Finders Keepers (10 page)

“Fine.” I pulled myself up on the dock and dried my face on a towel.

“Before you come over, go change your clothes. Then you can meet Quincy.”

 

QUINCY AND THE TREE

No, I didn't like him, even his name. Quincy didn't rhyme with anything, except
mincy
, and
mincy
is not a real word, probably. Quincy. It was the name you gave your baby if you wanted that baby to grow up stealing friends and hogging them and ignoring everyone else.

Quincy had cropped brown hair like Alex, but he was short and solid while Alex was tall and skinny. If those boys were reptiles, Alex would be a gecko and Quincy would be a toad.

Right away, Quincy said to Alex, “Are you grounded all summer? Is that why you have to play with a girl?”

Alex shrugged. We were standing on the porch, just checking each other out. I looked at Quincy's legs because I could tell everything about kids when they wore shorts. Scratches, bruises, bug bites, and dirt on legs were good signs. Extra points for Band-Aids. Quincy's legs were pasty white and unmarked. That meant he was a boring video-game player and inside-loving wimp. He proved me right by saying, “I brought my new game player and my old one just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Alex asked.

“In case yours is broke,” Quincy said. “We've got two.”

Grumpa came from the house carrying a plastic bottle. He handed the bottle to Alex. Sunscreen.

“Your parents say you're supposed to use this goop.” He shook his head. “That's my latest crime. Guess you were supposed to be covering yourself in sun lotion every day. Hell's bells. When did the sun become poison?”

Alex squirted some lotion in his hand, smeared it on his arms, and dabbed his cheeks. Quincy grumbled, “I don't want to play outside. It's hot.”

“The great outdoors is God's daycare,” Grumpa said.

“I probably don't need sunscreen here because the sun in Wisconsin isn't like the sun in Arizona. In Arizona it's so hot—

“I know, I know. The moisture gets sucked right out of your eyeballs,” I said.

“Doesn't matter,” Grumpa said. “You've got to use this stuff otherwise I'll get fired and I don't want to get fired.”

“From what?” I asked.

“From my summer job.” Grumpa rubbed lotion into Alex's cheeks where it'd collected in white patches. He squirted a blob on the back of Alex's neck and rubbed that around, too. “I think you're now safe from the horror of the sun. Go find something to do.”

Grumpa went back inside and let the door slam behind him. The three of us looked at each other. I asked, “What should we do?”

Alex shrugged.

Quincy stared at me. “Let's play hide and seek.”

“Hide and seek is for babies,” I said with a snort.

“Not babies,” Alex said. “You can play hide and seek until first grade, I think. Then if you don't stop there's probably something wrong with you.”

Quincy snorted back at me. “
Indoor
hide and seek is for babies. Outdoor is more like a treasure hunt.”

I nodded because I agreed with this theory, actually.

“Okay, good,” Quincy said. “I'll count and you two hide. Whoever is found first has to admit she is a loser.”

“Or
he
is a loser.” My hands squeezed into fists. “Why do you get to seek? Why don't you hide?”

Quincy thought about it. “Oh, yeah, I get it. Not fair. Um … we'll each be the seeker three times and the hider three times. Whoever is found first the most times has to make a sign and write ‘I am a loser' on it with her name.”

“Or
his
name,” I said.

Alex shrugged.

“Excellent!” Quincy shouted and held up his hand for a high five. Alex gave him the wimpiest high five I'd ever seen.

Quincy stood on the porch, covered his eyes, and faced the front door. He started counting. Alex and I sprinted in different directions. Maybe it wasn't fair, but I had an edge. I knew every inch of the Clarks' yard, our yard, Westman Drive, the lakeshore, the woods that surrounded us, and Westman's public boat landing on the other side of the trees. I ran down the slope toward shore. I tiptoed on the dock so Quincy wouldn't hear the metal clanging. I slipped into Grumpa's speedboat and lay on the floor. Quincy would never think to look in the boat.

