Sarah’s sneaky sons, drafted into perching their bony bottoms on the bags while she snapped the latches, watched her doings and silently noted that there was precious little room left for them to squeeze in the contraband that their friends had assured them was essential—important stuff like water balloons, bubble gum, whoopee cushions, and fake vomit.
“There. You’re all set,” their mother said. “We’ll pack your toothbrushes in the morning. I think they’ll fit in the side zipper pocket. Can you guys think of anything else?”
They could not.
Kevin and Josh waited till their mother left the room and they could hear her running her evening bath. Then they rearranged. Taking out a few unnecessary items like half of the underwear and socks, which they hid under Josh’s bed, they were able to shove almost all of the essentials in. Only the fake vomit refused to fit, but that was no problem. Josh could stuff it down his shirt, which was probably a good idea anyway. He didn’t want it to get torn up.
“Wait, Kev, where’s my joke book?” remembered Josh. They’d discussed bringing it and had agreed that the treasured, dog-eared volume of classic bathroom humor would make for some great late-night, laugh-till-you-pass-gas reading.
“It’s packed. I put it in the side pocket of the green bag,” said Kevin.
“Good. Did you zip it up so Mom won’t find it?”
“Yeah. I did.”
Kevin and Josh really wanted to ride the church bus to Camp Road Runner. Some of their friends were doing so, and camp personnel had arranged to meet the bus when it arrived. But their mom, Sarah, who they had begged and cajoled into letting them sign up for their first stay at a ten-day session of church sleep-away camp, insisted on driving them the two hours south.
ONCE THERE, she was not about to let them out near the gate with the other kids. Oh no. Not their mother. She insisted on escorting them to their cabin, meeting their counselor, shaking his hand, and finding out stuff about him. He turned out to be a bearded Christian college junior, a physical education major. Dressed to impress, he was wearing faded army fatigues cut off below the knees, flip-flops, and a yellow T-shirt that read “Follow Me to the Library.”
Sarah did not believe she had ever seen anyone with such hairy feet.
“Pancho Jones.” He gave each of the boys a high five. “Hey, Kev. Yo, Josh. Welcome to Camp Road Runner. Come on in and pick yourselves out a bunk. Nice to meet you, Miz Strickland.”
Sarah wondered how well the camp screened the staff.
Stalling, Sarah decided to help her sons make up their beds. “Mom!” protested Kevin in a desperate whisper. “I don’t need any help. I can put the sheet on by myself!”
Then she proceeded to give Pancho detailed instructions on how to give the boys their vitamins. “One of these twice a day, two of these once a day, and three each of these every other day. Understand?”
Pancho wrote it all down.
Kevin and Josh walked their mom down the hill to the parking area and told her their good-byes at the side of the van, looking around to make sure the guys couldn’t see their mom kiss them.
“Wear deodorant every day, and don’t forget to write!” In their bags, Sarah had packed six stamped envelopes addressed to Ella Louise.
Finally, she was ready to leave. “Bye, boys! Have a great time,” she said through tears.
As soon as she was gone, Kevin and Josh raced back up the hill to where Pancho and their five cabin mates were hanging out. It was pretty quiet inside the cabin. Not much happened the first afternoon of camp, and everyone acted pretty bored. The boys, most of them away from home for the first time like Josh and Kevin, were feeling a wee bit homesick already. They were all either sitting slump-shouldered on the edges of their bunks or lying down, staring at the rafters overhead.
Not Kevin and Josh. Emboldened as always by the presence of each other, they were eager to have fun.
“Pancho, what do we do now?” asked Kevin.
“Can we go swimming?” asked Josh.
“Can we go down to the creek?” asked Kevin.
Hearing the twins’ questions, cabin mates Lindon, James, Rudy, Carl, and Max’s ears all perked up.
“Yeah, Pancho. Can we?”
Pancho looked at his watch. “Guys, I know everybody’s tired of just hanging out here. We’ll get moving really soon. But for now we’ve gotta stay close to our cabin ’cause there’s two more campers coming.” He looked at his list. “Trey Biddles and Ralph Smart. Both of ’em from Oklahoma. Soon as they get here and we get ’em settled in, we’ll do something. Promise. In the meantime, come ’ere.” He led them outside and pointed to a cleared area fifty yards away from the cabin. “See the basket nailed up on that pine tree? Halfway down the hill? Y’all can go down there and shoot some hoops if you want. Just don’t go any farther than that.”
