I, Emma Freke (14 page)

He put out his hand to help me up like a much older boy or a man would do.

“Fred
Frecky
!” the woman called from below. “
Is that you?
”

“They're waiting for you, Emma” Fred mumbled, then sighed. “Ready to meet the tribe?”

And even though it felt completely weird to do, I reached up and took his hand. After all, I wanted to do everything possible to fit in.

By the time I scrambled to the bottom of the hill dragging my stuff, I realized Fred was no longer with me. Just like that, he disappeared. So once again, I stood alone in front of a crowd of strange faces.

“Well, hello there!” said Aunt Molly. “You must be Emma!”

She was wearing the same style of Bermuda shorts that Pat was wearing. In fact, almost all the women were dressed in those high-waisted plaid shorts. And the men too, come to think of it, except they wore a tan version. And of course, a name tag was on each person's shirt, which was very helpful.

“I'm your uncle Ralph,” said the tall, plump man standing next to Molly. “What do you know! You've got the Boris Horace hair!” he added cheerfully.

“The-the what?” I stammered.

Aunt Molly stroked my head. “The straight, silky red hair!” she explained. “Everyone hopes to inherit it.”

“They do?”

Then another woman wrapped her arm around my shoulder.

“I'm your aunt Barbara.”

And then another and another . . . “This is your cousin Kara,” and “I'm your aunt Margaret,” and “I'm married to your uncle Jordy.”

My head was dizzy from so many introductions. I was grateful for the name tags.

“Emma?” a girl's voice rose up softly from behind me. I turned around. She pointed at her name tag.

“I'm Abby.”

Abby was slightly taller than me with shoulder-length light brown hair. She had a really nice smile.

“Hi.”

“You do have pretty hair,” she commented.

“Oh. Um. Thanks.”

No one was laughing at me now. In fact, the same little kids from the cabin were tugging on my shirt begging me to play with them. And two identical girls about my age began to unravel my bun in order to braid my hair down my back, just as they were wearing theirs.

“Children, children!” cried Aunt Molly in a sing-song way. “Let's all give Emma a breather, for heaven's sake, and let her settle down in her tent for a bit. She must be extra pooped from her long trip.”

“Oh, Mrs . . . . ahhh?”

Everyone giggled at my confusion.

“Just call me Aunt Molly, dear,” she corrected gently as she pointed at her name tag.

“Oh, yah. Sorry. Um, Aunt Molly? It turns out I forgot my tent.”

“Yes, we already heard all about it.”

“You did?”

“Aunt Pat radioed over. A tent should be set up for you over in plot D11 in between my twins here, Morgan and Megan.”

I glanced down at my feet and saw that my things were gone, which made me panic a little. Everything was happening so quickly. But before I could say anything, the two identical sisters (who had just restyled my hair) grabbed my hands and yanked me forward sprinting all the way around the cove.

By the time the three of us stopped in a clearing, I was huffing and puffing. I couldn't remember the last time I had run so hard. I leaned over to catch my breath before peering around. Tiny purple wildflowers were blooming across the grass where three tents were tucked under a cluster of snow white birch trees.

“Can you tell which is which?” asked one of the twins.

“Which is which what?” I answered still panting.

“Which of us is Morgan, and which of us is Megan?” asked the other twin.

I studied them for a second not sure if it was a trick question.

“Where are your name tags?”

They both giggled, and the one on the right replied, “We like to make people guess!”

They did look exactly alike with long copper hair, long legs, long arms, long everything. In fact, they looked a lot like me or I looked like them. Except they didn't have freckles, just very white skin. And they were even more plainly dressed than I was if that was possible. They wore matching short-sleeved shirts, light blue shorts to their knees, and flip-flops.

“Is there a way to tell which is which?”

This sent the sisters into fits of laughter practically falling on top of each other. Then they split apart, and each disappeared into her own small tent. I waited for a bit not sure if they were going to reemerge. But I was so tired, I just needed to lie down.

My sleeping bag was already spread out on top of a thick air mattress, and to my relief, my backpack was stowed in the corner.
Who did all this?
I collapsed onto the soft ground and took a wonderful deep breath. It was the most comfortable place I had ever known. My bed back in Homeport was hard and lumpy, and it creaked every time I rolled over.

I was just about to doze off, when one of the twins called from her tent.

“Emma?”

I was so relaxed I couldn't move.

“Yes?” I answered blissfully.

“Wanna play treasure hunt?”

Even I knew we were too old to play stuff like that.

I leaned over on my side and asked, “What do you mean?”

Just then the two girls poked their heads into my tent through the open flap.

“It's really fun!” said the one on the right.

“You tell us to go find anything in the woods,” explained the one on the left, “like a berry or a skipping stone, and we'll look for it.”

I sat up and stared at their joyful faces. It was hard to believe we were around the same age. Everyone I knew in middle school was either overly moody or totally snobby. These two had the personalities of puppies.

“I'll play if you tell me which is which.”

They silently checked with each other first. Then the one on the left said, “I'm Morgan, and if you look closely, I have a chipped tooth, see?”

