Jack Adrift Read Free

AWAY!
    â€œThese people are nuts,” Dad declared. “I wouldn’t stay out here in a storm.”
    â€œWhat are people going to say when they wake up or return and find us here?” Mom said. “They’ll think we are a bunch of sea monkeys.”
    â€œYeah,” Betsy said, perking up, “they’ll throw a net over us and call the aquarium.”
    â€œOr the funny farm,” Mom added.
    â€œEarly to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,” Dad said confidently, as if quoting one of the Ten Commandments.

    â€œThat’s right,” I chimed. “The early bird gets the worm.”
    Betsy squinted angrily at me. “Don’t humor him ,” she whispered.
    A long time passed and we didn’t find our street name but finally we spotted a blue-and-white sign that read: SEABEE HOUSING. WELCOME, SAILORS!
    â€œThat’s us,” Dad said merrily, pointing. There were five long house trailers that looked as if they were set down in the middle of a swamp of thick reeds, saw grass, and scrawny, windblown trees. We almost missed the trailers because they were painted in green-and-tan camouflage.
    â€œOne of these must be ours,” Dad said, looking over a letter with his instructions.
    Mom snatched the letter out of his hands. “It can’t be,” she said, reading it quickly. “It’s sitting in a swamp.”
    â€œThat’s not a swamp,” Dad replied, waving toward the house trailer. “It’s probably a tidal pool. Something educational for the kids.”
    â€œSomething to immunize them against,” Mom said. “I won’t live in one of these shoe boxes.”
    Dad ignored that statement and pulled the letter back out of her hands. “Says here number three is ours.”
    â€œI can’t believe we’ve traveled this far to live like trash
in a swamp,” Mom said, getting a bit huffy. “If my father saw this he’d …”
    Betsy glanced over at me. “Here we go again,” she sang, as if it were my fault.
    â€œNow don’t feel bad,” Dad replied. “We’re all in the same boat. It’s just temporary Navy housing.”
    â€œWell I didn’t join the Navy,” she said.
    â€œYou did worse,” Dad said with a laugh. “You married the Navy, which is ten times as bad ’cause you don’t even get paid.”
    â€œYeah,” she said without much humor. “And now that I’ve been captured I’m being tortured, too.”
    â€œYep,” Dad said. “You’ll just have to show some grit, because the Geneva convention doesn’t cover marriage.”
    Mom reached over and pinched him until he hollered. That must have made her feel a little better because she did show some grit. She always tried to make the best of a bad situation. “There’s number three,” she said. “Dock this boat and let’s go see just how bad it is.”
    Dad drove up to the front door. If I’d had a rope I would have run a line from the hood ornament to the doorknob to keep us from drifting out to sea.
    Dad took off his shoes and socks, hopped out, and sloshed his way around the car. He picked Mom up like a new bride and carried her up the few steps. She reached out and turned the doorknob. It was unlocked
and they stepped right in. A moment later the lights inside began to come on. I peeled off my shoes and socks and Pete crawled onto my back. “Puke on my head and I’ll drop you,” I said, as I carried him through the water.
    â€œDrop me and I’ll need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,” he gurgled.
    That was a disgusting thought.
    Betsy sat in the car by herself, pouting. I knew she was wishing for the worst and had her fingers crossed that things inside the house would be so bad we’d all just run screaming back to the car, and Dad would drive down the road and over the bridge and all the way back to