The boys ran down to the hoop and shot around just long enough to begin arguing and raising dust when Kevin stopped play by holding the ball.
“Hey! What’re you doin’?” red-faced Rudy asked.
Kevin motioned toward the cabin. “Looks like the last two guys just got here. Let’s go see.”
“Only one of ’em’s here,” argued Rudy. “That other guy’s too big. He’s gotta be the dad. Come on. Let’s play ball.”
Rudy was proved wrong when Pancho called them to the cabin. They raced each other back.
“Dudes,” Pancho said to the sweaty group, “this is Trey and this is Ralph. They’re our last two campers. Make ’em feel welcome. Tell ’em who you are.”
The boys said nothing. They just stood there, slack-jawed and staring.
“Hey, there,” the first guy said, sticking out his hand. “I’m Ralph.”
This guy was big, as big as a grown-up. Shoot. He was a grown-up. Wasn’t this supposed to be a camp for kids?
Then the other guy said, “Hello. I’m Trey. What’s your name?”
He was . . .
He was . . .
Uh . . .
The other guy? The last kid to move into the cabin?
He was mentally handicapped. Twelve years old, but with Down’s Syndrome. A mentally handicapped kid at Camp Road Runner. They allowed that? Since when?
TRUTH WAS, from the first time he’d heard about it, Trey had wanted to come to camp. All the other kids at his church got to go to camp. He was twelve now. Wasn’t that how old you had to be?
When Ralph, Trey’s twenty-eight-year-old youth director, heard how much Trey wanted to go to camp, he saw no reason why Trey should have to stay home. Sure, he would need a little extra help, but that was no big deal. After discussing the idea with Trey’s mother, Ralph decided that this year Trey would get to go to camp—and he would go too. They would stay in the same cabin and be bunkmates and buddies, and when Trey needed help, he would give it. When he didn’t, he wouldn’t. They would both be just two of the guys.
Right.
JOSH AND KEVIN and the rest of the boys stood looking at their feet.
Finally, Pancho punched Carl in the arm. “Whatsa matter, guys? Be polite. Introduce yourselves.”
“Okay. I’m Carl.”
“I’m Rudy.”
“Hey. I’m Lindon.”
“James.”
“Max.”
“Josh.”
“Kevin.” Kevin shook Trey’s hand. No one else moved.
Pancho ended the awkward moment and got things moving. “Men, we’ve got an hour before dinner. Then we’ll have worship with the rest of the camp, and after that, it’s Roadrunner silly song time. Now’d be a good time to take a hike around camp. Everybody ready?”
The boys waited on the porch of the cabin, still not saying much, while Lindon went inside to change his shoes.
It was James, chewing on a blade of grass, who saw Maggie first. She was trotting her way toward the cabin.
“Whose dog?” he asked.
“Dog?” said Lindon.
“Here, girl,” called Max.
Maggie came over. S
he sniffed the feet of each boy in turn.
“Does she bite?” asked Ralph.
“Naw. I don’t think so,” said Pancho. “She hasn’t yet.”
“Where’d she come from?”
“She’s the official camp dog, aren’t you, girl,” said Pancho, scratching Maggie’s ears.
No one knew where Maggie had come from. A pooch of indeterminable heritage, Maggie had wandered up before the start of camp and had made herself right at home. The staff, there for a week of training before the arrival of the first set of summer campers, fed her, petted her, and fixed a dry place for her to sleep under the roof of the facility’s open-air pavilion.
The camp director liked Maggie and believed that having a dog around would help discourage snakes. The campers would enjoy her too. As soon as it was clear that no one was going to claim her and that she had decided to stay around, the director coaxed her into the cab of his pickup truck and drove her into town to the vet so she could get her shots. Once she was pronounced fit, he brought her back to camp, and there she seemed content to stay. And no wonder. Camp Road Runner occupied a good forty acres. With squirrels to chase, a creek to drink from, and a hundred kids around all the time, Camp Road Runner was about as close to heaven as a dog could get. And since she was such a well-behaved dog, there was no problem allowing Maggie the run of the place.
