Someone was shouting. “Stop! You’re breaking Code R, subset 2E. I repeat, stop now! This is your final warning!”

  Marco peeked over the edge of the wall. They were no longer beside the golf course.

  Instead, they now overlooked a fabulous and expansive rose garden.

  Dozens of elderly men and women in elegant straw garden hats were tending the rose bushes and pulling weeds.

  It looked lovely. Idyllic, even.

  Except for the fact that several Rayzors, in their bright yellow vests, were pacing back and forth along the brick garden paths, watching over them like prison guards.

  A portly old man ran across the golf course lawn. Rayzors in golf carts quickly caught him, and he protested loudly as they forced him back to work.

  “Get his name,” barked the Rayzor through his megaphone. “We’ll make an example out of him.”

  Old Lady Marbles stared at the scene. “What on Earth?”

  One golf cart sat in the center of the garden. It was much more special than the others. Gilded in gold, it gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight. A fancy golden chair was propped up in the back like a throne, and a delicate parasol made of white lace with golden trim arched overhead.

  Seated upon it, high above everyone else, was Mrs. Neel, barking out commands.

  “NO… That tea rose stays! Pull the other one out! The newer new one, not the older new one!

  Fertilize the red Grandifloras only!

  NO! Those are the antique whites, not the modern whites… What’s wrong with you?

  And for the last time—TURN THAT HOSE OFF!”

  She berated an old man in a wheelchair holding a running garden hose.

  One of the gardeners began to scream. “Help! Get it off!”

  “Oh! Somebody help me!”

  A big green insect was creeping up her sleeve.

  Marco pulled out his binoculars and zoomed in.

  “Mantis religiosa,” he mumbled, as if identifying a bird.

  Another Sun-Shiner caught her as she collapsed from fright.

  Mrs. Neel stood up and bellowed, “Everyone stop rubbernecking and get back to WORK! Just for that, I’m adding another full hour before your next break!”

  “Ugh. The Garden Club,” Carly grumbled.

  She turned away from it all.

  Marco could see the portly old man hiding from a Rayzor with a clipboard. He looked like he was about to make a break for it.

  Prying up a loose stone, Marco waited for just the right moment, then hucked it into a nearby pond, making a huge splash.

  “Halt! Code R, subset S. No swimming!”

  The distracted Rayzors vroomed toward the splash.

  And the portly old man, along with several others, vanished into the golf course hedges, escaping their tormentors.

  “Come, let’s move before they circle back,” said Carly, urging them forward.

  “Can I hold those?” Lemon asked, eyeing Marco’s binoculars.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Only if you’re very careful. My father gave them to me.”

  He cautiously handed them to her and watched her closely; no one had ever asked to hold his binoculars before.

  She held them like a hot cookie straight from the oven.

  “It’s heavy.”

  Marco nodded. “They’re not a toy. They’re real.”

  She raised them to her eyes. “It’s blurry!”

  Marco leaned in and gently turned the focus knob. “Try now.”

  Lemon gasped. “I can see Rayzors walking around, all serious… and the old people are sweaty!”

  “Come on, let’s skedaddle,” said Old Lady Marbles, pulling them both away from the ledge.

  “Those people down there…,” Marbles asked carefully.

  “If they’re volunteers… I don’t get it. Why can’t they just quit and go home?”

  Carly replied, “Not if you’re a Sun-Shiner. You can’t quit. All you can do is hide.”

  Marco thought she sounded more tired than scared. Like someone who’d been hiding for a long time.

  As she passed him, he noticed her hand brush the wall—just for a second, like she was steadying herself.

  The wind picked up. Dust swirled. The tower loomed.

  Carly kept walking.

  “But why?” Marbles pressed.

  “I would throw mud at Mrs. Neel’s smelly face!” Lemon added.

  Carly explained, “It’s just not that easy. We have a thing here called the Board of Directors. You don’t want to cross them. If they think you’re mentally unfit or don’t belong at Golden Rays, they’ll kick you out. And the person they put in charge of deciding who belongs and who doesn’t is Mrs. Neel.”

