Middle School: How I Survived Bullies, Broccoli, and Snake Hill

by James Patterson

  That night was the camp play, You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown. And just like with the camp dance, we all had to go.

  Was it any good? Let me put it this way: If you took a car wreck, a stink bomb, and a bunch of seriously awful singing and somehow mixed them all up together in a blender, you might have something about as bad as that show.

  I’m not saying I could have done any better, but… well, yeah, maybe I could have. It was that bad.

  The big surprise for me was that Georgia was in it. She was Sally, Charlie Brown’s sister, and had her own song and everything. I didn’t even know that until I saw her up onstage. I guess, being at camp, there were even more chances to ignore my sister than usual.

  And even though Georgia was just as terrible as everyone else, she was not the worst thing about the play.

  That would be Doolin. He played Snoopy, wearing this stupid hoodie and dark glasses like he was too cool for it all. And he hardly ever left the stage.

  I had to sit and watch him the whole time while all the girls clapped and cheered and acted like he was creating world peace and global cooling up there.

  Then, just when it seemed like the play was finally going to be over soon, Doolin had this song called “Suppertime.” Charlie Brown brings a dog dish out on stage, and Snoopy sings about how much he can’t wait to eat. Yeah, yeah, whatever, whatever.

  First, Doolin started singing in this weird voice, like he had a cold or something. Then he took off his shades and put on big, thick glasses instead. Someone tossed him a huge book from offstage.

  That’s when I started to get it. He was making fun of Norman—or at least, some version of him. The Booger Eater version.

  Sure enough, at the end of the song, Doolin turned around with his back to the audience and took off his hoodie, so we could see the T-shirt he was wearing.

  Then he pretended to dig way up inside his nose, pull something out, and start chowing down on it, big-time. All while 90 percent of the audience was screaming and laughing like it was the funniest thing they would ever see in their lifetimes.

  Not me. I thought it was the crummiest, meanest thing I’d ever seen.

  When I looked over at Norman, he was just staring straight ahead, not doing anything at all. And I started thinking—wouldn’t this be a great time for someone like him to pull out his inner Hulk, if he had one?

  Because you know what happens when that Hulk guy gets mad, right?

  And maybe with Norman, you don’t even notice it right away. But if you look closely, you can see his eyes are just starting to turn yellow.

  His skin starts to go green, and a low growl comes up from somewhere deep inside him.

  “Norman… angry,” he says. “Very… angry.”

  “Huh?” I ask, because he’s just mumbling. But he’s also too busy to answer. He’s getting bigger by the second. His muscles are up to four times their usual size.

  (Oh, right. This is Norman we’re talking about. So let’s say twenty times their usual size.)

  Of course, nobody’s paying attention to Doolin anymore. They’re all sitting there with their mouths hanging open.

  And before any of them can say, “Who knew?” Norman’s out of his seat. He jumps seven rows of chairs in one bound and lands smack in the middle of the stage.

  Even Doolin gets it by now. He tries to hide in Snoopy’s doghouse, but guess what, Doolin? It’s just a prop. That door is painted on, and you’ve got nowhere to go.

  “Snoopy… STAY!” Norman says.

  Half a second later, Doolin’s wearing a giant green fist for a dog collar.

  “Snoopy… BAD DOG!” Norman says, and shakes him like a gallon of fresh-squeezed orange juice.

  And because everyone else at camp has secretly hated Doolin all this time, they’re starting to clap and laugh and cheer for more.

  “Snoopy… FETCH!” Norman says. Then he takes aim and drop-kicks Doolin right through the hole in the roof. (Well, I mean, now there’s a hole in the roof. There wasn’t a second ago.)

  And the audience goes bonkers. There’s more clapping…

  … more cheering…

  … more laughing…

  … and—

  —we’re back. Unfortunately, all of that was inside my head. All the best stuff usually is.

  Except for the cheering, I mean. That was real, because Doolin had just finished his song, and almost everyone was going crazy over it while Norman just sat there.

