The Great Scavenger Hunt Read online

  “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.

  One is big, the other small, and neither a precipice at all. Near these places, in the dirt, get ready for a yurt alert.

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

  CHAPTER

  4

  The Cranberry Sing-along

  Outside 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, colo
r-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?

  “Isn’t the point of this trip supposed to be the scavenger hunt?” she asked. But no one heard her over Henry Yurt and Avery’s loud cheering.

  Let the Hunt Begin!

  The vehicles all pulled up to Nickerson State Park at the same time. Mr. Moore filmed from the front seat of his van as the Salty Cods jumped out of the Cowmobile with their backpacks on like it was a well-practiced military maneuver. “Come on, Cods, I mean it. Move, move, MOVE!” barked Patrice.

  The Cranberry Boggers and the Beach Barnacles watched in disbelief as Patrice traced a few places on her map to her group and they raced off into the park, clearly on a mission for victory.

  “Remember,” Mr. Moore bellowed after them, turning off his video camera. “Keep your walkie-talkie on at all times, and meet us at Kiki’s house for the barbecue at five sharp! Your leaders have the directions.”

  The only one on the Salty Cods team who wasn’t huffing and puffing out of the parking lot was Katani. She wanted to be as excited and enthusiastic as the rest of her fellow fishes, but her sister Patrice’s we-can-win attitude was beginning to grate on her nerves. How come all the other kids are following her and doing exactly what she says? Katani took her sweet time making her way to the NON-precipices. It was sort of gratifying, she thought, that Patrice had to slow down so she could catch up.

  Back in the parking lot, Mrs. Moore waved good-bye to the Beach Barnacles while Ms. O’Reilly made sure all the Cranberry Boggers had full water bottles and well-adjusted helmet straps.

  “Remember, Fabiana,” Ms. O’Reilly reminded Nick’s sister. “You have your team’s permission slips and photo release forms in the envelope with all the clues! So be careful not to misplace it,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

  “I’ll guard it with my life!” Fabiana promised.

  As she tugged her helmet tighter, Isabel noticed that Betsy looked miserable. She figured it was the sight of Avery Madden cheering on her team as they disappeared from sight down the bike path while the Salty Cods were already long gone and probably miles ahead of everyone else.

  “We Cranberry Boggers need some of that gung ho spirit!” Betsy complained. “We just got here and we’re already in last place!”

  “Cheer up!” Fabiana grinned, flipping her brand-new map around 180 degrees for the third time. “This isn’t a race, really.”

  “Yeah, but it’s a hunt,” Danny said from right behind Betsy’s shoulder. “That’s almost the same thing.”

  “I don’t know if this map is really kid-friendly enough,” Maeve remarked.

  “The old map had all the names of landmarks in big, bold letters,” Fabiana sighed. “I guess this one is more for a car driver. Sorry, guys,” she said as she looked up at her team’s downcast expressions.

  “Hey, maybe we could just skip ahead to the second clue,” Betsy suggested.

  The group glanced at each other as if they were all thinking, Typical Betsy, always trying to skip ahead to come in first.

  “Think about it,” Betsy continued. “If we stay in this park all day looking for precipices we’ll miss out on the other clues! We can always come back once we figure it out.”

  “It’s actually not a bad idea,” Fabiana contributed.

  “Not a bad idea at all. Let’s read clue number two!” Danny shouted. Maeve, being very perceptive in the ways of boys, secretly took note of how enthusiastic Danny was to help Betsy. She wondered if Betsy could pull her head out of the clues and maps long enough to notice too.

  Fabiana produced another envelope and handed it to Betsy to do the honors. Maeve supposed Betsy was the only other person in the group who gen
uinely enjoyed having all eyes on her as much as Maeve did.

  From the Orleans circle round, toward a coastal town you’re bound. There is much for you in store at the harbor’s rocky shore.

  Betsy opened her mouth to comment, but before she had the chance to announce her opinion, Danny shouted, “The rotary! The Orleans Rotary…it’s right here on the map.”

  Betsy leaned over to Maeve and whispered, “Should we clue poor Danny in that no one likes a know-it-all?”

  Maeve—for the first time in a long time—was speechless. Betsy’s cluelessness about her own know-it-all attitude was shocking. Doesn’t Betsy know who she is? Maeve wondered.

  “Hey, according to the map, the Orleans Rotary is four miles away,” Fabiana informed them. The collective groan from the team was loud enough to disturb a flock of sparrows that flew off in a rush.

  “Well, let’s go!” Isabel urged, and with that, they climbed on their bikes and finally left the parking lot—dead last.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Bigger Fish to Fry

  At Cliff Pond and Little Cliff Pond, the Salty Cods had bigger fish to fry. “I need more information about this Henry Yurt kid,” Patrice demanded. “Who is he? What does he do? Did he leave something here?”

  Charlotte was certain that she’d given Patrice her best journalist-quality report about Henry Yurt, but it didn’t make a difference. They’d ridden their bikes around the pond three times and absolutely nothing had jumped out at them as particularly “Yurty.”

  “Whoa! Check out those mad weird tents over there in the clearing!” Dillon called the group over to examine a clearing that had been filled with mustard-colored structures set up in a circle. There were bikes leaning up against one of them, and the voices of campers discussing plans for the day echoed from inside another.