“Getting to know the guys in my cabin,” Carlos replied. “You learn to spot strengths in people right away, because you don’t have all that much time to get to know them. Do you want to know what I see in you?”
Zack shrugged. “I guess so.”
“I see a problem-solver. That’s a pretty great skill to have. And so I know that you’ll figure out a way to solve the problem you’re having right now.”
“You mean the problem where everybody else in Birch Cabin wishes I was going to camp in a different galaxy?” Zack asked.
“That’s the one,” Carlos nodded.
Zack sat for a moment, letting Carlos’s words sink in.
“Thanks,” Zack said. “Thanks for not telling me I should just get over it.”
“No problem,” Carlos said. ”Truthfully? I don’t think anybody just ‘gets over’ anything. I think you have to do something about the things that bother you.”
“So, what you want to know,” Zack said, “is, what am I going to do about this?”
“Not quite,” Carlos said. “What I want is for you to know what you’re going to do about it.”
“Because you think I’m a good problem-solver?”
“Because I know you’re a good problem solver.” Carlos stood up. “You’ve apologized, but maybe you could stand up and own the mess somehow, if you see what I mean. Anyway, I have to go. I’m starved.”
Zack sat up straight. He did see what Carlos meant, and he knew who could help him too. “Hey, Carlos,” he said, just before the counselor got to the door.
“Yeah?”
“Knock, knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Orange.”
“Orange, who?”
“Orange you glad there was only one skunk at the lake?”
“Oh,” moaned Carlos, holding his forehead as if he were in pain. “That’s terrible.” He grinned. “But, I see what you’re doing. You’ve already figured out that joking is a great way to defuse a bomb and turn a bad situation around. Go for it, buddy. See you at dinner. Good luck!”
Chapter Six
By the time Zack got to the dining hall, the sun was sinking down toward the lake and the rest of camp was already at dinner. P. L. was at one end of the dining hall, talking to a group of counselors. Zack spotted the rest of Birch Cabin sitting together at a table about halfway up the hall.
There was room for him with his cabin mates, but Zack eased into an empty spot near the back of the hall. As he sat down, one of the guys next to him inhaled a deep breath.
“Guess we’re having spaghetti for dinner,” the boy said. He said it really loud, but he grinned to show that he was only teasing.
This was just the opening Zack was waiting for. Even though he felt his face beginning to turn the color of his recent tomato juice bath, Zack climbed up on top of his table. He flung his arms out wide and sang at the top of his voice to the tune of “Great Green Globs”:
Grab a can of
Skeeter’s red tomato juice.
Rip it open,
Pour it loose.
Take your baths in
Vats of cold tomato juice.
Watch out for that skunk!
Go, Birch!
The dining hall erupted in wild cheers.
And Cookie, who for some reason seemed to be under the impression that all the fuss was for him, threw back his head and howled happily.
Arooo!
Then Cookie settled himself at Zack’s feet, looking up at Zack with adoration. At least I’ve got one supporter, Zack thought, even if he is only a dog.
But Zack hadn’t even started to eat before Jim scrambled on top of his table and sang to the tune of “On Top of Old Smokey”:
Us guys in Birch Cabin
Were reeking of skunk
But after our juice baths
We’d taste good for lunch.
Zack shot Jim a grateful grin as all the kids in the dining hall laughed and shouted, “YO, YO, YO, BIRCH!” Carlos was right: Humor had turned it all around so that Birch Cabin was cool because of the skunk-scapade, as Jim had called it.
Good old Jim, thought Zack. I knew he’d be crazy enough to help me. You’ve gotta be crazy to sing in front of everybody on your first full day of camp.
Then Zack was surprised as Kareem climbed up on the table next to Jim and sang to the tune of “When the Moon Hits Your Eye Like a Big Pizza Pie”:
When the smell hits your nose
Like some ripe toe-may-toes
That’s Birch Cabin.
And everyone in the dining hall repeated the last line:
That’s Birch Cabin!
P. L. was laughing as hard as everyone else, but he held up his hands to signal for quiet. “Okay, everybody,” P. L. said. “Let’s keep it down to a dull roar.”
