Fun in the Yellow Pages

By Bobbi Groover

A vacation adventure filled with humor, horses and the complexities of family relationships.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781456603700

Book preview

www.Bobbiscorner.com

CHAPTER ONE

Pierson looked at the problem from at least a hundred different ways, but the answer kept coming up the same. He sat with his back against the trunk of the tall, hickory tree and pulled at the lush new grass. There were two weeks left of school and, as far as he was concerned, two weeks left of life as he knew it. There had to be good points to this; there had to be! But he kept coming back to the same conclusion—the summer was going to be a total washout, a waste, a disaster. Yup, his life was about to be ruined by a crazy notion that struck his parents as marvelous. His family intended to spend the summer getting back to basics, back to nature. For three months they would live in a cabin in a remote area of Pennsylvania. Dad had said there would be limited luxuries.

Is electricity considered a luxury? Pierson had inquired. How about air conditioning?

His dad hadn't answered, adding fuel to Pierson's worst fears. Under those circumstances, Pierson was afraid to ask about the important things: T.V., video games, civilization. Forget the luxuries, how about the basics? Don't parents know that a twelve-year-old kid can't manage without the basics?

Pierson looked at the pile of grass he had pulled from his dad's manicured front lawn. There was an ugly brown patch where the dark green had been. He knew his dad would be annoyed but what was the difference? Dad killed him then or the vacation killed him later.

Disgusted, he rolled onto his stomach. He picked a long, wide strand of grass and pulled it taut between his thumbs. Blowing smoothly, he made a shrill whistling sound. A robin in the tree above him answered his call.

I'll bet no one is telling you where you have to spend your summer, he called to the bird. The bird warbled again. ''Yeah, right. A cabin in the woods? You'd probably love it."

He aimlessly played with a thread on the cuff of his freshly pressed shirt, twirling it in and out of his fingers. Abruptly jerking it free, he wound it into a ball, jumped up and lobbed it with perfect form into an imaginary hoop.

And the crowd went mad as he sank it, he said into his fist-made-microphone. A crucial two points, ladies and gentlemen–

Hey, Pierce, Kevin called from next door.

Over here.

Kevin was one of his classmates and a good friend. Bouncing his basketball, Kevin appeared in the driveway.

Play a game of one on one? Kevin asked.

''You must like losing!"

I've got you by three inches and twenty-five pounds. Yesterday's win was a fluke, Kevin said with a grin.

Pierson stole the ball, ran down the line and laid it in. He caught his shot, dribbled it through his legs and went up for a jam. I may be small but I'm fast!

Okay, Mr. Small, let's see how fast you can put the balls away and get ready for dinner, said Pierson's mother from the doorway. Hi, Kevin. Want to join us?

No thanks, Mrs. Chandler. Mom's already fixing our dinner, and I have to be home soon anyway.

All right. Pierson, dinner will be on the table in ten minutes. It's your favorite–meatloaf and hash browns, she said. Her tall figure disappeared into the large, stucco house.

See you, Kevin, Pierson called to his retreating friend.

See you. Remember, I still want that rematch!

Pierson pushed open the heavy oak door. Through the hallway he could see his mother busily setting the table for dinner. How could you have come up with such a harebrained scheme for the summer, Ma? he muttered to himself.

His dad joined his mother. A deep voice filled the air. "Meatloaf? I was expecting Duck à l'orange, especially on the one night I get a home-cooked meal."

The meeting at school lasted longer than expected, his mother answered. This was the best I could do at the last minute. Do I hear a complaint? It's either meatloaf or take-out from the taco shop down the street.

Dad pointed to his chest. Me? Complain? I know the complaint department is closed at this hour. He cleared his throat. Allow me to start over. MMM—everything smells great. Want me to carve and serve this delicious cuisine?

