down
the Up escalator. And do you know how many times Mom’s told him that’s dangerous?”

“Abigail,” Dad said, taking the Great One’s hand. “Jake,” he said, taking mine. “Let’s just be glad we’re all together. Now, how about lunch?”

“Lunch is on the house!” the manager of the pizza place called.

“That’s very nice of you,” Dad said. “But not necessary.”

“I insist,” the manager said.

Everyone at the food court cheered.

Then the Great One said, “I’ll see that robot movie if you still want to.”

And I knew she was glad she found me.

“SAY ‘CHEESE!’”

We’re going to visit Grandpa Pete for his birthday. Fluzzy can’t come, so Charlie, our babysitter, is going to watch him. “Goodbye, Fluzzy,” I said. But Fluzzy wouldn’t look at me. He knew we were going away and leaving him behind. I always feel sad when I have to say goodbye to Fluzzy. I wish I could pack him in my suitcase.

Grandpa Pete lives in Florida. Not the
Disney World part of Florida. Not the beach part, either. He lives in Everglades City. It’s the-middle-of-nowhere, Florida. He never comes to visit us because he won’t leave his birds. They’re not really
his
birds, but that’s what he calls them. Every morning and every night Grandpa Pete hangs his binoculars around his neck and goes out in his canoe to watch them. He knows his birds the way Mom and Dad know me and the Pain.

“Maybe we’ll see an alligator this time!” the Pain sang. “Maybe we’ll see a snake!” The Pain has a book,
Wildlife of the Florida Everglades
. He likes to look at the pictures.

“I don’t want to see a snake,” I told him.

“One time Justin had a birthday party,” the Pain said. “And Reggie Reptile came with his snakes. One of them was a boa constrictor. That was so cool!”

“I don’t want to hear any more about snakes!” I shouted.

The Pain laughed.

I decided to wear my cowboy boots on the plane.

“You don’t need boots in Florida,” Mom said when she saw me.

“Snakes can’t bite through leather,” I told her.

“Where did you hear that?” she asked.

“I read it in the Pain’s book.”

Mom shook her head, but she didn’t say I couldn’t wear my boots.

When we got to Grandpa Pete’s, he acted like he saw us yesterday, even though it’s been a year. He’s not the huggy kind of grandpa. He never says how much we’ve grown or how glad he is to see us.

“I’ve got something for you,” Grandpa Pete said, holding out two cameras. “Throwaways. You each get twenty-four pictures.”

“You mean it’s not a digital?” the Pain asked.

“Digital?” Grandpa Pete said, as if he’d never heard the word. “This camera uses
film, Jacob.” Grandpa Pete never calls the Pain Jake—only Jacob. “When you’ve taken all your pictures, the film gets developed into photos. So take your pictures carefully. You can’t put more film in this camera.”

“Thanks, Grandpa Pete!” I said.

I elbowed the Pain. “Oh, thanks,” he said to Grandpa. He was already snapping pictures.

“Say ‘cheese!’”
he said to Dad. He got him unpacking his underwear.

“Say ‘cheese!’”
he said to Mom. He got her yawning.

“Say ‘cheese!’”
he said to Grandpa Pete. He caught him scratching his belly.

“You’re going to be sorry,” I told him. “You’ve only got twenty-four pictures.”

“So?” he said.

“So, we’re going to be here three days. And when you run out, don’t ask if you can use my camera, because the answer is
no
!”

“Did I say I want to use your camera?”

“I’m just telling you the rules.”

“Say ‘cheese!’”
He snapped a picture of me with my mouth open.

“And stop taking my picture!” I told him.

He laughed.

As soon as it was dark, we went to sleep on blow-up mattresses. Grandpa Pete doesn’t have a TV. He doesn’t have a computer or a cell phone either. His house is just a big
screened porch with one small inside room. The screens keep out most of the bugs. There are plenty of bugs. Too many for Mom. She’s always swatting at something.

Early the next morning, before the sun came up, Grandpa Pete woke the Pain and me. “Shhhh …” he whispered, because Mom and Dad were sound asleep. We got into our long pants, long-sleeve shirts, and floppy hats. We grabbed our cameras. Outside, Grandpa Pete looked down at my cowboy boots.

“You can’t wear those in a canoe,” he told me.

“But I have to,” I said.

“They’ll get wet.”

“That’s okay,” I told him. “I don’t mind.”

“She’s afraid of snakes,” the Pain told Grandpa Pete. “She thinks they can’t bite her if she’s wearing boots.”

“I always thought it was alligators that couldn’t bite through leather,” Grandpa Pete said.

Alligators, too? That made me feel even better about wearing my boots!

Grandpa Pete sprayed us with citronella to keep away the mosquitoes. Then we headed for his old Jeep.

Miss Memory was waiting for us. Miss Memory is Grandpa Pete’s best friend. No kidding—that’s her real name. Memory Clark. She lives next door.

Grandpa Pete said, “I don’t have to worry
about forgetting things because I’ve always got my Memory with me.” He makes the same joke every time we visit. The Pain doesn’t get it. He says he does, but I can tell he doesn’t.

Miss Memory is a birder too. A birder is someone who watches birds. There are more than 350 kinds of birds in the Everglades, and I think Grandpa Pete and Miss Memory know them all.

The Pain got into Grandpa Pete’s canoe and I went with Miss Memory. Grandpa Pete has rules for canoeing in the Everglades. Rule number one is look and listen. If we see something interesting, we can point at it, but we can’t call out. That’s the hardest rule for the Pain. He has no self-control. But he knows Grandpa Pete will leave him behind if he can’t keep still. And then he’ll never get to see an alligator in the wild.

Canoeing in the Everglades is like being on another planet. It’s so quiet. Everywhere
you look it’s just water, little islands full of birds, and us. No other people. Just the
lap, lap, lap
of our canoes paddling along.

Click
. I snapped a picture of a pink and white bird with a beak that looked like a spoon.

Click
. I got a shot of a really big turtle.

Click
. I got an osprey flying overhead.

Click
. I got Grandpa Pete and the Pain in their canoe.

So far, no snakes. And no alligators either. I can’t decide if I want to see an alligator or not. Suppose I see one and get so scared I scream? Suppose the alligator swims under our canoe and tips it over? Then what?

We went out in the canoes twice a day, early in the morning and just before sunset. On our last day Miss Memory invited me over to keep her company while she baked a pineapple upside-down cake. “It’s your grandpa’s favorite,” she said.

“My favorite is chocolate,” I told her.

“If you come back for your birthday, I’ll bake you a chocolate cake.”

“That’s really nice, but my birthday is July fourth.” I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I didn’t want to say we have a party every year and all the relatives come, except Grandpa Pete—even though he’s invited.

Later, Miss Memory said to Mom and Dad, “I wish you’d stay longer. Three days is nothing.”

“I’d say it’s just about the right amount of time,” Grandpa Pete said. “Any longer and they’d be bored. Or I might get sick of them.”

“Pete!” Miss Memory said. “They don’t know you’re kidding.”

“Who’s kidding?” Grandpa Pete said.

I couldn’t tell if he was or if he wasn’t.

“I want to stay until I see an alligator,” the Pain said.

“Why don’t we just take them to Gatorama on the way to the airport tomorrow?” Mom suggested.

Grandpa Pete gave Mom a look. “That’s
for tourists,” he said. It’s the real deal or nothing for my grandchildren.”