Striker Jones and the Midnight Archer

by Maggie M. Larche

  “Sure is,” said a deep voice. It belonged to a tall boy a couple years older than them who was passing by their table. The boy paused for a moment to wave at Sarah as well. “But still,” he said after his wave was returned, “it’s easier with the help of a few extra rations.” He winked at Richard and walked away.

  Striker looked questioningly at Richard.

  “I dunno,” he said.

  Striker turned and watched the boy sit down at a table. Then his eyes wandered around the room.

  First Striker noticed a boy with green eyes and glasses unwrap a piece of candy under the table. He then spied a tall, lanky kid who looked around guiltily before popping a marshmallow into his mouth.

  “Looks like that guy dropped something,” said Amy, reaching down to the floor. She lifted a napkin. Underneath was a full-sized chocolate bar.

  “Guess somebody fell off the healthy wagon,” said Bill.

  “I think a lot of people did,” said Striker. He stood up.

  “Where are you going?” asked Bill.

  “To stop this all from getting worse.”

  Outside the dining hall, Striker saw Sarah speaking to Jamie. “I don’t know where they’re getting them from,” she said. “I’m certainly not handing them out.”

  “And I’m only giving balloons to the guys, with strict instructions to keep them to themselves,” said Jamie. He sighed in exasperation.

  “Excuse me,” said Striker. “I think I can help.”

  Jamie and Sarah looked around.

  “Hi, Striker,” said Jamie. “Are you telling me that you know who is giving the balloons to the girls?”

  “Well, I’d rather not say exactly who,” said Striker, “but I do know how to stop it.”

  “I’ll take it,” said Jamie. “How?”

  But Striker didn’t address himself to Jamie. He turned to Sarah. “Let those poor kids eat s’mores again.”

  Why?

  Solution

  Whenever an item is banned, something called a black market usually develops. A black market is the buying and selling of some good outside of the law. It isn’t an actual place; it’s just people who trade in goods that are controlled in some way.

  When the counselors banned girls from using water balloons, the stage was set for a black market to develop.

  The girls still wanted balloons, even after they were banned.

  Who could get the balloons? The boys. But what could the boys possibly want in return?

  When Striker saw some guys sneaking treats at breakfast, he had a pretty good idea of what was going on. There was a trade in banned goods – a black market. Boys who could get water balloons traded with girls who could get them secret sweets. That way, the guys could appear to be following Sarah’s healthy eating challenge, without actually giving up the junk food they loved, and the girls would get balloons.

  The next morning, the small group of boys who had given up sweets had their own meeting before breakfast.

  Sarah explained that, while she was proud of everyone who had embraced healthy eating, they could all stop the full-scale challenge now.

  “Eating healthy is wonderful,” she said, “but a few s’mores and other treats can be wonderful, too. Let’s find a good balance between the two.”

  When the guys filed into breakfast a few minutes later, Striker could tell that they were pleased with the talk, but none so much as Charlie. He strode directly to the front of the food line, grabbed a carton of chocolate milk, and chugged it in one long gulp.

  The camp counselors got together and decided there was only one fitting punishment for the water balloon trading.

  After lunch that day, all the campers were gathered on the camp soccer field. The sun beat down on them, and Striker wiped sweat from his brow.

  “All right,” said Jamie. “We’re holding one final battle to end all battles. Boys against girls. On each side of the field, you’ll find big buckets filled with water balloons for you to use.

  “Kids, have a great time and get all of this water balloon mayhem out of your system.

  “Counselors . . . ”

  The campers slowly realized that the counselors – and Mr. Cutchins – had surrounded the group. They were wearing evil grins and holding . . . blasting garden hoses!

  “Counselors,” shouted Jamie over the squeals, “this is your chance to remind these campers who’s boss!”

  The carnage began.

  Chapter 9: Sabotage at the Starlight Dance

  “Is it just me,” said Striker at breakfast one morning, “or have all the girls gotten a little . . . giggly?”

  Richard and Bill both looked up from their plates of eggs and toast and surveyed the room. Pockets of girls were gathered everywhere. The girls whispered and giggled and snuck looks around at the boys.

  “You’re right,” said Richard. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh.” Bill groaned and hit his hand on his forehead. “I know what it is. I forgot all about it, what with the water balloon war.”

  “What?” Striker asked. Bill didn’t answer right away. “What is it? You look so serious.”

  Bill sighed. “Bad news, boys. It’s almost time for the Starlight Dance.”

  “Ah,” said Richard. “Of course!”

  “We have a dance?” asked Striker in alarm. “I didn’t know about that!”

  “Sorry,” said Bill. “I forgot to mention it.”

  “Oh, man,” said Striker.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Richard. “It’ll be fun! Maybe I’ll ask Sheila to dance.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Er, yeah, maybe,” Bill said with a quick glance at Striker. “Or Sheila might already plan on dancing with someone else.” But Striker looked as though he wasn’t even listening. Panic was etched across his features.

  Amy and Sheila arrived with their breakfasts. “Morning,” said Sheila, putting her plastic tray down beside Striker.

