Laying Godiva is staring at me from her roost.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask her. “I just saved you from being raccoon dinner! You should be thanking me.”

  That old hen just ruffles her feathers.

  “Okay, I might not be your favorite, but I bet you’d pick me any day over that bandit egg raider.” I take one step closer, and I try out that tsk tsk sound that Gran uses.

  She looks back at me like yes, I know that cluck. Is it a comfort to her? “We’ve all had a fright,” I tell her. “I might not have looked scared, but I was. A little. Now I’m not. Everything’s okay now.”

  I stay behind with Godiva and the rest of the rattled chickens to make sure they feel loved and settled. I sprinkle chicken snacks, sunflower seeds, and stale bread crumble for them to hunt and peck. I don’t leave until all of the chickens are comfortably roosting together.

  Back at the house, Gran is making people snacks—toast with cinnamon butter, along with peppermint herb tea. We sit together at the table as we wait for everyone to come home from the clinic.

  When Mom and Dad bring in Archie, he’s got a patch over his missing eye.

  “Arrr, it’s Cap’n Quacky,” jokes Caroline.

  But I’m worried. “Will Archie be okay living his life as a one-eyed duck?”

  “He’ll be fine,” assures Mom. “He’s one lucky duck. Raccoons can be outright vicious, especially when they’re caught off guard. Good thing that one was a teenager. Becket, you were in a serious situation. If that raccoon had been any bigger, he might have held his ground.”

  I try not to feel too thrilled, but after all of my danger warnings—to myself and to everybody else—it finally happened. I Survived Serious Country Danger!

  “Since I saved all the chickens, I probably don’t have to carry trash to the dumpster this week, right?”

  “Wrong,” says Dad.

  “Nice try, though, sweetie,” says Mom.

  I shrug. “If you never ask, you’ll never know.”

  chapter 15

  Fair Weather

  “The Fairs are coming! The Fairs are coming!” I’ve been cheering my cheer at Young Explorers ever since I found out about their visit. Some of the campers got super-excited about my news, until Counselor Pete asked me to explain that it’s the Fairs, our friends, who are coming from the city to celebrate Caroline’s birthday. Not fairs with bumper cars and cotton candy, which was what everyone was thinking.

  “It’s kind of like you’re tricking us, Becket,” says Cadie in a snippy voice.

  “Not on purpose,” I say. But I can tell by their faces that other kids seem to think so, too. I’d never admit it to Nicholas, but the 3B section has been hard. Camp Easy Breeze had loved my loud camp spirit, but it hasn’t worked the same way with Young Explorers. This camp has been a bran muffin amount of fun, not a banana split with three cherries and sprinkles amount of fun.

  So I’m doubly excited to see some old friends.

  “I’m so excited for the Fairs,” I say at breakfast.

  “You keep saying that,” says Nicholas.

  “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.”

  “According to the Farmers’ Almanac, this weekend will be the hottest weather of the summer,” says Dad.

  “I hope the Fairs can take the heat.” Caroline bites her lip.

  “We’ve got a pond for cooling off, and a freezer full of ice cream,” I remind her.

  “Annabelle doesn’t like to swim,” says Caroline. “We took lessons at the Y back in kindergarten. She got swimmer’s ear even before she went in the water.”

  “There’s other stuff to do,” I say. “You know she’s gonna love it!”

  “I doubt it,” says Caroline. “Annabelle isn’t some country bumpkin, like us!”

  “I only wanted to help,” I snap back. “And stop calling us bumpkins! I looked it up and it means an unsophisticated, socially awkward person from the countryside. I might be from the countryside, but I’m none of those other things.”

  “Me either,” says Nicholas. “I’m social! I’ve got more friends here than I did in the city!”

  “Okay, kids,” says Mom. “I’d love us to all pull together to make this weekend a success. How about it?”

  Caroline shrugs and chews her toast.

  “Are the Fairs bringing Frankie?” asks Nicholas. Frankie Fair is Annabelle’s four-year-old brother, who is a freckled fireball of pure crazy.

  “Of course they’ll bring Frankie,” says Caroline, right back to snapping. “Where else would he go?”

