I, Emma Freke (16 page)

“So where did you get all this food?” I asked.

“I jogged into town yesterday and bought it at Fancy's Dry Goods and General Store.”

“By the way,” I said. “Where have you been? It's like you disappeared.” In fact, I hadn't seen him since we sat on top of the hill.

He sighed. “It's a long, monotonous story, but the short version is I don't fit in around here,” he said. “And they don't care what I do. I'm pretty much invisible.”

Wow. I knew how that felt. But Fred, he seemed
so
vis ible. It was hard imagining people not noticing him.

“Who do you mean by they?” I wanted to know.

“They, as in every single
Frecky
, big and small. Fat and skinny. Loud and quiet. Dumb and smart. ”

I giggled, then wondered if that was really true.

“Where's your tent?” I asked.

“I don't sleep here,” he replied as he threw more berries into his mouth.

“You don't? Then where do you sleep?”

He pointed toward the woods at the exact same time a cowbell rang in the distance, followed by three faint crow whistles. Fred gathered up the leftovers and slid down the rock.

“What do you know, morning has arrived according to schedule!” he announced, then crowed like a rooster. “Time to get going. Lots to do!”

“I'm guessing this wasn't on the itinerary,” I joked as I jumped down to the ground.

Suddenly Fred's lively face turned very sour.

“Do you honestly think spontaneity and creativity are on Aunt Pat's precious
itinerary
?”

Once again, I couldn't tell if he was teasing or not.

“Well, are you coming today?” I asked.

“That would be a big NOPE,” he said as he threw his head to the side, “But listen, if anyone pesters you about where you've been, just tell them you were in the bathroom.”

“Really? Why would I have to say that? What's wrong with eating breakfast out here?”

“Rule number eight: Never, ever stray from the itinerary with the exception of bodily functions or illness.”

I smiled. “I believe you were on rule number seven, plus you said rule number six was the last one.”

“Ah-hah!” he smiled back. “So you were paying attention?”

“That's one thing I'm good at,” I replied. “Paying attention.”

“Then watch this,” said Fred as he bowed, pulled a daisy out of his sleeve, tossed it over to me, and ran off into the woods disappearing once again as secretly as he had arrived.

“Remember now! I can't say it enough! A daily fitness program is excellent for both the body and mind, people!”

Practically all one hundred
Freckys
were down on the beach, hands up in the air, leaning toward our collective left sides and stretching. Aunt Pat, dressed in a bulging mint green sweat suit and matching fanny pack, was leading us in some exercises. They were pretty basic and easy to do but most likely geared toward the tiny kids, the grandparents, and Aunt Pat herself, who was completely out of breath as she tried to talk.

I was standing between one of the twins and Abby, who was smiling and covering her mouth trying not to giggle. She pointed in the direction of one of the older uncles whose middle buttons had popped open revealing rolls of milky white flesh as he attempted to lean and bob.

It occurred to me that I had never done this before with anyone other than Penelope—shared girl signals. Most of the time, the girls at middle school were giggling at me, at the freak that I was. But here at the reunion, I blended perfectly into the crowd.

After a series of leg lifts and bunny hops, Aunt Pat weakly stuck the whistle between her lips and blew one tweet.

“Thank you, folks,” she gasped. “Fifteen . . . minutes . . . until . . . boating.”

“Fifteen minutes?” squealed Megan. “What do you want to do?”

“Let's go to the Mini Mart!” said Morgan. “I want to buy a net.”

I studied Abby and the twins, and all at once, a feeling of belonging warmed my whole body. Anyone back in Homeport who happened to be watching us would have assumed the four of us were sisters. And I couldn't ask for anything better.

I chimed in, “Where's the Mini Mart?”

“It's on the other side of the campground,” replied Abby, “but definitely too far to go in just fifteen minutes.”

“Now thirteen minutes,” corrected Megan pointing to her watch.

“I could show you where I had breakfast this morning,” I suggested. “It's just past our tents.”

“What are you talking about, Emma?” asked Abby. “We all ate breakfast together just an hour ago.”

“I actually had two breakfasts,” I confessed mischievously.

All three girls stared at me.

“Huh?” they said at the same time.

A few minutes later, I climbed on top of the flat-topped boulder as Abby, Morgan, and Megan watched from below.

“Fred and I saw the sun come up, and we ate muffins and berries!”

The three of them gawked up at me, then at one another. A piece of leftover muffin was by my foot. I picked it up and showed it to them.

“See? I had banana pecan, and he had fudgy cinnamon chip!”

Morgan threw her hand over her mouth. The other two appeared just as shocked.

“What is it?” I asked.

Then they huddled together and whispered. I jumped down to the ground instantly feeling very left out. I was surprised how quickly those feelings flooded back.

“What's the matter?” I asked.

Abby touched my arm.

“Emma, I'm not sure how to tell you this.”

“Just tell her,” said Megan.

“Tell me what?”

Abby sighed. “We don't talk to Fred.”

I was confused.

“
We
as in the three of you?”

Morgan answered, “
We
as in everybody in the entire family. And probably the whole town for that matter.”

