The Great Scavenger Hunt (5 page)

“Woo-hoo!” whispered Avery to herself.

“One last thing before you board your pirate ships, er, I mean automobiles, driven by your most beloved teachers,” Mr. Moore added. (This time Avery couldn't help laughing a little. Mr. Moore was just
too corny
.) “I am presenting each team with one student-appointed Talkie Trekker. Any volunteers?”

Suddenly Avery wasn't laughing anymore. Her arm shot up into the air. Walkie-talkies were one of her absolute favorite things in the world. When she was little, she'd even made some walkie-talkies the old-fashioned way by connecting two cans to a string. Mr. Moore, appreciating her enthusiasm for the job, granted her the bright yellow, brand-new device.

Meanwhile, Betsy and Danny Pellegrino were arguing over their team's walkie-talkie. Finally Danny suggested they play rock, paper, scissors, and he immediately creamed her scissors with rock. “No fair. You know it's always best two out of three!” Betsy protested.

“Fine. Two out of three.” Danny then pummeled her again by covering her rock with paper. While he was doing a little victory dance, Betsy smiled brightly. “Danny, that was just so
chivalrous
to offer me the privilege,” she said as she accepted the portable high-tech trophy from Mr. Moore.

Danny opened his mouth, then closed it, obviously completely confused about what just happened.

“And what about the Salty Cods?” asked Mr. Moore.

“Ooh! I'll do it!” cried Dillon. But it was as though Mr. Moore couldn't even hear him.

“What about you, Katani? I think you'd be a marvelous Talkie Trekker. Don't you?”

Katani almost balked. “Me? But Mr. Moore…I'm not very outdoorsy.”

Mr. Moore placed the walkie-talkie in her hand and explained, “But it's not about being outdoorsy, Katani. It's
about being responsible. Now come, Salty Cods! You are with me. To the Cowmobile,” he cried.

Henry Yurt = Not a Clue

From the outside, Mr. Moore's white van seemed innocent and ordinary enough. But inside, it was a
whole
other story. Mr. Moore and his wife had gone to town with cow decorations. The seats all had cow-print covers—the black and white Vermont cow-print that was oh-so-hot right now. The air freshener was “barn grass,” the horn on the wheel went “moooooo,” and there was a little cow bobblehead doll in a lei and hula skirt jiggling beneath the windshield.

As Charlotte and Katani mooed out the wide windows to Avery, Isabel, and Maeve, Charlotte worried for a moment that maybe they were being hauled off to a dairy farm in another galaxy far, far away. “If I come back from this trip mooing…I'm blaming you!” Katani whispered, pointing at Charlotte.

“Ready, set…” Mr. Moore hit the horn and a low “mooooo” sound filled the van.

“Wait! Where's Riley?” Patrice held up her Salty Cods team list and looked from face to face.

Just then, the sliding door opened, and Nick popped his head in. “Hi, Mr. Moore, Patrice, Charlotte, everyone…I'm on your team now, guys!”

Charlotte felt her cheeks go pink. “Did you…switch with Riley?” she asked, thinking to herself
That is so sweet!

Nick nodded. “Uh-huh. Let's go, Salty Cods!”

Mr. Moore honked the horn again, and started up the
engine. “Well, I never said you
couldn't
switch…so I'll let it slide. We need to get mooo-ving!”

Nick looked at Charlotte and they dropped their heads to keep from bursting out laughing at the cow man's directions. Katani moved over so Nick could slide into the center seat next to them, and the Cowmobile was off. All the Salty Cods knew that traveling with Mr. Moore would be a mooo-arvelous adventure in itself.

“Now listen up, troops!” Patrice turned around from the front seat, and tore open an envelope labeled
MISSION.
She unfolded the paper and read in the same take-charge voice she'd used in the parking lot:

 

Greetings Brave Scavenger Hunters of Abigail Adams Junior High School,

fox

surfboard

sandpiper

street named after an animal

scallop shell

pirate-themed anything

sailboat

tide pool

sand dune

park ranger

Happy scavenger hunting!

