do our best to try to figure it out and find out if there’s really a mine on it. Hopefully we’ll find the deed to prove your family owns it, too.” Bailey crossed her arms and nodded as if that settled the matter.
That afternoon, Bailey and Elizabeth went into their bedroom at Halona’s house and used their cell phones to conference call the other Camp Club Girls. Bailey sat at the head of the bed and Elizabeth at the foot.
“Hey girls, everybody there?”
“We’re here!” everyone shouted together.
“Guess what? Beth and I are in Santa Fe, New Mexico!” Bailey announced.
“Santa Fe! How’d that happen?” McKenzie asked. McKenzie Phillips was a fourteen-year-old from Montana who was good at seeing people’s motives behind their behavior, and loved to ride horses.
“My mom’s distant cousin, Halona, is a Native American who lives here,” Bailey explained. “Her mother died and she needed help to keep their pottery store going during the busy tourist season.”
Elizabeth jumped in. “Bailey asked if I could come and help, too. I’m only out of school for another week, but we decided it would be a fun ending to the summer. Plus, since I want to be a missionary someday, my folks thought it would be good training for me to see the Native American culture up close and personal.”
“Do you want to be a missionary to the Native Americans?” McKenzie asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Elizabeth replied. “But learning any new culture is good training.”
“Sounds interesting,” said Alexis Howell, a twelve-year-old from Sacramento, California, who was also known as Alex. “Met any cute boys?”
Bailey rolled her eyes at Beth and smiled. “No, but we’ve met some not-so-cute ones.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Some boys were really mean to Bailey’s cousin, Elan.”
“Why were they mean to him?” Sydney asked. Sydney was the athletic girl of the bunch, a twelve-year-old from Washington DC.
Bailey shook her head, the frustration of the encounter washing over her again. “Because he’s small for his age and was sweeping the sidewalk in front of the pottery shop. They said he was doing girls’ work. Can you believe that?”
“Sounds like they’re living in a time warp,” Kate said. Kate was the whiz kid of the group, even though she was only eleven. She specialized in gadgets galore at her home in Philadelphia. “Men do all kinds of different things these days, just like women do. How old is Elan?”
“He’s thirteen, but is not too much taller than his eight-year-old sister.”
“I think those boys must not feel very good about themselves, or they wouldn’t bother someone else over something so ridiculous,” McKenzie said. “My mom says people often mirror their own fears in what they say to other people.”
“I never thought of that,” Bailey said. “But whatever the reason, they were sure mean. Poor Elan tried to stand up to them, but the biggest boy, Paco, pushed him down.”
“Do his parents know they’re picking on Elan?” Sydney asked.
“His mom knew at one time, but doesn’t know it’s still going on. And his dad died when he was very young.”
“His little sister, Aiyana, wanted to tell her mom, but Elan wouldn’t let her.” Elizabeth pushed back her blond, wavy hair.
“Anyway, that’s not the real reason we called.” Bailey sat up straight on the bed. “We have a mystery to solve.”
“All right! What is it?” Alex asked.
Bailey and Elizabeth told the girls all about the pot that was handed down from generation to generation.
“It’s so beautiful!” Elizabeth said. “You should see it!”
“Yeah, it has a desert landscape painted on it,” Bailey told them. “It has cacti and even little quail walking in a line. And a bright sun setting behind a mountain fills the sky with all kinds of colors. It’s so cool!”
“Why don’t you e-mail us a picture?” Kate suggested.
“We will,” Bailey said. “I hope we can get a good shot of it.
Alexei Panshin, Cory Panshin
William R. Forstchen, Newt Gingrich