Sasquatch, Love, and Other Imaginary Things Page 5

  I got the feeling that Kyle didn’t know about Caroline’s adventures in the woods last night either. Interesting.

  I elbowed Sophie to try to get her attention and failed.

  “I’m going to grab some apples,” I said to Sophie, who didn’t even pretend to follow me. Great. I’d lost her to the other team already.

  I trudged over to the pile of apples and started filling up my bags, grumbling to myself until I glanced up at the sky. Crap. The sun was lower than I expected. It was time to get back to camp. I had dragged three big bags of apples across the lawn when Colin joined me, taking one of the bags off my shoulder.

  “Hey, thanks!”

  “No problem. Are you guys heading back now? I can drive you.” His relaxed faced suddenly tensed when he saw Sophie and Kyle together. Was there a rule against chatting with the competition that I didn’t know about?

  I chewed on my lip. Best not to bring it up, at least until after I got a ride up the mountain and talked to my sister.

  • • •

  “I don’t know what to do, Brenda,” my dad sighed, a few days and a whole lot of apples later. He sat by the cold fire pit, poring over the map and shaking his head.

  When Jake had announced that we’d have a whole week to track and search for one good piece of physical evidence, we had all thought it would be a breeze. But, apparently, not so much.

  We’d been checking all of the bait stations every day, and while sometimes apples disappeared, there were no signs of any monsters. Or any other creatures bigger than a squirrel for that matter. It was strange. And we were screwed. The other team was sure to beat us easily.

  My mom rubbed my dad’s back. “Oh, honey,” she said, “Don’t worry. We’ll find something soon.” They had been so affectionate since they started all this. I would think the Bigfoot hunt was a romantic vacation to them, if I didn’t know that our home was at stake. My mom planted a kiss on his forehead. “We’ve still got a few days.”

  I wasn’t confident. I studied the trees above me. Something wasn’t adding up. I just couldn’t figure out how the bait kept mysteriously vanishing from some of the trees. Either we weren’t any good at tracking in this wet Pacific Northwest forest that was so different from our home terrain or someone was interfering.

  Caroline was my prime suspect. I didn’t trust her or Devan, and I was determined to make sure they really were playing fair like they promised.

  That afternoon, I decided to investigate further. “I’m going to collect some more firewood,” I called out behind my shoulder to my parents and then slipped away. Once I was out of range of the cameras, I moved more quickly down the trail toward the ridge that overlooked the Netherfield team’s cabin, about halfway to base camp.

  As I got nearer, I slowed down and kept a sharp eye out to make sure I wouldn’t be caught spying. I crept close to the edge of the overlook, and ducked down behind the underbrush. I pulled out my binoculars and adjusted the focus. While I’m here, I might as well see if they found anything yet. If they were having a hard time too, it would take the pressure off us a bit. I knew it was a long shot, but maybe I’d hear something useful.

  Then I waited. And waited. Nothing happened. I began to feel ridiculous for playing James Bond in a prickly bush.

  But after about twenty minutes, the front door opened and out came Dr. DeGraw, followed by the Preps.

  “And under no circumstances should you fraternize with the competition.” Dr. DeGraw paused on the porch steps.

  “Dr. DeGraw, you have nothing to worry about,” Devan said, like the kiss-up he apparently was. “The Bergers are certainly not attractive enough to tempt us. We’re completely focused on the contest.”

  “Oh yes,” Caroline replied. “Kyle’s been very focused on studying some interesting local creatures—particularly the female specimens.”

  “Shut up, Caroline.” Kyle compressed his lips, but looked down at the ground, possibly hiding a guilty expression.

  Dr. DeGraw sucked in a breath causing Caroline to take a step back. “This especially goes for you, Caroline. As a woman, you need to work harder. It’s not fair, but if you want to get ahead, that’s how it is. Forget being likeable. Just focus on what you need to do.”

  Caroline nodded and bit her lip.

  “You all know how important this is to us,” Dr. DeGraw said. “I’m counting on this preposterous TV show to raise money for the academy and our research trip. Don’t you want to go into the field on a serious expedition?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Caroline and Devan answered. Kyle didn’t say anything as the three of them followed her to the bottom of the stairs.

