I, Emma Freke (20 page)

I looked over at Fred. The corner of his mouth had curled up in delight.

“Now what?” I asked.

And then for no reason at all, we both started to laugh. There was nothing else to do or say. We laughed so hard, we collapsed onto the grass, not noticing Abby standing right in front of us.

“What's so funny?”

“Abby! What are you doing here?” I asked as I wiped my eyes and got up off the ground. Fred, however, continued to chuckle and roll across the lawn. “Aren't you supposed to be on the bird watch?”

Abby glanced down at her feet and jammed her hands into her pockets.

“I skipped it.”

“What?” I cried.

Fred instantly stopped rolling.

“Wait a second,” he said. “Say that again?”

“Oh, Emma, I was so worried at first when that tree branch fell on your tent! I've been thinking of everything you've been saying over the weekend, and it's really nothing I haven't thought about before. But I realized I really do agree with you. And that I'm tired of being told how to think and what to do and—”

“Join the club!” said Fred as he hopped to his feet. “Say, have you heard that we're all being oppressed by a very large inheritance?”

Abby looked at me. “Huh?”

I smiled and replied, “It's kind of a long story.”

That night at our farewell dinner, the twins had about a million questions for us as did the other girls at our table. All sorts of rumors had been spreading, but Abby and I had no idea what we were allowed to say. To make matters worse, the quieter we were, the more curious they became.

Aunt Pat had not left her tent since our confrontation. And because she was furious with Uncle Herman, she put Uncle Ralph, the twins' father, in charge of the farewell speech.

After a final dinner of barbecue chicken, coleslaw, and yet another variety of Jell-O mold, people began clanging their rammies together. It was a family tradition done every time before a toast.

“Our dear cousin Pat is suffering a bit of a setback, this evening,” began Uncle Ralph as he stood before the crowd. “So she asked me to say a few parting words.”

He peered down at his wife, Aunt Molly, who beamed proudly. Uncle Herman and Aunt Pat sat to their left. The two of them couldn't have appeared more miserable.

“Let me just say that if I could be a member of any other family in all of Wisconsin, I would still choose to be a
Frecky
.”

The crowd sighed in agreement.

“There couldn't be a kinder, more caring group of people in the whole state. Heck, the whole Upper Midwest!”

Abby glanced at me, and we rolled our eyes at each other.

“And I just know Great-Granddad Boris Horace is looking down on us from above, bursting with joy in his heart at the legacy he set out to create way back in 1899.”

“To Boris Horace!” everyone called out automatically.

I noticed Aunt Rose now had her arms tightly crossed and was moping even more. But Uncle Herman seemed distracted, squinting at something up on the hill.

“And who has more fun than the
Freckys
? Huh? Good ole
Frecky
fun!”

I peered up into the trees to see what Uncle Herman was staring at, but an outbuilding and the flagpole blocked my view.

“So, let us raise a glass to our
Frecky
ancestors of the past, our
Frecky
cousins of the present, and our
Frecky
descendants of the—”

“STOP right there!”

Uncle Herman stood up with his hands in the air.

The crowd gasped.

“Fred?” he called, still staring in the same direction. “Come on down here, son, and join us!”

All one hundred relatives turned to one another and began murmuring wildly. I wanted to say something to Abby, but our entire table was staring at us.

Megan poked me. “Emma! Do you have something to do with this?”

I smiled faintly and shrugged.

“
Pardon me, Cousin Herman!
” exclaimed Uncle Ralph, “but exactly what is going on? I am in the middle of our traditional farewell speech!”

Everyone gawked as Fred descended from the woods and made his way through the tables toward his parents. From his expression, I couldn't tell if he was happy or totally embarrassed.

“I'll tell you what's going on!” said Uncle Herman as he swung his arm around Fred, who was at least a foot shorter than his father. “Many of you may not know this, but my son, Fred, here, is a very talented young man—”

“Yes, he is!” cried out Aunt Rose as she jumped to her feet and grabbed Fred's free arm.

“I am?” Fred squeaked.

“And, you know what?” Uncle Herman continued, gazing at Aunt Rose. “His mother and I couldn't be more proud of him—”

“Yes, we couldn't!” added Aunt Rose.

“You couldn't?” Fred yelped.

“And if the rest of this family can't be as kind and caring as Cousin Ralph would lead us to believe, well then,” Uncle Herman paused, “this will have to be our last family reunion.”

“Oh, Herman!” gushed Aunt Rose as she stretched across Fred to hug her giant of a husband.

The crowd gasped even louder this time, then broke out into noisy whispers.

“Emma,” begged Morgan, “what's this all about?”

“Come on,
please
?” the girls cried.

Abby answered for me. “It's kind of a long story.”

And then, as if the turn of events couldn't get more dramatic, Aunt Pat appeared. Her pinkish red hair was smashed on one side of her head as if she had slept on it for three days. The buttons on her blouse were in the wrong holes, and her fanny pack had slipped below her chunky hips.

Now the crowd fell silent as all eyes were on her.

“HERMAN LESLEY
FRECKY
!” roared Aunt Pat. “I've devoted my life to making this fine family what it is today!”

The relatives swiveled their heads to stare back at Uncle Herman.

“No one is arguing with you, Patty,” he whined.

Heads turned back to Aunt Pat.

