Camp Nowhere

  Thud…thud…thud…thud…

  My heart pounded with each drumbeat. I turned and saw that David and Marty were still asleep.

  And behind them…something caught my eye behind them in the woods. A flicker of orange light.

  “What’s that?” I asked Erin and Charlotte, pointing.

  The light glowed dimly through the dark trees. “Is it a fire?” Charlotte asked. “It’s very far away.”

  “Yes. Maybe it’s a campfire,” Erin said, squinting hard. “Maybe someone else is in the woods. Someone who can help us.”

  I stared at the flickering dot of light. “It could be Ramos,” I said. “He might still be here, searching for us.”

  Charlotte climbed to her feet. She brushed herself off quickly. “We have to go see.”

  Thud…thud…thud…

  The steady drumbeats seemed to grow louder.

  “Maybe it isn’t safe,” Erin said. “Maybe we should stay here.”

  “But if it’s Ramos, or someone else who can help us…” Charlotte said.

  “Whoever it is might have food!” I exclaimed.

  Across the fire, David and Marty stirred. “What’s up?” Marty asked, stretching his arms. “Did someone say food?”

  “There’s a light,” I said. I pointed. “In the distance. We think someone else is in the woods.”

  They scrambled to their feet. “Let’s check it out,” Marty said.

  “But what if it’s a UFO?” David asked. “What if aliens from another planet are secretly landing in the woods, and they zap anyone who disturbs them?”

  “But they might have food!” Marty exclaimed.

  “Yeah. Let’s check it out!” David said.

  Into the woods. We kept close together. But sometimes the path through the trees was so narrow, we had to squeeze through single file.

  Clouds covered the moon, and we had no flashlight. Marty suggested we use my plastic lighter for light. But it wasn’t really bright enough to show the way. And I knew it wouldn’t last long anyway.

  We stumbled over rocks and twigs and upraised tree roots. Low branches scratched our faces, scraped against our clothes.

  The flickering light grew brighter as we came near.

  “It’s definitely a fire,” I said. “A pretty big one.”

  Thud…thud…

  The drums kept up their steady rhythm. The sound surrounded us as we made our way through the woods.

  And then I heard voices over the drumbeats.

  The voices bounced off the trees. Echoed through the woods.

  Boys’ voices.

  I couldn’t make out the words.

  The fire glowed brightly ahead of us. The drumbeats faded.

  We stepped out of the trees into a broad clearing.

  I gasped as I saw small wood cabins. A basketball court. A pile of canoes. A campfire.

  Yes. A blazing campfire in a circle between the cabins. And sitting around the fire, a group of campers. Boys. All boys.

  “It’s—it’s a camp!” Charlotte whispered. “Yes! Another camp!”

  “We’re saved!” Erin cried.

  And the five of us took off, trotting toward the dancing fire, moving into the light into the warmth of the tall flames.

  At first, the campers didn’t see us. A tall, dark-haired counselor wearing white shorts and a white T-shirt stood before the fire, motioning with his hands as he talked.

  “Hey!” Marty called breathlessly as we ran. “Hey!”

  A boy on the edge of the circle turned at the sound of Marty’s cry. And his expression turned to horror.

  The boy jumped to his feet. He spun around and frantically pointed at us.

  “Ghosts!” he shouted. “Look! It’s the ghosts!”

  18

  Cries of surprise. Startled shouts. The campers all jumped up. The counselor froze, his face red in the firelight.

  Ghosts? Why did he call us ghosts? I wondered.

  I didn’t have time to think about it.

  Silent now, the campers came at us. Walking tensely, spreading out.

  I counted at least two dozen boys. They were all dressed in white shorts and white T-shirts.

  The shirts had a green symbol on the front. As the campers drew closer, I could see that they were trees. And I could read the words: CAMP EVERGREEN.

  “Hey, guys—” I called out.

  They didn’t look friendly. Staring at us, not making a sound, the campers formed a tight circle around the five of us.

  And then the circle closed in, holding us prisoner.