  Dr. DeGraw placed her hand ceremoniously on Devan’s shoulder. Clearly, she had knighted him the fearless leader of Team Pompous Pricks.

  “Well,” Dr. DeGraw continued. “We’re all on the same page. And I’m very excited for you to share the sample you found with the judges.”

  “We have nothing to worry about. I’ve got this all in the bag,” Caroline said.

  Beth arrived shortly after in the car to pick up Dr. DeGraw. As soon as their mentor was gone, Kyle punched Devan in the arm. “You’re such a goddamn snob. Not attractive enough to tempt us . . .” Kyle imitated Devan’s British accent. “C’mon, that’s bull. The two older girls are really cute.”

  “Fine,” Devan replied sullenly. “But not pretty enough to distract us from the contest.”

  “And have you seen the rest of the family?” Caroline asked. “I thought this was a serious competition. I’m more than a little insulted that they couldn’t get anyone better.”

  My mouth dropped open. What freaking nerve!

  “Jeez, Caroline. That’s pretty harsh,” Kyle said. “It’s not like I really belong here either with you two brainiacs. There’s a reason you only ask me to carry boxes and fetch cords.”

  Caroline raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond.

  Devan frowned. “Kyle, you do belong. But you have to admit that they’re not exactly in the same league as us. But, either way, it doesn’t matter. We’re here to do some research and win this competition for the school. We’re not here to find prom dates.”

  "That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Devan!” Kyle said. “Who cares about leagues? Especially on reality television.”

  Devan punched Kyle’s shoulder. “It’s not my fault we have higher standards in London. Or standards at all, really . . .”

  “Ow!” Kyle rubbed his arm. “Sure, if by ‘standards’ you mean a weird accent and slang no one else understands.”

  The two boys stood glaring at each other, until they both broke into laughter.

  Devan wrestled Kyle into a headlock. “Tosser!”

  “Loser!” Kyle escaped and the boys continued to laugh and punch each other until they couldn’t breathe.

  Devan was lucky I wasn’t closer because I would have hit him even harder and “loser” would have been a compliment compared to what I would’ve called him.

  And what did Caroline mean by having the challenge in the bag? It could be that their evidence was really good. Or she actually was cheating. Either way, if we didn’t find something soon, we were beyond screwed. I’d have to make sure we took full advantage of the short time we had left. Forget the apples. I’d make Bigfoot a freaking apple pie if it would help us get solid evidence.

  Chapter 7

  “There’s a long history of Jews believing in mystical things. To me, Bigfoot is just an extension of that.”

  —Myron Berger, interview in “The Jewish Journal of Northern Ohio”

  It was the last day before the reveal, and we still had absolutely nothing to present to the judges. Colin, Hal, and Dave had shown up at our campsite about half an hour early for our final evidence hunt.

  Colin scratched at a bug bite on his arm. “Does anyone have any bug spray?”

  “Yeah, sure.” I took a big aerosol can out of my pack and threw it at him.

  He caught it with one hand and read the label.
“This has a lot of chemicals. Don’t you have anything less toxic?”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

  He shrugged. “I have sensitive skin.”

  “You see those shiny plants over there with three leaves? If you rub the leaves on you, they’ll keep the bugs away. Scout’s honor.” I had only been in the Girl Scouts for the cookies, but he didn’t know that.

  Colin walked over to a patch of the leaves contemplating my advice, until Sophie grabbed him by the arm. “No! Samantha was teasing,” she said. “It’s poison oak.”

  His eyes widened and his voice slightly quivered. “You weren’t really going to let me rub poison oak all over myself, were you?”

  I gave him my best wicked grin and winked.

  Colin took another look at the leaves and shook his head. I worried that I had gone too far, until he erupted in laughter and playfully swatted me on the arm. “You totally got me.”

  He applied the bug spray, careful not to miss an inch of skin. “C’mon, let’s keep walking.”

  “It’s good to have someone around here with a sense of humor,” Colin said.