“But you're undermining my authority in this family,” she hollered, slurring her words a little, “and that's even worse!”

Heads pivoted again like we were watching a tennis match.

“We just feel everyone should be included, Pat!” cried Aunt Rose holding Fred tight. “And that means
everyone
!”

And that's when Abby, to my amazement, started to clap. So I joined her, and we clapped harder. Then Fred began to clap, as did Uncle Herman and Aunt Rose and then the twins and the rest of the girls at our table. And eventually one by one, everyone started clapping like crazy.

Aunt Pat was so rattled that she picked up the whistle that was twisted around her neck and blew into it over and over again until everyone finally quieted down.

“WHOMEVER,” she yelled, “has a problem with the way matters are
conducted
in this family, they can meet with me personally, one-on-one. This will not be open for public debate!”

The murmuring subsided.

“Now! I believe it is time, as is our custom, to light the farewell bonfire! So gather up those dirty dishes,” she growled, “rinse your rammies and,
darn it
, get back to some good old-fashioned
Frecky
fun!”

And with that, she whipped around and fell a little off balance before marching back in the direction of her tent. But as soon as she was out of sight, everyone returned to chattering. Abby and I ran over to Fred, and to my surprise, a small crowd had already formed around him. Little kids were pulling at his sleeves, and several of the adults were patting him on the back.

We managed to squeeze into the circle.

“Looks like you may have found an audience!” I said.

Fred laughed. “Yah, maybe the old invisible gang is ready to move on.”

“Sorry for the way everyone's treated you, Fred,” said Abby.

He nodded and smiled.

Then I dug around in my pocket and pulled out Penelope's gold bead. “Here,” I said, handing it to him. “It's for good luck.”

“Really?” he asked. “Does it work?”

“It more than works. It's practically magical.”

As I laid on my sleeping bag that night thinking about the last two and half days, it dawned on me that maybe Donatella hadn't been a complete disaster as a parent. And that maybe I was more like her than I had realized. In fact, it seemed as if I was half
Frecky
and half
Freak
. So I sat up, pulled out a notebook from my reunion survival kit, and made two lists.

What Makes Me a Frecky?

What Makes Me a Freak?

A little flashlight swirled across the top of the tent. I unzipped the double flap. It was Abby and Fred.

“Hey you guys!” I whispered loudly. “What are you doing?”

“Come on,” said Fred.

I climbed through the hole. “Where are we going?”

“I don't know.” Abby shrugged her shoulders. “He wants to show us something,”

The three of us crept through the woods back to Fred's big boulder by the lake. We climbed on top of the flat stage and gazed up at the twinkling sky. There had to have been a bazillion stars. Fred used his small flashlight to project an outline of the constellations.

“That's Ursa Minor, the Little Bear. And over there is Orion the Hunter. And of course, that's the Big Dipper. Do you see which one is the Little Dipper?”

He made the shape of a ladle with the stream of light.

“Yah, I see it,” I said, pointing to the middle of the sky.

“The very tip of it is Polaris, the North Star.”

“The bright one?” asked Abby.

“Yep,” he replied. “So I was thinking that whenever any of us looks up at the sky at night, we should remember to wave hello to the old North Star, because—” he paused, “because maybe all three of us will be looking at it at the same time.”

“That's a great idea!” said Abby.

I remembered what Stevie had said, that sleeping outdoors represented adventures and possibilities and gave you the stars every single night. Now I knew it was true.

To the left of the North Star, a brilliant flash streaked across the moon.

Abby and I squealed at the same time, “What was that?”

“Crikey!” replied Fred, “it was a meteor, a shooting star!” Then he added, “You
have to
make a wish when you see one.”

Normally, as was the case on my birthday, I didn't believe in wishes. But now things were different, and I actually felt my wish might come true.

I wished that I would always know the way back to my joylah, my groove zone, my back in the smooth track . . . exactly where I was at that very moment.

Since we were all packing and getting ready to go home, breakfast was a quick buffet, only cold stuff like cereal and yogurt.

I had no idea what the mood was usually like when these reunions ended, but this morning everyone seemed so cheerful. Like the weekend was just beginning rather than ending. And I noticed Aunt Pat and her crow whistle were nowhere to be seen or heard. Maybe things would work out for the best after all.

The picnic tables had already been stacked, so Abby, Morgan, Megan, and I sat down by the water to eat. And we finally got a chance to tell the twins the whole story. After all, we figured they'd find out about the trust fund sooner or later.

At first they didn't believe us, but then they finally admitted that it made a lot of sense. Particularly the part about Aunt Pat running everyone's lives.

“Thanks to you, Emma,” said Morgan, “a few things will probably change around here.”

“Yah,” said Megan. “Maybe now we can walk alone to Fancy's General Store and read books we want to read and wear skinny jeans!”

“I wouldn't go that far,” Abby laughed. “But they're right, Emma. Because of you, life will definitely get a lot more interesting.”

“Gosh,” I said. “I've never really made a difference before.”

“But I still think Fred's icky,” said Megan.

“And those horrible ears!” added Morgan.

“You two have to give him a chance,” said Abby. “He's very funny.”

“Back in Homeport,” I explained, “everyone thinks I'm
icky
. And maybe my ears aren't my worst feature, just a bit droopy, but compared to everyone else, I'm too tall and too pale and my hair is too red and—”