Mom was pretty surprised when I asked her to get me that Lord of the Rings thing from the library—the one that Norman was so into. It’s more than a thousand pages (!!!), but I’m giving it a shot. It’s got elves and wizards and warriors from different places. It’s basically good and evil duking it out with swords. Sort of like the different cabins at Camp Wannamorra. In fact, I like thinking about everyone I met this summer while I’m reading that story. And I probably wouldn’t have even remembered the book, except for the letter I got from Norman about a week after I came home.
So that’s pretty much it. Once I get out of this maximum-security bedroom of mine, I’ve got a few plans for the rest of the summer. Like, for instance, talking to Jeanne Galletta. I’m not going to tell her all that stuff I wrote in those letters. (Like I’ve said before—I’m crazy, not stupid.) But who knows? I just might get up enough nerve to ask if she’ll go to a movie with me or something. Jeanne is cuckoo for those Hunger Games books, and there are some more of those movies coming out, I think. In fact… hmmm… maybe I should think about reading them. It might give us something to talk about.
But first, I’m going to finish the one I started. It’s a pretty great read.
And, just like with my own story, I really want to know what’s going to happen next.
P.S. MIDDLE SCHOOL IS ABOUT TO START AGAIN
So whether this was the best, worst, or in-between-est summer of my life, it has to end sometime. And you know what that means.
School is coming up again. (Boooo!) And my life isn’t going to get any less complicated, that’s for sure. I hear there’s a new teacher at Airbrook Arts. Her name is Mrs. Stonecase, and supposedly she’s the toughest nut ever. This lady won’t crack, no matter what. They say she does the cracking, and I’m talking about skulls.
But then again, she hasn’t met me yet, has she? So we’ll just see about that.
P.P.S.
One more thing:
Have you ever seen those shows where the narrator’s like: “The names have been changed to protect the innocent”?
Same deal here. Except I’m also protecting the guilty.
Just so you know, Norman’s name isn’t really Norman. And Doolin’s name isn’t really Tommy Worley either. It’s like that No-Hurt Rule of mine. (If you read my other books, you’ll know what I’m talking about.) I don’t think anyone, even Doolin, should have to go through life with a name like Pampers. Or Booger Eater.
At least, not because of me.
I guess the rest is up to them.
Dear Reader,
Bullying with words is more common than physical bullying, and sometimes it’s just as damaging. And a lot more people do it—not just kids who are labeled “bullies.” Even some teachers and parents can be word bullies.
So come on—stop word bullying! Nobody deserves to be called a “Booger Eater.”
—James Patterson
A QUICK NOTE FROM BICK KIDD
Just so you know, I’m the one who’ll be telling you this story, but my twin sister, Beck (who’s wickedly talented and should go to art school or show her stuff in a museum or something), will be doing the drawings.
I’m telling you this up front because, even though we’re twins, Beck and I don’t always see everything exactly the same way. So don’t believe everything you see.
Fine. Beck says I have to tell you not to believe everything I say, either. Whatever. Can we get on with the story? Good.
Hang on tight.
Things are about to get hairy.
And wet. Very, very wet.
1
Let me tell you about the last time I saw my dad.
We were up on deck, rigging our ship to ride out what looked like a perfect storm.
Well, it was perfect if you were the storm. Not so much if you were the people being tossed around the deck like wet gym socks in a washing machine.
We had just finished taking down and tying off the sails so we could run on bare poles.
“Lash off the wheel!” my dad barked to my big brother, Tailspin Tommy. “Steer her leeward and lock it down!”
“On it!”
Tommy yanked the wheel hard and pointed our bow downwind. He looped a bungee cord through the wheel’s wooden spokes to keep us headed in that direction.
“Now get below, boys. Batten down the hatches. Help your sisters man the pumps.”
Tommy grabbed hold of whatever he could to steady himself and made his way down into the deckhouse cabin.
Just then, a monster wave lurched over the starboard side of the ship and swept me off my feet. I slid across the slick deck like a hockey puck on ice. I might’ve gone overboard if my dad hadn’t reached down and grabbed me a half second before I became shark bait.
“Time to head downstairs, Bick!” my dad shouted in the raging storm as rain slashed across his face.
“No!” I shouted back. “I want to stay up here and help you.”
“You can help me more by staying alive and not letting The Lost go under. Now hurry! Get below.”
“B-b-but—”
“Go!”
He gave me a gentle shove to propel me up the tilting deck. When I reached the deckhouse, I grabbed onto a handhold and swung myself around and through the door. Tommy had already headed down to the engine room to help with the bilge pumps.