When the campers got a bit quieter, P. L. continued: “So, it’s clear that Birch Cabin’s skunk experience is going to go down in Camp Wolf Trail history as a pretty hilarious goofball mess up. Way to go, Birch Cabiners!”
Zack breathed a sigh of relief when he saw all his fellow cabin mates stand up and cheer and take bows. Yasu raised both fists over his head like a boxing champion, and Zee waved his hands to make everyone cheer longer and louder.
Zack then caught Erik’s eye. Erik shrugged and grinned. Okay, Zack thought. I’m forgiven. But being forgiven is just the first step. It’s not the same as winning back trust or respect. Somehow, I have to convince the guys I’m not a lame-brain loser. That’s not going to be so easy, especially when I don’t trust myself anymore.
“Hey, wait up!”
It was after dinner, and Zack was headed through the softly shadowed woods back to Birch Cabin when Jim called out to him. Zack waited while Jim caught up.
“Nice song, buddy,” said Jim. He pitched his voice high as he repeated the last lines from Zack’s song: Watch out for that skunk! Go Birch!
“Your song wasn’t too shabby either,” said Zack. “Us guys in Birch Cabin, were reeking of skunk . . .” He and Jim laughed. Then Zack said, “Hey, listen, sorry I acted so lousy before.”
“Zack,” Jim said. “We’re friends. Friends don’t stay mad at each other. They get over it.”
No, they don’t, Zack thought suddenly. He remembered his conversation with Carlos. Real friends don’t stay mad because they do something. And what they do is that they decide that being friends is more important than being mad.
“Thanks,” Zack said.
Jim shrugged. “No big deal. I . . .”
But just then, both Zack and Jim heard a strange sound. Rustle. Rustle.
“What was that?” Zack asked. He spun around. He peered through the dusky maze of the tree trunks and the tangle of underbrush, trying to see what was coming. How’d the woods get so dark so fast?
Rustle. Rustle. Crunch.
Zack could hear the sound of bushes being trampled and pushed aside, the sound an animal makes running through the woods to attack.
Rustle. Rustle. Rustle. Crunch. Crunch.
“Zee? Is that you playing a lame joke?” Zack called.
Rustle. Rustle. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
The sound was getting closer. And faster. Coming at a dead run. Zack swore that he could hear breathing, now, and it made his blood run cold. He heard a deep panting, huh, huh, huh, like whatever it was had been running for a long time.
Huh. Huh. Huh. Crunch. Crunch. CRUNCH.
A figure burst from the bushes in a great rush. It was too dark in the moonless woods to see much, but a huge tongue flopped down over the creature’s pointed teeth. Saliva dripped from its mouth.
“Aaaaaoooo!”
The creature threw back its head and gave an unearthly howl. And then it bounded toward the boys, lunging full speed and full force through the air, its glittering eyes fixed on Zack.
Chapter Seven
“It was Cookie,” Zack announced.
The campers around the fire circle laughed.
“He came at me so
fast, out of the pitch dark, he knocked me down.”
“You could have knocked me down with a feather, I was so scared,” added Jim. “I was sure that we were about to find out why this camp is called Wolf Trail.”
Everybody cheered. Then somebody started to clap. Pretty soon everyone around the fire circle was clapping and whistling and stomping their feet.
“Cookie, Cookie, Cookie,” they chanted. Cookie, who was sitting next to Zack just as he always did whenever he had a chance, threw back his head and gave a howl. It didn’t sound quite so scary to Zack now that he was sitting safely around the crackling fire with everyone. But earlier that night . . .
“All right, all right,” P. L. said. He was grinning too as he stood up and motioned for silence. It took a few minutes for everybody to quiet down.
“That is quite a story,” P. L. said when order had been restored. “A really great way to start our very first fire circle. I do have a question, though. Why was Cookie chasing you, Zack?”
Zack shrugged. “Dogs love me,” he said. “Cookie’s crazy about me, and also . . .” Zack stopped. “I didn’t mean to!” he burst out.
“Oh, ho! A mystery,” P. L. exclaimed. “Didn’t mean to what?”
“Feed the dog,” admitted Zack sheepishly.
