Oh, buddy, Arennn-tcha?
Oh, buddy, Arennn-tcha?
Glad I didn’t say bah-nahn-uh!
When the dishes were done, the Birch Cabin Orange-You-Glads moonwalked their way back through the woods, singing their chant over and over again.
Chapter Four
“I can’t find a footprint!” Zee wailed. “I can’t even find a toe print, for cryin’ out loud, and we’ve been out here for hours. What is this, the forest of the flying monkeys?”
It was some time later, after lunch, and all the Birch Cabiners and their counselor, Carlos, were on a tracking expedition, looking for animal tracks in the woods.
Searching for animal tracks was something Zack had always wanted to try. The chapter on tracking in The Outdoor Adventure Guide was one of his favorites. He’d tried tracking in the park near his house, but all he ever found were dog tracks. Here he was at last, looking for real wild animal tracks.
“You have to look closely,” Zack said.
And you have to be patient, he thought. But even Zack had to admit he was starting to get a little discouraged as the afternoon wore on. He hadn’t found any tracks either. Nobody had. And Zee was right. It did feel like they’d been out in the woods for hours, going around in circles, finding nothing.
So, try harder, Zack said to himself. He hunkered down, trying to get as close to the ground as possible.
“I’ve been looking closely,” Erik grumbled. He squatted down beside Zack. “If I look any closer, I’ll do a face-plant in the dirt!”
Zack straightened up so quickly that Erik toppled over backward onto the seat of his pants in surprise.
“That’s it!” Zack said. “Erik, you’re brilliant!”
“Well, duh.” Erik grinned as Zack held out a hand and pulled him to his feet. “Everybody knows that. So, um, what did I do that was so smart this time?”
“You said the magic word: dirt,” Zack said.
“I can use the word dirt in a sentence too,” Nate spoke up. “’Erik has dirt all over his rear.’”
Everyone, including Erik, laughed as he dusted himself off.
“What’s so great about dirt?” Sean asked.
“Dirt is why we haven’t been able to find any tracks,” Zack explained. “Dirt’s too hard. What we want is some nice, soft mud. And I bet I know right where we can find some.”
“Me too!” shouted Jim, Zee, and Yasu in unison. And they all took off running.
“Down by the lake, right?” said Nate.
“Right! I saw some great mud in O’Mannitt’s Cove,” said Zack.
“Follow me,” hollered Yasu, who liked to be first.
Like a herd of wild horses, the boys charged through the woods and ran down toward the shore of O’Mannitt’s Cove.
“O-kaaay,” Zack said, surveying the cool, wet mud on the banks that led to the water. “This is more like it.”
“Remember not to go into the water, guys,” Carlos called out.
“We don’t even have to go all the way to the water,” Zack called back. “The mud is perfect right here.”
Now, all I have to do is find something, he thought.
He crouched down. Any lower, and he’d be crawling on his hands and knees.
“Remind me what we’re looking for again?” asked Kareem.
“Anything, really,” Zack replied. “Anything that looks like a footprint, I mean.”
“But not one of ours,” Erik put in.
Zack looked over at Erik. “Duh,” he said, just like Erik had earlier. The two guys grinned at each other.
Zack continued his search. He bent low, his eyes fixed on the ground. Then he zigzagged back and forth. Slowly but surely, Zack got closer and closer to a big clump of bushes near the water’s edge. Zack was on his fifth “zig” when something caught his eye. Tracks! Fine, clear animal tracks that looked like fossils in the mud and led down to the water.
“Hey, you guys!” Zack yelled. “Over here!”
Zack dropped to his hands and knees in the mud as the rest of the guys sprinted over. They peered over Zack’s shoulder.
Jim gave a low whistle. “Wow!” he said. “There are so many prints.”
“It has to be a whole family of something, right, Zack?” asked Nate.
Zack studied what he’d found. There was one big set of prints and seven little ones.
“You know,” he said. “I think so.”
“Cool,” Vik said. “But a family of what?”
“Hey, wait a minute,” Zee suddenly spoke up. “Isn’t this where that kid from Pine Cabin saw skunks last year?”