Suddenly, a giant sledgehammer of salt water slammed into our starboard side and sent the ship tipping wildly to the left. I heard wood creaking. We tilted over so far I fell against the wall while our port side slapped the churning sea.
We were going to capsize. I could tell.
But The Lost righted itself instead, the ship tossing and bucking like a very angry beached whale.
I found the floor and shoved the deckhouse hatch shut. I had to press my body up against it. Waves kept pounding against the door. The water definitely wanted me to let it in.
That wasn’t going to happen. Not on my watch. I cranked the door’s latch to bolt it tight.
I would, of course, reopen the door the instant my dad finished doing whatever else needed to be done up on deck and made his way aft to the cabin. But, for now, I had to stop The Lost from taking on any more water.
If that was even possible.
The sea kept churning. The Lost kept lurching. The storm kept sloshing seawater through every crack and crevice it could find.
Me? I started panicking. Because I had a sinking feeling (as in “We’re gonna sink!”) that this could be the end.
I was about to be drowned at sea.
Is twelve years old too young to die?
Apparently, the Caribbean Sea didn’t think so.
2
I waited and waited, but my dad never made it aft to the deckhouse cabin door.
Through the forward windows, I could see waves crashing across our bobbing bow. I could see the sky growing even darker. I could see a life preserver rip free from its rope and fly off the ship like a doughnut-shaped Frisbee.
But I couldn’t see Dad.
I suddenly realized that my socks were soaked with the seawater that was slopping across the floor. And I was up on the main deck.
“Beck?” I cried out. “Tommy? Storm?”
My sisters and brother were all down in the lower cabins and equipment rooms, where the water was undoubtedly deeper.
They were trapped down there!
I dashed down the four steep steps into the hull quarters as quickly as I could. The water was up to my ankles, then my knees, then my thighs, and, finally, my waist. You ever try to run across the shallow end of a swimming pool? That’s what I was up against. But I had to find my family.
Well, what was left of it.
I trudged from door to door, frantically searching for my siblings.
They weren’t in the engine room, the galley, or my parents’ cabin. I knew they couldn’t be in The Room, because its solid steel door was locked tight and it was totally off-limits to all of us.
I slogged my way forward
as the ship kept rocking and rolling from side to side. Whatever wasn’t nailed down was thumping around inside the cupboards and cabinets. I heard cans of food banging into plastic dishes that were knocking over clinking coffee mugs.
I started pounding on the walls in the narrow corridor with both fists. The water was up to my chest.
“Hey, you guys? Tommy, Beck, Storm! Where are you?”
No answer.
Of course my brother and sisters probably couldn’t hear me, because the tropical storm outside was screaming even louder than I was.
Suddenly, up ahead, a door burst open.
Tommy, who was seventeen and had the kind of bulging muscles you only get from crewing on a sailing ship your whole life, had just put his shoulder to the wood to bash it open.
“Where’s Dad?” he shouted.
“I don’t know!” I shouted back.
That’s when Beck and my big sister, Storm, trudged out of the cabin that was now their water-logged bedroom. A pair of 3-D glasses was floating on the surface of the water. Beck plucked them up and put them on. She’d been wearing them ever since our mom disappeared.
“Was Dad on a safety line?” asked Storm, sounding as scared and worried as I felt.
All I could do was shake my head.
Beck looked at me, and even though her 3-D glasses were shading her eyes, I could tell she was thinking the same thing I was. We’re twins. It happens.
In our hearts, we both knew that Dad was gone.
Because anything up on deck that hadn’t been tied down had been washed overboard by now.
From the sad expressions on their faces, I knew Storm and Tommy had figured it out, too. Maybe they’d been looking out a porthole when that life preserver went flying by.
Shivering slightly, we all moved together to form a close circle and hug each other tight.
The four of us were the only family we had left.
Tommy, who’d been living on boats longer than any of us, started mumbling an old sailor’s prayer:
“Though Death waits off the bow, we’ll not answer to him now.”
I hoped he was right.
But I had a funny feeling that Death might not take no for an answer.