  “An orphanage or a kennel?” suggests Nicholas. “In the city, I could escape him. But there’s no good place to hide from Frankie here.”

  “He’ll be sharing your room, too, Nicholas,” I point out. “But you’re more social now, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Nicholas looks sick. He goes upstairs. A minute later, we hear his new cello tune, probably called “I Will Never Survive a Weekend of Frankie,” floating down to us.

  Then it’s the end of the week, and the day of the Fairs. Gran extra-weeds her garden, including the front-door sunflowers. Dad bakes his banana loaf bread. Caroline brews a pitcher of iced tea. Mom drives to town to pick up a bakery cake.

  A store-bought cake is Caroline’s birthday wish. “Just because we’re country you-know-whats doesn’t mean we need everything homemade,” she says. “Everyone likes bakery cakes.”

  I’m sure Caroline is mostly thinking about what Annabelle likes.

  “What a birthday girl wants, a birthday girl gets—that’s the rule!” I say. I don’t want anyone to forget this incredibly important rule when it’s October, and my birthday.

  Nicholas thumbs-ups me, since that’s his birthday, too.

  That afternoon, we wait on the porch—even Mr. Fancypants, who I brought outside specially so he doesn’t miss a thing. We switched over from using Bee Sweet honey to hiding his pills in peanut butter. Mr. Fancypants loves that taste even more. Unfortunately, there’s usually a peanut butterish smell on my hands, and I think that’s why he’s started napping in my lap. Even though Mr. Fancypants is gassy and heavy it’s not the worst, to feel him breathing calm, and to know that my lap is as comfy for him as his arthritis pillow.

  I see the car before everyone else. “They’re heeeeeeeere!” I call, even if I can’t move fast from the dog weight on me.

  Annabelle’s mom hops out with a big whoop and hugs. She gives Mom and Dad a gift box from Sugarman’s Deli. When I finally get Mr. Fancypants relocated and join up to check it out, I see that it’s filled with our favorite crackers, pickles, and mustards. Meantime, Frankie is madly turning somersaults across the grass while hollering, “Look how many I can do in a row! Nicholas, count!”

  Annabelle’s dad starts to unload bags from the trunk.

  “Hi, Annabelle.” Caroline peers through the car window.

  “I’ll be with you in a sec. I’m still feeling a little car sick.” When Annabelle climbs out of the car, she’s wearing her usual black jeans and black shirt and black boots and she looks wobbly. But she gives Caroline a squeeze and a wrapped birthday present that turns out to be a silver-framed picture of Caroline and Annabelle with their other best friends, Lester, Jules, and Alex, all arm-in-arm walking down our old street.

  “Thank you.” Caroline stares for a long time at the picture. “I can’t believe I won’t see any of you at school this year.” Her eyes fill up.

  As cranky as Caroline has been toward me lately, I have to give Annabelle a frown for bringing my sister a present that makes her so sad and homesick.

  “Finished my cartwheels!” shouts Frankie. “How many did I do, Nicholas?”

  “Frankie, who drew that mustache on your upper lip?” I ask him.

  “I did it myself! It’s a bad-guy mustache,” says Frankie. “You can tell because it curls down, not up, on the ends. Hey, Nicholas, check out these babies.” He makes arm muscles. “Also I can swim with no floaties. Also I’ve got night vision. Also carrots still make me throw up because I’ve got like two thousand tastebugs. Other things that make me throw up are cauliflower, beans, avocados, and peaches.”

  Nicholas looks at me with owl eyes.

  “Do you want to see my room?” Caroline asks Annabelle. “I don’t have to share with my little sister anymore.”

  “No, thanks. I don’t want to go inside,” says Annabelle. “I’ve been stuck in that car for hours.” She makes being stuck in a car sound like Caroline’s fault.

  “How about a farm tour?” I shout. “First stop, the swing.”

  “I can swing until forever!” yells Frankie. I already know this is true. That’s why I suggested it. Nicholas and I give Frankie pushes until our arms wear out, while Annabelle and Caroline stand apart and watch.

  Annabelle keeps slapping herself.

  “Want a turn?” asks Caroline.

  “No, thanks.” Annabelle slaps. “There’s tons of bugs out here. Can’t we go somewhere less terrible?”

