Cartboy Goes to Camp

by L. A. Campbell

  Mr. Prentice came over and sized up the situation. “Sacred Saint of Skivvies,” he said.

  And then it was not just Ryan and Billy, but the whole camp laughing.

  I stood up and threw my dad’s old junk off me. How could I be so dumb, I thought. Why did I think his stuff would be of any use? Why would it ever help me?

  “Are you okay, Hal?” My mom was standing above me, reaching out her hand.

  I was just about to grab it. Then I saw my dad walking toward me with the look on his face. Yep. The same one he had when I showed him my beadwork.

  Before my dad reached me, I stood up and walked straight toward the woods on the edge of camp.

  I had no plan. Just two feet going in front of each other.

  “Hal, wait!” I heard my mom say.

  “Hal, come back!” said my dad.

  But when I reached the woods, my walk turned into a run.

  And I just kept on running.

  Field Trip

  Dear Friend from the Future:

  I ran through the woods so fast, it was like my feet were attached to someone else’s body.

  The trees rushed by me and the sticks snapped under my feet, and all I could think was: Get away. Get away. Away from my dad and Mr. Prentice and Ryan Horner and everything.

  I was running and panting and sweating. And had no idea what to do. Except keep running.

  I ran until I stopped hearing people call after me. Until I stopped hearing any sounds of civilization at all.

  When my feet finally stopped moving, the woods were quiet. Deadly quiet. All around me were trees, trees, and more trees. The light was fading, and the trees cast dark shadows everywhere. Darker, it seemed, every second.

  I sat down on a log, and pictured how I was totally lost. How I’d never make it out of the woods alive. No one would find my body for years. And by the time they did find it, I’d have been eaten by vultures or raccoons.

  My stomach growled so loudly, a flock of birds flew out of a tree. I was starving. And so thirsty, my mouth felt like sandpaper.

  If only I could figure out how to get back to camp.

  I grabbed a stick off the ground and squinted up at the setting sun. Why? Why hadn’t I listened when Mr. Prentice showed us how to make a compass using a stick and the sun’s position in the sky?

  I combed the forest for anything that looked like food, and spotted a patch of wild mushrooms growing near my feet.

  Could I eat one? Was it safe? Would I die after it touched my lips? Mr. Prentice had talked about edible versus poisonous mushrooms during one of his lectures. But I was too busy thinking about the treasure to listen.

  Once again, my stomach howled. Begging me to feed it.

  I would have to take my chances. I lifted the mushroom to my mouth. Opened wide. And was just about to bite it—

  VROOM VROOM.

  I stopped because of the noise.

  VROOM VROOM.

  What was it? Was it a person? Did Ryan follow me?

  Maybe it was a bear. The same bear that left the fur on the edge of the woods at Camp Jamestown. The night the boy went missing.

  “Yaahaa.” I jumped back when I saw a shadow move in the woods, but when I looked again, the shadow was gone.

  VROOM VROOM VROOM.

  There it was again. The noise was smooth and repetitive. Like a motor. I scanned the dark shadowy woods and realized there was only one thing to do. Follow it.

  VROOM VROOM VROOM.

  My feet stumbled through the forest, past a thousand pine trees and the jaws of countless woodland animals who were waiting to eat me.

  Finally I came out on a small two-lane highway.

  There was a car a few hundred feet away, and as it came toward me, it slowed down.

  A skinny guy with long hair leaned out the window. “Hal? Hal, is that you?”

  “Theo?”

  “Climb in.”

  I opened the passenger door and jumped in so fast, I sat on his grandfather’s feathered cap, which was sitting on the passenger seat.

  “Sorry, Theo,” I croaked.

  “Hal. What happened? Are you okay? Why did you run away?”

  I would have answered his questions. Except for one thing. I didn’t feel like talking.

  I guess Theo got the clue that I wasn’t in the mood for conversation. “What do you say we ride to Colonial Williamsburg together?” he said. “We can talk about it there.”

