I, Emma Freke (17 page)

Then I saw it again, only this time it was white. The evening sky was twilight pale, so everything was blurry. Out of the corner of my eye, a white flash wove in and out through the woods up on the hill. I looked at the girls to see if they had noticed, but they were staring drowsily at the film. Squinting hard at the thick forest of shadows, I could now make out the outline of a body leaning against a tree . . . .

Of course! It was Fred.

All at once, I had to see him.

“Um. Gotta go to the bathroom,” I whispered as I uncoiled from the knots of arms and legs. “Be right back.”

“I'll come with you,” said Abby, “It's creepy when it's dark.”

I tried not to answer too quickly. “Really, I don't mind. And I'm counting on you to tell me what I missed. I might be gone a bit.”

“Snack?”

Out of nowhere, Aunt Pat leaned over us offering a tray filled with chips. The girls quietly thanked her as they took a bag and a napkin.

“No, thank you,” I whispered. “I'm still full from dinner.”

Aunt Pat raised one eyebrow as if she didn't believe me.

“Enjoying the film, gals?”

We all nodded obediently.

“That's just how Great-Granddad traveled around, you know,” she said, “horse and buggy!”

I was beginning to wonder why Boris Horace was such a big deal. There had to have been other relatives just as important, like his wife, for instance?

“Need bug spray?” she whispered, holding up a large smelly can.

We shook our heads no.

“Well, then,” she added, looking directly at me the same way Ms. Fiddle did at the end of our sessions, “hope you gals
learn
something this evening.”

That was when I got a funny inkling that Aunt Pat was keeping an extra eye on me. But why?

I glanced back at the hill and could still see a bit of Fred's white shirt through the branches of a large bush. I waited a safe amount of time until Aunt Pat moved across to the other side of the crowd. Then I gave Abby a short wave and tiptoed in the direction of the bathrooms.

As soon as I crept around to the back of the building, I raced up into the woods. I was hoping to sneak up on Fred, but he saw me coming and jabbed a stick in my direction as if it was a weapon.

“Crossing over to the dark side?” he cackled softly.

I mumbled, “Why are you hiding up here?” and bent down next to him behind the bush.

“I like to be on the end of the aisle, so to speak.”

He had a pretty good view of the movie screen through gaps in the branches, but it was difficult to hear the sound. We watched in silence together for a bit, but all I could think about was Fred's lonely situation, choosing to be up here by himself. And that's when I realized how much he reminded me of myself back home. Maybe, like me, he had just given up. I knew how it felt to have everyone and everything constantly against you. It was tiring and hopeless. And it took away all your confidence.

But here, at the reunion, the world had been for me, and all at once, I felt happy in my own skin. Already I was a different person.

“You know, I think you'd like Homeport, where I'm from,” I said to Fred.

He turned and stared at me.

“Why is that?”

How could I explain it?

“I just have a feeling you would really fit in there, the way I fit in here.”

“I don't think you really do.”

“Do what?”

“Fit in here,” he said. “I think you think you do, but your thinking is mixed-up.”

I thought about that for a second but then remembered I was trying to help Fred.

“Well, you would especially like my best friend, Penelope, and then there's Stevie, who's so nice.”

“What makes him so nice?”

I giggled.

“Stevie's a she. She just has a weird name like me.”

“What do you mean like you?” he twisted his head to the side. “What's weird about ‘Emma'?”

And all at once it came to me . . . absolutely nothing was weird about Emma.

Fred finally confided where he was staying—in an old cabin, about a ten-minute hike through the woods. It was an abandoned hunting shack he had discovered three reunions earlier but had since fixed up. Like most of the
Freckys
, Fred lived down the road in New Thule year-round. So he rode his bike over every chance he got to work on his secret hideaway.

“It's got a working kitchen and furniture and even a woodstove. I'm telling you, I could live there permanently!”

All of a sudden, the music in the film began building up, signaling the story was coming to some dramatic climax. I jumped up realizing a lot of time had passed.

“I better go before Aunt Pat sends out a search committee,” I said, remembering the way she looked at me. “But I really want to see this little cabin.”

“You do?”

“Um, yah.” I found myself blushing again, but luckily it was dark out. “If that's ok?”

“Sure, if you're willing to break rule number ten.”

“We're only on rule number eight,” I grinned, “but what is it?”

“Never, ever take a risk!” he said, waving his hands as if the woods were on fire. “Always play it safe.”

“That's funny.”

“What's so funny about that?” Fred asked.

“I was raised to pretty much do the opposite of all of these rules.”

Fred smiled ear to ear. “You're right! I think I would like Homeport!”

Below us the
Freckys
sighed in unison, reacting to something in the movie. I knew I better hurry.

“So I'll skip morning exercises,” I whispered backing out of the bush, “and meet you after breakfast behind the Hobby Hut.”

“Same Bat time, same Bat channel!”

“Huh?”

Fred mumbled, “just an old TV show.”

So what if Fred was a bit odd. To me, that made him all the more interesting to be around.

I scurried as silently as I could down the hill and back to our blanket. Abby's eyes were bugged out as if I had been missing for hours.

“Where have you been?”
she whispered loudly.

The twins also stared in disbelief.

“Um. I had a stomachache.”

“Are you sick?” asked Morgan.

“No, I'm better now. It must've been something I ate at dinner.”

Megan leaned over Morgan's legs. “You missed way too much of the movie to catch up now. We'll tell you later.”

