“Which time?” he asks.

“O-o-okay. So she gave you a hard time forty-seven times. But it’s the Cape Playhouse. It’s renowned.”

“I just want to act,” he says. “I don’t care if it’s renowned.”

She rolls her eyes and lets it go.

Michael’s head flops back, and he groans. “But the worst part of living at the campground is I’m surrounded by people who think everyone is on vacation like they are. I’m not on va-ca-tion. I just get kicked out of my house every summer so our landlord can make more money from summer people.”

“I’m sorry, Michael. That’s a drag,” I say, but he doesn’t seem satisfied. I figure I’ll give him some time alone while I shop around. “Hey, I’ll be back in a bit.”

I walk over to a table and find a digital camera. I think of all the family pictures on the Laskos’ wall and how we have hardly any. Maybe having a camera would be good.

The camera is marked twenty dollars, which doesn’t seem like too much for a digital camera that works. But Grammy would make me eat tuna on toast for a week if I didn’t bargain, so I go up to the lady.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Look,” she says, “I’ll give you a dollar discount right off the bat if you don’t call me ma’am again.”

“Will you take thirteen dollars if I call you Your Highness?”

Her laughter is so loud it makes me laugh.

“Well . . .” She moves forward. “This is a nice camera, but my grandson jammed a screwdriver in this port,” she says, pointing. “So you can’t plug it into a computer anymore. But you can insert the memory stick into the machines at the store and print them that way.”

I can’t believe how lucky I am, but I’m careful not to react. So I drop my voice to show some disappointment. Big part of negotiating. “Well, will you take thirteen dollars?”

“Doesn’t that seem a bit low?”

I hear someone playing a xylophone behind me and know that it must be Aimee. I turn to see I’m right. And Michael is playing an air guitar.

I reach into my pocket and pull out fifteen one-dollar bills wadded up in a ball. “How about fifteen dollars, with that old jar?” I say, pointing at the Strong Shoulder. I decide against the frame because I don’t know if I can put my mom’s picture in a seal frame. “That’s my final offer. Mostly because that’s all I have.”

She stares at me. Half smiling.

The xylophone is louder, and Michael is now singing.

“And . . . I’ll leave quickly and take my two loud friends with me. If that will help.”

She laughs. “Boy, you’re a pistol, aren’t you?” She leans to the side. “He’s a pretty good singer, actually.”

“Yeah, they both are. They’re going to be in Annie at the playhouse. That’s Annie and Rooster right there.”

“Real-ly? That’s cool! We have tickets.” She looks down at the camera in my hand. “I tell you what,” she says. “It’s a deal!”