by Nancy N. Rue

“All right, girls,” Dad said as Cara and her 6-year-old sister, Dana, climbed into the motor home, “you know the rules.”

“Course we do!” Dana said. “You tell ’em to us every time we go camping.”

“And I’m telling you again,” Dad said. “No running around while I’m driving.”

“No asking 15 times an hour if we can stop and go to the bathroom,” Cara said, glaring at Dana.

“No whining.” Dad tapped Dana’s nose with his finger and grinned. “Now get back there and settle in.”

Dad caught Cara’s hand. “Honey,” he whispered, “I say all of that for Dana. I know you already know the rules.”

Cara nodded. “I won’t nag you, Dad.”

Mom climbed in and gave one of her funny snorts. “We’d faint if you did,” she said. “Next to the word ‘cooperation’ in the dictionary, there’s a picture of you.”

Cara swallowed a lump of guilt as she went to the back and climbed onto the top bunk with a book. She always did her chores and said ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ but it wasn’t because she was Miss Cooperation. Cara just couldn’t stand someone being angry or disappointed with her.

As she nestled into the pillows, Cara let out a soft burp that tasted like cream of wheat.

I hate cream of wheat, Cara thought. It had been her favorite as a child, but for years she hadn’t enjoyed it. I wish I could tell Mom, but it might upset her.

Holding Out

“Are we there yet?” Dana whined.

Cara looked out the window. They were barely out of their own neighborhood. She had to go to the bathroom, but there was no way she would tell Dad. He liked to make good time. She could wait until they stopped for gas.

For the next two hours, Cara read her book and tried not to think about how much she needed a rest room.

“Dad-dy, I have to go to the bathroom!” Dana yelled. “Can’t I use the one back here?”

“You know the rule,” Mom said. “We only use that when we’re in camp.” “I’m bored!” Dana said a minute later.

“Get a book like Cara,” Dad said. “You don’t hear her whining, do you?”

That made Cara more determined than ever not to complain.

When Dad finally pulled into a gas station, Cara bolted out the back door and made a beeline for the ladies room. She heard Dana say: “I don’t have to go now. But may I eat a snack?”

Missing Person

When Cara got inside the rest room, all the stalls were full and there was a line in front of her. Please hurry! she thought.

Ten minutes passed before it was finally her turn.

I bet Dana’s on her second hot dog, she thought as she washed her hands. And I missed my chance to . . .

All of Cara’s thoughts stopped as she emerged from the rest room. The motor home was gone.

It took a few seconds for Cara to start thinking again. Dad probably finished pumping gas and moved the camper so other cars could get in, Cara assured herself.

But as Cara rounded the the building, her heart pounded in her throat. No motor home. Her family had left without her.

Cara blinked against the reflection off the concrete, then she blinked again and again until she realized she was blinking back tears.

I’m going to be in so much trouble when they realize I’m not in the motor home. The thought drove Cara to the bench in front of the gas station where she sat down and began chewing her fingernails. An hour passed before the next horrible thought hit her.

What if they’re so mad they’ve decided not to come back?

Cara sat up straight and shoved her hands under her thighs so she couldn’t chomp on her nails anymore.

Don’t be a silly, she scolded herself. They wouldn’t do that!

But then why hadn’t they come back for her?

Haven’t they noticed I’m gone? Did they turn around to come back and get in an accident?

Maybe it was time to ask somebody for help.

Facing the Facts

Cara went into the gas station. There was a line at the register, and both people behind the counter were talking and punching buttons. Trying not to cry, she got in line.

They’re going to think I’m a nuisance, Cara thought. They have all this stuff to do, and here I am.

“Yes?”

Cara jumped and looked up at a red-faced lady behind the counter.

“Excuse me,” Cara said.

“Look, kid, I haven’t got time to guess what you want. Speak up!”

Cara could hardly talk. But she managed to open her mouth and say, “I was in the rest room, and my parents left me—”

“What?” the woman barked.