  Caroline looks worried. There’s no escaping bugs on a farm.

  “I’ve got this,” I say, digging into my back pocket for my little tin of Udderly Useful balm. It’s an old-timey farmer remedy for soothing chafed cow udders, but Gran says it works for just about anything chapped or dry. I use it on Pickle and Chew when their hooves look cracked, and I also use it on my own lips. “Keeps the bugs away,” I say. Which might be true. It’s got a slightly medicine smell.

  “Relief.” Annabelle dips her fingers and rubs it on her arms and chest and face. “Ah, already better. What is this stuff?”

  Caroline knows what my balm is, and we exchange a look of slight terror. Annabelle won’t be happy to know that she’s rubbed cow ChapStick all over her skin.

  “Just a boring bug balm. I know, let’s get a snack!” I clap my hands together. “Next stop, the berry patch! I think that’s less buggy.”

  At the berry patch, the first thing I see is a bug. At least it’s only a tiny green inchworm scooting up and down across a dandelion leaf. I pick the leaf to show Annabelle. “So cute, right? Not all bugs are bad. You can’t go wrong with an inchworm.”

  “Bugs. No, thanks.” Annabelle doesn’t even look at it.

  Frankie stuffs raspberries in his mouth until he’s got chipmunk cheeks. Annabelle picks a single raspberry and sniffs it. “Are these okay to eat? They haven’t been cleaned like the ones from Country Goods Farm Markets.”

  “Actually, Country Goods Farm raspberries come from all the way up in Vermont,” says Caroline. “A berry from our patch is always better than fruit from far away, which can get bruised or moldy and gross on the truck.”

  Caroline has learned a lot from working at Branch’s—but I didn’t know that Country Goods Farm was so far away! Suddenly the land of Noble feels more like an imaginary place, or a dream.

  Annabelle doesn’t look like she believes what Caroline has said. I watch her let the berry drop from her fingers to the grass.

  “I’m bursting berry goodness!” says Frankie. He does a couple of somersaults. When he comes upright, he looks woozy. “Better give my stomach a time-out.”

  “Let me show you the henhouse,” I tell the Fairs. “Come on.”

  As soon as we walk in, the chickens greet us with their usual clucking. It’s only Godiva who starts ruffling her annoyance at having visitors. “That hen despises everyone,” says Nicholas. “She’s our gran’s prize, but she’s sooo cranky. Don’t go near her!”

  Annabelle squeals with alarm. “What are we even doing here?” she asks. “No, thanks! This whole farm is a danger zone.”

  Caroline looks upset. She likes to come in here sometimes to feed the hens treats, and we both think their pecking and clucking is funny. I wonder if this is her last straw with Miss Annabelle “No, Thanks” Fair.

  “We should go,” says Caroline.

  I take a very deep breath. Then I scoop up Godiva in my best firm Gran style. “Godiva’s cluck is worse than her peck.” I wait to be pecked, but Godiva just rests in the crook of my arm. I can actually feel her settling in and calming down in my snug arms. Caroline and Nicholas look impressed. “She’s nothing to worry about, see? It’s the raccoons that give us trouble. Last month, a raccoon broke in and attacked poor old Arch.”

  Annabelle shivers. “It’s like, how do you do it? Critters are hiding everywhere! Aren’t you scared of bears?”

  Caroline bursts out laughing, but it’s one of those hard, mad laughs. “Jeez, Annabelle! Were you always this much of a fraidy-cat?”

  Annabelle goes silent.

  “His eye is mostly healed now,” I say quietly.

  “It kinda looks cool,” says Frankie. “It makes him look like he’s always winking.”

  “No, it’s gross,” Annabelle says.

  She doesn’t want to visit Pickle and Chew, either.

  Even when I offer to show how I’ve been exercising them.

  “They’re gentle old folks,” I tell her. “You could ride one, if you want.”

  But Annabelle doesn’t want to be talked into it.

  “Oh, I know! Let’s check out the swarming,” says Caroline. “It’s pretty dramatic.”

  “Annabelle won’t like the swarming,” mutters Nicholas at my side as we walk over to the apple orchard. “Maybe Caroline’s had it, and she’s trying to scare her.”