  “We—we’re lost,” I told them. “You see, our canoes are missing, and—”

  “Yeah. Our camp is up the river,” Marty broke in.

  A man pushed his way through the circle of boys. He was big and wide. His Camp Evergreen T-shirt was stretched tight over a huge stomach that bulged over his shorts. He had a thick, football player’s neck and a round red face topped with prickly, short blond hair.

  “Easy, guys,” he said in a booming voice. He stared at my friends and me with little round black eyes. “No problem here.”

  He laughed. “These aren’t ghosts,” he announced to his campers. He grinned at us. “We were telling ghost stories. Believe it or not, we just finished a story about five ghostly campers who came out of the woods—and there you were!”

  The campers relaxed. They backed up a few steps. They started to talk among themselves.

  One of them slapped a short, dark-haired camper on the back. “Gary, you jerk. You really thought they were ghosts?”

  “The story seemed so real,” Gary protested. “And then they came running out of the woods!”

  Several campers laughed.

  “You got everyone freaked!” a kid yelled at Gary.

  “I guess Will is too good a storyteller,” the big man said, grinning at the tall, dark-haired counselor who had been talking.

  He turned back to us. “Sorry if we all acted a little weird. We don’t get many visitors in the middle of the nights. How did you find us?”

  “We—we saw your fire,” Charlotte said. “We were camping by the river. We’re lost, I guess. Our counselor—”

  “You’re lost? It’s lucky you found us,” the man said, scratching his beefy arm. “The woods can be dangerous at night.”

  “We were on a canoe trip,” Marty explained. “But it…got messed up.”

  “Everyone calls me Uncle Brian,” the man said. “I run this camp. Camp Evergreen. Ever heard of it?”

  We shook our heads. “We didn’t know there was a camp nearby,” I said. “Do you know Camp Hawkwood? That’s our camp.”

  He frowned. “No. I don’t know it. But I’d better phone them and let them know you’re okay.”

  He took a few steps, then turned back to his campers. “Lights out, everyone. Get going. Back to your cabins. You can hang out with these ghosts in the morning.”

  Lots of laughter and joking as the campers made their way to the cabins around the circle. A few of them turned back to stare at us one more time before disappearing into their bunks.

  “Did you guys have dinner?” Uncle Brian asked.

  “No! We’re starving!” Erin cried.

  Uncle Brian turned to Will, the storyteller. “Think you can find them something?”

  “Maybe some sandwiches,” Will said.

  “See what we have,” Uncle Brian instructed. “I’m going to try to reach their camp. And then we can put them up for the night in those two empty cabins near the lake.”

  He trotted off, his stomach bouncing in front of him.

  “Welcome to Camp Evergreen,” Will said. He flashed us a toothy grin. “You don’t look like ghosts to me. I don’t think ghosts get hungry—do they?”

  We followed him to the mess hall, a long, low building at the top of a grassy, sloping hill. He pulled out turkey and tuna sandwiches from the big fridge in the kitchen. And we gobbled them up as fast as he pulled them out.

  Uncle Brian came in to say that he coul
dn’t reach our camp. No one answered the phone. He said he’d try again first thing in the morning.

  “We made up the two cabins by the lake for you,” he said. “Will can show you where to go. Make yourselves at home, guys. You can swim and join in anything you want tomorrow. Then we’ll get you back to your camp safe and sound.”

  We thanked him and went back to our sandwiches.

  “We lucked out,” David said, chewing hard. “We really lucked out.”

  “At first, I thought those boys were weird,” Charlotte said. “But when we came running out of the woods like that, I guess we gave them a good scare.”

  After we pigged out, Will led us back outside. The cabins were dark and silent now. Purple embers glowed in the dying campfire.

  He pointed the way down the hill to the cabins. “You should have everything you need,” he said. “Sleep tight. See you in the morning.”

  We started down the hill. “Wow, this is great,” I muttered.

  “Better than sleeping on the ground,” Erin said.

  We were passing a dark cabin near the end of the path, when a boy jumped out at us. He wore the camp uniform—white shorts and Camp Evergreen T-shirt. He was short and very skinny, with long dark hair flying wild around his face.

