Chapter 4

Chapter four, When Cheerio was feeling better, we piled back into the car. My father warned us that we were not stopping anymore until we got to the campsite. My mom was holding a map and looking for the right exit. "Oh, there it is," she said, pointing to a faded wooden sign on the side of the highway. "It says 'Harmony Acres, next right.'" "Good work, Mom," I said. "I'd be more comfortable if it were a big sign with blinking lights that said 'this way to the city,'" my dad said. "Now, Stan." My mom was using her extra- calm voice, the one she uses when I've

forgotten my lunch for the third day in a row. "We're in nature. They don't want to clutter up the view with flashy signs." "What view?" my dad said. "All I see is trees and sky." "That's the point, Dad," Emily said. "We're out here exploring nature." "Yeah," I said. "It's just us and the bears." "Bears? What bears?" my dad asked. We were heading down the highway ramp past the Harmony Acres sign. The car came to a sudden stop. "Don't worry, Mr. Z.," Frankie piped up. "I read that if we keep our food tied up in a tree, the bears won't come into camp." "Oh, look," my dad said, pointing to a few buildings out the window. "How sweet," my mom said. "It's a cute little general store." "I'm not looking at the store," my dad said. "I'm looking at what's connected to it. The Half Moon Motel. We could pull right in. Set up our

tent in the middle of the room. I bet it's got cable TV and no bears." "But, Dad," I said, "I'm not supposed to write a poem about the inside of a motel room. My poem is about what it's like to be outside." "Come on, Stan," my mom said. "Nothing bad is going to happen to us. We're going to make a family memory." For the twentieth time that morning, my dad sighed. I couldn't believe he had that much air in him. He turned right onto a dirt road. It seemed like we were on that road forever. We passed some farms with real live cows munching on grass.

"Okay, everybody," my dad called out. "Roll up the windows, unless you enjoy the smell of cow poop, which I don't." For the first time that morning, I totally agreed with him. The cow-poop smell was hanging around the inside of my nose like stinky cheese. After we passed the farms, we headed up a hill with trees on both sides of the road. Some of the trees had white bark, and others looked like Christmas trees. "Maybe I'll write a poem about a tree," I said. I opened my mouth and this flew out: "I see you, you big round tree. I see you're much, much taller than me.

"Hey, I did it!" I shouted. "It rhymes and everything. Did I just do my homework?" "You sure did, Hank," my dad said. "This was certainly a great idea coming out here to nature. Now let's go home." "If Hank wrote that here in the car," Emily said, "imagine what he can come up with when we're actually sleeping under the stars." "I can't wait to see what our campsite looks like," Frankie said. "I hope there's a fire pit so we can make s'mores." "I've read all the brochures," my mom said. "It sounds like it has everything we're going to need." "Except a heater, a bed, a refrigerator, and a TV," my dad muttered. We drove the rest of the way without talking, just looking out the window. The road got smaller, the trees got taller, and the clouds got darker. "You don't think it's going to rain, do you?" my dad said. "Because I don't do well in mud."

"I checked the weather forecast before we left," my mom said. "There was no mention of rain." We passed a red-and-white sign that i couldn't read, but Frankie could. "Fire danger," he said, pointing to it. My mom put her finger to her lips and made the shhh sound. Then she pointed to my dad. "Oh," Frankie whispered to her. We drove around a big bend in the road, and at last, there it was. Harmony Acres. Let me just say, it was not exactly what we were expecting. There was a cabin at the