 

Patrice glanced back at her team and pulled down her sunglasses from her nose to look ultraserious. “Um, guys, we're coming in first, uuuh-huh!”

Nick high-fived Charlotte, Katani, and Dillon. Katani wasn't feeling so gung ho about the whole thing, however. This was supposed to be a fun, relaxing weekend with her friends…after all, they were only bike riding and figuring out a few clues. But her sister really expected them to beat the other teams.
What if,
Katani thought nervously,
I slow my team down?
What if Patrice wouldn't want to wait for her little sister to catch up? Katani stared out the window wishing that there had been some way for her to back out of this trip.

“Are you ready for the first clooooooo?” Mr. Moore asked in his ultra cow voice.

“Oh, yeah!” Nick exclaimed. His enthusiasm granted him the privilege of being the first clue reader.

“Yurt alert? Henry?” Charlotte shook her head. “That can't be right…. I'm sure I've heard that word somewhere else before….”

O
utside the Cranberry Boggers' van, driven by Ms. O'Reilly, Isabel, who had been Danny Pellegrinoed once before, gave Maeve's shirt a tug. “I
cannot
sit next to Danny on the ride. I just can't! Remember…the famous Danny “the stalker” Pellegrino Museum Incident?”

Did Maeve ever! Poor Isabel had been stuck in the same group as Danny when the seventh-grade class visited the Museum of Fine Arts. Danny P. had glommed on to her like orange powder to a Cheese Doodle, and followed her around the whole trip trying to impress her with his (annoying) knowledge of art. Danny was lucky Isabel was a kind girl. Otherwise he might have found himself locked in a sarcophagus with a mummy!

“Okay, crawl in the back, FAST! I'll be right behind you.” Maeve hurried Isabel into the back seat and, true to
her word, squeezed in next to her. “Hey, look! It's Riley!”

She grinned and waved to the lead singer of their grade's only cool band, the Mustard Monkeys. It looked like her plan had been totally successful! Charlotte and Nick were together, as they were always meant to be, and Maeve got to sit next to the cutest musician in the seventh grade. “Riley, there's an empty seat back here!” she called.

“Isn't Riley on Charlotte's—” Isabel started, but stopped when she saw Maeve's triumphant face. Fabiana hadn't noticed the team member swap—she was up front digging through her huge canvas art bag and piling CDs on the dashboard.

“Seat belts?” Ms. O'Reilly checked. Danny hurriedly buckled himself in next to Betsy in the middle seat, and Fabiana Montoya popped in the first of her awesome CDs as the van pulled out of the parking lot. “Every chapter of your life should have the perfect soundtrack,” Fabiana explained.

“Ooh, put on the Royal Brothers! They are sooo charming!” Maeve squealed.

Fabiana shook her head, jangling her dangly earrings, “I've got something even better…
West Side Story
!”

As Fabiana sang along to the beautiful songs, Maeve remembered watching her perform in the high school musical.
Maybe Fabiana could give me some singing tips this weekend!
Maeve hoped as she opened her mouth to join in on the chorus. To her surprise, even Ms. O'Reilly was singing!

“Betsy, I saw your dad back there in the parking lot. That was a pretty nifty costume! I wish my dad was a historical reenactor!” Danny confessed over a break in the music as they merged onto Route 95.

A very serious Betsy turned to face Danny.

“You know,” she explained, “it's very hard to be a reenactor. First, you must be a talented actor, then you have to know tons of important facts about the Revolutionary War. In high school, I'm going to try out for the part of Betsy Ross. I mean, of course she sewed the first American Flag, but she was also a member of the Fighting Quakers during the Revolutionary War, and, best of all, she has my name!”

Betsy was practically glowing, but Isabel's eyes began to close as her head drooped. She hoped this trip to Cape Cod wasn't going to be one long Betsy Fitzgerald fact fest!

“Betsy is a very strong woman's name, you know….” Betsy continued.