Once she’d made the rounds of all the boys in Pancho’s cabin, and made herself acquainted with each of their smells, she walked over to Trey and sat down at his feet. Trey dropped to one knee. “Hi there. You sure are a pretty dog.” He petted her head and then ran his hands along her back. Maggie lay down, then rolled over so he could rub her tummy.
“Trey, I believe you’ve made yourself a friend,” said Pancho. “Everybody ready now? Let’s go.”
THAT NIGHT at the staff meeting, Trey was discussed.
“Pancho, how are the other campers in your cabin treating him?” the director asked.
“Okay, I guess. They aren’t making fun of him or anything.”
“Guess that’s about as good as we can hope for. I want Trey to have a good time, but I also don’t want him to slow your other boys down. They deserve to get what they came for. If you have any problems, let me know.”
The next morning, when Pancho’s boys stepped out of their cabin, they found Maggie asleep on the porch. She had been there all night. “Hi, girl. Whatcha doing?” She raised her head and let all the boys pet her, even licked Kevin’s and Josh’s hands, but it was Trey that she fell in behind when the boys trooped to the flag pole for the morning devotional.
It was also Trey whom Maggie waited for outside the dining hall, and Trey whom she sat beside while he painted a wooden birdhouse during craft time.
“Maggie sure likes you,” said Max.
“I like her too,” said Trey. The sound of Trey’s voice made Maggie raise her head.
“Dog’s crazy about Trey,” observed Pancho.
“I know it,” said Ralph.
“Does he have a dog at home?”
“Nope. His mom’s allergic.”
That night while Pancho was at his staff meeting, the boys heard Maggie whining at the screen door of the cabin. “Can we let her in?” they asked Ralph.
“I don’t see what it would hurt. Go ahead,” said Ralph.
Lindon got up and opened the door. Maggie scooted in, sniffed around just a bit, and then hopped right up onto Trey’s bed. Trey was already asleep. Maggie didn’t disturb him but gingerly curled up around his feet, put her head on her paws, and let out a contented sigh.
“She sure likes Trey,” said Lindon, who wished that Maggie had wanted to sleep on his bed.
“She likes our cabin best,” said Josh.
“Yeah. But she likes Trey best of all of us.”
“He’s her favorite.”
And he was. Maggie followed Trey around like a . . . well, like a dog. When he spoke, she perked up her ears and listened to his every word. When he pet her, she quivered with pleasure. And when he called her to come into the lake for a swim she plunged right in, though she hated getting her feet wet. Of course, it was next to Trey that she stood and shook herself dry once they got out of the lake.
Trey didn’t mind.
Maggie’s affection made camp easier for Trey. The kids were treating him all right, but it was nice that when he fell behind on a hike, she slowed down too. He didn’t feel as bad when he was puzzled by one of Josh’s jokes, because she didn’t look like she understood either. It was great that when he wanted to dig and make roads in the dirt instead of playing basketball, she kept him company in the shade. And when Trey fell asleep during the group Bible study, Maggie nodded off too.
Maggie also made Trey’s stay at camp easier for Pancho. The two were such good buddies that Pancho didn’t have to worry about Trey feeling left out. While the guys in the cabin didn’t treat Trey bad or anything, they didn’t try very hard to include him in stuff either.
ON THE AFTERNOON of the fifth day of the ten-day session, Doc, the camp’s horse wrangler, unwisely decided to lead Pancho and his boys on a new trail. “You fellows up to it?” Doc asked. “The horses aren’t as used to it as the other trail. Some of ’em might balk a bit. You’ll have to make ’em mind if they start to head back to the corral and the barn before it’s time.”
Well, of course they were up to it, though they were all, except for Carl, who lived on a cattle ranch, at least a little bit afraid of the group of aged, gentle camp steeds. They wouldn’t have admitted to that for anything, though.
“Ready?” Doc asked. “Everybody got their reins? Got your feet in the stirrups? All right. Fall in line.”