  Finally, Major Sherwood stood up in the front row. “All right, all right,” he said. “Enough of the razzing. Let’s get on with the show.”

  And I thought—Razzing? That’s what Sherwood thought it was? That’s like watching someone get attacked by a shark and then saying, “All right, all right, enough with the nibbling.”

  Then, as soon as the play started going again, Norman got up and walked right out of the theater.

  Poor kid.

  I followed him.

  THE WHOLE TRUTH AND NOTHING BUT

  Here’s something I think about sometimes. I wonder if bullies like Doolin and his fiends ever feel really bad about what they do? And if they don’t, why the heck not? What is wrong with these idiots?

  Anyway, I finally caught up with Norman back at the cabin. Rusty watched me go. I think he was okay with it. Maybe he even understood how Norman must have felt?

  “Go away,” Norman said when I came in. He was already on his bunk with a book but not really reading. He didn’t even have his glasses on.

  “Doolin’s a world-class butt-wipe. We both know that,” I said. “Don’t worry about him.”

  “I’m not worried,” he told me, but it sounded like he was trying not to cry.

  Maybe I should have let it drop right there. But I didn’t.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I said. “Why do you even come to this camp? It sure doesn’t seem like you’re having any fun. And don’t say it’s because you need extra school, because I’m pretty sure you’ve got the biggest brain in the whole camp.”

  Norman rolled over then and looked me right in the eye.

  “Do you seriously want to know?” he asked.

  “I swear I won’t tell anyone,” I said. That’s not what he asked, but I think that’s what he meant.

  Finally, he sat up and put down the book.

  “I guess you could say my dad’s not a very nice guy,” he said.

  “Oh,” I said. And then, “Wait. What do you mean?”

  “Well… he doesn’t have a job, for one thing,” Norman said. “If I was home all summer, it would just be him and me, every day, and we don’t really get along. He says he yells at me to toughen me up, but I think it’s just ’cause he’s mad all the time.”

  “Mad at you?” I said.

  Norman shrugged. “I think he wanted a different kind of son,” he said.

  I kind of knew how he felt. It made me think of Bear, my mom’s old boyfriend who used to live with us. He never had a job either. He just hung out on the couch, taking up space and telling me what a loser I was.

  And I thought—where do these guys come from, anyway? Like, if we had summer school for dummies, did they have grown-up school for annoying jerks?

  As long as he was spilling, Norman told me all those books of his were from his school library back home. The librarian was kind of a friend (no surprise), and she let him borrow a whole bunch for the summer, as long as he brought them back in the fall. That’s why he kept them locked up like that.

  It was getting way too heavy inside the cabin. I mean, seriously heavy.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s do something crazy. You want to run down and jump in the lake?”

  “No, thanks,” Norman said. He got up and started heading for the door. “I’m going to go back down to the play.”

  Now I’d heard it all. “Seriously?” I said.

  “I can’t afford to get in trouble with Sherwood,” he said. “Not if it means getting sent home, like Legend.”

  I couldn’t a
rgue with that. Not after everything Norman had just told me. If his dad made him want to be at Camp Wannamorra, then it had to be pretty bad.

  “Yeah, all right,” I said, and followed him outside. “Let’s go see how that stupid play ends. Who knows, maybe Snoopy gets run over by a tractor trailer or something.”

  “He doesn’t,” Norman told me. “I already read the script.”

  “Of course you did,” I said.

  AIR LEO

  When a private Air Leo jet pulls up outside the cabin that night, I pretty much know that I’m dreaming. But whatever. It’s a good dream. Leo and I haven’t talked in a while. So I go with it.

  “Hop in,” he says. “Let’s ride.”

  I leave the cabin, get into the jump seat, and we take off.

  Leo goes out low, straight over Bobcat Alley with an extra burst of fumes, which I appreciate. Six point eight seconds later, we’re leaving Camp Wannamorra behind at the speed of sound. It feels good to get away.