“Iz,” Maeve whispered to Isabel, “check it out. Danny is basically drooling. You, girlfriend, could be off the hook!” Isabel opened her eyes, suddenly grateful that Danny seemed dazzled by Betsy's command of Revolutionary War facts. Maybe Danny would forget all about her on this trip. She crossed her fingers for luck.

Before Betsy could continue listing all the famous Betsys in history, Ms. O'Reilly gave Fabiana the envelope so she could read the instructions and first clue aloud. “‘One is big, the other small, and neither a precipice at all. Near
these places, in the dirt, get ready for a yurt alert.'”

“Well, we know neither is a precipice at all,” Maeve pointed out. “That's very good. Considering I have no idea was a precipice EVEN IS!”

“Ahem, if I may?” Betsy cleared her throat. “Precipice, noun, a very steep or overhanging place, example, cliff or ledge.'”

“It can also mean a dangerous situation,” added Danny.

Isabel elbowed Maeve, who was struggling to keep down a serious case of eye rolling. “Maybe we should look at the map and see if there are any, um, not-clifflike places around Cape Cod?” Maeve suggested.

“Ooh, great call, Maeve. I have the map right here in my art bag,” Fabiana informed her. She bent over and starting digging through the enormous canvas tote. “Hmm…it should be right…that's weird. It's in here…wait…no…um, hold on guys, give me one minute.” After five minutes had passed, the realization began to sink in for the Cranberry Boggers that Fabiana had no map.

“Oh, wow, I don't know what happened,” she murmured. “I thought I tucked it right into the side of my bag.”

“Well, what are we supposed to do now?” an anxious Betsy demanded. “Ms. O'Reilly, you can't expect us to be able to compete without a map. It's just not fair!”

“Yeah,” piped Danny. “We'll never find anything! This totally stinks.”

“You all are very intelligent young people,” said a
nonchalant Ms. O'Reilly. “I'm sure you'll be able to figure something out.”

“I'm sure we won't,” Danny groaned. “I hate losing.”

“Me too,” seconded Betsy. “It's almost worse than getting a B.”

“It's like—it's like—like…” Danny's face melted into a grimace. “Like getting a B
minus
.” He and Betsy shuddered in sync. Fabiana looked embarrassed and defeated at once, but she just kept burrowing farther into her tote searching in vain for that map.

Maeve could feel her own heart melting. Poor Fabiana! Maeve knew all too well what it was it was like to lose something important. She couldn't even count the number of times she would remember putting her homework into her backpack only to arrive at school, go to class, and at the vital moment find that her homework had disappeared. It was so frustrating, not to mention humiliating.

“You two need to chill out!” Maeve ordered. “There are, like, a gazillion maps of Cape Cod around. My dad has tons that he bought at gas stations. If we all chipped in, like, fifty cents, couldn't we just get another?”

Betsy folded her arms. “Don't look at me. I'm trying to save up for medical camp this summer.”

Maeve had never heard of medical camp, and didn't really want to know more. “Well, here is fifty cents from me,” she volunteered.

“And me,” added Isabel.

Fabiana turned and gave the girls a grateful smile. “Tell you what. Since I was supposed to be responsible,
I'll contribute two dollars, which should do the trick. I'd give more, but I want to save a little so I can get my mom this Cape Cod cookbook that she's been wanting.” No one could argue with that.

“I'll pull off at the next rest stop,” Ms. O'Reilly promised. “And you can pick up a new map.”

Maeve thought Danny and Betsy were being impossible as they ignored the whole conversation and instead decided to play a game of Cape Cod trivia. Those two Cranberry Boggers had a case of bad sportsmanship in the worst way, and they hadn't even gotten out of the car. Maeve almost said so, but a little voice told her to just sit back and let Betsy and Danny play “know-it-all” for a while. Maybe things would get better once they knew where they were going.

A Cowmobile Full of Codfish

“So if this clue doesn't mean find Henry Yurt, what does it mean?” asked Dillon from the back seat of the Cowmobile. They were all poring over the superdetailed, laminated, color-coded map Patrice had brought in a special compartment in her businesslike messenger bag.

