Where to Pee on a Pirate Ship Read online

  WHERE TO PEE

  ON A

  PIRATE SHIP

  By L. L. Muir

  AMAZON KINDLE EDITION

  PUBLISHED BY

  Lesli Muir Lytle

  www.llmuir.weebly.com

  Where to Pee on a Pirate Ship © 2012 Lesli Muir Lytle

  All rights reserved

  Amazon Kindle Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. The ebook contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, or stored in or introduced into an information storage and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Kelli Ann Morgan

  www.inspirecreativeservices.com

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  http://about.me/BobHouston

  Dedication

  To Logan

  for making Halloween

  the best time of the year.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The sickest nightmare of my life began the day my locker blew up.

  Unlike most eighth-graders, I didn’t know my locker partner. I never ran into him because I never used the locker. It was always too far away, so I carried my crap with me most of the time. And a good thing, too. I didn’t think my teachers would have believed that my locker partner blew up my homework.

  He was famous for a whole week—Simon Hanson, famous locker bomber, never to be seen again. To this day, I still blame him for what happened to me after that. If Simon had kept his little experiments at home, I would still be Boring Cameron Casey, and boring was just fine with me. If the Science teachers had kept a tighter inventory of their supplies, there would have been no excitement, good or bad, in my second year at South County Jr. High.

  Thanks to Simon, I was called out of class and assigned a locker in the Ninth Grade Quad. In the quad—not near the quad, or around the corner from the quad, but in the quad. There were a ton of kids my own age, so there were no empty lockers in the Eighth Grade Quad, or in the Seventh. I was out of luck.

  Oh, yeah, the smart thing to do would have been to just keep carrying my crap with me for the rest of the year. I could have gone forever without needing a locker, but Dodge, the old janitor, told me to go make sure the combination worked. Then he stood there, like he was going to stand there all day if he had to, to make sure. Like double-checking locker coms was the most important part of his job.

  Old Dodge had a funny eye that could never really keep up with his other one. Some say it was made of glass, and didn’t work. But that other eye was staring me down, so I went to test the combination as I was told. I wasn’t the type of kid that argued with adults much anyway.

  The quad was packed with Freshmen, as they liked to be called. I concentrated on being invisible and avoided eye contact. Ninth-graders got to eat first so they were hanging out, waiting for the bell that signaled the end of their lunch and the start of mine. I kept my eyes on the floor, but had to glance up to check the locker numbers as I went.

  No one seemed to notice me.

  I found number 356 in the middle of the purple section.

  “Great. Purple,” I muttered, and started turning the dial.

  A girl laughed.

  My head shot up and there, about ten feet away, stood Brooklyn Stowe, wearing a pretty pink sweater...and she was smiling at me! Her boyfriend, Mad Rush, stood next to her, rambling on about something. He probably thought she was laughing at something he’d said, but I knew better.

  She winked and turned away.

  I think my feet left the floor for a second before I got a hold of myself again. It took me four tries to get the lock open--I kept losing my place.

  Brooklyn Stowe was the most wonderful girl on the face of the earth. Seriously. She was easily the prettiest girl in the school, but she was pretty in a person kind of way too. She had dark hair and eyes, but when she smiled people just stopped and watched. It was like fireworks going off, and everybody around her felt like celebrating.

  Well, at least I felt like celebrating. I’d gotten one of those smiles aimed right at me, then a wink on top of it! And I hadn’t even had to share.

  Of course she was an older woman, being in the ninth grade and all, and her boyfriend was Mad Rush. Everyone knew how his parents had named him that since they planned to groom him for a big football career.

  “And there goes Mad Rush, flying down the field...” Ha ha. Very funny.

  But how could an angel like that hang out with a guy named Mad? It was just wrong.

  There was something else, though, that made Brooklyn even more wonderful—she was a Stowe.

  Every year students would kill for a ticket to Logan Stowe’s Monster Mash. It was the biggest party ever thrown in our small city, and tickets to the party were a bigger deal than some golden ticket to see the inside of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.

  Why?

  Because the Stowe’s were rich, in a don’t-ask-because-it-will-only-make-you-feel-bad kind of way. And not only that, Mr. Stowe worked in California half the year building sets for all the big adventure movies. Aaaand, Mr. Stowe liked to bring his work home with him, if you know what I mean. Aaaand, last year he built the sets for the biggest pirate movie ever, The Treasure Map of Time, which wasn’t even out yet. Aaaand, the rumor around school was that parts of a pirate ship had been making their way down the freeway for the last month. Kids who got a ticket this year were going to be in for a pretty cool party.

  Dang them all.

  So, the rules for this party were that both Brooklyn and her little brother, Dylan, had to pass out fifteen invitations each, and they could never invite someone who had already been to a Logan Stowe Monster Mash.