“Very funny, Zee,” said Yasu. “Is that one of your jokes?”
“Yeah, but skunks?” bleated Kareem.
“Take it easy,” said Zack. “These can’t be skunk tracks.”
“How can you be so sure?” Erik asked.
“Skunks have five toes,” Zack said. “These tracks only have four toes, so whatever these guys are, they’re definitely not skunks.”
“How do you know that?” Erik asked. “Wait a minute. Don’t tell me. It’s in that book of yours, right?”
“Right,” Zack said. “In the chapter about tracking.”
“You and that book,” laughed Erik.
“Um, guys?” Carlos said. His voice sounded funny. Like Zack’s mom’s voice did whenever she was worried about something but trying hard not to show it. Carlos pointed. “Look.”
Everybody turned and looked. Standing between the boys and the lake was the first official wild animal Zack had ever seen. It had a pointed snout and a bushy tail. It was black all over, except for the thin, white stripe running down between its bright, black eyes and a tuft of white at the top of its head, like a furry white hat. Down its back ran two white stripes.
“Hey, that’s a skunk!” Zack cried. In his surprise, his voice came out loud. Very loud.
The skunk made a funny hissing sound. It turned around, lifted its tail, and . . .
“Everybody run!” Carlos shouted.
The boys took off, stumbling into one another, tripping over their own feet, yelling, “SKUNNNNKKK!” and running away from the skunk and away from the lake as fast as their legs could carry them. They hadn’t run more than a few yards before the worst smell—rank, reeking, and pungent—swallowed them up. The air was so thick with the horrible odor that Zack thought he could almost see the smell weighing down the breeze from the lake, surrounding the boys in a great cloud of stink, so strong it was suffocating.
“Oh, man, this is gross!” Erik choked.
“No talking,” Carlos gasped out. “Get away from the lake. Run to the flagpole. Go, go, go!”
Zack’s eyes watered. Branches whacked against his legs and arms no matter what path he took. He could hear the other guys panting as they ran hard. That’s when Zack realized he was panting, too, sucking huge gulps of air in and out of his mouth. Anything to avoid using his nose, which was runny. Anything to avoid having to smell the smell, which clung on, no matter how far or fast he ran.
Zack threw himself onto the ground near the rest of the boys, and they gathered around the flagpole. His chest heaved up and down. Some of the boys stayed standing, bent over, sucking in air, coughing, spitting, their hands braced on their knees.
“Nice—work—genius,” Erik choked out, glaring at Zack, making it clear he meant the exact opposite of what he’d said. But he did mean it when he said, “This stinking mess is your fault. You and your book.”
Zack swallowed and tried to speak, but before he could, Yasu spoke up.
“Back off, Erik,” said Yasu.
“Yeah, take it easy,” said Jim. “I kind of think the skunk-scapade’s funny. Shoot, I’ve smelled worse than this all on my own.”
Just then, Skeeter and Cookie appeared. “What in the world?” Skeeter exclaimed.
“Aaaoooooeee,” Cookie gave an agonized howl.
“Whew! You said it, boy,” Skeeter agreed. “I guess I don’t need to ask what happened to you guys
.”
“Can you help?” asked Carlos.
“I can,” said Skeeter. “Though you might not like the solution any more than you like the problem.”
“Nothing could be worse than this,” said Zee.
“Okay, then,” said Skeeter. “Everybody follow me.”
Zack lagged way behind as Skeeter led the smelly pack of boys, still coughing and rubbing their eyes, behind the dining hall, where there was an old metal washtub that looked like a horse’s water trough. Right next to it, balanced on two sawhorses, was a wooden door that Skeeter used as an outdoor table for chopping vegetables and husking corn.
By the time Zack joined the others, Skeeter had lined up a row of giant cans of tomato juice on the door.
“Okay, everybody,” Skeeter said. “In the washtub, one at a time, clothes and all. You’re going to have the pleasure of a tomato juice bath.”
“Aw, man,” griped Nate.
Kareem shook his head sadly as he looked down at his shirt. “My dad wore this shirt when he was a camper here, and my brother did, too,” he said. “And now it’ll probably be wrecked. For good.”