“I think it would help if we had an exact definition of ‘precipice,'” Patrice pointed out. “Unfortunately, that is one crazy intense vocab word and it's way too advanced for anyone in this car…except Mr. Moore, obviously,” she hinted.

“That's not entirely true,” Charlotte replied mischievously. “At least, I might have an idea. Doesn't a precipice
mean, like, a cliff or something?” She caught Mr. Moore's eyes twinkling in the rearview mirror.

“Nice job, Char!” Nick congratulated her.

“Now what? We just have to find something that's
not
a cliff? Well, that narrows it down.” Dillon chuckled.

“That's it!” Nick shouted, making everyone in the car jump. “Sorry, I mean, that's it,” he repeated, only this time much more softly. He pointed at the map. “Check it out—those two ponds in Nickerson State Park. They're called ‘Big Cliff' and ‘Little Cliff.' Those have got to be our
not precipices
, right? Boy, are we lucky to have such a great map.”

“Nick, you got it!” Charlotte cheered and leaned over to give him a hug, and squeezed his shoulder instead.

Nick turned a little red and responded shyly, “Well, I couldn't have done it if you hadn't known the definition of precipice.” The two shared a sweet look.

When Katani caught Dillon goofing at the sight of Charlotte and Nick's mutual admiration, she mouthed,
MYOB!
Dillon immediately stopped drawing hearts on the back of Nick's seat with his finger.

The Barnacles Cross the Bridge

“You're in Cape Cod and I'm not riiiiiiiiiight NOW!” cried Avery the moment the front tires of Mrs. Moore's station wagon hit the Sagamore Bridge, propelling Mrs. Moore and Ben Briggs into Cape Cod a millisecond before the rest of the passengers. The Sagamore was a big suspension bridge which crossed over the canal and brought them
onto the Cape. “Woo-hoo!” Avery and Henry Yurt rolled down their windows and stuck out their heads like two Labrador puppies to get a whiff of the salty sea air.

“I think we should try to figure out that clue,” Chelsea mentioned softly to Avery and Yurt. Unfortunately they were too busy howling out the window to answer. “Can't we just try to enjoy some peace and quiet until we get there?” Kiki griped.

“Yeah, besides we already have the first clue right in this car…. It's me!” Yurt cheered.

“I doubt that Mr. Moore would make it
that
easy,” Chelsea mumbled.

“Chelsea's right, kids. My husband is a very, very complex and intelligent man. He has…many layers,” Mrs. Moore mused. “Like a sweet vidalia onion. Why, look—there he is!”

As they drove along at a steady fifty-five miles an hour, a car full of Salty Cods passed by—all of them waving and making faces.

“Sooo mature!” Kiki remarked sarcastically.

Avery and Yurt looked at each other and immediately contorted their faces into freakiness with pulled-out mouths and pulled-down eyelids. She noticed that even Mr. Moore was participating in the festivities. “Look at Mr. Moore's silly face!” Mrs. Moore waved. “Isn't this fun, already?”

“What am I doing here!” Kiki groaned, sinking down in her seat.

“Relax, Ms. Cool. Have a good time…. You'll live
longer,” Yurt whispered to an astonished Kiki. No one at school ever talked to her like that.

Avery thought Mrs. Moore was a very nice lady with her pretty blond curls and cat-eyed glasses. And she thought it totally hilarious that cow-loving, bald little Mr. Moore was like a movie star to his adoring wife.

“Hey, Ben,” Avery asked. “Since we might already know the first clue, could we just go biking as soon as we get there?” She had been going to the Cape with her mom every summer, and she and her brothers always raced along the Rail Trail. Avery was thrilled she'd get a chance to practice her bike racing this year before the big event!

“We don't know if we've figured out the first clue!” protested Chelsea. “What if we're wrong? I think we need to take out the map and focus.”

Ben Briggs turned around. “Yo, relax, Chels. There'll be plenty of time for that once we get there. This trip is supposed to be fun, ya know.”

Chelsea, who thought her older brother, Ben, was pretty much the coolest kid ever, instantly felt terrible. Did he think she was being a huge dork?