  As for Logan Stowe, he was Brooklyn’s and Dylan’s older brother who had Down Syndrome. He was nuts about Halloween. They say that after every Monster Mash, Logan decides what he wants to wear as a costume the following year, and his dad starts planning the next party accordingly. Last year, he picked Fozzy Bear, from The Muppets, and some people were invited to be in the audience and the rest had to be part of The Muppet Show. It was held in the old Broadway Theater like some professional play, and everyone got a Muppet puppet to take home as a party favor.

  I wondered if they were going to give out swords for party favors this year. It might be dangerous, though, if kids like Simon Hanson were invited.

  I can’t tell you how long I stood there, putting books and papers in and out of locker #356, pretending to organize my crap and hoping Brooklyn might glance my way just one more time. I was already wondering if I’d imagined that wink. If she would wink just one more time, I swore I would never doubt again.

  Dylan came rushing up to his sister, ignoring Mad and tossing a black envelope onto the pile of books in Brooklyn’s arms.

  “Ryan Newland can’t come. Says his mother won’t sign the waiver. I told him just t
o forge it, but he doesn’t dare.” Dylan turned and headed back down the hall, but hollered over his shoulder, “I can’t think of anyone else! You find somebody!”

  A black envelope.

  A freaking golden ticket!

  Brooklyn Stowe had one in her hands and needed to find someone to give it to! And she’d just made eye contact with me sixty seconds ago.

  I was going to be sick. I’d never even been in the same room as a Monster Mash ticket before! I turned my back on her, just in case I ended up puking into my purple locker. Then I listened.

  “I’ll take that off your hands,” said Mad.

  I realized I didn’t much care for the guy.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Brooklyn said. “You got to come to the party last year, and Daddy doesn’t break the rules for anyone but Logan’s friends.”

  The bell rang. Time for me to go to lunch, but breakfast would have to get out of the way first, and breakfast hadn’t decided if it was coming up or staying down.

  “But your dad likes me,” Mad yelled over the noise exploding around them. “He’ll understand if you want me there.”

  I couldn’t help looking back at them. Brooklyn pushed the dude out of her way. She shut her locker, stepped into the flow of traffic, and hollered back.

  “I already have someone in mind, Maddy.” Then she walked straight toward me.

  I thought I was going to pee my pants, and I sure didn’t want her to watch my eyes bulging out of my head, so I turned my back again. I shoved everything up on the top shelf, but the heavy Science book bounced off the rear wall and dove out onto my big toe. I sucked the pain in through my teeth and braced myself.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brooklyn Stowe’s pink sweater moving off down the hall.

  “What an idiot,” I growled and slammed the locker door. I didn’t care who stared at me then. Let them complain about an eighth-grader hanging out in Freshman Territory. I felt like a good fight anyway. Of course, to me, a good fight meant that I win in the end without really getting beat up much.

  I turned toward the lunch room hall and waited for an opening between rushing bodies.

  “Hey, kid!”

  I turned and jumped when I saw Mad Rush coming at me. His big square jaw was twisted up on one side in what was probably his version of a grin. Was he going to punch me for looking at Brooklyn? That would definitely not be a good fight.

  “You dropped a book, man.” The biggest letterman’s jacket I’d ever seen bent over and picked up Adventures in Science, then handed it over. Mad’s big arm swung around and he knocked me on the shoulder and walked away. Like we were buddies or something. Like it wasn’t obvious I was in the wrong quad. Like his name should have been something besides Mad.

  I hated him anyway.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I admit I wasn’t very nice to anyone for the rest of the day. When I got home, I complained about my mom burning the cookies and refused to eat one, even though she’d only burned one pan’s worth. Of course she felt my forehead. She was so paranoid sometimes.

  While I stared at my homework, I thought about all the reasons I didn’t want to be invited to Logan Stowe’s Monster Mash. In the end, the number one reason was because I didn’t want a second-hand ticket. If Dylan Stowe wanted me at his family’s party, he would have invited me. He knew me from basketball, and even though I wasn’t on the school team anymore. I was pretty sure he knew my name.

  I had just reread the first paragraph of my English assignment for the fourth time when the doorbell rang. I knew it wasn’t for me, but I thought I’d check—and then see if those cookies were still warm. I figured the best way to apologize to my mom was to eat one after all.

  When I opened the bedroom door, Mom was headed up the stairs with a frown on her face. Maybe she was going to give me the lecture about gratitude again.

  “Cam, honey. There is a girl here for you.” Like she thought that might be a bad thing. I would have expected her to be surprised—shocked even—but not concerned.

  “What kind of girl?” Now she had me worried.

  “The pretty kind.” Her frown didn’t go away.

  The only pretty girl that popped into my mind was Brooklyn Stowe. If she was at my door, I definitely, absolutely definitely, was going to pee my pants.

  “She says her name is Brook—”

  That was all I heard as I flew past my mom and down the stairs. One did not leave Brooklyn Stowe waiting on one’s doorstep, especially if she was holding a black, pirate-looking envelope, second-hand or not. If it turned out to be some girl named Brook, I was not going to take it well.

