Dad had explained the adolescent brain to me on numerous occasions during our chats. The frontal lobe of mine wasn’t fully developed yet, which was the reason young kids like me tended to be risk-takers. What can I say? Our first sneak-out mission had been a thrilling success, so of course I wanted to do it again. Could you blame me?

  Waylon and I did a good job of playing everything normal at breakfast the next morning. My brother had his face behind a book, and I was still rubbing the sleep from my eyes when I sat down at the table.

  It was Saturday, so Mom was at the gym for her spin class. Dad was busy preparing our food—and singing, of course. Waylon glanced at me and smirked when Dad started bellowing to Johnny Cash’s tune “Ring of Fire.” If he only knew, I thought, and grinned. Turns out, he did!

  Dad unplugged the griddle and joined us at the table with a tower of pancakes and the syrup. He always did the cooking and getting things ready, and then Waylon and I took care of the cleanup.

  “Thanks,” Waylon and I said, digging in. (Late-night adventures make you hungry.)

  “Thought you might be starving,” Dad said, sipping his coffee.

  That was an odd comment, but he didn’t say anything more, so I left it alone. We ate our pancakes and made small talk, and I decided I was just being paranoid—until Dad made another sly remark.

  “So do you have plans for the woods again today?” he asked.

  Waylon and I looked at each other, then shrugged.

  “I spent quite a bit of time out there with your uncle Rusty when I was a kid.”

  I stopped chewing. Dad didn’t mention his brother that often, but I knew Uncle Rusty was his hero growing up. And that he was a lot of fun but lacked direction in life, so when he turned twenty, he enlisted in the service. That had been a good decision until he didn’t make it back home. Mom had told me there was a lot Dad didn’t understand about his daredevil brother, which was one of the reasons he was drawn to study the brain and people’s behaviors.

  “I’ve got some good memories of your uncle and me exploring those woods and building forts—and even sneaking out once or twice to spend the night at our hangout,” Dad mused, “but don’t tell your mother I told you that.”

  Waylon glanced at me, and I gave my head a subtle shake. How much did Dad know? The answer was I had no idea, so I wasn’t about to let my brother say anything that might incriminate us. We continued eating and stayed quiet until Dad finished reminiscing and came back to real time.

  “Well, I’m glad my coffee smells good because you two do not,” he said, lowering his cup.

  I almost choked on my pancake. Did we reek of campfire? I wasn’t wearing my same clothes from last night, but Waylon still had his same T-shirt on. Gross boy! Wasn’t it enough that I was trying to toughen him up, now I had to teach him about hygiene too?!

  “You’d best make showering part of your days, and I suggest you do it before Mom gets home and starts asking questions.”

  That was enough warning for us. Waylon and I stuffed the last bits of pancake into our mouths and practically jumped from the table. We put our plates in the dishwasher and hurried to our bedrooms.

  “Have fun today,” Dad said as we were leaving. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Whatever that was supposed to mean. I’d gone from thinking if he only knew to how much did he know?

  “Okay,” I said to Waylon when we reached our bedrooms. “We need to be more careful. I can’t believe you wore those same clothes to breakfast, but what’s done is done. Let’s get showered and out of here before Mom returns.”

  Waylon nodded.

  “You can go first,” I said. “Dad was right. You stink.”

  Waylon made a face, then sniffed his armpit to see if I was telling the truth. I about gagged. Boys were disgusting.

  I went into my bedroom and left my brother wallowing in his own stench.

  * * *

  —

  A short while later, we were clean and on our way to the fortress. We’d managed to get away before Mom got back home, so we left her a note. Dad was busy tinkering with his lawn mower. The repair shop was booked solid for the next five weeks, so he was trying to fix it himself. He was too stubborn to buy a new one. Mom let him have his way, but in the meantime, she hired a landscape company to take care of the yard. As she’d told Dad, there were probably ten or more companies just in our small town to choose from and she was picking one. The crew had mowed once already when Waylon and I were at camp and things looked great—even Dad had to admit that, although begrudgingly. Needless to say, sneaking past him and his mower was easy.

