Independence Day is the best holiday of all the holidays without presents and egg hunts and birthday cakes. And my parents were trying to ruin it.
“We don’t have a lot of money, but we want to do something special for the Fourth of July.” Dad set plates on the table for breakfast while Mom flipped pancakes. “We thought we could spend next weekend in Duluth going through the museums.”
“We’ll get a hotel with a pool!” Mom said.
“It’ll be a treat,” Dad said. “There’s a museum about the logging industry and one about the shipping industry. Then there’s a museum dedicated to actress Judy Garland. Remember The Wizard of Oz? Well, she was from this area! Wouldn’t it be amazing if they have her journals there? I’d love to read her deepest secrets.”
We needed to act fast. Faster-than-fast fast. I looked at Amelia, who started tapping on her phone. This was no time to be texting.
“We’ll have ice cream!” Mom said.
Amelia turned her phone toward me. She hadn’t been texting. She’d typed a note: Tag team! Follow me.
“That’s so cool!” Amelia said. Then she sighed all big.
Dad asked, “What’s the matter, honey?”
“Nothing. I’m glad we’ll have a family weekend. I’ll just tell all my new friends I can’t go.”
Mom put a plate of pancakes on the table. “Go where?”
“Travis is having a cookout and everyone’s waterskiing and tubing and doing fireworks. No big deal, really.”
“I didn’t know you’d been invited to a party,” Mom said.
“It’s the one thing I’ve been happy about, you know, since it’s the last holiday we’ll ever have at the cabin. But the museum trip will be pleasant.” Amelia never used the word “pleasant.”
“Pleasant,” I agreed. “Alex wants to have a cookout and bonfire, too. But maybe we’ll get invited next year. Maybe.”
Dad’s shoulders started to droop. “The city of Duluth has wonderful fireworks. People come from all over to see them.”
“Yay! Fireworks are most fun when you’re with thousands of people in a parking lot. I probably won’t miss the Clarks at all.”
I buttered my pancake and poured syrup until Mom grabbed the bottle and said, “That’s enough.”
“Christa, don’t be a drama queen,” Amelia said. “I know it’s the first year we’ve ever had friends here, and that it’s the last year we’ll ever see them, but family’s more important.”
“You’re right,” I said.
Dad sighed. Mom sighed. She looked at Dad and said, “I guess we didn’t think this through.”
“Rescheduling isn’t easy,” Dad said. “You see, girls, this coming weekend is our only three-day weekend until Labor Day. But maybe you both should be with your friends. We’ll see those museums another time.”
“I have an idea.” Amelia sat up tall. “You guys used to have a date night like twice a month! You never do that anymore. Why don’t you go to Duluth without us?”
“You’ve been teaching all summer,” I said. “It’s not fair you haven’t done anything you want to do.”
Dad’s shoulders perked right up, but Mom’s expression didn’t change. “I’m not sure I want us to be apart on a holiday.”
“Mom, you always think about us,” Amelia said. “Maybe for one weekend you should think about you.”
“What do you think?” Dad asked Mom. “The Clarks are right next door.”
“Neil and Sally are leaving tomorrow for Arizona. Sally’s sister had a baby. Alex is staying with Ed.”
Dad nodded his head like it was settled. “So Ed will be here if the girls have any trouble.”
Mom said, “Somehow I don’t find that comforting.” Then she squeezed Dad’s hand. “I don’t know, Todd. What do you think?”
“I think I’d love a date weekend with my wife.” He leaned over and kissed her.
Dad smiled at Mom. Mom smiled at Dad. Amelia smiled at me. I smiled at everyone.
“All right, it’s settled,” Mom said. “But we need to tell you something. Remember the people who looked at the cabin with the new realtor? The ones who left because of what Alex said about bats? Well, Shawn explained everything. They really liked what they saw, so they’re coming back to give it another look. Shawn thinks they’ll buy it.”
“AARRGGG!” Dad shrieked.
For a second I thought he was upset about the cabin, but then I saw the snake. It moved in an S-shape from the bedroom door toward us. Then Mom saw it, too. She screamed, “AARRGGG!”
The snake glided across the floor, right toward me. I jumped up and stood on the kitchen chair, screaming, “AARRGGG!”
My parents scooted off their chairs and backed against the wall by the window.
“Get it, Todd!”
“Why do I have to get it? You’re the science teacher. You get it.”
“You saw it first!”
“Seeing it makes it my responsibility?”
Amelia swallowed the last of her orange juice while my parents argued. She tossed her hair to the side, stood up, and in one smooth move, picked up the snake. It wiggled in her hands. She grinned and lunged toward me. When I screamed, she laughed so hard I thought she might fall over and crush the snake, which would’ve been fine with me.
“Admit it. You’re afraid of snakes.”
“Am not! I’m just afraid of that one because it’s a rare poisonous snake.”
“It’s a garter snake. It eats bugs and toads and mice.” Amelia shoved it toward me again and laughed. “Who knew you were such a princess?”
“If it’s poisonous and you die, it’s your own fault,” I said.
“Get that thing out of here!” Mom yelled.
“Okay, okay.”
My heartbeat slowed as I watched Amelia push open the screen door with her hip and take the snake outside. I jumped off the chair and looked out the window. Amelia walked to the edge of the lawn and gently placed the snake on the ground. She watched it disappear into the brush.
My parents sat down and talked about how the snake could have possibly found its way into the cabin. They knew I wouldn’t touch a snake, and they didn’t seem to be considering Alex as a suspect.
I tuned out their words because I was stunned. Amelia My Sister had made a guest appearance. She’d snatched that snake like it was an adorable puppy. Maybe my sister, my real sister, was still under the shiny hair and lip gloss.
Then something in their conversation caught my ear. Dad was talking about Judy Garland’s journals at the museum. How the journals would be a study of the times and a peek into her brain. How sad it was that journals now are typed into computers instead of handwritten, losing “the personality revealed in the style of the penmanship.”
Dad said history-teacher stuff like that all the time, but this clanged in my ears.
Notebooks. Handwritten notebooks. A study of the times. A peek into the brain.
The notebook Alex had found in the basement wasn’t just a bunch of recipes and weather reports. It had to be the journal of Mrs. Hillary Clark. Alex and I needed that notebook.