“I’m sorry,” Zack said. “Really, everybody, I’m sorry.”
But no one acknowledged his apology.
“I don’t even drink tomato juice,” Zee was complaining. “Now I’m going be drowned in it.”
“I need a volunteer to open these cans,” said Skeeter, ignoring all the whining.
“Zack volunteers,” Erik said sharply. He didn’t look at Zack. But that didn’t matter: Zack wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eye anyway. “Zack’s the one who found the skunk.”
“Okay, Zack,” said Skeeter. “Grab the can opener and start cranking.” Then Skeeter ordered, “First guy into the tub!”
“I’ll go!” said Jim.
Zack gritted his teeth. He set the can opener against the rim of the tomato juice can and cranked with all his might. When the cap was open, Skeeter poured the juice over Jim’s head. Glug, glug, glug. Red, goopy juice ran down Jim’s face, over and under his T-shirt, and down his arms.
“Yeee-owww! That’s cold,” said Jim. He rubbed the tomato juice all over him, scrubbing his armpits as if he were taking a shower in soapy water, and energetically shampooing his hair.
Some of the boys laughed at Jim’s goofy showering. Then, grudgingly, one by one the Birch Cabiners stepped into the tub and scrubbed the skunk smell off and the tomato juice smell on.
As they did, Skeeter glanced over at Zack and grinned. “You’ve had quite an afternoon, haven’t you, son?” he said kindly. “And this is only your first full day at camp. Looks like you’re going to have a wild summer.”
Zack grinned back, but his grin was weak and watery. He couldn’t forget what Erik had said. The skunk catastrophe was Zack’s fault. The Outdoor Adventure Guide had let him down, and then he had let his buddies down. Talk about a stinking mess!
Zack stayed at Skeeter’s side, opening every last can of tomato juice in the Camp Wolf Trail kitchen. Then, finally, after everybody else was through and Skeeter had left to get dinner ready, Zack took his turn. He scrubbed off the skunk smell, but even after his tomato juice bath, Zack still felt as low-down as a skunk.
Chapter Five
Zack trudged back to Birch Cabin, trying his best to ignore all the sounds of the bustling camp around him. If he didn’t look at anything or anybody, maybe nobody would look at him. Right at that moment, what Zack wanted more than anything in the world was to be The Invisible Man. Instead, he knew he was the sunburn-pinkish, tomato-scented-with-smelly-undertones-of-skunk boy.
Zack’s feet felt like lead as he climbed the steps to Birch Cabin and pulled open the screen door. Every single one of his cabin mates was inside Birch Cabin and every single one stared at Zack. They were peeling off their ruined clothes and piling them in a damp heap in one corner. All except Kareem, that is. He hung his T-shirt out the window. The cabin was suspiciously quiet, as if a conversation had stopped midsentence the minute Zack had appeared.
Wham! Zack let the screen door slam shut behind him. Now, Zack’s legs felt like they were made of lead. The trip from the door to his bunk seemed to take forever. Zack swung himself up onto his bunk. And that’s when it happened. For the second time that day, Zack’s copy of The Outdoor Adventure Guide slid out from underneath his pillow and fell with a thunk to the floor.
Zack stared down at the book. It had been his most valuable possession until about an hour ago. Now, he didn’t even want to touch it.
How had it happened? How had the Guide let him down?
Slowly, Zack climbed down from his bunk to pick up the book.
“I’d put that thing away and never look at it again if I were you,” Erik said. “Reading it is just a waste of time. I think we all proved that.”
“You can say that again,” muttered Kareem.
Erik stood up. “C’mon you guys,” he said to everyone but Zack. “Time for dinner. In fact, thanks to our tomato baths, we’re almost late. We don’t even have time for a real shower or even a quick dunk in the lake to try to get rid of the spaghetti sauce smell.”
One by one, Zack’s cabin mates followed Erik as he stomped out the door. Zack didn’t know whether they all looked mad or not. He was too busy staring at the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to look at anyone.
Then he heard Jim say, “Listen, Zack, don’t pay any attention to Erik. He’ll cool down. And Kareem’ll figure out how to rescue his shirt. The rest of the guys are just afraid of being laughed at.”
