“Checking supplies? Excellent,” Jim said, when the introductions were over. He brushed past Zack to get closer to the snack pile. “Got anything good?”
“Yeah, a really good haul this year,” said Nate.
“I’ve got Critter Crunch,” Zack spoke up. He’d never met anybody who didn’t love Critter Crunch.
“Regular or peanut?” Nate asked. Fast, like it was a quiz or something.
“Both. Two bags of each,” Zack said.
Nate smiled and nodded slowly. “Niiiiice.”
“Also, my stepdad’s chocolate chip cookies,” Zack said. “Best in the universe.”
“No way,” Kareem, one of the new guys, piped up. “They cannot possibly be as good as the ones I brought. They’re my grandma’s secret recipe.”
“Only one way to settle it,” said Zee. “Get over here, Zack. I hereby declare the first ever Camp Wolf Trail cookie throw-down.”
“Okay!” cheered all the guys.
Almost before Zack realized what had happened, he was sitting on the floor and everyone was eating chocolate chip cookies and voting for their favorite.
When the votes were counted, it was an even split: Half of Birch Cabin voted for Kareem’s cookies. The other half voted for Zack’s.
“We need a tie-breaker,” Jim declared.
At exactly that minute, the door to Birch Cabin opened.
“Erik!” all the old campers yelled.
“Hey,” the newcomer said. He walked into the cabin and tossed his pack onto a bunk. It bounced once, then stayed put, right in the middle.
Nice work, Zack thought. Erik was definitely somebody who knew the ropes.
“So, what’s going on?” Erik asked.
“Cookie throw-down,” Yasu explained. “First ever. Between Kareem’s chocolate chip cookies and Zack’s.” He pointed first to Kareem and then Zack. “They’re new this year, and so are Sean and Vik over there.”
“Hi,” Erik said. “So, whose idea was the throw-down? I’ll bet it was yours, Zee.”
“Yeah,” Zee said.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” Erik said to Zack. “Watch out for Zee. He’s always cooking up crazy ideas.”
“Put a sock in it,” Zee said. “You’re spoiling all the fun. Now I can’t play any practical jokes on the new guys.”
But Zack could see that Zee was smiling.
“So, which cookie is which?” Erik asked. He picked up one of each and held them up, sort of like he was getting ready to conduct a science experiment. “Wait a minute. Don’t tell me.”
“Right,” Kareem nodded. “That way, it’s fairer. We need you to break the tie.”
Erik closed his eyes. Then, very slowly, he took a bite of the cookie in his left hand. He chewed the bite, then swallowed. Then he did the exact same thing with the cookie in his right hand. He repeated the steps until only one bite of each cookie was left.
Zack sneaked a sideways glance at Kareem. He didn’t look like the kind of kid who’d get bent out of shape for losing a cookie throw-down, but then, who knew? Some kids at school got mad about any loss; Zack could only hope kids at camp were different.
Erik opened his eyes, and everyone leaned closer, waiting.
“The winner is . . .” Erik said and then he shrugged. “Both kinds. They’re both so good, I can’t decide. I hereby officially declare them both to be the champions of the first ever Camp Wolf Trail cookie throw-down.”
“That’s so cool!” Jim laughed. “No one wins, no one loses. That makes Kareem and Zack sort of like snack co-captains, or something.”
“Way to go, Kareem,” Zack said. He stood and held his hand up to Kareem for a high five. “I gotta admit, I liked your grandma’s cookies.”
“I liked your stepdad’s too,” Kareem said as he high-fived Zack. He went on proudly, “And by the way, my grandma invented the recipe. I made the cookies.”
“There is one problem,” piped up Sean, one of the new kids. “The cookies are almost gone.”
“Don’t worry,” Zack said. “I’ll write to my stepdad and ask him to send some more.”
“You do that,” Zee said with a smile. “Tell him to address the package to me.”
“Sure,” laughed Zack.
“Go jump in a lake, Zee,” joked Nate.
“Hey, good idea,” said Erik. “About jumping in the lake, I mean. Let’s go get our swim tests over with. Then we can do splash fights at O’Mannitt’s Cove. Whaddayuh say?”