  On cue, Mrs. Neel could be heard shouting, “I want more!”

  Old Lady Marbles seethed. “She’s a bad apple! That Garden Club? Phony baloney!”

  “And more!” shouted Mrs. Neel on the other side of the wall.

  “Where are their families?” asked Marbles. “Why hasn’t anyone done something already?”

  “Yes, do exactly what I say! On your hands and knees!” cried Mrs. Neel.

  She could be heard cackling a diabolical laugh. “Wonderful!”

  Carly grimaced. “They have. That’s what this whole ‘Sunshine Club’ business is. It started because, heaven forbid, you forgot your phone number or where you parked your golf cart. Mrs. Neel could use that as proof you were mentally unfit. And just like that—boom—you were out. No questions. No appeal.”

  The smell of cow dung hit them hard. Lemon scrunched her face.

  “After all the complaints, the Board of Directors, in their infinite wisdom, decided that anyone caught being dumb and old could join the Sunshine Club first. As long as you follow the rules and do whatever Mrs. Neel says, you get to stay. If not… sayonara.”

  Mrs. Neel and her Rayzors were all laughing loudly as she commanded, “Spread the manure!”

  Carly watched a long white streak of airplane exhaust slowly grow across the clear blue sky.

  “My Grandma Lime would stop her! She’s not afraid of anybody,” Lemon assured them.

  “Well, your grandma doesn’t live here now, does she?” Carly retorted.

  “No one’s allowed in Golden Rays unless they’re members or have special permission.”

  Marco stared toward the rose garden, quiet for a moment. “I think they should leave. Move in with their kids or something. Before Mrs. Neel decides they don’t belong.”

  Lemon stared. “I can’t take care of Grandma. I don’t even know what things cost.”

  Old Lady Marbles shook her head and laughed.

  “Oh, Marco, you don’t know the first thing about being old.”

  She confidently explained, “When you’re old, you have it all.

  You’ve lived your life… raised a family… retired from your job.

  It’s bliss!

  You don’t want to go back and live with your children.

  You’ll be in the way.

  You can’t help them and they don’t want you to.

  When you’re old, you’re perfectly obsolete and that’s just fine!

  No stress, no worries… and no problems.

  Being old is wonderful!”

  Carly interjected, “Well, it’s not that wonderful. Nobody wants to feel useless. Take it from someone who’s actually old.”

  For a moment, no one spoke.

  Marbles blinked. Her smile faded.

  She looked down at her hands.

  Then, quietly:

  “You don’t understand how lucky you are.

  Try being stuck in a children’s hospital.

  Surrounded by adults and school kids ‘just trying to help.’

  You stop being you.

  You become the poor child with cancer.”

  She paused.

  “I remember wishing I could be normal.

  Wishing they’d just leave me alone.”

  Her voice thinned.

  “I knew kids like that.

  They didn’t want doctors.

  They just wanted tomorrow.”

  She looked up, eyes glassy.

  “And then they died.

  They just… kept dying.”

  A long breath.

  “I’d take old any day.”

  She wept softly.

  “Old means you survived.”

  She reached for her hanky, then remembered Carly had used it earlier.

  So she wiped her tears with her hands.

  Stunned by Marbles’ story, Carly softened.

  “Oh dear. Come here.” She pulled Marbles into a warm hug. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Being old is wonderful.”

  When she let go, Carly looked out over the edge at Golden Rays and declared, “I’ve had enough. It’s time for things to change around here.”

  Lemon ran up beside her, shook her fist, and shouted, “Yeah! We’ll show her!”

  Marbles sniffed and nodded. “Yes, I’m with you too, deary. No point in being old if you can’t have any fun!”

  Marco looked out at Golden Rays too.

  He didn’t have a clue how any of them could actually change anything.

  But he knew one thing for sure. “We’ll need a plan.”