  “What, you mean Beth isn’t hilarious?” I asked.

  Colin’s lips straightened into a thin line. “Yeah, she’s not the most social, but she can’t help it, actually. Beth is on the autism spectrum. I’m used to it, but I forget that other people aren’t,” he said.

  I winced immediately. I couldn’t believe I had been such a jerk. “I didn’t know. I thought mostly guys got that.”

  “It’s less common for girls to be diagnosed with it, apparently,” Colin said.

  “I feel like an ass. I’m so sorry.”

  “Hey, no worries. I know you didn’t mean anything by it,” he said and gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze. “But I will say this,” Colin continued, “Beth’s awesome behind the camera. She sees angles that no one else does and knows how to do things with the equipment that guys who’ve been cameramen for twenty years don’t know. I’m lucky to have her.”

  “All right, gang, let’s get going,” my dad called out with a strained voice. He was trying to be his usual optimistic self, but I could tell he was worried.

  Holding out the map so the camera could see, my dad pointed out our current location and where we needed to go. “I think the soil a little north of us has good potential for footprints. As you know, Wood Apes prefer higher elevation, so we’re more likely to see something up there. It’s a bit of a hike, but way off the beaten path, so there won’t be a lot of interns or anyone else tromping through, mucking things up.”

  “Perfect! Let’s go,” my mom said, giving my dad a peck on the cheek.

  We all followed my dad like baby ducks north along an overgrown trail. As we hiked deeper into the woods and higher up the trail, the sounds of the modern world faded. The soft distant rumble of cars on the highway disappeared entirely and soon we were surrounded instead by a web of delicate bird songs, insects buzzing, and the soft rustle of wind blowing through the tops of the enormous trees. Only the loud clomping of Hal and Dave’s boots trudging along behind us with the camera disturbed the peaceful symphony.

  “Hal, are you getting the scenery for B-roll?” Colin asked.

  “Yeah, boss.” Hal continued filming and stomping on the rocky terrain. If they kept crunching like that, these guys were going to scare away every living creature within five miles, except for maybe an elderly Squatch who forgot to put in his hearing aid.

  My mom frowned, and muttered, “For the love of god . . .” under her breath. The strain and stress of the last few days was getting to her too, as much as she tried to hide it. She took a deep breath, pulled herself together, then turned on the Midwest charm full blast. “Guys, can you please keep it down a little?” she said in a sing-song voice. “Let’s play who can be the quietest. I’ll start.” She pretended to zip her lips and throw away the key. That game never worked on us when we were kids, but the crew nodded.

  “Sure, sure, I understand.” Hal tried to tiptoe through the underbrush. He reminded me of the dancing hippos in Fantasia, his huge frame taking dainty baby steps.

  Soon we came to a small creek, only a couple of feet deep. It was just wide enough that you had to take a pretty big leap to clear it. Colin and Hal paused to strategize the best way to get the equipment over without getting wet.

  “What are you doing?” I glared at Lyssa, covering my mic with my hand and taking advantage of cameras being off.

  Lyssa was tugging at her bra straps to make them tighter, probably to achieve some pushup effect. It was bad enough everyone could see her butt cheeks peeking from her shorts. Short was a very good word for them.

  She smiled and tilted her head, but covered her own mic and whispered, “Duh! If you watched reality television like a normal person instead of your nerdy fantasy stuff, you’d know that you get extra points for sexiness. They never want to boot off the cute girls.”

  “Um, this isn’t Bigfoot Bachelorette, Lyssa, or a popularity contest—and what’s wrong with fantasy? At least the chicks carry broadswords . . . Although I usually prefer science fiction.”

  Lyssa cut me off. “Whatever. It’s all nerdtastic to me. I’m just helping the team get attention because it’s clear you and Sophie aren’t up to it. Geeks and shy girls don’t make for good ratings.”

  I gritted my teeth at her, trying to breathe slowly and calmly. “I want to win for real, not because viewers can glimpse your thong underwear.”

  “Who cares?”