  “Shhhhhhh.” He raised a finger to his lips. “Don’t let them see!” he whispered.

  “See? See what?” I asked.

  He waved us frantically to the side of the cabin. “Hurry. Get over here. My name is Drew. I can’t let them see me.”

  “Why? What’s up?” Marty said.

  “Are you okay?” Charlotte asked him.

  He looked frightened. His eyes were wild. Sweat rolled down his forehead. “Listen to me,” he whispered. “I’ll tell you the truth. I’m the only one who will tell you….”

  19

  “Huh? What are you talking about?” I whispered.

  Before Drew could answer, Will stepped onto the path.

  He glanced angrily at Drew, then turned quickly to us. “I brought extra blankets,” he said, holding them up to show us. “I’ll take them to your cabins.”

  “That boy—” I started to say. “He said—”

  I turned to where Drew had been standing. He was gone. Vanished.

  “What did he want?” I asked, hurrying to catch up to Will.

  Will shrugged. “Beats me. He’s kind of weird. The other boys don’t like him much. They call him Drew the Shmoo. Don’t pay any attention to him.”

  He led us to the cabins. They were cleaner and nicer than our cabins at Camp Hawkwood.

  We found white shorts and Camp Evergreen T-shirts waiting for us on our bunks. I couldn’t wait to get changed. My clothes were muddy and sweaty and gross. The clean outfit felt so good.

  Marty, David, and I slid under the blankets on our bunk beds. “It doesn’t get any better than this,” I muttered. I was asleep a few seconds later.

  At breakfast the next morning, the other campers were very friendly. As we downed big plates of scrambled eggs with biscuits and bacon, we told them about our canoe trip. About the falls and the trick played on senior campers every year. And about how we hid from Ramos and made him think we crashed our canoes.

  “He must be in a total panic!” the boy named Gary said. “He must be so scared, he’s probably sick.”

  “Well, he’ll feel better as soon as Uncle Brian phones our camp,” Charlotte said.

  I glanced around the mess hall, searching for Uncle Brian. I didn’t see him. I didn’t see that strange kid Drew, either.

  After breakfast, Will found us some swimsuits—the girls had theirs on, under their clothes, for the canoe trip—and the five of us joined in the general swim at the lake. Even though it was early in the morning, the water felt warm. We all had a great time.

  We had a race across the lake—the five of us versus five of them. They won easily. But we put up a really good race.

  The other campers clapped and cheered and shouted as we swam. “Wish we had this kind of spirit at our camp,” Charlotte said to me as we were drying off. “These guys are really into camp!”

  We split up after the swim. I joined a volleyball game on the basketball court. I thought my arms would ache after the long canoe trip. But it felt good to stretch and use my muscles.

  Mike, another kid on my team, kept staring at my sneakers. As we were rotating sides of the net, he stopped me. “What kind of sneakers are those?” he asked.

  “Air Jordans,” I told him.

  He made a face. “Air what?”

  “You know. Air Jordans,” I said.

  “Weird,” Mike said, staring at my sneakers and shaking his head.

  “You never heard of them?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah. Of course I have,” Mike replied quickly.

  “Hey, Mike—your serve!” a kid yelled.

  Mike hurried to his place.

  I stared at him for a long while. What was that about? I wondered.

  The other guys all wore black-and-white high-tops. I didn’t see any other Air Jordans.

  The game ended just before lunch. Our team won—but by only two points.

  I followed Mike to the mess hall. Guys were streaming in from all directions. I stopped at the front door to the building and searched for Uncle Brian. I wanted to ask if he had been able to reach anyone at our camp.

  Guys trotted past me, eagerly heading in to lunch. “Is there pizza today? I heard there was pizza today,” a chubby, curly-haired boy said excitedly.

  Charlotte and Erin appeared. They told me they’d been playing softball.

  “Have you seen that boy Drew?” Charlotte asked. “I wanted to ask him about last night.”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t seen him all morning. I haven’t seen Uncle Brian, either.”