A sympathetic laugh swept around the fire circle. Firelight lit up all the faces, and sparks flew like fireflies up into the inky night sky. Smoke curled above the fire and made Zack’s eyes water, but he moved in closer for the warmth.
“And just how did that happen?” Skeeter asked. “’Cause I know you know the rule against feeding Cookie.”
“Well, when I was doing dishes this morning,” Zack confessed, “Cookie was next to me, and a piece of leftover bacon fell off one of the plates. I tried to get to it first, but . . .”
“But Cookie was just too fast for him,” Jim said. “I saw it all. Man, oh man. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dog slurp up a piece of anything so fast.”
“That’s my boy,” Skeeter said. He gave Cookie a pat on the head. Cookie thumped his tail proudly.
“Ever since then, all day long,” Zack picked up the story, “I’ve been Cookie’s new best friend. He thinks I slipped him some bacon, so he’ll follow me anywhere. Right, Cookie?”
“Aaaaaoooo!” Cookie howled in complete agreement, and so enthusiastically that everyone had to cheer for him again.
Chapter Eight
“Hey,” Zack said. He pointed to the lake. “Those kayakers are going around in circles.”
From his seat on a nearby fallen log, Kareem laughed. “Why do you think they call it ‘Oddball Championships’?”
It was the next day, and Zack’s cluster, the Orange-You-Glads, were on the first leg of their wilderness trek. Other clusters had stayed back at camp for Oddball Championships or had gone on other trips. The Orange-You-Glads were taking their lunch break. The noontime sun was warm on Zack’s back and his hummus and pita bread sandwich tasted great, the best he’d ever had. In front of him, the water of Evergreen Lake sparkled. And there were the Oddball Champions, paddling in a circle like they were actually going somewhere.
“How will they tell who wins?” asked Sean.
“Everybody wins,” Erik answered, his mouth full of apple. “It’s Crazy Cool Racing Day. You paddle as fast as you can until one of the counselors blows the whistle. The only way to not win is to stop paddling.”
“And nobody ever does that,” Jim said. He was sitting next to Zack. “In the first place, if you did, all the guys behind you would crash into you. And in the second place . . .” He waved his sandwich enthusiastically. “It’s so much fun that once you start, you just can’t stop!”
“Kind of like hiking in the woods,” Carlos’s voice sounded above their heads. “Okay, guys, we head out in five minutes. Time to finish up lunch.”
All the boys finished their sandwiches quickly and even ate their apple cores. The whole time they were on the wilderness trek, not one piece of trash or leftover food would get left behind to litter the forest. Zack lifted his pack and slipped his arms through the straps so that it lay flat against his back. He loved the feeling of carrying only what he’d need to survive in the woods for two nights and three days: water, his share of the group’s collective food and cooking supplies, extra clothes and socks, rain poncho, sleeping bag, and flashlight.
As the boys hiked deeper and deeper into the woods, farther and farther away from camp, Zack’s spirits soared. All his life he’d wanted to hike like this, far away from buildings and cars, wires and sidewalks and people. He was glad his cluster was doing the wilderness hike first, though he looked forward to the other trips (and the Oddball Championships did look like fun). But tonight, he’d chow down on hot dogs cooked over a cookstove, lie out surrounded by stars, and fall asleep listening to owls hooting and the wind rustling the treetops.
Even though the guys in Birch Cabin were the youngest kids in their cluster, they kept up with the older, longer-legged Orange-You-Glads from Spruce Cabin and their counselors just fine. So far, none of the older guys in the cluster had mentioned the skunk incident—not once. Even the spaghetti sauce jokes were starting to taper off. With any luck, Zack hoped, they were over for good.
“Hey, Erik,” Zack suddenly heard Foley say. “What’s your favorite kind of meatball?”
Zack saw Erik’s shoulders tense.
I guess the jokes are not over, Zack thought. I have to do something. Nobody would be teasing Erik if it hadn’t been for Zack. “I know what my favorite kind of meatball is,” Zack spoke up in a loud voice.
“Oh yeah? What kind?” asked Foley.
“Turkey,” Zack said.
“Turkey?” said Foley.
“Honestly?” Zack said. “When I looked at you, it was the first word that popped into my mind.”