She smiled hard, and I now noticed the corner of her front left tooth was broken.

“But that won't help me from the back,” I pointed out.

The other twin, Megan, replied, “From the back, you can see my hair is a little shorter—it just doesn't grow as long as Morgan's.”

They turned around to show me.

“Got it,” I said. “Okay, let me think of a few treasures.”

“Anything you want or need and we'll find it,” claimed Morgan, “promise.”

They slipped back out of the tent and waited for my first command. Once again, I was amazed how easy it was to talk with kids my own age here. I reclined back onto my bedding to think about what I wanted them to look for . . . and I realized I didn't want or need a thing.

That's when I heard loud whispering between the twins and someone else.

“You two have to come to dinner now to help set the table.”

“But, Abby,” replied one of the twins, “we just started treasure hunt.”

“It's almost five o'clock,” answered Abby. “You know we always eat at five, and you're on the chart.”

There was some rustling, and then the voices faded away. I hesitated a second before peeking out. No one was there. I was a little disappointed because I really wanted to get to know Abby. And it didn't make sense. One minute I was swarmed with attention. The next minute, I was abandoned.

But I decided I wouldn't mind some time alone to unpack my backpack and organize my things. I wasn't that hungry anyway. Instead, I pulled out the piece of gum in my pocket that Wanda had given me earlier and felt the gold bead at the same time. Penelope would be so happy— already it seemed to be working!

Not two minutes later, a man with a high voice called cheerfully from outside the tent.

“Knock-knock!”

Then a sweet, motherly voice asked, “Guess who's here?”

They didn't sound familiar. Why did I feel as if I should already know everyone and everything about all these people? Just because I was related to them didn't mean I knew who they were. But in a strange way, I felt as if they already knew me.

I cautiously slid my head outside.

“Um. Hello?”

A gigantically tall man with a rectangular head and bushy hair the color of dandelions grinned down at me. Next to him stood a small woman—well, small for a
Frecky
.

“Is everything okay in there, Emma?” asked the woman. She had very long hair wrapped in a braid and wide brown eyes.

“Ah, yep.”

“Settled in then?” asked the man in kind of a squeaky voice.

“Uh-huh.” Then I remembered Fred's advice. “I mean, yes, everything is very nice, thank you.”

But they continued to smile down at me as if waiting for me to do something, so I stood up. Their name tags read Rose and Herman.

“If you have any questions at all, at
any
time of the day or night,” said the woman, “you just feel free to come to either one of us, your aunt Rose or your uncle Herman!”

“My older sister, Pat, has assigned us to keep an extra eye on you,” added Herman, “to make sure you have a very pleasurable stay.”

“And that you come back every year!” cried Rose.

The two of them were grinning so hard that I couldn't help but grin back.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“So, Emma?” asked giant Herman, very gently. “Is there a reason why you aren't able to follow the itinerary so far?”

“The itinerary?”

It was getting totally weird how little I understood, as if this whole family was from a foreign country. Could it be this is what everyone in Wisconsin was like? It occurred to me that maybe I should start writing all this stuff down. What if there was some kind of
Frecky
family quiz at the end of the weekend?

Rose put her hand on my shoulder.

“Didn't Aunt Pat give you a weekend schedule upon arrival?”

Then it dawned on me.

“Oh! I think Fred still has my itinerary.”

The two of them looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

“Come with us,” said Rose, “we'll trot you down to dinner and give you a quickie overview.” Then she whispered. “But first you need to dispose of that gum, dear.”

“Oh?” I replied, stopping mid-chew.

“No snacking outside the eating venue,” said Herman.

“Or between meals,” said Rose.

Herman asked, “And you do have your rammy, Emma?”

“Rammy?”

“Why would she have a rammy?” Rose asked Herman. “Only
Freckys
and mountain climbers use rammies for goodness sake!”

“But, Ro, I thought she was a
Frecky
?”

“It's nothing more than a utensil, Emma,” said Rose.

“Actually,” said Herman, “it's a lovely little all-in-one device with a fork on one end, a spoon at the other end, and a knife that slides out in the middle! We've been using them for years, long before the mountain climbers.”

“It keeps down on all the dishwashing,” continued Rose.

Herman added, “Everyone is responsible for his or her own rammy. Even the little munchkins!”

“And I have an extra rammy just for you this weekend,” said Rose, patting her pocket. “Now enough of your yammering, Herman, or we'll be late for the welcome toast!”

And since no one else was around to explain what in the world was going on, I spit my gum into the wrapper and followed them down the path.

“Emma, over here!”

Morgan and Megan waved from one of the dozen picnic tables lined up near the beach. I glanced around and saw that there had to have been close to a hundred
Freckys
sitting down for dinner. The noise and excitement were pretty overwhelming.

“Look, the girls are saving a seat for you,” said Rose clapping her hands together. “You're already one of us!”

Herman added, “I'm telling you, those are a bunch of nice girls.”

“
She'll be right there, girls!
” yelled Rose.

I was amazed. No one had ever saved me a seat . . . I mean ever.