Another question whizzed through Pierson's head. How could his Dad have agreed to their summer exile? His parents were definitely not acting like themselves. Maybe they had been invaded by alien beings! Pierson remembered seeing a horror movie in which aliens invaded people's bodies while they slept and then took over their personalities.

This meatloaf looks juicy, Dad cooed.

His mom hip-checked his dad. Don't try to win me over with your smooth talking. I know you were expecting something mouth-watering.

Meatloaf! Pierson shuddered. Two minutes ago his mother said it was his favorite dinner. He hated meatloaf, and she knew it. He was truly suspicious now. Wow! Aliens posing as his parents! That would explain the crazy idea of occupying a cabin in the woods. Maybe they want to be away from other people to perform weird experiments.

Pierce, are you ready for dinner? His mother's voice brought him out of his daydream.

I'll be there in a minute, he yelled back while zipping up the stairs.

As he washed his hands, he glanced into the mirror. His root beer brown hair was standing up like Frankenstein's monster. Being wavy, it frizzed when he got sweaty. He tried to smooth it down with the brush so his mother wouldn't be upset and tell him he looked like a mad Chopin. It did no good. As usual, his hair had a mind of its own. The small birthmark under his left eye glared at him; he hated it. But the doctor had said, short of surgery, there wasn't much that could be done about it. It grew lighter in the winter, but the summer sun turned it an intense brown. There were days when the kids ribbed him about it.

Pierce, dinner's on the table, and it's getting cold! Amazing how fast a mother's voice could become shrill. But at least that voice sounded familiar, judged Pierson on his way downstairs. He decided to keep his eyes open for any other differences in his parents. Their being aliens was the only logical explanation for their weird decision.

You decided to join us after all, commented his father as Pierson settled in his chair.

Sorry, I guess I was daydreaming, he said. Mmm, the meatloaf looks great. Pierson looked down at his plate and tried to act casual while he waited for his mother's response.

It looks great? You hate meatloaf, she replied.

I do?

Until tonight you gave a good impression of hating it. Are you feeling okay? She put her hand to his forehead.

Ma! He grinned and tossed her hand aside.

Well, you're acting strangely. What else am I supposed to think? That aliens took over your body? Your hair certainly looks as if you've had an extraterrestrial experience. It's standing straight up like it's electrified.

I'm acting strangely? How about your off-the-wall decision to spend the summer in exile? This might be the last chance to persuade his parents to abandon the idea. He opened wide his strikingly black eyes and put on his puppy-dog face, the look he knew melted his mother's heart. Crossing his fingers under the table, he took a deep breath. Dad, you love playing tennis, and your partners are here in town. You can't play by yourself in some cow field. What about night life? Who knows if this place even has a movie theater? And, Ma, you like to go riding with your friends. The only horse out there could be a fat old plug that's been plowing fields for the last thirty years! And–uh–without your exercise tapes, instead of being a shadow of your former self, you'll cast a shadow large enough to hide huge buildings–

His mother and father burst into laughter, and Pierson knew it was a lost cause. Scratch the alien theory.

A shadow able to hide huge buildings? his mother asked between her peals of laughter.

Pierson smiled in spite of himself. You're not buying it, huh? He frowned. I don't see how this vacation will be any fun. There'll be nothing to do.

Hey, buddy, do you think you can't make it out there in the wild woods? His father poked him in the ribs. Do you think the only fun to be had is in those computer games of yours? Besides, your mother and I have been putting in long hours, and we wanted to spend this time with you. Think positive! There'll be lots to do. We'll swim in the lake–

And I'll positively freeze, shot Pierson.

His mother sat. Come on, P. This family has been pressured by meetings and deadlines for too long. We pass in the halls like ships in the night.

But I love deadlines. I thrive under pressure. I live for stress.

Be brave and try the pioneer life. We'll go hiking in the forest and chop wood for the fireplace.

I'll be eaten alive by mosquitoes.

It'll be great trying to cook on a real cast iron stove or in the big fireplace. His mother sounded excited. "I plan to