So they did. First Doc, then Carl, Max, Lindon, and James, then Rudy, Kevin, and Josh. Trey and Ralph, riding double, brought up the rear. Maggie, of course, trotted at Trey’s horse’s heels.
The trail didn’t appear to be anything special. No big rocks in the way. No fallen trees to jump over. Not even a creek to cross. What was the big deal?
Not much, except that the horses, cranky in the face of change, trudged along with their ears back, pausing every few yards to snatch mouthfuls of tall growing weeds. This made for slow going with lots of stops and starts.
“Pull on the reins, fellas,” called Doc from up ahead. “And give ’em just a little kick. That’s it. They’ll go if you show ’em who’s boss.”
After Doc gave his instructions, Ralph and Trey’s horse—the gentlest, slowest of the bunch—suddenly took to stomping, kicking, and carrying on.
“Whoa!” Trey yelled, holding on to Ralph with both hands. “Whoa!”
“Ralph, pull back on the reins!” hollered Doc from up ahead. “Pull back on the reins!”
It could have been that Trey’s heel, in spite of Doc’s careful instructions, had landed too far back into his horse’s ticklish flanks. Or maybe the horse got stung by a bee or a horsefly. Regardless of whatever caused the horse to pitch such a fit, Ralph could not get control. Trey tumbled right off the horse and into the weeds.
“Trey, are you all right?” Doc was there in an instant, kneeling over him.
“Trey, are you hurt?” Ralph too was off the horse.
Though he was shook up, Trey was fine. He had been wearing a helmet when he fell. His hands were bloodied and skinned from breaking his fall, but other than that, he wasn’t hurt.
“You sure you’re okay, buddy?” asked Ralph.
“Can you sit up?” asked Doc. To the other boys, he called, “He’s all right. You guys stay on your horses. It’s okay to let ’em eat, but don’t get off the trail.”
Trey wiped his nose on the tail of his shirt. “I don’t think I want to ride any more.”
“No problem.” Ralph gave him a hug. “You and me’ll walk down. We’ll just lead our horse. That be okay?”
“Uh-huh. Where’s Maggie?”
“I dunno,” said Doc. “She’s here somewhere. Probably off chasing a squirrel or something. Maaaggie, Maaaggie, here gir
l!”
She didn’t come.
Doc called her again. Ralph too.
Still no Maggie.
“Hold on a second.” Pancho spotted fur in a low spot off to the side of the trail. “I think I see her. Looks like she’s hurt.”
Doc and Ralph helped Trey to his feet. When the three of them got to where the dog was, they couldn’t believe it. Maggie lay very, very still.
Ralph held Trey back. Doc bent to check. “Guys, I can’t believe it, but she’s dead.”
“How? What happened?”
“I don’t know. Best I can guess, horse must’ve kicked her in the head.”
Trey began to sob. Ralph held him close.
Back at the cabin, Trey lay on his bunk with his pillow covering his head. He didn’t move. He refused to eat supper, and even skipped swim time, which he loved. “You guys go on. Trey’ll be all right,” Pancho said, shooing the rest of the boys out of the cabin. When they were gone, he whispered to Ralph, “He’s pretty upset. You think we should call his mother?”
“Not yet.” It was 9:00 by then and Trey had gone to sleep. “Let’s see how he is in the morning. I’ll sit up tonight in case he wakes up crying or needing something.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m not that tired, and I can sleep in the morning.”
But at 1:30 Ralph fell asleep, in spite of his best efforts. It was Kevin who woke up and heard Trey sniffling. Not sure what to do, Kevin woke up Josh, who woke up Carl, who woke up everybody else—except for Pancho and Ralph. The boys slid out of their bunks and stood in a huddle on the cabin’s concrete floor, shifting and shivering in their boxers and T-shirts.
“Trey’s crying,” Kevin whispered. “We gotta do something.”
“What?” asked Josh.
“I dunno. Talk to him or something.”
“Trey? You all right?” Josh spoke to Trey’s back.
“We’re sorry about Maggie,” said Rudy.
“Yeah. She was a really good dog,” said Max.
Watermelon Days and Firefly Nights: Heartwarming Scenes from Small Town Life Page 6