Chapter 1

Saturday Morning

Frank

Finally! For three glorious months I'm two years older than Joe, who's still only eight. Joe even chipped in and helped Mom and Dad get me the best chess set ever, just for today for my tenth birthday. It's exactly like the one Phil and I were looking at when we were in the mall at the toy store, Jeepers. For the knights, instead of the typical horse head like what normal chess sets have got, this one is an actual horse and knight, both in that weird armour they used to wear. And it says on the box that the rook is modelled after…let me check the name….Dolwyddelan Castle in some country called Wales! So every time I play chess now, it's like holding a nine-hundred year old artefact in my hand. Phil was over tonight after dinner and we played a game with my new set, but he ended up creaming me because Joe kept giving me "helpful advice." Brothers!

Now I'm supposed to be sleeping because tomorrow we have to get up early to go to Grandmother and Granddad's—Joe and I are spending a week there. Maybe Grandmother can show us how she does her fancy eggs—Grandmother came from Ukraine after World War I, when she was a teen. I'm too excited to sleep, though. First my chess set and now we get to go stay with Grandmother and Granddad for a week!

Joe

"Joey, time to get up," Mom's voice said. I started to roll over and go back to sleep, but then I remembered what we were doing today. We're going to go stay with Grandmother and Granddad for a week! A whole week!

When I got downstairs, Mom had breakfast ready. Usually it's a pretty big fare, because both Frank and I eat a lot, but that day it was just eggs and toast and oatmeal. Blech—I hate oatmeal!

"Grandmother said that she'll have breakfast ready when we get there," Mom said apolo- well, anyway, it sounded like she was sorry about us not getting as much as normal for breakfast.

I grinned at that as I took the piece of toast with the most butter on it—Grandmother's breakfasts for us are always enormous, with pancakes and waffles and home fries and omelettes and her famous sweet rolls. And at Christmas they're even bigger, if that's possible.

"Wh-wh-where's Dad?" Frank asked around a yawn, coming into the kitchen.

"Some stuff came up last night and he had to go down to the station this morning," Mom said, putting a plate in front of each of us. She'd made us fried eggs. I like those lots better than the oatmeal.

"Oh," Frank said, and sat down next to me—he's the closest to Dad of the two of us.

Frank

When we were done eating, Mom sent us upstairs to pack. I already had my duffle bag ready, but Joe was still scrambling around his room and the whole house in general, trying to get everything that he wanted. I had my duffle bag and a backpack with my chess set, baseball gear, and my dinosaur books, which Granddad got me for Christmas. They're really cool and give details about every dinosaur that ever lived, even the crocodiles and alligators.

From the sounds of it, Joe's tried to pack his Play Station. Yep—I can hear Mom yelling at him from down the hall. It might be a while before we leave.

Finally we were ready to go, but Dad wasn't back yet, so Mom left him a note on the kitchen table. We piled our duffels into the back of the car. By the time we'd reached the end of Bayport, Joe was asleep. About time, too, because he was really starting to annoy me!

The drive to Grandmother and Granddad's takes about two hours. They live in a tiny town in New Jersey called Portsmouth, and it's so tiny that downtown Portsmouth is a post office and two Pepsi machines. Our older cousin, Jake, says that it's got a feed mill and a lumber mill, two, but other than that, there's nothing to Portsmouth. Not that I mind, really, because sometimes I get to feeling cooped up living in the city.

Grandmother and Granddad live twenty minutes outside of Portsmouth, way out in the middle of nowhere. You have to drive down this long dirt road about fifteen minutes, then turn into another dirt road that's called Blackberry Lane. It's not even a dirt road; it's more a gravel driveway that goes on forever and ever and ever. Both sides are lined with trees and blackberry bushes, and some Christmases I can remember having to walk down Blackberry Lane to get to the house. That can take two hours sometimes! The nights are so clear there, too. Granddad says that that's because there aren't any lights around for miles and miles and miles to block the stars. There's lots more stars at Grandmother and Granddad's house than there are at ours, too.

Joe

When Frank poked me in the ribs to wake up, we were already at Blackberry Lane. "Joey, we're there," he said.

I looked out the window at the trees as we drove down the lane. It's August, so the blackberries are starting to ripen. "Maybe Grandmother will let us go berry-picking," I said hopefully.

Frank caught the tone. "You would think that," he said, grinning. "Last time we went berry-picking up here, you ate so many blackberries you got sick!"

"I was only six then!" I argued. "I'm eight now!"

"Boys!" Mom said in that don't-argue-now tone that she seems to use on us all the time.

"I can't wait to go play in the creek," I said. "Think Grandmother will let us do that this week at all?"

"Even if she didn't, you'd still find a way to do that," Frank said.

Up ahead, the trees weren't as thick as they'd been. A few minutes later, we could see Grandmother and Granddad's farmhouse and the barn and their gardens and a big field of sunflowers.

"I'll see you Sunday, okay?" Mom said when she'd dropped us off at the front porch. Grandmother was sitting on the swing out front, shelling peas. Granddad was beside her, whittling. They both got up and came to greet us when we got out of the car.

"Okay, Mom," Frank said.

"Stay for breakfast, Laura?" Grandmother asked.

Mom shook her head. "I've got to get back, Mother. Fenton'll be waiting for me. He had to go into the station this morning. You two behave yourselves now," she told me and Frank.

"Don't worry about them, Laura! They'll be fine," Grandmother said, giving Mom a goodbye-hug. Granddad put away his knife and wood and took our duffle bags for us.

"C'mon, big'uns," he said. "Let's get you settled in."

I didn't move—I was watching Mom turn the car around and head back down the driveway. Suddenly it seemed like a very long time until next Sunday.