“Gobble, gobble,” added Sean.
“I like baloney meatballs,” said Jim.
“So that’s why you’re full of baloney most of the time,” joked Kareem.
“Oh, man,” sighed Sean. “I’m so hungry, even a baloney meatball sounds good to me now.”
“How about a nice cold glass of tomato juice with that?” joked Jim.
Foley started to laugh. “You Birch Cabiners are crazy,” he said, shaking his head.
Zack couldn’t quite see Erik’s face, because Erik was ahead of him. But he was pretty sure Erik was okay, because his shoulders were loose and relaxed.
Before lunch, the guys from Birch Cabin and Carlos had hiked at the back of the group, because they were taking turns being Sweep for the leg of the hike from Camp Wolf Trail to the far side of the lake. Sweep was an important position. The Sweep brought up the rear, making sure nobody was left behind. It was a job for a counselor, but the Sweep always welcomed campers to help with the job.
But after lunch, the Birch Cabiners hiked up front and took turns at Point with the counselor there. The boy who was Point went first, following the trail blazes and leading the way for the rest of the Orange-You-Glads.
Now that the Birch Cabiners were in front, Sean insisted that they try to hike a little ahead of the older boys and put some space between the two groups, so that their group could hike silently.
“If we’re quiet, we’ll see animals,” Sean instructed them in a soft voice. Sean was right. As they hiked, the boys saw squirrels, chipmunks, deer, and birds. They saw footprints of animals that usually came out at night, like raccoons, rabbits, and even a fox.
Zack kept his voice low when he said, “You know, I’m not so sure I like the look of those clouds.”
“What are you all of a sudden? The weather man?” Erik asked.
“No, really,” Zack said. “I’ve been keeping my eye on them all afternoon.” He pointed. “You can’t even see the top of the hill anymore.”
Since the lunch break by the lake, the boys had been hiking steadily on a trail that zigzagged up a steep mountainside. Every time they zigged or zagged up, it felt to Zack as if the clouds dr
opped lower. The air had turned so hot and thick and muggy that the hikers felt like they were slogging through soup.
“Zack’s right,” Jim said. “I hadn’t noticed the clouds before.”
“Okay, but so what?” Kareem asked. “The worst that can happen is that it will rain, right? We’ve all been wet before.”
“I don’t care about us getting wet,” Zack said. “I’m worried about the ground.”
“You’re worried about the ground?” Kareem echoed. His rescued T-shirt, still pinkish from the tomato juice bath, was stained a dark rusty color where it stuck to his back with sweat.
“I just mean that the path is getting. . . well, squishier and slimier and slipperier the higher we climb,” Zack said.
To prove his point, he lifted up one foot and stomped down hard. Zack’s hiking boot sank down into the muck. When he lifted his foot up again, it made a weird, sucking sound. “And look up there,” he said, pointing to the hillside.
“Wow!” Sean exclaimed. “It sort of looks like somebody took a big bite out of the mountain.”
“Yeah,” Jim agreed. “More than one. You think the ground is collapsing because it’s so wet?”
“I don’t know,” Zack shrugged.
Since being so sure—and then so wrong—about the skunk tracks, Zack wasn’t positive about anything. He didn’t trust himself. He wouldn’t blame anyone else for not trusting him, either.
“Let’s keep moving,” said Erik. “Maybe the path is drier up ahead.” But after the Birch Cabiners had hiked only a short time more, suddenly Erik said, “Whoa!”
He stopped walking so abruptly that Kareem crashed into him. Erik leaned forward, balancing on his toes. He windmilled his arms, desperately trying to keep from taking even one more step.
“Quick!” Jim shouted. Together, he and Kareem grabbed Erik and hauled him backward. All of the Birch Cabiners gathered around.
“What is it?” Carlos called out from behind them. “Why have you guys stopped?”
“Come see,” Erik called back.
In front of the hikers was the biggest mud puddle that Zack had ever seen. It covered the path from side to side. Actually, the word puddle sounded too simple to really do it justice, Zack thought. It was more like an evil, sucking mud pit, and a deep, slimy, treacherous one at that.
Boys Camp Page 4