The boat swayed with the waves rolling toward shore. I wondered how I could make this moment stay with me. When the cabin was gone, I needed memories that felt real. I wanted to be able to close my eyes and see the sky stretched pure and blue. I wanted to hear raindrops plopping fat and lazy on the lake. A camera couldn't make it real. Pictures just teased people. I needed to see and hear and smell and feel.

When I realized I was sleepy, I sat upright so fast I nearly launched myself out of the boat. It'd been too long. Way too long. Where was Quincy? And Alex? I hadn't even heard them looking by the shore. Something was fishy, and it wasn't the lake. I'd fallen for the oldest trick in the book: the hide-and-never-seek. Quincy had sent me away with no plan to find me. And Alex never came looking, either.

Those boys were meaner than a hundred Olivia Stangers. I didn't get out of the boat right away. I had to think and think hard.

Quincy and Alex were sitting on the porch swing with their faces in video game players. I hopped up on the porch steps one at a time and threw my arms in the air. “I won! I won! You couldn't find me!”

“Guess so,” Quincy said.

Alex kept his eyes on the video game player, but his thumbs quit moving.

“My turn to count?” I asked. “Or should we do something else?”

Alex bit his lip but still didn't look at me. Before Quincy could answer, I said, “I don't want to seek or hide, actually. I was thinking of climbing my favorite tree. I haven't climbed it at all this summer because of Alex.”

“Why because of me?” Alex asked.

“Because I don't want you to get hurt, stupid! That tree's too high. I don't want you all scared.”

Quincy laughed, but Alex said, “I wouldn't be scared.”

“Quincy,” I continued, “did you know Alex is from Arizona? He doesn't understand the woods like we do.” I laughed and pointed at Alex. “Cactus boy couldn't climb a real tree even if we showed him how to do it.”

“Maybe I don't want to climb it,” Alex said.

“Maybe you can't,” I said. “Quincy could because he lives here.”

“Obviously,” Quincy said.

“You're just a tourist,” Alex said. He set the game player on the bench and crossed his arms.

“Even though I'm just a tourist, I can do it better than people who live here. I've done it like a million times.”

Quincy nodded. “I've done it a million times, too.”

“I would have done it a million times if I lived by the woods,” Alex said. “I'm not scared of heights.”

“But I'm the best climber in my school,” I said, “and I bet my school is a million times bigger than your tiny school, Quincy. It'd be easy to be the best climber in a tiny school.”

“My school's not tiny!”

I turned to Quincy and put my hands on my hips. “Alex is right. Alex is totally not afraid of heights or anything, really. The school here is so small, Alex probably could climb better than you. And he's from Arizona!”

“I'm not afraid of heights, either. I'm the least afraid ten-year-old ever.”

I doubled over laughing. “You're only
ten
? Alex already has a ten-year-old friend. Me! You're small, just like your school. You're too small to teach Alex how to climb a tree.”

Quincy stared at Alex. “I'm not small. And my school's not small. And I can climb trees better than a girl or a kid from Arizona.”

Alex stared at Quincy. “I don't need you to show me anything. Anyone can climb a dumb tree. Anyone.”

“That's right,” I said. “Follow me.”

I led them to the climbing tree, which was in the woods between our cabin and Westman's boat landing. The tree stood tall and thick, with branches that invited hands and feet. Before turning into Amelia The Princess, my sister had showed me how to climb it: The lowest branch was higher than our heads, so we'd dragged two old wooden crates to the tree and set them against the trunk. She had stood on the crates, grabbed the lowest branch with both hands, and swung her leg onto the branch. She'd pulled herself to a sitting position. I was short, so I had to jump from the crates to grab the tree. While I dangled, she'd pulled on my arms until I could swing my leg up and over. We'd climbed up four branches before Dad found us and made us get down from that tree or else.

The old crates were still there, like nothing had changed even though everything had changed.

“So we have to stand on the crates to reach that branch,” I said to Quincy and Alex. “Then it's almost like a staircase. Easy. I suppose I should lead the way since I'm the expert here.”

Quincy stepped in front of me. “I'll go first. You go second. Alex can follow you, if he can keep up.”

