The Sasquatch Hunter's Almanac by Sharma Shields

Author:Sharma Shields
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781627792004
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.

1990

STORYBOOK

Eli was stressed. For the last several weeks he had worked as one of the five parent chaperones for the Comstock High Purple Days’ Float Committee. It was unusual for him to volunteer for such an event. The parade was the next day, and while Ginger gushed to her mom about how cool the float was going to be, Eli was anxious to finish. He practically yanked Ginger out of the house, gripping her coat sleeve.

“Let’s hurry,” he said. “There’s not a lot of time.”

Ginger followed him out to the car. “Gosh, Dad, don’t worry. It’s going to look great.”

“I know,” Eli said. “We’ll see.”

Eli did not speak again as he drove. Ginger chattered at him from the passenger seat, telling him random, unimportant things about her classmates. While Ginger spoke, Eli considered the work he had to complete: attaching the bear hide, rigging the wiring, standing the damn thing up on the float, hiding the speakers. The electrician would be there the following morning. Everything had to be ready to go.

He had assumed this would all be a cakewalk, but now he found himself more obsessed with the float than he was about Mr. Krantz’s whereabouts.

When Eli and Ginger arrived, they found the floor of the Meekses’ barn freshly littered with purple crepe paper, poultry netting, and metallic fringe. The lowboy trailer sat groaning beneath the clumsy bodies of some dozen teenagers. It was messily adorned and rocking slightly from the activity.

“Where’d they move him?” he asked his daughter, and she motioned toward a dim corner where a girl squatted with a paintbrush, slathering glue onto a large papier-mâché figure.

“Oh, no,” Eli said, but Ginger had already left his side to join her friends on the lowboy trailer, taking up a plum-colored garland and arranging it around her neck. She greeted her friends enthusiastically. She was in her element here, popular among dorks. Eli was proud of her in a distant, appreciative sort of way.

Eli approached the girl with the paintbrush and stood over her with his hands on his hips.

“Hiya, Dr. Roebuck,” the girl said, looking up. “How’s it looking?”

“Like a bear with mange. His legs are all wrong.”

“Really? I redid them like you said. Exactly. I swear.” She rose to her feet and considered the thing with solemnity.

“You put them on backward,” Eli said, pointing. “See? His knees buckle the wrong way.”

“Doesn’t he look tubular, though?” she said. Eli could not remember her name. Carol? Karen? Kathryn? “He’s really scary.”

Eli grabbed ahold of a papier-mâché leg and tore it from the torso. His hands came away smeared with glue.

“Hey!” the girl protested.

“Realign them,” Eli said. “I’ll help you.”

Eli had already wasted an entire month on this project, but there was no way he was allowing a less-than-perfect replica of Mr. Krantz to float down the streets of Lilac City. This was his chance to share a realistic Sasquatch with the entire Inland Empire. It was, he felt, an enormous responsibility.

Comstock High had recently chosen the Sasquatch as its new mascot, in part due to Ginger’s influence on the mascot steering committee.

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