  “Hi,” Striker said and immediately stood up. “Gotta go.” He grabbed his tray and headed for the exit. Halfway out the door, he recollected himself. He came back and put his tray with the dirty dishes. Then he turned again and made a beeline for outside.

  Amy and Sheila watched with their mouths open.

  “Okay,” said Amy. “What was that about?”

  “Nothing,” said Bill. “He just got some disturbing news. I’m sure he’ll snap out of it. Eventually.”

  By that afternoon, Striker felt a little better. He and Bill were practicing on the archery range.

  “I was being stupid,” he said, pulling the bowstring back by his ear. “It’s not like Sheila will expect me to ask her to dance.” He let the arrow fly, and it hit the edge of the target with a resounding thunk.

  “Hey, not bad,” he said.

  “Whatever you say,” said Bill. “But I think you might want to watch out for Richard. He likes Sheila, too. And he didn’t turn into a robot with no social skills when I said the word ‘dance.’”

  “Very funny,” said Striker.

  Thunk.

  “When’s the dance?” asked Striker.

  “Friday night.”

  “That’s still a few days away. Maybe I’ll build up enough courage by then and ask Sheila to dance.”

  “Or maybe you’ll turn into a quivering mass of jelly while Richard sweeps her away.”

  “Right. Or that.”

  Friday evening arrived. The dining hall had been transformed into a ballroom with balloon archways and streamers everywhere. Chairs lined the walls, but the center of the room was clear for dancing. Chinese lanterns hung on one long string, surrounding the room and lighting the floor with bursts of color.

  At the front of the hall was a large table set up with fancy stereo equipment, ready to blast music for the campers.

  Striker, Bill, Sheila, and Amy stuck their heads into the dining hall to peek at the decorations. Sheila had volunteered along with several other campers to decorate and couldn’t wait until the dance began to show off her handiw
ork.

  “Looks good, right?” she said.

  “It looks fabulous,” said Amy.

  “Really nice,” agreed Striker.

  “Those lanterns are cool,” said Bill. “They’re going to look awesome once it’s dark.”

  “Thanks, guys,” said Sheila. “Quite a few of us worked on it. I think it was worth it.”

  “Let’s go eat,” said Amy. There was a camp cookout that evening because the dining hall was set up for the dance. After dinner, the campers would go back to their cabins to change for the party.

  Striker nervously straightened his polo shirt. He knew most of the girls would be wearing dresses, and some of the boys even had on button-down shirts or ties. Since he hadn’t known about the dance, however, he only brought a polo and khakis. On the whole, he thought, he was glad about that.

  “I’m already freaking out. Why be uncomfortable, too?” he muttered.

  Striker walked to the dining hall with a pack of boys, including Richard, Jared, and Chris.

  He didn’t know what had happened to Bill. They’d eaten together at the cookout and then gone back to the cabins together.

  Bill had just changed into a tie when he’d realized that he left his baseball cap at the cookout.

  “I’ll be right back,” he’d said before dashing out the door. But he never returned.

  Striker figured he must have gone on to the dance without him.

  And I’ll get him for that later, too, he thought. He could have used some moral support just then.

  He and the boys walked along. Jared and Richard told jokes, while everyone laughed loudly and a little nervously.

  They got to the dining hall and walked inside. A group of girls was already there, clustered together in their fancy dresses.

  There was no sign of Bill, but Striker saw Sheila right away. She wore a dark blue dress and looked very pretty. But she didn’t look happy.

  Striker immediately walked to her side. “What’s the matter?”

  “We’ve been sabotaged!” she said, pointing around the room. Striker then noticed that the decorations were hanging off the walls. The balloons had floated away; the streamers hung in tatters. And every Chinese lantern had disappeared.

  Striker looked around the room quickly. “Are there any clues? Why would anyone do this?”

  “I don’t know!” said Sheila. “After all our hard work!” She was almost in tears.

  Striker walked around the room. He tried to be helpful, but, in truth, he didn’t know what he was looking for. He glanced out one of the back windows as he walked by, but then froze. He leaned toward the glass for a better look.

  “Sheila!” he called. “Come here!”

  Sheila hurried over.

  “Look out on the lake,” he said. “What do you see?”

  “What is – are those the Chinese lanterns?”

  Out on the lake floated red, blue, green, and yellow lights.

  Sheila peered more closely. “What’s that they’re holding?” she asked.

  “Sheila,” said Striker slowly. “I don’t think you’ve been sabotaged. Not exactly. I think the decorations were . . . repurposed.”

  Striker and Sheila hurried outside, followed closely by the other campers. They dashed to the water’s edge and squinted to see what exactly the lanterns were doing in the middle of the lake.

  When Striker’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he laughed out loud. Bill was waving to him from a floating island of canoes, all strung together with colorful lanterns.

  What do you think happened?

  Solution

  Resources go to their most productive uses. In other words, we use items where we will get the most good out of them. We might be able to use a surgeon to walk our dog, but we get more use out of her if she spends her time performing surgery. We might be able to use a car to hold up flowerpots, but it is much more useful to drive people around in.

  The Chinese lanterns looked very pretty as decorations for the dance. But something happened that made them far more useful in another purpose.