“I'll go first,” Alex told Quincy. “You might see a spider and scream like a girl. We have tarantulas in Arizona. Little Wisconsin tree spiders don't scare me.”

“I'm not afraid of spiders.” Quincy's face looked angry and mean.

I said, “I probably should go last because I'm a little afraid of tree spiders.”

Quincy pushed in front of Alex and stood on the crates. With a little jump, he had both hands around the branch. He hooked his leg around it and pulled himself upright. He climbed one more branch and looked down at Alex.

“Hey Alex! You waiting for a ladder?” He laughed.

I laughed, too. “Good one, Quincy!”

Sweat dripped from Alex's face to his shirt. He cleared his throat and stepped on the crates. After a few deep breaths, he grabbed the branch and caught up to Quincy. I came behind both of them. Alex followed Quincy branch by branch, but I stopped and waited on the first branch.

“It's a good thing you're slow, Quincy. Alex can't keep up.”

At the same time as Quincy yelled, “I'm not slow,” Alex yelled, “I'm keeping up.”

I straddled the branch and watched Quincy cross to the thicker branches on the other side of the tree. He climbed another couple of feet and shouted, “That's about as high as the thick branches go. They get too skinny.”

“The tallest branches are the strongest because they're the oldest,” I yelled. “Just like Alex and you. He's stronger because he's older.”

“Is not,” Quincy said with a grunt. He climbed a couple more branches. I could barely see him through the leaves. Pretty soon I could barely see Alex, either. I lowered myself back to the crates and jumped to the ground. With all my might I pulled those crates far from the tree.

I heard Alex yell, “Hey! What are you doing?”

“I think I'm going back to the cabin to paint my nails, because I'm just a girl!”

As I ran through the weeds toward the cabin, I plugged my ears so I could honestly say I hadn't heard Alex and his stupid new friend shouting for help.

 

NEWS AND FISH

It was decided Alex and I needed some time apart.

Our parents' decision worked out better for Alex than for me. He got to have a “guys' day” with his dad that included riding go-carts in town and playing mini-golf.

But I didn't get to have a guys' day or a girls' day. My parents had to teach. Amelia The Princess had the day off, but she was waterskiing with Matt Fat-Gnat near his house. I had to stay behind with Grumpa, and I was told to avoid all trees.

I sat on the sofa with my arms crossed and watched Grumpa. First, he read the newspaper. Then he turned on the TV. His TV was so old it was shaped like a small box instead of big and flat. His shows were so old they didn't have color. Just black and white and gray like my mood. Outside the sun shined and the lake called to me:
jump! splash! swim!

During a commercial, Grumpa stood up. “Don't touch my remote or my programs. I'm going to the can.”

“What's the can?”

When he stood up, his leg brushed against the table and knocked the newspaper onto the floor. “For the love of Gertrude, the can means the bathroom.”

He left the room, and I picked up the newspaper for him. The front page said:

CAPONE'S HIDEAWAY BURGLARIZED AGAIN

Gangster Al Capone's former hideaway near Hayward was burglarized and vandalized last week—the third time in just two years.

Sheriff Tim Duncan said the burglars apparently were looking for money. According to local legend, Capone split up his millions and hid cash in secret locations, including Chicago and Wisconsin's Northwoods. Capone knew he was going to be arrested, and he feared the police and his rivals would get their hands on his fortune.

“The property is no longer open for tours. Nobody lives there. It's a secluded property, so it's ripe for illegal activity,” Sheriff Duncan said. “We will add extra patrols in that area.”

Duncan said there has been significant damage to the home during the last several years, and nothing of value remains in the house. “It's terrible. These people have ripped up walls and floors. They've dug holes in the ground and torn up the furniture still there.”

Capone's hideout sits on 400 acres and includes a house, garages, grounds, and a private lake. The property was once open for tours, but it closed during the economic downturn. Tourists came to the Northwoods in smaller numbers, erasing profits for Northwoods businesses.

A recent proposal to reopen the property fell through because financing couldn't be secured.

“It's the same old problem out there—crazy people looking for treasure,” Duncan said. “It's highly unlikely Capone hid money in the house. If he did, it was found long ago.”