  You know what else was easy? Traveling through the forest in daylight compared to the pitch-black. It was way less scary too. I didn’t mention any of that to Waylon because I was supposed to be the wolf, but I sure thought it.

  Dad had surprised us at breakfast, but an even bigger surprise awaited us at the fortress. Louie was already there. He sat on the Circle of Stones, drinking from his canteen.

  “You made it!” Waylon exclaimed.

  Louie lowered his water and swallowed. “A soldier never backs out of a mission, especially when he has the turtle,” he said, patting his shoulder.

  Waylon grinned.

  “Your mother’s asleep again?” I said.

  He nodded.

  “But what if she wakes up while you’re out?” Waylon asked.

  “She took her sleeping pills, so she won’t. I have at least three hours,” Louie replied.

  Sleeping pills, I thought. Must be what she gets at the pharmacy. And they sure knock her out.

  “What about your father?” Waylon asked next.

  “You don’t have to worry about him.”

  Boy, did I have questions after that evasive answer, but I didn’t push it. When Dad talked about his job, he always said it was important to give a person time, to let them open up on their own terms. His role was to give the person a safe space to talk when they were ready—and to listen. I was listening, and what I was hearing was Louie telling us he wasn’t ready yet.

  “Great,” Waylon said, interrupting my thoughts. “What’s our plan, then?” he asked, eager to get started.

  That was the question. Trouble was, I didn’t know the answer. Maybe trying to be Mr. Miyagi was the wrong approach? I needed to channel the Force.

  “To the Millennium Falcon,” I declared.

  “The Millennium Falcon?” Louie repeated.

  “You’ll see,” Waylon assured him. “C’mon.”

  “Wow! This is awesome!” Louie exclaimed the moment he saw the Millennium Falcon. “It’s our own army tank. Man your battle stations!” he yelled.

  So much for Star Wars, I thought.

  Louie flung his backpack aside and climbed to the topmost part. Waylon and I watched with big grins. What we neglected to do was tell Louie to be careful, and before we could warn him, he jumped from his high post to the lower platform. When he landed, his right leg punched through the rusty metal all the way up to his thigh.

  “Whoa!” Waylon shouted. “Are you okay?”

  We rushed to Louie’s side.

  “I think so. I feel something funny under my foot. Help me get out of this hole so we can see what it is.”

  Together, Waylon and I grabbed Louie under his armpits. “On three,” Waylon said. “One. Two. Three.”

  We yanked up as hard as we could and barely managed to get Louie’s knee back above the hole, but that was enough. From there he was able to sit and free himself the rest of the way.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt,” I said.

  “He’s got the turtle. Forest Spirits were protecting him,” Waylon reminded us, as if that was fact.

  Louie grinned. “Yeah, I’ve got the turtle,” he repeated, patting his shoulder.

  “Let’s see what you felt under your foot,” Waylon said.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. I hurried and crawled over to the hole and peered down before my brother could—just so he couldn’t. Brothers and sisters do that sort of thing to each other.

  “It looks like there’s some sort of box down there,” I described. “I can just see the shape of it. There’s one edge sticking up. I think that’s what you—”

  “Lemme see!” Waylon yelled.

  “It’s not that big. About the size of a box of chocolates—”

  “Lemme see!” Waylon yelled again.

  “There’s some sort of cloth wrapped around it,” I continued, ignoring his pleas.

  “That’s it! Look out!” Waylon yelled, shoving me out of the way after I’d teased him enough. He stuck his head above the hole. “That’s no box of chocolates!” he cried. “That’s buried treasure!”

  “Hooah!” Louie cheered.

  Waylon got up. “The bear tracks have brought us good luck,” he exclaimed. “We’re gonna be rich!”

  Unable to contain his excitement, my brother jumped to the ground and got down on his belly. He was the smallest among us, so it made sense for him to be the one to army crawl his way underneath the combine. Trust me, I wasn’t looking to do that. Besides, grunt work had to count for some sort of training.

  Louie and I watched from above as Waylon slithered and squirmed his way across the ground. Once he was fully underneath the Falcon, he had more room and was able to crawl on his hands and knees. He moved quickly to the treasure and brushed the dirt off the top.

  “Don’t open it,” I yelled. “We need to bring it back to the fortress and go through it together.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed, surprising me. “We need to hold a fire ceremony to cast away any demons that might be inside before opening it.”

  “What’re we, pirates now?” I scoffed.

  “Don’t mess around with the spirits,” he warned, dead serious.

  His response reminded me of Indiana Jones and Aladdin. Both touch the forbidden treasure, which then sets off a slew of deadly booby traps. Waylon was right. I wasn’t messing around.

  Louie had something else on his mind. “Do you mean we’re gonna sneak out again tonight?” he asked.

  I didn’t get the chance to respond because just then Waylon went ahead and lifted the box out of the ground, and as soon as he did, a long black snake slithered out from underneath it—my brother’s kryptonite.

  “Ahhh!” he screamed, and I mean sc-reeeamed. What came out of Waylon rivaled that scene in Home Alone when Kevin plops Buzz’s tarantula on the bad guy’s face. Ever see it? You need to. That is the greatest scream of all movie screams—and my brother had just matched it! In his panic, Waylon dropped the box and jumped to his feet, forgetting he didn’t have room for that. His head collided with the underside of the combine floor.

  “Oww!” he yelped, falling back to his knees and rubbing at his injury. Like any good sister, I found it hysterical. I was laughing my butt off—until Waylon pulled his hands away, and I saw all the blood.

  “Oh my God! Waylon! Are you okay?” I cried.

  He didn’t answer. The color in his face vanished.

  “He’s going into shock,” Louie said. “He’s gonna faint.”

  On cue, Waylon began swaying, then fell to the ground like a wet blanket.

  “Waylon!” I screamed.

  “We need to get to him,” Louie said. “Watch out.”

  I slid aside, feeling numb. I think I was the one going into shock now.

  With his good leg, Louie kicked at the sides of the hole. I didn’t know if he’d always had that power harnessed in his body, or if it was from the adrenaline rush, but two hard blows and he’d bent the metal back so that the hole was suddenly large enough for us to fit through. Louie dropped to the ground, and I followed behind him.

  “Waylon,” Louie said, gently shaking my brother’s limp body. “Waylon,” he said again.

  I held my breath. After several long seconds, Waylon moaned. His eyelids began to flicker.

  “He’s waking up!” I cheered with relief.

  “Where’s the snake?” Waylon mumbled.

  Louie chuckled. “It’s gone. It left while you were dancing around down here.”

  Waylon gave a weak laugh.

  Louie put his hand behind Waylon’s back and helped him sit up. He held him there for a minute to make sure Waylon wasn’t going to fall flat again; then he began inspecting Waylon’s injury. “The one thing about head cuts is that they can bleed like crazy, even little scrapes like this one,” he said.

  “You mean it’s not bad?” I asked.

  “No. It’s hardly anything, but let me take care of it.”

  Louie grabbed his pack from above the hole. He unzipped it and pulled out a first-aid kit. Not your everyday, over-the-counter wimpy thing, but a real-deal medical kit, also army-looking, like everything else about him.

  I watched Louie clean Waylon’s wound and add ointment to the area. “I can’t put a bandage on it because your hair is in the way, so keep this gauze pressed against the spot for now,” he instructed.

  “Thanks,” Waylon said.

  “You’re lucky it didn’t need stitches. I could’ve tried doing those, but it wouldn’t have been fun for you.”

  “You know how to do stitches?” I was impressed.

  “The proper term is sutures, and sort of. I’ve practiced on fake skin, but I’ve never done them on a real person.”

  “Where did you learn to do that?”

  Louie hesitated, then said, “My father.”

  “Is that where you got that med kit too?” I asked next, seizing my opening.

  He nodded. “C’mon, let’s get our treasure back to the fortress.” He was done with my line of questioning.

  Louie gave Waylon a boost through the hole. I climbed up and out next. Louie followed.

  Waylon’s small medical emergency had brought something out in Louie and had me wondering more about his army obsession and medical talents, but it was time for me to take charge again. Answers would come later.

  “Okay, let’s move out,” I commanded.

  My head was sore, but I wasn’t letting that slow me down. I kept the gauze pressed against my cut, and after Loretta’s command to move out, I took the lead and got us back to the fortress as fast as possible. Louie and Loretta plopped down around the Circle of Stones, drinking from their waters. Not me. I couldn’t wait to see what treasure awaited us—but first things first.

  “As much as I would like to unwrap the box and rip it open,” I admitted, “we can’t do that or—”

  “I don’t have time for a fire ceremony,” Louie interrupted, closing his canteen, “but I have a different idea that I think the Forest Spirits will appreciate.”

  I glanced at my sister, who shrugged. “What?” we asked him.

  Louie dug into his backpack again, except this time, instead of retrieving medical supplies, he pulled out a harmonica. “How about a music ceremony?” he said, bringing the small instrument to his lips. As soon as he began playing, a gentle breeze blew through the area and then everything around us seemed to fall silent. Louie had the spirits and all the forest’s creatures listening. He filled the air with a beautiful melody before finishing on a soft low note.

  “Where did you learn to play like that?” Loretta asked.

  “I started playing before I could even talk. I’m not named after my great-grandpa, but my dad did name me after Louis Armstrong, one of the greatest trumpet players of all time.”

  “It could be worse,” Loretta groaned. “Your father could’ve named you after a famous country music singer like mine did.”

  Louie grinned. “I wondered, but I wasn’t saying anything after you almost beat me up.”

  Loretta laughed. “Anything else you’re wondering?”

  “Actually, yeah. Are you really twins?”

  “Fraternal twins,” I answered. “I got the good looks, and Loretta got the attitude.”

  Louie laughed at my joke while Loretta sneered.

  “And one more thing,” Louie said, growing too confident. “Is that your blankie I’ve seen you carrying in your backpack?”

  “Careful, Captain Camo,” Loretta warned. “Watch your step.”

  “So can you play the trumpet?” I asked Louie, steering him away from trouble.

  “Yeah, that’s my main instrument,” he said, “but carrying that out here would be kinda hard.”

  “Well, the harmonica was awesome,” I told him. “The spirits are sure to have loved it.”

  “Thanks.”

  I checked my gauze and was relieved to see I’d stopped bleeding. It was time to get down to business. “We can now proceed with the opening ceremony,” I declared.

  “As the wolf, I should be the one to lead the opening,” Loretta proclaimed, putting her hand on the box.

  I could’ve argued that as the finder it was Louie’s job to open it, but I didn’t want to prolong the suspense any longer. I was ready to see what was inside.

  Loretta placed the box on the ground in front of us. She removed the twine holding the cloth in place and unwrapped the covering, giving us our first glimpse of the old wooden cigar box. Louie and I skooched forward. We knelt side by side, barely breathing. This was the moment.

  Loretta turned the box so that the front was facing her. She flipped the small latch holding it closed and slowly lifted the top. Ever so carefully, she leaned over and peeked inside.

  “Ahhh!” she screamed, slamming it shut.

  Naturally, Louie and I screamed too. Actually, we grabbed each other in a hug. My not-so-funny sister burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

  Realizing the joke was on us, Louie and I brushed ourselves off.

  “Real funny. Now open it,” I growled, out of patience. Even if the Forest Spirits were amused, I was not.

  The last thing Louie wanted was to get caught in the middle of a brother-sister squabble, so he kept his mouth shut.

 

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