  A couple of minutes later, we pulled into a restaurant.

  All the waitresses were dressed as either pioneers or Indians. The pioneers had on long skirts and bonnets, and the Indians were wearing beaded leather dresses.

  A lady wearing a giant Indian headdress showed Theo and me to some seats at the counter.

  We ordered cheeseburgers and salads, but getting lost in the woods must have shaken me to the bones. I could hardly look at my food, let alone eat it.

  While I was staring at my burger, Theo walked to a pay phone at the far end of the diner.

  “I called camp,” he said when he got back. “Told them you’re okay. They asked me why you ran away, but I didn’t know what to say. So I told them you were playing a practical joke. You know, camp stuff.”

  “Thanks, Theo.”

  “I ran away once,” he said. “After my grandfather got sick. I didn’t know what to do. So I just … took off.”

  “Did you go back home?”

  “Yes. Eventually. My parents were pretty mad. But in the end, they forgave me.”

  Theo pushed the burger in my direction.

  “Why don’t you eat, Hal?”

  I looked down at the burger, but instead of eating, my mouth started to talk. “That’s nice for you, Theo,” I heard myself say. “About your parents. But the thing is, my dad is never going to forgive me. I think he hates me.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes. I mean, first of all, history is his favorite thing in the world. And I almost failed history last year. Then he sent me to Camp Jamestown. Where I got zero hats.”

  “That doesn’t mean he hates you—”

  “I’m a total embarrassment to him. I might as well just keep on running.”

  “You’re not a total embarrassment, Hal. Your leather beading was nice. And your bow-and-arrow skills were not bad. I mean, you really nailed that squirrel on the other kid’s target…”

  “I’m sure you were good at other things too, Hal.”

  I thought for a few seconds, then looked up at Theo. “I found a clue to the treasure,” I said.

  “Treasure?”

  “Yeah. I’m not supposed to say anything. But I’ll tell you. Seeing as how there’s no way we’ll find it now. The treasure is a bunch of pearls buried by Sam Prentice.”

  I told Theo the whole story. How Vinny told me about the treasure on the bus. How we spent the past two weeks hunting for it.

  “Are you sure it’s buried on camp grounds?”

  “Five hundred feet west of the B. E. Whatever that is.”

  “We thought the B. E. was the big elm. In the middle of camp,” I said. “But then Vinny said he wasn’t sure. And now I’m not so sure either.”

  “I bet you can figure it out, Hal. If you really try. Why don’t you think about it while you eat your salad?”

  The waitress in the Indian headdress came by and asked Theo if he wanted some coffee. “We’re having a special today. Vanilla hazelnut…”

  I watched her pour the special coffee into Theo’s cup, and while I was sitting there, something flashed in my brain.

  It was the word “special.”

  I thought about what was special to the Powhatan Indians. What my dad had told me the day before I left for camp. And what Theo told me in the museum.

  The bald eagle.

  Could the treasure be buried five hundred feet west of a bald eagle’s nest? Not the big elm?

  If that was the case, all I had to do was figure out where the bald eagle’s nest was. Or where it would have been
when Sam Prentice was alive …

  “Theo, can you drive me back to camp?”

  “Yes. But not until you finish eating.”

  I scarfed down my cheeseburger, and it was the best thing I’d ever tasted.

  The Grand Prize

  Dear Whoever You Are:

  The minute Theo and I got to the camp parking lot, I jumped out of the car.

  “Thanks, Theo!” I yelled when my feet hit the ground.

  I had to find Vinny as fast as I could. Tell him that the B. E. might be the bald eagle. It was pretty dark out, so I figured we might get in some digging before anyone knew I was back.

  I ran through the clearing and up to my cabin steps.

  “Hal!”

  A huge lantern shone on my face. My mom and the twins charged up to me and hugged me so hard, I practically fell on Bea and Perrie.

  “Hal’s back! He’s back! Oh, thank God. Please don’t do that again.” My mom had a big tear in her eye, and Grampa Janson smiled so wide, his dentures nearly flew out of his mouth.