“I say, last one in is a rotten egg!” hollered Yasu. He leapt up and, without even bothering to change into their swim trunks, all the Birch Cabiners followed him, stampeding to the lake, shouting and howling like wolves.
AAAAhhh-ROOO!
Zack howled loudest of all.
Late that night, Zack snuggled into his bunk. It was the upper bunk, above Jim’s. Zack could hear the cabin counselor, Carlos, snoring a little, and the other guys breathing all around him. Now that he was in bed, Zack was discovering one of the best things about Birch Cabin: It was almost like being outside. You could look out the screen windows from every single bed. Zack had a perfect view of the stars. There were more stars than he ever saw at home in the city at night—so many he knew he could never count them all.
It did feel a little weird not to be sleeping in his very own bed. But Zack had his copy of The Outdoor Adventure Guide underneath his pillow, safe and sound, just as he always did at home.
All in all, Zack thought this might have been one of the very best days of his whole life. He knew that for the rest of his life, he’d never forget his first plunge into Evergreen Lake. Down, down he’d slid into the silky water, feeling slippery as a fish, and then he’d burst back up into the sunshine that was blindingly bright and hot.
He’d also never forget his first splash fights at O’Mannitt’s Cove, a little inlet near the dock, where the water was so cold it took his breath away. He’d always remember his first camp dinner, too, which had been a cookout down by the lake where the campers roasted hot dogs over the fire.
Slowly, Zack closed his eyes.
“Hey,” the new kid named Vik said out loud to whomever else was awake. “I just figured out why it’s called O’Mannitt’s Cove.”
“Why?” asked someone, sounding half asleep. “This better be good.”
“Because,” said Vik, “when you jump in O’Mannitt’s Cove, all you can say is, “Oh, man! It’s COLD!”
“Argh,” everyone groaned, and Zee heaved his pillow at Vik.
Zack grinned. Yeah, no question. This was the very best day of his whole life—so far.
Chapter Three
The next morning, Zack woke up so excited and sat up so fast that . . .
Clunk!
The Outdoor Adventure Guide slid out from under his pillow and tumbled onto the floor next to Jim’s bunk.
“Who? What? Where?” Jim said, as he bolted upright. He stared around, wildly. His hair stuck out all to one side, as if he’d slept in a stiff breeze. His eyes were open. But Zack was pretty sure his new friend wasn’t really awake yet.
“It’s nothing,” Zack said. He slid out of his top bunk to pick up the book. “Sorry.”
Jim blinked, then rubbed his eyes. He looked more awake now. “Oh, wow,” Jim exclaimed. “Is that what I think it is? The Outdoor Adventure Guide? That is the best book ever. I put it on my birthday list this year. I really hope I get one.”
“Shh! Keep it down, you guys,” a pillow-muffled voice said. “I’m asleep, for Pete’s sakes.”
Another voice said, “What’s going on?” Zack looked up to see Erik standing behind him. Erik was yawning, but his eyes were bright. He nodded at the book. “What’s that?”
“Only the coolest book in the entire universe,” Jim answered before Zack could. “Zack brought it. It’s The Outdoor Adventure Guide.”
Erik hunkered down beside the bunk. “What are we, in school? I come to camp to get away from books,” he said. “What’s so cool about this one?”
“It shows you how to do pretty much everything,” Zack explained. “Like, see, right here . . .” Zack opened the book. He turned the pages quickly. “It shows how you can make a shelter if you don’t have a tent.”
Erik scratched his left ear. “I already know how to do that,” he said. “Everybody around here does. We never use tents for any of the wilderness treks.”
“Well, then, how about this page? Check this out,” Jim cut in. He reached around Zack to turn the pages himself. “This shows you how to build a fire without any matches.”
Erik scratched his right ear. “We all know how to do that too,” he said finally. “So far, all the stuff in that book sounds just like what we do at camp. Why would you want to read about stuff you can actually do?”
Zack opened his mouth. Then he closed it again. How could he make Erik understand that because he’d always lived in a city, reading The Outdoor Adventure Guide was the closest Zack thought he’d ever get to camp? I can’t, he realized. Somehow, he would have to find a way to show Erik that The Outdoor Adventure Guide was great, even if you’d been going to camp your whole life.