  “I care. I want people to take us seriously. What part of I-don’t-want-to-be-humiliated-on-national-TV is so confusing to you?” I asked. “We’re not the Berger Family Bimbos. We’re going to win my way, so tone it down. Or else.”

  “You have no imagination. You never know, we could get endorsements or—ohhh, we could be on an infomercial!” Lyssa clapped her hands together in excitement, then remembered her mic and covered it again.

  “Way to dream big, Lyssa.” I dropped the sarcasm and pleaded with her. “Please listen to me for once. Mom and Dad are too distracted to keep you from embarrassing yourself, and Sophie is too nice to criticize anyone.”

  Lyssa stared me down. “Luckily that’s not your problem, huh?” Tossing her hair behind her shoulder, she pivoted on her heel, and sauntered over to Hal, who seemed ready to start filming again.

  God! Why was she so determined to make us look trashy? Could she not see how she came off? Like I needed something else to worry about.

  My mom let out a low whistle to get everyone’s attention. “I think it’s time to keep moving.”

  The group made a strange little parade as we hiked another mile. Sophie chatted with Colin about the different kinds of trees and birds in the forest, while Lyssa stayed in front of Hal, so the camera could pick up her butt wiggle. I led the pack, with my dad, just like when I was little, scanning the surroundings for anything unusual. Dad had taught me how to track other animals, too, and I noticed evidence of all sorts of little critters, but nothing screamed “Bigfoot Was Here.”

  As the day drew on, I tried to avoid my dad’s eyes, not wanting him to see that I was getting anxious, too. I couldn’t stand the thought of failing in the first challenge. I knew what it would do to my dad’s confidence. And if we lost, the other team’s smug self-satisfaction would be freaking unbearable. I was about to ask if we could take a break, so I could rest my sore legs and dig out some ibuprofen from my pack, when my dad stopped and shouted.

  “Brenda, Brenda, look at this!” He waved her over frantically, and then crouched down to examine something on the ground.

  From behind him, I couldn’t see what he was pointing at, but he was poised like a hunting dog that had found its prey. When my mom saw the evidence, she gave my dad a dorky sort of high-five.

  “We’ve got something, girls!” my mom squealed.

  I skirted around my dad, careful not to step on anything important. Sure enough, there in the mud in front of him was a huge footprin
t. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions until we could examine the print more closely, but it was definitely worth recording. Sophie and Lyssa hopped up and down, they were so excited. Hal gave us a thumbs-up and circled to get a better angle, and even Colin cracked a smile and nodded.

  My dad, still crouched over the footprint, went into team leader mode. Speaking directly to the camera, he said, “As you can see, we have a promising footprint here in sector B of our map. Now, we’ll make a plaster casting of it. It’ll take some time, and it’s a little old-fashioned, but it’s still the best way of documenting footprints.”

  We got to work. I unpacked the camera and Sophie reached for the ruler. We measured eight inches across, which was way too big to be human. The length was hard to tell because it faded into the dirt, but it was well over thirteen inches long. And it clearly had five toes, not claws, which was another really good sign. I couldn’t think of any common animals, native to this region, or any region really, that could have made a print like that. While I still maintained a healthy dose of skepticism, it was a huge relief to have finally found something.

  My dad surrounded the footprint with a little wall of dirt, mixed the powdered plaster with water in a big measuring cup using a stick, and carefully poured the mixture over the footprint, filling the dirt ring.

  I was grateful to be able to sit and relax for the thirty minutes it would take to dry. I think everyone else was too, except for my dad, who danced around, acting like he’d just given birth to a freaking unicorn. He even cried a little, something he usually only did during the movie Harry and the Hendersons, which was about a nice family who adopted Bigfoot.

  When the plaster casting was completely solid, my dad gingerly removed it from the ground, brushed the residual dirt off, and gazed at it lovingly. “It’s so beautiful! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better footprint. And I’ve certainly never found anything like this in Ohio. Samantha, take a photo of me with the print!” He grabbed my mom and threw his arm around her shoulder so she could be in the photo, too.

  “Say ‘Yeti’!” I said, aiming the camera.