The Worst Class Trip Ever

by Dave Barry

  I guess I did finally fall asleep, because suddenly I woke up and it was light outside and Cameron was yelling at me to wake up or I was going to miss breakfast. He and Victor were already heading out the door. I got dressed and ran downstairs to the dining room and got on the end of the line for the buffet, which featured scrambled eggs from like 1950.

  I wasn’t hungry anyway. I sat at table with Victor and Cameron and pretended to eat, but mainly I snuck peeks over at Suzana in the Hot/Popular area. She was wearing the Miami Heat parachute sack. I caught her eye once, and she winked at me. Then she went back to being hot and popular. She looked totally amazing, not tired or stressed at all, like ho-hum, just another normal day on the class trip instead of a day when we had to try to get our friend back from two weird kidnapper guys who for all we know were trying to blow up the White House.

  Our first problem was getting through the head count. They counted us whenever we got on the bus to make sure we were all there. If they noticed that Matt was gone, they’d want to know where he was, and we’d have a big problem, because if we told them what happened, they’d call the police, which was exactly what we wanted to avoid.

  The good news was, the head count was usually done by Mr. Barto, who is not the world’s most organized person, which is why we thought our plan (which was really Suzana’s plan) might work. What we did was, when we got on the bus, Cameron and I sat together in the fifth seat on the left side, and Suzana sat in the fifth seat on the right, across from us. Victor sat alone a few rows back. So Mr. Barto came down the aisle counting heads. He counted me and Cameron, then turned and counted Suzana. Which was when she went into action.

  “Mr. Barto,” she said, making her eyes all big and helpless, “can you help me? I can’t get the window open.”

  “Sure,” he said, all manly. She got up and he got into the seat and opened the window, which of course Suzana could have done. While Mr. Barto’s back was turned Cameron slipped out of our seat and went back to sit with Victor. Mr. Barto stood back up and Suzana thanked him and flashed him a big Suzana smile. He said you’re welcome, then went back to counting heads, which meant that he counted Cameron’s head twice.

  So far, so good.

  Our bus parked in a long line of buses near the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History, which is a giant stone building near a bunch of other giant stone buildings, which seems to be the main kind of buildings they have in Washington. It was a longish walk to the front entrance, and the weather was already hot, so we were pretty sweaty by the time we got inside. It was a little after nine a.m., which meant we had less than an hour to escape from the class trip and get to the Boy Scout statue.

  The museum was pretty cool, I guess. It was huge inside, and there were life-size models of big animals, like an elephant and a whale, and some dinosaur skeletons. But I was too nervous to pay attention to the exhibits. I was keeping an eye on Suzana, who was slowly drifting back farther and farther from the front of the group, pretending to be fascinated by museum stuff we were passing. I drifted back with her, followed by Victor and Cameron, until we formed a little group in the back, falling farther and farther behind until we were the tail end of the class.

  I looked at my phone: It was nine twenty-one. We had thirty-nine minutes to get to the statue. Up ahead, the front of the group was going around a corner into a hallway.

  “Get ready,” said Suzana.

  We slowed down, then stopped just before the corner. When the group was out of sight, we turned around and started walking fast toward the exit. In two minutes we were walking out the entrance back into the heat.

  “Which way?” said Cameron.

  Victor had his phone out, looking at a map. “This way,” he said, pointing right. We all started running. I glanced at my phone: it said 9:24. We weren’t going to have much time.

  Of course Suzana was the fastest runner. She plays club soccer, and she’s really good, like she is at everything. Victor, Cameron, and I had a hard time keeping up with her. Also the temperature was like sixteen thousand degrees. We ran past some more giant stone buildings and turned a couple of corners, and then Victor said, “We’re almost there. It’s across the street and up that way, where those trees are.” He pointed to the right.

  I looked at my phone.

  “It’s nine forty-two,” I said. “We have eighteen minutes.”

  “Okay,” said Suzana. She looked at me and said, “You’re sure you don’t want me to do it?”

  I shook my head. “We talked about this last night. They said the message was for me. If they see you, they might freak out.”

  She nodded, but she wasn’t happy. She actually wanted to be the one to go meet the weird guys. I definitely did not, but I didn’t see how I could get out of it.

  Suzana took off the parachute bag and handed it to me. She looked at Victor and Cameron and held up her phone. “You guys ready?”

  They both said yeah and held up their phones.

  “We all take video,” she said. “But we stay out of sight. And if anything bad happens, we all call 911.”

  They nodded. I tried not to throw up.

  “Okay, Wyatt,” she said. “You go over first. Stand by the statue. We’ll go down the street and come to the statue from the other direction, so when they see you they won’t see us. But we’ll be watching you. Good luck.”

  I just nodded, because my mouth was too dry to talk. I went to the corner and waited for the light to change. I kind of hoped it never would. But it did.

  I took a deep breath, let it out, and started across the street.

  I crossed the street and turned right, toward where Victor had pointed. I really didn’t like being alone. I felt like I had a nest of snakes squirming around in my stomach.