I glanced at Abby who was still frowning a little and nervously wiggling her foot. I guess she had been really worried. I felt badly lying, but it was starting to feel a little too uptight around here. And everyone seemed so obedient. I wasn't sure I liked this much structure, even if I did fit in. But above all, I didn't like the way they treated Fred.

I peered up at the big screen and saw that the two main characters (a guy wearing a bow tie and a girl in a bonnet) were now sobbing. Their hands clasped together, tears streaming down their tragic faces.

“Is it possible, Josiah, that I shall never see you again?” asked bonnet girl. “Oh why, oh why, do they insist you're not good enough for me?”

“I don't care what they say, Patience,” Josiah gasped. “It's up to you to do what's right!”

Patience managed to blubber,
“But how can I know what's right?”

He leaned down and gently kissed her forehead.

“By following your good and true heart, my darling.”

That's when I realized I
had
learned something from this corny movie and the bear story and this entire weekend adventure . . . to believe in myself. Gazing across the herd of cousins, I spotted Aunt Pat holding a tissue to her nose and honking into it loudly. And something told me that wasn't the lesson she had in mind.

That night I was restless, probably from napping earlier in the day. Not to mention, the
Freckys
all went to bed very early. We had to be in our tents no later than 9:00
P.M.
At home I rarely went to bed before midnight during the summer months.

I thought about searching for Fred with my flashlight instead of waiting until morning to meet him. I had so many questions for him. As I lay awake tossing and turning, it occurred to me he might actually know something about my father. And there was so much about the
Freckys
I didn't understand.

But I couldn't just roam around the woods in the dark searching for his little cabin. Plus, I still had that strange feeling I was being watched by Aunt Pat. And then there was Abby. She definitely didn't like the fact that I had been away from the movie so long. She barely glanced in my direction as we folded our blankets and headed back to our separate campsites.

“See you in the morning, Abby,” I called as I followed the twins back to our tents.

“Good night,” was all she said.

I wished Penelope were here. She would figure it all out in a flash. I had thought of calling her earlier on my emergency cell phone, but there was no signal out in the Wisconsin woods. Why couldn't everyone be like good old Penelope? I thought to myself. She definitely had a good and true heart.

Then I heard a rustling. I grabbed my flashlight and aimed it directly at the flap of my tent just as a note dropped onto the ground. I yanked down the double zippers and shined my flashlight back and forth across the trees. Nothing. Whoever it was—and I had a pretty good idea who—was as quick and camouflaged as a black cat.

I crossed my legs and opened the piece of paper that had been folded precisely eight times and taped shut. But it wasn't at all what I had expected:

Thank you, dear Emma, for showing kindness toward my son.

What?

I turned the paper over and over but found no other information. So Fred really did have at least one parent who cared about him. But who was it? I realized I couldn't show the message to anyone. Abby would be upset to know I was still hanging around Fred, and Fred would probably be embarrassed by a note like that.

At least I knew I wasn't wrong about liking him.

At the end of breakfast, Aunt Pat announced she had pulled a hamstring, so instead of morning exercises, we would take a hike around the lake, led by Aunt Molly and Uncle Ralph. Now it would be even easier for me to sneak away and meet Fred. After all, who would check back over a long line of people marching through the woods?

Abby was still acting a little funny, not exactly like she was mad, more like she was preoccupied. I didn't know if it had to do with my leaving in the middle of the film or if something else was on her mind. All through breakfast, she pushed and dragged her food around her plate, claiming she wasn't hungry.

As I stood in line along with everyone else to drop off my dirty breakfast plate and rinse my rammy, I decided to tell Abby I was going to skip the hike so she wouldn't have more to worry about.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Where are you going?”

I didn't want to lie again. On the other hand, I knew she may stop talking to me altogether.

“You probably won't like it.”

She whispered, “Does it have something to do with Fred?”

“He has this cabin,” I tried to explain, “that sounds so cool, and he's been working on it for three years and—”

“I know all about it,” she said, “everyone does. It's a creepy shack in the forest, Emma.”

“Have you seen it?” I asked.

“Not exactly,” she mumbled, crossing her arms, “but that's beside the point.”

I lowered my voice. “Actually, that is the point.”

Abby frowned. But I had a feeling I was starting to make some sense.

“Anyway,” I said, “I kinda need a break from the itinerary. I'll be back before the next activity, I promise.”

She grabbed my hand.

“Why are you doing this, Emma?”

“Doing what?”

“Breaking rules.”

“What rules?” I asked recalling Fred's list. “Is there a book of rules too?”

“No, it's not like that,” Abby sighed. “It's just—”

All at once, heavy drops of rain hit the ground as the skies opened up and poured buckets. We shrieked at the same time and ran for cover along with everyone else to the sheltered kitchen. A minute later, Aunt Pat limped toward us rushing as fast as she could across the wet grass. She was wearing a bright orange poncho and hugging a clipboard to her chest. As soon as she was out of the rain, she blew her whistle three times, which was totally unnecessary since we were all standing right there.

“Listen up, folks!” she called out, huffing and puffing from scrambling through the storm. “A little change in plans due to inclement weather!”

“Ahh,” the crowd moaned.

“Settle down,” she gestured with her hands. “I checked the shortwave. It's supposed to squall for just about an hour, so let's all spend that time reading in our tents. Then reconvene here for lunch at the originally scheduled time.”