  “Sorry we haven’t talked in a while,” I say. Last time I saw Leo, he wasn’t exactly happy about the whole summer camp thing.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he says. Then he takes us into a vertical climb, going for maximum altitude. (This is the thing with Leo. It’s not like he never gets mad. He just never stays mad. And that’s why he’ll probably always be my best friend.)

  When we get up to a hundred thousand feet, I pop my seat belt so I can enjoy the zero gravity for a while. I float over to the plane’s galley, where Leo already had a double-cheese, double-pepperoni, double-everything-else pizza in the oven for me. I’m starving, so I hit up the soft-serve machine while I wait. (And by the way, if you’ve never tried soft serve in zero gravity, I highly recommend it.)

  “So catch me up,” Leo says over the headset. “How’s it going down there? What’s the plan for Doolin?”

  “Isn’t that your department?” I say. “I was kind of hoping you’d tell me.”

  “I might have an idea or two,” he says. Leo always has an idea or two. “Give me a minute, and I’ll show you.”

  He practices a few more barrel rolls while I eat chocolate-vanilla swirls out of the air. I’m telling you, life could be worse up here.

  Then Leo takes us around and comes in low over Camp Wannamorra again. When I feel the gravity taking hold, I head back to my seat, strap in, and check out the view.

  The whole camp is spread out underneath us. There’s the Muskrat Hut. There’s the lake. There’s the main field, right in the middle of it all.

  And that’s when I start to realize why Leo brought me up here in the first place.

  “You see where I’m going with this?” Leo says.

  “Sure do,” I say. Already, I’m sketching it all out in my head.

  “What do you think?” he asks. “Can you take it from here?”

  “No problem,” I tell him, and that’s it. Before I can even box up that extra-extra-large pizza, Leo’s reaching over to punch the big red button in the middle of the console. It’s the one that says DO NOT PUSH.

  The glass dome over my head retracts. The thrusters under my seat start to kick in. Leo levels off the jet, and the next thing I know, I’m popping out of there like one big piece of toast.

  I free-fall for about a thousand feet until my chute triggers automatically. Then I grab on to the controls and start navigating back down to the Muskrat Hut.

  Tomorrow, I’ll tell the guys about the new plan. Meanwhile, I’m going to sleep well tonight. Because now I know what to do.

  Thanks, Leo. See you at the end of the summer.

  ALL IN

  What’s this? Is there treasure buried here? Not bodies, I hope?” Cav said when I showed the guys my plan the next day. I’d sketched most of it under the covers the night before and then put on the finishing touches during math class when Katie wasn’t watching.

  “This is our big move against the Bobcats,” I said.

  “Yeah, right,” Tunz said. “You feeling suicidal or something?”

  “I’m serious,” I told them. “It’s not complicated. All I need is one volunteer. One volunteer?”

  Actually, I’d already decided it had to be Smurf, since he was the fastest, after me. But if this thing went wrong, then we were all going to pay the price. So I needed everyone to get on board.

  Right now, they were all staring back at me like I’d asked them to sign up for alligator wrestling or ballroom-dance classes or something seriously awful like that.

  “I don’t know, Rafe,” Bombardier said. “Seems like a bad idea.”

  “No,” I said. “Rolling over and playing dead is a bad idea. We have to make sure those guys get off our backs, once and for all.”

  “I’m not waiting for it to get better,” Dweebs said. “I just don’t want to do anything to make it worse.”

  That’s when Norman spoke up. I didn’t even know he was listening.

  “Oh, you don’t have to do anything to make it worse,” he said. “That’s going to happen all on its own.”

  It was like Norman didn’t even know how smart he was. If anybody understood how bad it could get around camp, it was him.

  “He’s right, you guys. The Bobcats are going to keep coming after us as long as we let them,” I said. They all looked like they were starting to get it, but nobody moved or said a word. So I put my hand out in the middle of the group. “Come on. Who’s in?”

