Case File 13 #3 Read Free Page A

those guys look pretty tough. I’ll bet at least half of those men could beat you in arm wrestling.”
    â€œAnd at least that many of the women,” Nick added.
    â€œWho said anything about arm wrestling?” Carter asked. “I’m just hoping they all go inside their motor homes at seven thirty and sleep so we can go mermaid hunting. My book says the best time to catch them is just after sunset.”
    As the vehicle in front of them pulled through the entrance, Nick’s father drove up to the ranger’s booth. “Name?” asked a tired-looking man holding a clipboard.
    â€œBraithwaite,” Dad said cheerfully. “Looks like you’ve got quite a crowd here.”
    â€œSenior butterfly watchers,” the man said, looking down at his paperwork. “Theycome from all across the country this time of year to see the monarchs.”
    Mom smiled. “We’re pretty excited about them ourselves.”
    The man with the clipboard frowned, his tanned forehead wrinkling. “What did you say your name was again?”
    â€œBraithwaite,” Nick’s dad said. “B-R-A-I-T.”
    The man flipped up the paper on his board, checked the one under it, and shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t see you anywhere on the list.”
    Mom’s smile began to fade. But Dad held out his paper. “I’ve got the reservation right here. I made it months ago.”
    Nick’s stomach began to tighten. “Please don’t let this be another one of Dad’s screwups,” he whispered to himself.
    The ranger took the sheet of paper and looked it over. “There’s the problem,” he said, nodding.
    Nick began to feel better. It was probably just some kind of computer error.
    The ranger held out the reservation and turned it so Nick’s dad could see it. “This is for February, not December.”
    â€œWhat? Let me see that.” Dad grabbed the paper, read over it, and looked at Mom, who was biting her lower lip.
    â€œHuh,” Dad said, rubbing his chin with one hand and turning back to the ranger. “I don’t understand this. I’m sure I put December in the computer.”
    Nick’s heart sank.
    â€œAny chance you could squeeze us in?” Dad smiled weakly.
    â€œMaybe a week from now,” the ranger said, glancing back at the long line of vehicles waiting to get into the campground. “But this week I couldn’t get my own grandmother in, even if she offered me a hundred dollars to do it.”
    Nick looked from his dad to his mom, expecting her to blow up. Instead she only looked sad.
    â€œWish I could help,” the ranger said. “Maybe you can check the other campgrounds. Or possibly a hotel.”
    â€œSure,” Dad said, turning the car around so he could drive back out. “They can’t all be full.”
    But they were all full. Every campground, hotel, and motel they tried within twenty miles said the exact same thing. “Senior butterfly watchers have everything booked up solid.” The longer they looked, the sadder Nick’s mom seemed, and the more determined his dad grew to find an opening.
    By the time they checked the last hotel in town—a hole in the wall that looked likeonly the dirt on the paint was keeping it from collapsing into a pile of splintery boards—the sun was beginning to set.
    â€œI think we better go home,” Mom said. “Everyone’s hungry and tired.”
    Dad sighed and pulled back onto the freeway. “I feel terrible.”
    â€œIt’s not your fault,” Mom said. “Mistakes happen.”
    â€œSure,” Nick chimed in. “We can come another time. Who wants to stay in a crowded campground anyway?”
    Angelo stared silently out the window as they drove up the twisty highway.
    Nick leaned over and quietly asked, “Are you bummed out because we didn’t get to see more of the