  It took me a couple of minutes to reach the Boy Scout statue, which was on a big stone pedestal next to a round water pool that didn’t have any water in it. The statue was pretty weird. It was a Boy Scout wearing a uniform and hiking along with a walking stick in his hand. On either side of him, a little behind, are a man and a woman. What makes it weird is, the man isn’t wearing any clothes, except for a tiny piece of cloth that barely covers him. He’s like, “Here we are, hiking along on a Boy Scout hike, and by the way I’m naked.”

  Sometimes I do not get art.

  There were a bunch of tourists in the area kind of milling around; also some homeless people. But I didn’t see the weird guys, and I didn’t see Matt. I stopped in front of the statue and turned around slowly, trying to look casual. I didn’t see anybody I recognized. I was holding my phone in case the weird guys texted me.

  I stood there for maybe a minute, which felt like an hour.

  My phone burped.

  I looked at it.

  other side

  I figured that meant I was supposed to go around to the back of the statue. l looked around. I still didn’t see the weird guys, but obviously they could see me, which was creepy. I started walking around the statue. I hoped Suzana and the other guys were keeping me in sight. My legs felt like spaghetti.

  There were a few people on the other side of the statue—some people sitting on the grass eating, a lady with a stroller, some kids on skateboards—but what I noticed right away was the person on a bench maybe twenty yards behind the statue, facing away from it. I couldn’t see the person’s face, but I could see that, in the hot sunlight, the person was wearing a black overcoat, just like the one the big weird guy had on the night before. And if that wasn’t enough of a giveaway, the person was wearing a blond wig, exactly like the one the little weird guy had worn. There might as well have been a sign pointing at the bench saying suspicious PERSON.

  At first I figured it had to be one of the weird guys, but then I had another idea: Maybe it was Matt. Maybe they told him to sit there until they got their box back. I stood there, staring at the person, trying to decide what to do. My phone burped again.

  put it by trsh

  I looked around. There was a trash baske
t off to my right. I went over and set the parachute sack on the ground next to it. Then I stood still and waited. I had sweat dripping into my eyes. A skateboarder went past me. The stroller lady was coming my way.

  My phone burped again.

  walk 2 seat DO NOT TRN AROND

  I figured that meant walk toward the bench. I started walking toward the bench. When I got about ten feet from it my phone burped.

  STOP

  I stopped and stood there staring at the back of the blond wig. All around me I could hear people talking, yelling, laughing; they had no idea what was happening. Sweat was pouring down my face, stinging my eyes, but I didn’t dare move. I stood there waiting, but I didn’t know what I was waiting for.

  “Matt,” I whispered, to the back of the wig.

  Nothing.

  I tried again, louder.

  “Matt, is that you?”

  Nothing.

  I looked down at my phone. Nothing.

  I wondered where Suzana was. I really really wanted somebody to tell me something.

  My phone burped. I looked down, and when I saw the message I suddenly felt cold.

  u did not com alon

  Oh no.

  In front of me, the blond-wigged person was standing up. The person reached up and took off the wig, then took off the coat, then turned around.

  It wasn’t Matt.

  It wasn’t one of the weird guys, either.

  It was a homeless guy, his hair all straggly, with a gray beard and raggedy clothes.

  I said, “Who’re you?”

  He said, “Who’re you?”

  “Wyatt!” I turned around and saw Suzana running toward me, full speed. Behind her, a ways back, were Victor and Cameron.

  Suzana reached me, breathing hard. “Who’s he?” she said, pointing at the homeless guy.

  “Why’s everybody want to know who I am?” he said.

  “Where’d you get that wig?” said Suzana.

  “Why’s that your business?”

  “Because I’ll pay you five dollars to tell me.” She said this without hesitating for a second, like it was a line from a movie she knew by heart.

  The homeless guy said, “Okay, gimme the five.”

  Suzana said, “Tell me first.”

  He thought about that for a second, then said, “Okay. It was a big guy. Bald. He told me to put on the coat and wig and sit on this bench, don’t move, don’t turn around for a half hour. Paid me twenty. Where’s my five?”

  “Did he have anybody with him?”

  “A boy. About his size.” He pointed at me.

  “Did the boy say anything?”

  “No.”

  “Did he look scared?”

  “How do I know? That’s enough questions.” He held out his hand.

  Suzana reached into her pocket and pulled out a five, which she handed to the homeless guy, who took it and walked away.

  Suzana looked at me and said, “So where are they?”

  “I dunno,” I said. “But they knew I wasn’t alone.” I held up my phone so she could see the last text.

  “Hey,” said Victor. “The sack. It’s gone.”

  We looked back toward the trash can near the statue. The parachute sack wasn’t where I’d set it down. I ran over and looked on the other side of the can. It wasn’t there, either. I looked around. There were plenty of people around, but nobody had the sack that I could see.

  “Who took it?” I said. “Did anybody see?”

  They all looked at each other.

  “Weren’t you guys taking video?” I said.

  “Yeah,” said Cameron. “But I figured the guy on the bench was one of the weird guys, and the idea was to get video of them, right? So when you walked to the bench I was aiming at you. I kind of forgot about the sack.”

  “Me too,” said Suzana. Victor nodded.