BOOKS BY JAMES PATTERSON
for Readers of All Ages
The Middle School Novels
Middle School, The Worst Years of My Life (with Chris Tebbetts, illustrated by Laura Park)
Middle School: Get Me out of Here! (with Chris Tebbetts, illustrated by Laura Park)
Middle School: My Brother Is a Big, Fat Liar (with Lisa Papademetriou, illustrated by Neil Swaab)
Middle School: How I Survived Bullies, Broccoli, and Snake Hill (with Chris Tebbetts, illustrated by Laura Park)
The Daniel X Novels
The Dangerous Days of Daniel X (with Michael Ledwidge)
Watch the Skies (with Ned Rust)
Demons and Druids (with Adam Sadler)
Game Over (with Ned Rust)
Armageddon (with Chris Grabenstein)
Other Illustrated Novels
I Funny (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Laura Park)
Daniel X: Alien Hunter (graphic novel; with Leopoldo Gout)
Daniel X: The Manga, Vols. 1–3 (with SeungHui Kye)
For previews of upcoming books in these series and other information, visit www.Daniel-X.com, www.MiddleSchoolBooks.com, and www.IFunnyBooks.com.
For more information about the author, visit www.JamesPatterson.com.
For more great reads and free samplers visit
www.LBYRDigitalDeals.com
Contents
Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Chapter 1: A Slam-Bam Ending?!
Chapter 2: Welcome To Camp Wannamorra
Chapter 3: Good-Bye And Good Luck (Because, Rafe, You’re Going To Need It)
Chapter 4: Meet The Booger Eater
Chapter 5: Who’s What’s For Dinner?
Chapter 6: I Don’t Care About Your Stinking Rules!
Chapter 7: Loserville
Chapter 8: Put A Light On The Subject
Chapter 9: Wide Awake!
Chapter 10: One Camp Wannamorra Mystery Solved
Chapter 11: Summertime Blues… Sort Of
Chapter 12: Fishy
Chapter 13: Drop Everything And Read
Chapter 14: Going For Brownie Points
Chapter 15: Pestilence(S)
Chapter 16: There Is A Heaven
Chapter 17: Return To Loserville
Chapter 18: Time-Out
Chapter 19: But…
Chapter 20: Take A Hike!
Chapter 21: Tuna Surprise
Chapter 22: Reconnaissance
Chapter 23: Breaking The “No Snacking” Rule
Chapter 24: The Dictator
Chapter 25: Confined To Quarters
Chapter 26
Chapter 27: Stupid, Impossible, Ridiculous
Chapter 28: Assault With A Deadly Canoe
Chapter 29: Rafe To The Rescue (Kind Of)
Chapter 30
Chapter 31: Time-Out: Scorecard Edition
Chapter 32: Dear Jeanne Galletta
Chapter 33: Camp Dances Suck
Chapter 34: Camp Dances (Still) Suck
Chapter 35: Unforgettable
Chapter 36: Food Poisoning!
Chapter 37: The Dictator’s Inspection
Chapter 38: So Long, Legend
Chapter 39: The Dead Meat Threat
Chapter 40: Charlie Brown May Be A Good Man, But Doolin Sure Isn’t
Chapter 41: The Whole Truth And Nothing But
Chapter 42: Air Leo
Chapter 43: All In
Chapter 44: Lights, Camera, Action!
Chapter 45: Catch And Release
Chapter 46: Back(Fire) At The Muskrat Hut
Chapter 47: Olympians!
Chapter 48: The Foulest Eating Contest In Camp History
Chapter 49: Let The Good Times Roll!
Chapter 50: Rafe’s Prayer
Chapter 51: Going Down
Chapter 52: Missing In Action
Chapter 53: Don’t Do Anything Stupid, Rafe!
Chapter 54: Seriously, What Was I Thinking?
Chapter 55: Not So Alone
Chapter 56: The End Is Near
Chapter 57: Up And At ’Em
Chapter 58: Full Court Press
Chapter 59: The Verdict
Chapter 60: Guilty(Ish)
Chapter 61
Chapter 62: How Many Kinds Of Crazy Do You Think I Am?
Chapter 63: Georgia’s Got A Secret
Chapter 64: Hello, Nice To See You, Please Don’t Kill Me
Chapter 65: Tick-Tick-Tick
Chapter 66: Don’t Get Mad, Get Even
Chapter 67: The Last Word (Starts With A P)
Chapter 68: So Long
Chapter 69: Grounded! Day #1,332 And Counting
Chapter 70: P.S. Middle School Is About To Start Again
Chapter 71: P.P.S.
A Preview of Tresure Hunters
Copyright
Copyright
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2013 by James Patterson
Illustrations by Laura Park
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017
www.lb-kids.com
Firs
t ebook edition: June 2013
Little, Brown and Company is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
ISBN 978-0-316-23179-4
Middle School: How I Survived Bullies, Broccoli, and Snake Hill Page 11