“My parents, in that big motor home—”

“How long ago?”

“About an hour.”

“An hour?” the red-faced woman looked as if Cara had just told her the sky was falling. “You sure waited long enough to tell someone, didn’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The woman rolled her eyes and picked up the phone.

Calling for Help

Cara couldn’t keep back her tears. She felt her face crumpling and her throat tightening. She turned away from the counter and walked into a woman wearing khaki shorts.

“Highway patrol.” Cara heard the red-faced cashier say.

She let out a sob, and the woman in the shorts put a hand on her shoulder.

“Why don’t you sit down here until your parents come back?” she said. “You want something to drink?”

Cara shook her head, but a minute later there was a cold soda in her hand. “How ’bout a hot dog?” the lady asked.

“Okay,” Cara said, taking the hot dog. But all she could do was look at it.

“You think you’re scared,” the lady said. “I bet it’s nothing compared to the way your mom and dad feel. They’re going to be so happy.”

“They’re going to be mad.”

“Why? It was an honest mistake. Could’ve happened to anybody.”

The red-faced woman slammed down the receiver and leaned over the counter.

“Highway patrol’s gonna pull over your parents and tell ’em to come and get you. I gave them the license number off the gas receipt.” Then she turned to the people in line and added, “I always get license numbers.”

Cara started to cry again.

“It’ll be all right,” the lady in shorts said. “They’ll be here soon.”

“She called the police!” Cara said. “I’m really going to get it.”

“Why don’t you eat your hot dog? It’ll make you feel better.”

Cara took a bite so she wouldn’t hurt the lady’s feelings. It had mustard on it. Cara hated mustard.

Everything Okay?

Cara gagged down the hot dog and started on her second soda when the woman in shorts asked, “Is that your family?”

Cara didn’t have a chance to stand before Dad was inside the door with Mom on his heels.

“Honey, I’m so sorry!” Dad said as he scooped her up.

“We thought you were on your bunk reading!” Mom said. “I was so busy with Dana, I didn’t even notice you’d gotten out.”

“You’re not mad?” Cara asked.

“Mad at myself for not making sure you were in the motor home,” Dad said.

Telling the Truth

That night after Cara and her family had set up camp and Dana had fallen asleep, Dad spoke up.

“Why’d you wait so long before telling anyone you’d been left?”

Cara stared into the campfire.

“Come on, Cara,” Mom said. “Tell us what you were afraid of.”

“I was afraid somebody would yell at me,” Cara said. “And the cashier did.”

“But she helped you,” Dad said.

He wasn’t yelling, but Cara could feel herself wanting to cry.

“I hate it when people get mad at me,” she said. “So I just don’t ask for things.”

There was silence except for the campfire’s crackling.

“Let’s make a deal,” Mom said. “You promise to ask us for anything you need, and we promise not to yell.”

Cara thought for a moment. “Okay,” she said slowly.

“But you know,” Dad said, “someone is going to yell at you once in a while. That’s the way people are. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.”

Mom gave a soft snort. “I’m amazed, Cara. I had no idea this was going on in your head.”

Cara poked at the ground. “I’m not as cooperative as you think.”

“I wish you would be a little less cooperative!” Dad said. “Tell us one thing you want.”

Cara shook her head, but Mom tickled her ribs.

“All right! I’ll tell!” Cara said. “There’s something I don’t want.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want cream of wheat for breakfast anymore.”

“Uh-oh,” Dad said, looking solemnly at Mom. “Didn’t you bring a whole box of it on this trip?”

“That’s okay, Mom,” Cara said quickly. “I’ll eat it.”

But Mom had already pulled out the cream of wheat box from the food locker and was headed across the campsite toward the trash bin.

	Q: Why did the dog lay on its back with its feet sticking in the air? A: It was trying to trip birds. Amy S., 11, Illinois Clubhouse Jr. Click here to subscribe