  I followed them in to lunch. The mess hall was serving pizza—little round English muffin pizzas.

  David, Marty, and I found a table near the wall. Mike and a guy named Peter were already sitting there. They each had taken five or six pizzas on their trays. Mike had a pizza in each hand.

  Before I sat down, I searched the room, checking out each table. “Have you seen that kid Drew?” I asked Mike.

  Mike grinned. “You mean Drew the Shmoo? What a weirdo.”

  “Have you seen him today?” I repeated, pulling open my can of soda.

  Mike frowned. “No. I haven’t run into him.”

  “He stopped us last night down by the lake,” Marty said. “He said he wanted to tell us the truth.”

  Mike and Peter exchanged glances.

  “What do you think he meant?” David asked. “Was it some kind of a joke?”

  “Probably,” Peter answered. “Drew the Shmoo is a real whack job. No one knows what he’s talking about.”

  Mike swallowed a chunk of pizza. “His head isn’t exactly screwed on tight,” he said. “You can’t believe a word he says.”

  “But everyone eats lunch at the same time—right?” I asked. “So why isn’t Drew here?”

  Mike and Peter both shrugged. “Beats me,” Mike said. “Maybe he went on a hike or something.”

  After lunch came more activities. Marty and I played two-on-two basketball with a couple of Camp Evergreen guys. We had another swim. I joined in a crazy “insect hunt” competition with a bunch of guys.

  I didn’t see Drew or Uncle Brian all afternoon. I didn’t see them at dinner, either.

  “How you guys doing?” Will came up to our table during dinner. “Everything okay?”

  “Great,” Marty replied. “This is a cool camp.”

  “Hey—we try!” Will replied.

  “Have you heard from our camp?” I asked. “Did Uncle Brian reach them?”

  There was a shout across the room. “Food fight! Food fight!” Cheers and laughter echoed off the low wooden rafters.

  Will spun away and hurried to break it up.

  I turned to my four friends. “Don’t you think it’s a little weird that we haven’t heard anything from
our camp?”

  David shrugged. “Whatever. I think I like it better here.”

  “Yeah. The food is better,” Marty agreed. “And the guys are cooler.”

  “I hate these geeky shorts,” Erin complained. “I hate wearing a uniform. I’d like to get back to my real clothes. Besides, this is a boys’ camp!”

  Charlotte finished her Coke. “Russell is right,” she said. “Where is Uncle Brian today? Why haven’t we heard anything?”

  I shoved my tray away. “I think we should go see him,” I said. “His office is in the lodge behind the mess hall.”

  Marty jumped up. “Yeah. Let’s go right now. We can just ask him what’s up.”

  “Don’t you want to wait for dessert?” David asked. “I think it’s Rice Krispie treats and ice cream.”

  “We’ll come back for dessert,” Marty said. He dragged David up from his chair.

  The five of us made our way out of the mess hall.

  “Hey, Russell—where are you going?” Mike shouted from a table near the door.

  “Back in a minute!” I shouted back.

  The sun was nearly down. The sky was purple, streaked with red. A squirrel stood beside the path from the mess hall. It turned and scampered behind the building when it saw us coming.

  “There’s no campfire tonight,” Marty said. “What are they doing instead?”

  “I think they’re showing a movie,” Charlotte replied.

  Walking quickly, we made our way around to the lodge. The mess hall and the lodge were the only large buildings in camp. They were both built to look like old-fashioned log cabins.

  We stepped inside. The lights were on, but the building was silent. Three of the four doors were closed. We made our way over the creaking wood floor to the open door.

  A hand-printed sign on the door read: FEARLESS LEADER.

  “This must be Uncle Brian’s office,” I said.

  “Hel-lo?” Charlotte called in. “Hello? Uncle Brian?”

  No reply.

  All five of us pushed through the narrow doorway into the office. A small desk cluttered with papers nearly filled the room. A box on the floor was filled with tennis balls. On the wall behind the desk was a handwritten chart: COUNSELOR ASSIGNMENTS.