  The door was standing open. Brooklyn Stowe stood on my doorstep in all her pink-sweatered glory, shivering.

  “Come in!” I didn’t mean to yell at her.

  She just laughed and walked in. I looked out at the street to see if anyone had witnessed the fact that the prettiest girl in school had come to see me. Maybe my mom could take a picture without Brooklyn noticing.

  “Mom, this is Brooklyn Stowe. Brooklyn, this is my mom.”

  A perfect set of pink fingernails was holding out a black envelope, but she was holding it out to my mom, not me!

  That’s when my heart stopped.

  “Mrs. Casey,” she said. “My family would like to invite Cameron to our Halloween Party this year.”

  That’s when my heart started again, only it was speeding. When I blinked, there were skulls and cross-bones behind my eyelids.

  My mom took the big fat envelope.

  “If you look inside there, you’ll find there is a waiver he’ll need to have you sign so he can attend. It’s the same kind of waiver you’ll find at athletic clubs and that sort of thing. You promise not to sue if there is an accident. We promise to use safety gear and every precaution, etc.”

  “Safety gear?” My mother’s fingers stopped moving, like she thought the envelope might suddenly burst into flames.

  My teeth clamped shut. “Mom,” I growled. I was suddenly standing in Ryan Newland’s shoes, realizing my mother had the power to ruin what was left of my life.

  Mom waved her hand at me. “Just a minute, now. I’d like to know what kind of party requires safety gear.”

  I couldn’t look at Brooklyn. I didn’t dare start whining at my mom. That tantrum I threw over the burned cookies still hung in the air, along with the smell of charred sugar. I’d acted like a two-year-old and now I was asking to go to a big-kid party. My timing could not have been worse.

  “Cameron?” Brooklyn’s voice showed none of the panic I was feeling, but of course she wouldn’t care if I got to go or not. Not really. “I don’t want to ruin any surprises,” she said, “just in case you get to attend—so could you leave us alone for a minute, so I can tell your mom what we have planned?”

  She gave me a big grin. That was a good sign, right?

  I kissed my mom on the cheek as I ran past her and out the front door. I felt her glare at the back of my head. But Brooklyn would cheer her up. She could cheer up anybody.

  When I cleared the steps, I started jumping around on the lawn. I couldn’t stop myself. The three-year-old twins from next door, Taylor and Taytum, had stopped their little bikes in the middle of the sidewalk to watch me. Their little heads turned in unison to follow me as I ran around the pear tree, then over to pound on the hood of my mom’s little yellow car. After a minute, like they’d been given some signal, the twins turned back to the sidewalk, their piggy tails moving again in unison, and rode away. They were freaky like that. Their mom says it’s because they’re identical.

  A minute later, after I’d calmed down a little, their mom went running out into the street looking a little frantic.

  “Lindsay,” I called. “They went that way!” I pointed to the left.

  “Thanks, Cam!”

  When I turned around again, Brooklyn was coming out of my house wearing a pity-smile. My mom did not come to the door. My stomach dropped right out through my butt.

  I
didn’t dare ask if my mom signed the waiver. I wanted to, but if I didn’t ask, there was still a chance.

  “She wants to tell you herself,” Brooklyn said, trying to keep a straight face. “But I will tell you her attitude changed quickly when she realized you would not be going as my date to the party.” Then she laughed.

  Oh my gosh! I’m going to the Monster Mash!

  Oh my gosh! I’m going to the Monster Mash!

  Oh my gosh! I’m going to the Monster Mash!

  Out loud, I said, “It’s cool.” But then I completely blew it when I couldn’t stop jumping around again. She laughed her head off and headed for a car across the street. I hadn’t noticed the woman sitting behind the wheel.

  How embarrassing.

  But you know what? I didn’t care. I could take a smile from Brooklyn Stowe any day, even if she was laughing at me.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mom was waiting in the kitchen. She made me promise in four different ways that I was going to be careful if she let me go to the party. I promised about a hundred times.

  The invitation was wild. It was a treasure map with instructions on how to get to the party. But it was like a real treasure map. It even felt real, like a cross between leather and paper. At the bottom, it said I had to come dressed as a pirate. If I could not come up with a costume I was to call the number at the bottom of the map and a costume would be arranged.

  There was no way I was going to call that number.

  When I showed the map to my mom, I used my thumb to cover up the part about needing a costume. No way was I going to let her know about it. If she knew, she’d find something bizarre for me to wear and then get her feelings hurt if I refused. We went through the same thing every Halloween if I didn’t have something planned before she brought up the subject.

  Well, this year, I was going to get a real pirate costume, from a real costume shop, so I didn’t end up with my mom’s pantyhose on my head or her pajamas for a ninja suit. One year, she thought I should carry around my grandma’s giant wooden fork and spoon...and go as a plate. That was the last time I was caught without a plan. From then on, I was ready by the last week in September. This year, I had planned to dress up as the headless horseman. I was going to hollow out a giant pumpkin, from the bottom, cut a face, then wear it as a mask.