  When Bill walked back down to the cookout to find his baseball cap, he noticed something – one by one the canoes were floating off into the center of the lake. Somehow the rope that held them together had come undone and sunk under the water!

  As quickly as he could, Bill hurried to find a replacement rope. The first thing that came to his mind was the string that connected all the Chinese lanterns. Without stopping to think, he dashed to the dining hall, ripped down the Chinese lanterns (unfortunately knocking down many of the other decorations in the process), and ran back out to the lake. Just in time, he took a running leap and landed in the last canoe that was floating away.

  Out in the water, he used the string, with the lanterns still attached, to connect all the canoes together again. Only after he had created a giant floating island did he realize that he was stranded in the middle of the lake!

  Several of the counselors donned bathing suits and struck out into the water to tow the canoes back to shore.

  “Why didn’t you just swim back?” asked Striker, laughing after Bill clambered back onto land.

  Bill looked shocked. “I’m wearing a tie! My mom would have killed me!”

  Everyone laughed.

  “You know,” said Sheila, “the lanterns do look pretty cool out here.”

  “Hey!” someone shouted. “Let’s move the party to the canoes!”

  The crowd of campers roared its approval.

  Quickly, the campers relocated the music equipment to an outdoor outlet. Someone retrieved the escaped balloons from the dining hall ceiling and tied them to the edges of the canoes. Everyone piled into the boats carrying punch and treats. They sat back and listened to the music.

  “Now this is a true Starlight Dance,” said Jamie, surveying the campers bobbing on the water. The stars shone down on the scene.

  Somehow, Striker found himself sharing a canoe bench with Sheila. They smiled shyly at each other before looking up at the night sky.

  I can handle this, thought Striker. No need to panic. Sheila - good. Music - good. No dancing - good. I’m totally in control.

  Without looking at him, Sheila slipped her hand into his.

  Urp.

  Chapter 10: Goodbyes

  “Cannonball!” Striker threw himself off the floating dive platform and splashed into the lake.

  “I can do better than that!” yelled Bill. “Geronimo!” He tucked his legs under him and created an enormous splash.

  “Oh, please!” said Sheila. “Let’s show them, Amy!”

  “One, two, three,” counted Amy, and the two girls launched themselves off the platform together, creating the biggest splash of all.

  It was the sixth and final week of camp, and all the campers were relishing their last days away from home. Everywhere, kids relaxed in the sun, playing games, swimming, or walking with their friends.

  Out in the water, Striker and his friends laughed and splashed back and forth. Amy dunked Bill, as Sheila struggled to float on her back.

  “Hey, guys,” a voice said.

  “Whoa!” said Bill, as Charlie’s head unexpectedly surfaced right next to him in the water.

  “Hey, Charlie,” said Amy, treading water. “What’s up?”

  “You can’t guess what I just heard.” He gestured for them to follow him back up to the dive platform.

  When all of them had hauled themselves out of the water and stretched themselves out in the sun, Charlie broke the news. “Jamie is leaving.”

  The kids gasped.

  “Not Jamie!” said Bill. “How do you know?”

  “I just overheard him talking with Mr. Cutchins. They said it was time for them to break up the ‘dynamic duo.’ And Mr. Cutchins said that he would miss Jamie next year, but that, after the water balloon incident, he thought it was for the best.”

  “Oh, no,” said Sheila. “And it sounds like it’s our fault, too! Mr. Cutchins must be mad about getting hit with the w
ater balloons.”

  “Jamie did tell everyone to stop,” said Charlie.

  “But they didn’t listen,” said Amy.

  “Geez, I feel terrible,” said Bill. “Jamie’s the best counselor! He’s a big reason why I like to come every year.”

  “You know,” said Amy, “we should do something nice for him. Maybe we could throw him a going-away party.”

  “Yeah, good idea!” said Bill. “We could surprise him at the bonfire tonight.”

  “I’m sure the dining hall would let us have some cookies and drinks,” said Sheila.

  “And we could ask Jared and Chris to play some music,” added Charlie.

  They all nodded enthusiastically.

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” asked Bill. “Let’s go spread the word!”

  They all jumped off the platform and swam to shore.

  After lunch, Striker, Bill, Charlie, and Richard walked along the lake back towards the cabins, eating rainbow snow cones. The sweltering heat melted the colorful ice quickly. Liquid lines of blue, red, and orange dripped down their hands; the boys licked the cones faster.

  Plans for the party were going well. Everyone they talked to was disappointed to hear about Jamie’s departure, but they all threw themselves into the party planning. The painting club made a big banner for the party, and some of the girls wrote a tribute to sing to Jamie while Chris and Jared played along. Sheila and Amy even talked the dining hall staff into making enough cupcakes for all the campers and counselors.

  “I think we’re in pretty good shape,” said Bill.

  “Hey, look,” said Richard. He pointed to the water’s edge. “It’s Jamie.”

  “Let’s go talk to him,” said Striker. “But no one let on that we know he’s leaving. We want tonight to be a surprise.”

  Jamie was in the middle of a building project. He was surrounded by boards and nails and had a toolbox open at his feet.