  “Oh, man,” I said.

  “Wait a minute,” said Victor. “From where I was standing, I think I might have the trash can on the video.”

  “Let’s look,” I said.

  We squeezed around Victor and made some shade so we could see his phone screen. He started the video, and we saw me set the sack down next to the trash can. Then we saw me walking toward the bench and stopping behind it. Victor was right: We could still see part of the trash can at the very left-hand edge of the screen. We saw a couple of skate-boarders go past, then the lady with the stroller. When the lady got to the trash can, she stopped for a second and bent over. We couldn’t see what she did. But it wasn’t hard to figure out.

  “The lady took it?” said Cameron.

  “Back up,” Suzana said to Victor. “And zoom in on her face.”

  He did, but we couldn’t see much, because the face was almost totally covered by a bunch of brown hair.

  “I think that’s a wig,” said Suzana.

  I was getting a bad feeling.

  “Back up some more,” I said. “Okay, stop there. Now zoom in on her feet.”

  “Her feet?’ said Victor.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” said Victor, zooming.

  And there they were.

  The purple Crocs.

  “It’s him,” I said. “The little weird guy.”

  “So,” said Victor. “Now they have Matt and the box.”

  Nobody said anything for a few seconds. Then Cameron said, “They’re smarter than we are.”

  “Shut up,” said Suzana.

  I said, “Now we have to call the police.”

  Nobody argued. I raised my phone to call 911. I tapped 9, then 1, and then…

  And then my phone burped.

  We all crowded in to read the text.

  if u cal polic u nevr se frend agan

  “They really can’t spell,” said Cameron.

  “Shut up,” said everybody else.

  “Ask them how we can trust them,” said Suzana.

  I typed:

  y shud we beleive u?

  We waited.

  u hav no chos

  “Chos?” said Cameron.

  “Choice,” said Suzana.

  “They have a point,” said Victor.

  I was about to ask what I should text back, but before I could my phone burped again.

  we giv frend bak 2 days IF NO POLIC

  “I don’t trust them,” said Suzana. “Tell them we want proof Matt’s okay.”

  I texted:

  we want proof our friend is ok

  We all stared at the screen. I don’t think I was breathing. Thirty seconds went by, then, burp:

  look @ stret

  “Stret?” said Cameron.

  “Street, maybe?” I said.

  A horn honked three times.

  We looked over at the street.

  “There,” said Victor. “On the other side.”

  A silver minivan was stopped at the curb. The front driver’s side window was down. The little guy was at the wheel, holding a phone, watching us. He’d taken the wig off. When he saw us look his way, he said something. The rear window slid down.

  And there was Matt. He looked terrified.

  I could see the big guy right next to him in the backseat.

  I waved at Matt. He didn’t wave back. The window went back up, hiding his face.

  The minivan started moving. In a few seconds it was gone.

  “What do we do now?” I said. “What do we do?”

  “Right now,” said Victor, “we have to get back to the class trip.”

  Suzana looked at her phone. “Oh, man,” she said. “We gotta hurry.”

  We started running. I felt weird, like my brain was spinning around. I wasn’t looking where I was going. I kept thinking about Matt’s face. I stumbled over something and almost fell. Suzana caught my arm and held me up.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “Matt’ll be okay.”

  “We don’t know that,” I said.

  “We’ll figure this out,” she said. “We’ll think of
something. But right now, we have to get back, so focus on that, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said. But all I could think about was what Cameron said.

  They’re smarter than we are.

  We made it back to the Smithsonian just in time and slipped in with the rest of the group in the gift shop. From there we went outside to a park and the teachers gave us box lunches containing sandwiches made from some meat that nobody could definitely identify, although one kid who moved to Miami from West Virginia swore, and I don’t think he was kidding, that it was squirrel. I gave mine to Cameron. Even if it had real food, I couldn’t have eaten it. My stomach was a mess.

  We sat on the grass a little ways from everybody else—me, Cameron, Victor, and Suzana. At this point just about everybody had noticed that Suzana was hanging with us losers instead of the Hot/Populars, but she didn’t seem to care.

  “Okay,” she said. “We need a plan.”

  I said, “I’m still thinking maybe we should call the police.”

  “Really?” she said. “You saw what they texted. If we go to the police, we don’t see Matt again. You think they were kidding?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “You want to take that chance? That they’ll kill him?”

  When she said “kill” it felt like somebody kicked me in the stomach.

  “No,” I said. “But what are we supposed to do? Nothing? Not even tell his parents?”

  “If we tell his parents, they’ll tell the police. Telling his parents could be killing him.”

  Another kick to my stomach.

  “So we do nothing?”

  Cameron added, “They said they’d let him go in two days.”

  “Why should we believe them?” I said. “They said they’d let him go at the statue.”

  “Yeah,” said Victor. “But you told them you’d be alone.”

  Another kick. I was going to need a new stomach.

  “So,” I said, “we just sit around for two days, hoping they’re not lying?”

  “Maybe we can find them,” said Suzana. “We saw their car.”

  “A silver minivan,” said Cameron. “Probably only about ten million of those in Washington.”