Zack looked up quickly. “And you’re not?”
Jim gave an odd little snort. “I’m used to it,” he said. “Happens to me all the time. Besides, as I said before, I thought the skunk thing was kind of funny, not tragic.”
“Look, Jim, thanks for talking to me when nobody else would,” Zack said. “But you and I both know that I screwed up. It’s probably better if you don’t hang out with me. You should go to dinner with the rest of the guys.”
“But . . .” Jim began.
“Jim,” Zack said quietly. “Just go.”
Jim hesitated for a moment. Then, without another word, he left the cabin. He closed the screen door quietly behind him.
Zack sat perfectly still. He stared down at The Outdoor Adventure Guide. Then, like a hawk swooping down on an unsuspecting mouse, Zack leaned down and snatched up the Guide. Feverishly, he leafed through the pages until he found the section about animal tracks.
Zack knew there was an example of a skunk print in the book. He knew it. He’d read the chapter on tracking more than once. So, why hadn’t he known the print he found in the woods belonged to a skunk?
How had everything gone so terribly wrong?
There! There was the skunk print. Zack leaned over the book until his nose practically bumped the page. Silently, he counted off the number of toes: One, two, three, four, five!
Five toes! He hadn’t gotten it wrong after all! So why . . .
All of a sudden, Zack made a strangled sound. He noticed something he never had before. Near the picture of the skunk footprint was a little icon of a magnifying glass. It meant that there was more to see. Turn to the appendix to find out more, it read beside the icon.
Slowly, Zack turned the pages. There it was, way back in the appendix, a second skunk footprint. This one had four toes.
Some tracks, like this skunk footprint, can fool you, Zack read. Skunks really do have five toes. But the fifth toe almost never leaves a mark. So, you’re more likely to spot a print that looks like this one.
With a wham, Zack closed the book. Then he knelt down and yanked his trunk out from underneath the lower bunk. He opened the lid, tossed the book inside, slammed the lid shut, and shoved the trunk back under the bed—hard.
Zack slumped on the floor. He stared straight out into space. Skunk footprints, some with four toes, some with five, danced before his eyes.
He had screwed up. He had. Not The Outdoor Adventure Guide. The
information that could have kept Zack and the rest of Birch Cabin skunk-free was right there inside the book. But Zack had carelessly missed it somehow. And now he and everybody else in Birch Cabin were paying for his carelessness.
Everybody has a perfect right to be mad at me, Zack thought. Word of what had happened would be all over camp by now. Everyone in Birch Cabin was sure to get laughed at. And it was all Zack’s fault.
I want to go home, Zack thought. Back to the city where things are familiar. Zack didn’t want any more adventures. Not if they were going to turn out like this one.
He heard a squeak as the screen door of Birch Cabin opened.
“Hey, Zack,” said a quiet voice.
“Hey, Carlos,” Zack said.
“Mind if I sit down?”
Zack looked up at his counselor.
“Aren’t you afraid I might contaminate you or something?”
“I think I’ll risk it,” Carlos said. He sat down on a trunk. “So,” Carlos said after a moment, “are you coming to dinner?”
“I don’t know,” Zack answered.
“Honestly?”
Zack stole a look at the counselor. Carlos had gotten skunk-bombed and tomato-bathed right along with the rest of Birch Cabin. He should be mad at Zack, just like everybody else was. But he didn’t look mad, Zack thought. Carlos looked . . . just like he always did. Like he was somebody you could like and trust. Someone you wouldn’t want to lie to.
Zack sighed and said again, “I don’t know.”
Carlos smiled. “Look, Zack,” he said. “I know that some things here at camp haven’t gone the way you hoped. But other things have been totally awesome! Jim told me about how you hit the map challenge out of the park. And today, you figured out why we weren’t finding any tracks and where to go to look for them.”
“Yeah,” Zack agreed. “And look how well that turned out.”
“You know what the very best thing about being a counselor at Camp Wolf Trail is?” Carlos asked suddenly.
“No. What?” Zack asked, surprised.
Boys Camp Page 3