  For a second, I thought they were going to leave me flapping in the wind. Then Smurf reached over and put his hand on top of mine.

  “Yeah, okay,” he said. “You only die once, right?”

  “All right, me too,” Tunz said, even though it sounded more like, Well, it was nice knowing you guys.

  It was the same with Cav, Dweebs, and Bombardier, but pretty soon they were all in.

  That just left Norman.

  “Hey, Norman,” I said, “we’re waiting here.”

  As far as I was concerned, he was going to be part of this group whether he liked it or not. I gave him a heavy stare down until he didn’t have any choice but to come over and put his hand in with the rest of ours.

  Usually, the guy who puts his hand in first and says things like “Who’s in?” is some kind of group leader. I’d never been the leader of anything before.

  “We’ll do this tonight,” I said. “And then maybe we won’t have to worry about Doolin or any of his creeps for the rest of the summer.”

  “I like that part,” Smurf said.

  “Me too,” Cav said.

  I think I heard Norman gulp. And Bombardier definitely farted.

  “Let’s go, Muskrats,” I said. “One for all—”

  “AND ALL FOR NOTHING!”

  (Yeah, yeah, I know…. We need a new catch-phrase. I’m working on it.)

  LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION!

  After lights-out that night, we all got in our sleeping bags with our clothes on. Smurf and I were the only ones who were actually going anywhere, but the other guys wanted to be ready for anything.

  It was easier sneaking out this time, with just two of us. But we ran it the same way.

  First, we waited for Rusty’s eleven-thirty bunk check. Then I counted to fifty—twice—to make sure he was good and gone.

  After that, we got out of there as fast as a couple of campers who had just seen a rattlesnake. I even had my stupid lost-and-found sneakers on when I got up, so we could leave right away.

  Dweebs let us take his camera, which was nice of him, since there was a chance it wouldn’t be coming back in one piece. We also brought flashlights, just in case, but we weren’t planning on using them. And I’d borrowed one of Katie’s lifeguard whistles from the waterfront.

  It wasn’t exactly perfect, but it would have to do.

  As soon as Smurf and I were outside, we cut straight through the woods and down into the lower part of the main field. Then we stayed low and watched Bobcat Alley for any signs of life, all just like the last time.

  It didn’t take long. Pr
etty soon, the door squeaked open and a bunch of them came outside. One guy stayed behind on the porch as a lookout while the rest of them headed off into the woods. Doolin was too smart to leave the cabin totally unguarded.

  But he wasn’t smart enough to know he was being followed.

  Smurf and I kept our distance. We cut around the edge of the field and then tailed the Bobcats down the trail toward the waterfront. About halfway there, they got off the path and headed back into the woods, going for their usual smoking spot.

  I could hear them crunching over the leaves and stuff, and I knew from experience that it was too risky to follow them any farther.

  But that’s what the zoom on Dweebs’s camera was for.

  Pretty soon, Doolin and the other guys were lighting up and puffing away like the bunch of moronic losers that they were. I didn’t see any reason to wait. I looked over at Smurf. He flashed me a thumbs-up. “Dead meat. You and me, Rafe. Let’s go for it!”

  Then I stuck that whistle in my mouth, pointed the camera in the Bobcats’ direction, and started snapping away like I was with the paparazzi.

  “Hey!” one of the Bobcats yelled. “Who’s out there?”

  “What the—?” another said. I think it was Doolin, but I wasn’t really listening. I’d already handed the camera to Smurf, and the two of us took off in opposite directions while I started blowing that whistle for everything it was worth.

  Now I just had to get out of this alive.

  CATCH AND RELEASE

  I guess you could say I was the bait.

  Right then, it was more important for that camera to make it out of the woods than it was for me. That’s why I headed to the waterfront, making as much noise as I could—while Smurf hightailed it back toward the cabins.

  And I guess it was working. I could hear the Bobcats crashing around in the woods, running down the trail behind me. Hopefully that meant Smurf was in the clear.