“Rise and shine, Birch Cabin,” Carlos called from outside the door. Zack could hear the clanging of the famous Camp Wolf Trail bell echoing through the woods. Carlos went on, “I can smell the bacon cooking already, and you know what that means!”
“BREAKFASSST!” Erik cheered. He raised both fists in the air and seemed to forget all about Zack’s book.
Quickly, Zack stuffed The Outdoor Adventure Guide back underneath his pillow and rushed to get dressed. Half the guys had slept in their clothes and were already careening out the door.
“Get a move on, Zack!” hollered Yasu, taking the steps in one leap. “Follow me to the dining hall.”
Great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts . . .
Zack grinned and sang along with the rest of the crowd. The dining hall was the wildest, loudest, and most fun place he’d ever eaten in. Sixty hungry campers squeezed onto long benches along the tables, shouting to friends, pounding rhythms on the shaky tabletops, wolfing down fruit and pancakes, and singing songs at the top of their voices.
“YO,YO,YO, CAMP!” thundered P. L., the camp director, who was tall and skinny with close-cropped white hair. He had to thunder to make himself heard over the ruckus.
Immediately, everyone stopped talking, and shouted back together, “YO, YO, YO, P. L.!”
Drop-dead silence followed, and P. L. smiled. “WELLLLLLLCOME TO CAMP, MY FRIENDS!”
“YAHOOO!” the campers answered. Zack thought the whoops and shouts and clapping would blow the roof off the dining hall.
While they ate breakfast, counselors made announcements. Some were silly and funny, like the counselor who spoke pig latin, and said, “Ix-nay on aziness-lay.” Other announcements were about the schedule for the day and the jobs for each cluster.
“What’s a cluster?” Zack asked Zee.
“It’s the group you do your camp jobs with and hike with, and it’s also your group on theme days,” said Zee. “It’s made up of kids of different ages.”
“This year, every cluster is going to be named after a knock-knock joke,” said Jim. “Like, ‘Dwayne the Bathtub, I’m Dwowning.’ I saw the list posted, and you, Erik, Kareem, Sean, and I are in a cluster called ‘Orange You Glad I Didn’t Say Banana?’ Vik, Nate, Zee, and Yasu are in ‘Isabel Necessary On A Bike?’”
“Every cluster makes up a chant,” added Yasu, “and a signature move.” He rubbed his stomach and patted his head at the same time.
“Nice,” said Sean.
Breakfast was fast. It was nearly over when another voice boomed, “Good morning, Camp Wolf Trail.”
“Morning, Skeeter!” the campers boomed back.
Zack looked up from the plate of pancakes and bacon he was powering down to see Skeeter Malone, the cook, standing at the entrance to the dining hall.
To Zack’s way of thinking, Skeeter looked just like a cook at camp was supposed to look. He was solid. Not fat, just sturdy. His cheeks were shiny as red apples. There was very definitely a twinkle in his sharp brown eyes. He was wearing a denim chef’s coat, black-and-white checked chef’s pants, and a red bandanna tied around his head. On his feet, Skeeter sported a pair of yellow plastic clogs. At his side was a droopy-eared hound, who wagged his whole body, not just his tail, in happy excitement, and smiled a wide, doggy smile.
“Camp dog Cookie here and I let you cook your own dinners at the cookout last night, but this morning, we want to introduce ourselves to you new campers and to say, ‘welcome back’ to all of you who’ve been here before,” Skeeter went on. He reached down and gave the dog a pat on the head. “Don’t we, boy?”
“Woof!” Cookie said. Then he threw his head back and howled. “ARROOOO!” Everybody in the cafeteria laughed and howled back.
“By the way, new guys,” Skeeter continued, “don’t believe everything the old campers tell you. They were new guys themselves, not so very long ago.
“But now for the two most important things of all: Don’t feed Cookie, no matter how hard he begs. And never forget the number one rule of eating pancakes.”
Zack froze. His mouth was full of pancakes and his fork hung in midair, halfway to his mouth, piled high with another mouthful of the best pancakes he’d ever tasted.
“NO PUDDLING!”
Zack set his fork down with a splunch. No puddling? What on earth was that supposed to mean?