  Everyone was falling all over me, but my dad kind of hung back. I could tell he wasn’t exactly sure what to do: hug me or send me to the stockade.

  “Mr. Prentice is about to hand out the award for Best Pioneer!” said my mom. “Guess what? Your girlfriend Cora won!”

  “I wouldn’t say she’s my girlfriend—”

  DOO DOO LOOT!

  “Let’s all go to the bonfire.” My mom grabbed the twins and started to walk toward the pond. “All the families are there.”

  The counselors had built a huge bonfire down by the pond, and everyone was gathered around it. My family and I took a spot in the area right next to the cattails. Or, as I like to call it, “the scene of the mosquito catastrophe.”

  Cora was standing near the fire, surrounded by Mr. Prentice and all the campers, families, and counselors. Everyone clapped and cheered while she held up the grand prize.

  “I would like to dedicate this award to my great-great-grandmother, going all the way back to the 1600s,” Cora said to the crowd. “I think she would have been proud.”

  There was a huge round of applause while Cora’s family bombarded her with hugs. I stood there, looking up at Cora, and the truth is, I felt kind of in awe of her too. Not only had she earned the grand prize, but her biceps were able to sustain the weight of an antique butter churner for two whole minutes too.

  While everyone was clapping and cheering, my dad came over and touched me on the arm. I could tell it was time for “the talk.”

  “Son, come with me,” he said.

  I followed my dad a few feet away from the crowd, to a little patch of grass near a pine tree.

  “What were you thinking, Hal? Running away like that. You scared the bejeezus out of your mom and me.”

  I wanted to answer him. But I was having a lot of trouble thinking of what to say. I looked all around me—at the camp, the cabins, the outhouses, at all the old stuff everywhere. Stuff that only a history lover would like.

  I took a breath. “You want me to be you, Dad. And I can’t.”

  “Hal, I don’t want you to be me—”

  “Why else would you send me here? To Camp Jamestown. You are the person who loves this place. Who loves to learn history. Not me.”

  “Okay, yes. I sent you here to learn history, Hal. But it wasn’t just that. I wanted you to have fun too. As the historian Thucydides once said, ‘History is philosophy teaching by examples.’”

  “What are you saying, Dad?”

  “Let me put it this way, Hal. There must be something about history you like.”

  I glanced around camp, at every pioneer activity, trying to find something that was fun. Something I enjoyed doing while I was here. I looked and looked, and was about to give up. But then my eyes landed on the patch of ground behind the museum.

  “There was one thing,” I said. “Hunting for a treasure that was buried a long time ago.”

  I took another look at the back of the museum, and a thought came to my mind: Maybe the whole time I had been hunting for the treasure, I wasn’t just trying to get a new scooter.

  Maybe I was also hunting for the pearls because I thought they had a lot of historical value. And I wanted to be a part of uncovering that.

  “So, yes, Dad,” I said. “I guess you could say I liked looking for the pearls.”

  “There you go! That’s great son. Wait. Did you say pearls? What pearls?”

  I was about to tell my dad about Sam Prentice and his diary, but right then, Ryan Horner walked by. He saw me talking to my dad and decided to stroll right up to both of us.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Rifkind, may I have a word with your son?” he said in a big phony voice.

  Ryan pulled me away from my dad, and all of a sudden his voice changed back to normal: Deep. Gravelly. And evil.

  “Cartboy, you better find those pearls for me before we leave this place. Or seventh grade is going to feel like one long prison sentence.”

  Ryan turned around, flashed my dad a fake smile, then walked away.

  “What was that about, son?” he said. “And what’s all this talk about pearls?”

  “Dad, I can’t tell you now. I … I have go,” I said.

  I started to walk back toward the bonfire. As I did, I heard my dad call after me. “Hal, wait. Tell me what’s going on…”

  As I kept walking, I couldn’t help but think that when I got home, I was definitely going to be grounded for walking away from my dad again.

