Fort by Cynthia DeFelice Page B

trouble. I bet they’ll come Friday night. Possibly Saturday or Saturday night.”
    â€œWell, that’s great except for one thing,” I said. “ We won’t be here on Saturday.”
    â€œYeah, I know,” said Augie. “So I was thinking … if we go home Wednesday night like usual and do all our chores, I bet I can talk Gram into letting me stay here Saturday, and even Sunday if we need to. She won’t be happy if I have to miss church, but”—he shrugged—“it’s worth a shot.”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “And if Gram says yes, Dad probably will, too.”
    â€œCool,” said Augie. “So we’ve got all week to get ready.”
    We grinned at each other.
    â€œWe’ll definitely come up with a plan by Friday,” I said.
    â€œDefinitely,” said Augie. “Meanwhile, ya wanna go find some crayfish?”
    â€œFor what?” I asked, wondering if maybe this was going to be Step One in the new plan Augie was cooking up.
    â€œBait,” he said.
    â€œYou want to go fishing ?”
    â€œYeah,” Augie said.
    â€œWhat about the plan?”
    â€œWe can think while we fish,” Augie answered.
    I groaned. “I just remembered something. We still have to come up with a song for Gerard.”
    â€œWe can think while we fish,” Augie repeated.
    We found a bunch of crayfish by turning over rocks at the bottom of the stream. Augie said trout went crazy for them, and he was right. By the time we’d caught six fish and cleaned them, it was getting dark. So we made a fire and ate, throwing the fish skeletons onto the flames like before.
    â€œTomorrow,” I said sleepily. “Tomorrow we’ll come up with a plan.”
    â€œAnd a song,” added Augie.

 
    11
    In the morning, we decided to go talk the situation over with Al and Unk.
    When we got to the junkyard, they were set up at the checkerboard, arguing about who was the best baseball player ever to play the game, Babe Ruth or Willie Mays.
    â€œBottom line: Ruth had 714 homers, and Mays only had 660. End of story,” Al declared.
    â€œHomers-schmomers,” Unk shouted. “Mays also had 3,283 hits, 1,903 RBIs, and 338 stolen bases. There’s no comparison. End of story.” He glanced up, saw us, and looked relieved. “You two, tell him. There’s no comparing the Babe and Mays!”
    Augie and I looked at each other. Al and Unk could go on about this for hours. But we knew how to get them really riled up. It was impossible to resist.
    â€œForget those old guys,” said Augie. “Barry Bonds was the best, hands down. He had 762 home runs.”
    â€œYeah, but Roger Clemens was better than Bonds. Come on, 354 career wins!” I said.
    Al and Unk looked at us with outrage, just as we’d known they would.
    â€œCoupla dopers!” Al said with disgust. “They don’t even belong in the same conversation we’re having here.”
    Unk shook his head and looked at Augie mournfully. “I never thought I’d see the day when my own nephew would stand up for a couple of low-life cheaters who just about ruined the game. I’m very disappointed, Augie. Very disappointed.”
    Augie started laughing then, and I did, too. “We’re only kidding, Unk,” Augie said. “Just trying to yank your chain.”
    Unk looked relieved, but Al said, “I oughtta give you two bums some calluses on your kiesters.” He pretended to glare at us, but I could tell he was enjoying the joke.
    â€œSo,” Augie said, “here’s the deal. It wasn’t Gerard who messed with our fort, after all. It was J.R. and Morrie. And they’ll be back, for sure. So we want to be ready for them. Get ’em to back off.”
    â€œFor good,” I added.
    Al nodded approvingly. “Gotta do it.”
    â€œBut we’re having trouble figuring out how,” I said.
    Al thought for a