“It means,” Skeeter went on, just as if he’d read Zack’s mind, “pour on all the maple syrup you like, but make sure you eat it all. I don’t want to spot leftover syrup on anybody’s plate, lying there in . . .”
“Oh, in a PUDDLE!” Zack exclaimed, louder than he meant to. “No puddling! I get it!”
A couple of guys Zack didn’t know laughed and cheered for him.
Skeeter beamed, and Cookie took off loping toward Zack as fast as his legs could move, darting between campers’ feet until he reached Zack. Zack petted him and scratched him behind his ears. Cookie looked up at him lovingly. Zack wasn’t surprised; dogs always loved him.
“Hey, new kid! Welcome,” said Skeeter. “What cluster are you in, son?”
“Orange You Glad I Didn’t Say Banana?” Zack said.
Skeeter put his hands on his hips. He looked Zack up and down. “Okay, Mr. Orange-You-Glad, listen up,” the cook said. “I’m going to offer you the deal of a lifetime. You can choose whether your cluster has its turn at breakfast clean-up duty first or last. What do you say?”
“Uh, we . . .” Zack didn’t know what to choose.
Erik took charge. “Huddle up, everybody,” he said. He gestured for all the Orange-You-Glads in Birch to gather and put their heads together.
“I say . . .” Erik began.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Sean interrupted. “Zack got us this break. He should go first.”
There was a tense silence that lasted one heartbeat. Zack could tell that Erik was used to speaking out, and all the other guys expected him to as well.
But Erik said, “Sean’s right. Zack should go first. Sorry.”
“So, Zack,” Jim said. “What do you think?”
“I think, let’s do clean-up duty right away,” Zack said. “Get it over with. That way, we’ll be done. Plus, with the no puddling rule, the dishes won’t be too gross.”
“Good point,” Kareem said with a laugh. “I second Zack’s vote.”
“Me too,” Jim agreed.
“Anybody not want to go right away, raise your hand,” Erik commanded.
Nobody moved a muscle.
“Okay,” Erik said. “We have a plan.” He leaned back and clapped his hands, just like a quarterback. “Break!”
“So, what’ll it be?” Skeeter asked.
Erik opened his mouth. Then he shut it and looked across the table at Zack.
“We’ll take first duty,” Zack answered.
“Excellent.” Skeeter grinned. “C’mon, Cookie. Let’s
go rustle up some aprons for our new best friends, the Orange-You-Glads.”
“Woof,” Cookie barked agreeably, and after a quick look back at Zack, he followed Skeeter to the kitchen.
Never in a million years would Zack have guessed that washing an Everest-high mountain of sticky dishes could be so much fun.
“Where the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s Camp Wolf Trap,” sang Kareem, and pretty soon everyone joined in, yodeling and hooting and singing the crazy lyrics in fake opera voices. Zack soon saw that Kareem knew all the words to every camp song, having learned them from his dad and his older brother because both of them used to come to camp. And Jim was a whiz at making up new, funny lyrics to the old tunes.
The Birch Cabiners had met up at the giant metal sinks with the older campers from Spruce Cabin who were also Orange-You-Glads. At first, Zack felt a little self-conscious around the older campers, who seemed so grown-up and confident. But cool as the older guys seemed, they still took time to welcome the newbies to camp and give them tips and advice.
“Newbies!” an older camper named Ibrahima yelled. “All eyes on me. Sponge Clinic.” Ibrahima held up four sponges. “No corners cut off means it’s a sponge to use on dishes and cups. One corner cut off means use it to wipe off tables and counters. Two corners cut off means use it to scrub greasy, sticky pots and pans. Three corners cut off means it’s totally gross. Throw it away fast. Got it?”
Another camper from Spruce Cabin, named Foley, showed the newbies how plastic cups were stacked in a teetery pyramid to dry and dishes were lined up in drying racks.
But in between—and even during—dishwashing lessons, kids laughed and blew suds off their soapy arms at each other and drummed out wild rhythms by beating spoons on the bottoms of pots. The Orange-You-Glads also decided that their signature move would be a smooth moonwalk, and their chant would go to the tune of “La Cucaracha”:
Boys Camp Page 2