  But I had no choice.

  I had to find Vinny.

  Pearls

  Dear Reader:

  It only took me a minute to locate Vinny. He was standing on the far side of the bonfire with Perth and Scot.

  “Hey, guys,” I said when I got near them.

  At first, they wouldn’t look me in the eyes. They pretty much pretended they didn’t know me.

  “So, um,” I said. “I’m really sorry about everything. My score. The tug-of-war. The stupid idea to put all that stuff inside our clothes.”

  The guys shuffled and shifted around a lot. It felt like about an hour, until finally Vinny said, “It’s okay, Hal.”

  “Yeah, no worries, Hal,” said Scot. “The truth is, I was pretty thirsty. That canteen came in handy.”

  Perth faced me and rubbed his belly. “Honestly, that shovel hit my stomach so hard, it unclogged the pipes pretty good. Haven’t felt this clear in weeks.”

  Scot and Perth went back to watching the bonfire. So I took the opportunity to whisper in Vinny’s ear.

  “I need to talk to you. I think the B. E. stands for bald eagle. Not big elm.”

  Vinny and I left the bonfire and walked behind a tree so nobody could hear us. I told Vinny how I got the idea when I was watching a waitress at the diner. How I remembered that the bald eagle was sacred to the Powhatan Indians.

  “Even if the pearls are five hundred feet west of a bald eagle’s nest,” Vinny said, “how would we ever find it? There are a million trees here that could have had a bald eagle’s nest at the top.”

  “Maybe we can figure it out.”

  “The bonfire is almost over. There’s no time left…”

  “I know. Let’s think. Quickly. Where would a bald eagle’s nest have been?”

  “Well…”

  CRUNCH CRUNCH.

  “Shhh. I hear footsteps,” I said. “Someone’s coming.”

  “Shhh? Why shhh? What are you guys talking about?”

  It was Cora. She walked right up to us and dropped the butter churner at my feet.

  “What bald eagle nest?” she said.

  Vinny and I stood there, staring at Cora, not sure of what to say.

  “What nest? What are you guys talking about?”

  “Maybe we should tell her, Vinny,” I said. “Maybe she can help.”

  Vinny nodded, so I took that as a yes.

  “Okay,” I said. “Here’s the thing. Since the day camp started, we’ve been looking for a buried
treasure. Vinny and I found some clues. But we need to figure out where a bald eagle’s nest would have been in the 1600s.”

  Unfortunately, Cora looked completely stumped.

  “We figured the nest would have been at the top of a tall pine tree,” I said.

  “They’re all tall,” said Cora.

  “True.”

  Cora, Vinny, and I stood there in silence. Mystified. Beyond any chance of figuring it out.

  From where we were standing behind the tree, you could hear the camp singing songs around the bonfire. After a few more songs, the bonfire would be over. Our last chance to search would come to an end.

  “You know what?” I said. “This is too hard. It’s a needle in a haystack. A wild goose chase. A million-to-one—”

  “Hold on,” said Cora. “I just thought of something. When I was little, my great-grandmother was always telling me stories about the Powhatans. Stories that had been handed down for generations.”

  Cora looked up at the trees all around us. “There was this one story. About a bald eagle who had built a nest at the top of the tallest tree in Jamestown. Legend had it, Chief Powhatan would put gifts for the bald eagle at the bottom of the tree.”

  “Okay. But how can we know which tree was the tallest back in 1607?”

  “My great-grandmother said the tree was next to a square-shaped rock.”

  “In all your digging over the years, Vinny, you didn’t happen to come across a square-shaped rock, did you?” I asked.

  “No. Wait. Yes! There’s a square rock right outside our cabin!”

  “Thanks, Cora,” I said. “You saved us. We gotta go, now. We have to dig.”

  “Wait. I’ll go with you. We’ll find the pearls faster together.”

  I may not have become an expert pioneer at Camp Jamestown. But at least I learned something in the past two weeks: