scene had been played in their kitchen many times over the past years. If it had been in a movie and hadn't involved his family, it would have been funny. Pierson thought about the time Will had worked in a stable for the summer. He did okay for a while, at least until he had a fight with the stable manager and shaved the tails of several horses. If a famous comedy star did the shaving, he'd have the audience rolling in the aisles. Because Will did it, they had Aunt Maggie crying in their kitchen. Pierson was unmoved by Will's latest escapade.
"Give me the name and phone number of these people, and I'll see what I can do," said Dad. He and Aunt Maggie went into the study. Pierson knew they were going to try to think of a way to get Will out of trouble–again.
"I guess Will blew it this time," said Pierson. He played with his fork, tapping it on his plate.
"Pierce! Will's had it rough for the last few years," said his mother sternly.
The fork dropped with a clatter. "That's reason enough to pop someone's window?"
"Give Will a break. He hasn't had the advantages you've had, nor has he had a father to lean on." Mom's hands were on her hips, and she was frowning. Pierson knew that look. It meant, I'm going to do something about this.
"Maybe if Will were able to get away from here for a while it would do him good. I know your Aunt Maggie could use a vacation. And if he came to the cabin with us, your father might be able to talk some sense into him."
"Ma, you wouldn't!” Pierson brusquely pushed his chair back from the table; he locked his fingers behind his neck and paced the floor. His mind was racing. Bad enough to be thrown into exile, but banished with Will? That decree was tantamount to capital punishment!
"I know you and Will aren't the best of friends," continued his mother, "but who knows? You might find you have lots in common."
Pierson was stunned into silence; his mind was dismayed by what was happening. Best of friends? They were not even the best of enemies! But before he could say anything, his mother rambled on.
"What a marvelous solution! If your father and Maggie agree, it's settled." Humming with obvious delight, she raced from the room.
"What happened here?" Pierson whined aloud in the empty room. He groaned as he flopped down into the chair, put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. "As I said, this summer is going to be a disaster!"
CHAPTER TWO
On a typical day at Morgan School, a visitor would find order and discipline. Today was different; it was the last day of school. As Pierson slung his backpack over his shoulder and slammed his locker door, he could see kids running everywhere. Some were excited and others were angry they didn't get their favorite teacher assignments for the following year. On the way down the hall Pierson heard his friend, Logan, call him.
"Hey, Pierce, wait up." Logan jogged to catch him. "Did you get Mr. Rush for next year?"
"Yeah, so did Kevin and Steven. I heard most of the accelerated kids are in his class. Maybe they think he's the only one who can handle us talented kids!" Pierson slapped Logan on the back, and the two of them laughed as they shadow boxed.
"What talented things are you doing over the summer? Can't let your massive brain power go to waste, you know," said Logan.
Pierson immediately sobered. “We're...uh...we're going out of town for the summer." He kept walking toward the door.
"You never told me. Where are you going?"
"My uncle has a cabin in the woods, and he invited us to spend the summer there. Mom thinks it will be...uh...very educational." He shifted his backpack to the other shoulder.
Logan's eyes grew bigger as he walked backwards in front of Pierson. "Hey, that sounds great. Is it a real log cabin? Will you be sleeping in the woods, go fishing and stuff? Are there bears or mountain cats there? I mean, how deserted is it?"
"I don't know," answered Pierson. "I've never been there, never even seen pictures of the place. Personally, I'd rather forget the whole thing. Dad told me my Uncle Sam is a real mountain man, so I'm sure his lifestyle is not my idea of a good time."
“Well, I'd go in a minute." Logan fell in step beside Pierson.
"Good! You go, and I'll live at your house for the summer," said Pierson. They took the front steps of the school two at a time and boarded the bus.
"Okay. You can live with my dumb sisters!"
"Oops, I forgot about them. But then again, I don't know which is worse—your sisters or my cousin Will." They found an empty seat in the back of the bus as it started moving.
“Will is spending the summer with you?" asked Logan, a panicked look on his face. He'd met Will on several occasions and had remarked that on a scale of one to ten, he'd rank Will a minus twelve.
Pierson nodded and frowned.
Logan made a shrill whistle and put up his hands defensively. "Deal's off. At least my sisters can't beat me to a pulp."
Pierson gave him a sideways crooked smile. "You sure about that?" He elbowed Logan in the ribs and rose to get off at his stop.
As the bus pulled away, he heard Logan yell out the window, “When do you leave?"
"Dawn tomorrow."
"It's been nice knowing you."
As he doggedly walked down his driveway, Pierson wondered if there even was a telephone in the ‘limited luxury’ cabin.
* * *
The voice in the mist kept nagging him. In his sleep he tried to ignore it, but it persisted. "Pierce, drag yourself out of bed. It's time to leave."
Pierson opened one eye and spied the clock. The bold red characters 4:00 A.M. glared at him. He decided it was too early and pulled up the cover.
"Pierce!" His father's booming voice was unmistakable. It was no dream.
"I'm up, I'm up," he called. He sat up in bed and stretched. Yawning, he tried to collect his thoughts. What a ridiculous time to wake up. Was it part of the whole experience–getting up with the sun? He looked at the window. Nope, even the sun wasn't up.
"Pierce, we're leaving without you," Dad's voice boomed again.
"I should be so lucky," mumbled Pierson. "I'll be right down," he yelled to his obviously impatient parents.
He dressed quickly and took one last look around his room in a search for any forgotten items. Grabbing his recorder, headphones and tapes, he dashed down the stairs. He was barely out the door before his father locked it and ushered him to the waiting van.
"Are we leaving for good?" Pierson asked when he viewed the load of suitcases, boxes and miscellaneous items cramming the van. He squeezed into the back seat.
"Uncle Sam wasn't specific about what supplies were there. We wanted to have a bit of everything," his mother answered in her cheerful morning-person voice. It seemed positively unfair that her brown eyes could be so wide open when he needed toothpicks for his.
"You