“He's totally crazy!” blurted Megan. “Stay away from him, Emma!”

“What?!”

“You two,” said Abby, “you're exaggerating.”

Had Fred been telling the truth, that no one at all cared about him?

“Well, it's true!” Morgan insisted. “He talks out loud to himself and sleeps in the scary forest and looks like a troll with those ears. No one likes him.”

I stared down at my feet and confessed, “I like him.”

“But you can't!” said Megan.

“What do you mean, I can't?”

There were a few awkward silent moments when I wasn't sure if I should have asked that. Then Abby turned to the twins and said, “Why don't you two go ahead, and we'll meet you back at the canoes?”

“Okay,” Morgan sighed.

“We'll try to save you one,” added Megan.

As the sisters took off down the path, I mumbled to Abby, “Are you guys mad at me?”

“No one's mad, Emma—”

“But I don't get what I did wrong. Or why you're all against Fred.”

“It's our fault,” she said, “and it's hard to explain, but from now on, just try to avoid him even if you
think
you like him.”

“Why?”

“Because, that's how everybody feels. He's not like the rest of us. He has very peculiar beliefs.”

“Like what?”

Across the lake, Aunt Pat's whistle cawed, back to full volume after her fifteen-minute break. Abby glanced around anxiously.

“I'm not sure, exactly, but it's best to steer clear of him. Okay?” She took my arm and gently pulled me back in the direction of the beach. “Come on, we got to hurry.”

“Wait—what happens if I don't steer clear of Fred?”

But Abby either didn't hear me or pretended not to as she ran ahead, making sure to be exactly on time for the next event.

“I'm guessing it's been years since you had a nap time, dear,” said Aunt Rose, “but believe me, it's something you never outgrow!”

She was standing next to Uncle Herman who was licking a purple Popsicle. We had all just finished lunch after an hour of canoeing, and now it was time for a half-hour rest in our tents, according to the itinerary.

“I'm not tired at all,” I said. “I think I'll just take a walk or something.”

In the back of my mind, I was really hoping to bump into Fred. I had about a hundred questions to ask him.

“You see, Emma,” said Uncle Herman between licks, “we
all
take a nap.”

I looked back and forth between them, their faces ex pressing as much seriousness as if they were telling me I had to brush my teeth or eat vegetables.

“But I'm wide awake.”

Aunt Rose patted my hand.

“It-it has nothing to do with whether or not you're sleepy, dear,” she stammered, as if she couldn't explain the logic behind it. Then she added softly, “It's just, well . . . it's what we're all expected to do right now.”

“That's a good way of putting it, Ro,” said Uncle Herman, slurping up his last purple bite.

Putting what?
I thought to myself. Were we all really expected to do the exact same thing at the exact same time around the clock?

A minute later, I was reclined on my sleeping bag in the middle of the day, still wondering why I had to stay there. It was almost funny. Not in a million years would Donatella order me to take a nap. I mean I was practically a teenager. At what point were
Freckys
allowed to make a few of their own decisions?

I reached down into my empty pocket and panicked when I didn't find Penelope's gold bead. But then I remembered—it was in a tiny pouch of my backpack where I had safely stored it the night before. I dug it out and slipped it back into my pocket. Then I smiled to myself thinking about good old Penelope, and I wondered how she would feel about this reunion and whether or not she would have fit in.

I decided it was probably best not to say anything more about Fred to Abby or the twins. It was better to watch and try to figure things out for myself. But I was so confused. Everyone had been so super nice to me. In fact, no one had ever treated me so kindly, other than Penelope, of course, and Stevie. So how could such a loving family completely reject one of their own? Was it some big horrible thing he did?

Then I remembered what Wanda had said, that she was a cousin but not really related. And then there were all the puzzling comments Donatella had made about the
Freckys
, claiming my father had divorced his family. Come to think of it, why hadn't anyone said one word to me about Walter? You would think someone would mention him to me.

All that considering and supposing and sorting out between what was true and what was questionable made me very drowsy. And as it turned out, a nap was exactly what I needed.

Following an afternoon packed with activities (from crafts to croquet) and a scrumptious dinner (burgers, potato salad, and another tasty fruit Jell-O mold), we watched a movie outside on the beach. Someone had set up a white screen on top of two picnic tables. It felt just like an old-fashioned drive-in theater. We sat on blankets and faced the hill, our backs to the lake. I had my head reclined on Abby's stomach while Abby leaned against Megan's arm and so on . . . a bunch of cousins all cozy and entangled in one another.

The movie was about a family from the 1800s traveling west to settle on new land. I had a feeling it was chosen to teach us another lesson or somehow represent our
Frecky
heritage (like the bear story), but it was pretty corny and mostly inaccurate. For example, I knew horses like the ones shown in the film weren't used to pull wagons cross-country. Oxen or mules normally did the work. And most pioneers couldn't afford more than one wagon—this movie family had three. It was the Hollywood version of the West, not the real thing.

But I didn't care what we were watching. It was wonderful to kick back with everyone outside on a summer night. I was so used to being alone, and here I was, lazing happily among a hundred relatives.