  “Yeah, or maybe she’s just stopped caring.”

  When Annabelle sees that a swarming means thousands of honeybees huddled in the hollow of an apple tree, so close together they look like a nestled pinecone, she backs off super fast. It’s the biggest “No, Thanks” we showed her yet.

  “People can die getting too close to bee hives!” Annabelle reminds us.

  “That’s why you need a fun safety tip, like bee careful,” I tell her. “And it’s not a hive, it’s a swarm. The workers make a bee cluster, while scouts look for a new location for their queen—and that location will be their hive.”

  “They won’t sting unless you get close enough to bother them,” says Nicholas.

  No surprise, Annabelle has already moved far away. There’s nothing she likes about Blackberry Farm. She doesn’t want to race garter snakes or catch frogs and salamanders. She doesn’t want to pick sour summer apples or even go swimming, although it’s so hot, our clothes are sticking to our skin.

  “Annabelle didn’t bring a bathing suit,” says Frankie. “No way will she swim in a dirty farm pond.”

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Annabelle,” I tell her. “It’s just some sunfish and turtles in there.”

  “I’m not scared of ponds or turtles.” But Annabelle’s voice lifts up on its way to the end of that sentence. When we all go to the pond for a family swim, she stays on the bank and watches.

  “Who knew Annabelle Fair would turn out to be the kid version of Mr. Fancypants?” says Nicholas in my ear. “She’s the way I used to be a long time ago, when we first moved here.” He looks proud to say it.

  “Yeah, totally. She’s scared of everything,” I say. “Even Mr. Fancypants is braver than Annabelle about country life.” And later when I give him his second peanut butter–covered heart pill before dinner, I tell him so.

  chapter 16

  Midnight Guest

  It looks like rain as we settle around the porch table for Caroline’s birthday dinner. I enjoy seeing so much of this dark, clouding-over sky at once. In the city, you only see chunks of sky between the buildings. Here, the weather is everywhere. “Woooo-eeee, the Almanac sure didn’t predict this one,” says Dad.

  “Neither did the local news or my weather app,” says Mr. Fair. He leans back contentedly. “Nothing like watching a summer storm.”

  “As long as there’s no lightning,” says Annabelle.

  Lightning spears across the sky. Annabelle shivers.

  I count slowly. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Missis—”

  Thunder booms.

  “The storm’s half a mile away,” says Caroline.

  “What? I don’t get it,” says Annabelle.

  “After you see lightning, you count the number of seconds before the thunder,” I explain. “Every five seconds is a mile.”

  “Oh,” says Annabelle. “That’s cool.”

  Caroline smiles at me faintly. It’s the first time Annabelle has decided that anything about today was cool.

  “Go, thunderstorm!” says Frankie. Half of his bad-guy mustache has rubbed off, which makes him look extra nuts. “Knock knock, who’s there? THUNDERSTORM! I hope the house isn’t split in half by lightning, that’d be bad!”

  “Stop it, Frankie, you pest,” says Annabelle, but she looks worried again.

  Luckily, the storm is more of a spattering, but even when it’s over, the clouds decide to stick around. Dinner is all of Caroline’s favorites: twisty three-color pasta salad, garden salad, and fruit salad. Caroline never met a salad she didn’t like.

  After dinner come presents.

  Mom and Dad give Caroline a necklace with a letter C charm. The Fairs give her a cute purple suitcase on wheels. “For visiting me on my birthday!” says Annabelle.

  Frankie gives Caroline a rock that he took from our driveway, but he pretends that’s not true. “I found it lasterday on our block, by the hot dog cart!” he insists.

  I give Caroline a belt that I latch-hooked during crafts time at Young Explorers.

  Nicholas brings down Clive and plays “Happy Birthday.” Cello music can turn even a happy tune into something that makes me picture a lonely winter road, but Caroline loves it.

  Finally, Mom and Dad walk out the red velvet cake with twelve lit rainbow candles and a sparkler candle to grow on. Right as Caroline blows out her candles, the storm sneaks in again. Drops of rain begin plopping softly onto the porch roof, and then—boom!—it’s really here.

 

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