by Robin Mellom
Corey shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, well. No compliment for you.” And he smirked at Trevor.
But it was an unusual smirk.
Trevor had memorized all of Corey’s smirks, and this one was highly unusual. It wasn’t the intimidation smirk. And it wasn’t the “How do I tell Libby I like her?” smirk. And it wasn’t even the “My mom picked me up in the station wagon, not the Range Rover” look.
This one was in its own league.
And Trevor Jones did not like smirks in their own league.
Not one bit.
That smirk? Yeah, it’s a pretty unique one. Been working on that one for a while—it doesn’t even have a name yet.
See, I’m not going to mess with Trevor on the hike. I have much bigger plans in store for tonight.
[leans in, gives a sneaky grin]
Since he’s in Cabin Thirteen, I think it’s my duty to see to it that Trevor thinks his cabin is haunted—VERY haunted.
When the sun goes down…he’s in for a fright.
Gotta make my brother proud. In fact, those were his last words to me before I left: “Make me proud.”
It’s not often that my bro says stuff like that to me. It’s not often he says ANYTHING to me. So I can’t mess this up.
Especially since he also gave me some specific advice. “Vaseline on toilet seats is BOSS.”
Not everyone has a brother that cool. I’m pretty lucky.
TREVOR DID HIS BEST TO STAY far away from Corey. It wasn’t all that hard, since Corey trailed right behind Tad as they hiked, asking questions about what time it gets dark and where he could find some clanging pans. But Tad was much more interested in pointing out things on the trail—small twigs, large twigs, and how clean his vest was!
Luckily Marty was hanging out at the back of the line, so Trevor stayed close to him. Marty wasn’t very interested in the information Tad was giving out, and instead, he was busy picking berries. He gazed down at a dark berry in his hand. “Perfect. Nonpoisonous,” he whispered.
Trevor peered over his shoulder. “Why are you collecting berries?”
Marty startled. “Why? Because…” He hesitated since he couldn’t explain what he was really doing. “I, um…I collect berries and weedy grasses to study. At home. Under a microscope. It’s normal, completely normal.”
Trevor narrowed his eyes. For some reason, Marty seemed a little shifty.
“Oh, cricket!” Marty hurried off. He scooped up the bug and stuffed it inside his bag to add to his collection.
Trevor didn’t understand. He wasn’t a big outdoorsman, but he figured you were supposed to leave the outdoors…outdoors? Why was Marty putting All of Nature in a bag?
Then he noticed Marty had sneaked off to talk to Cindy. He showed her the bag but shielded it, trying to make sure no one else saw. But Trevor did.
Then it all made sense to Trevor. The bug, the girl, the shifty behavior…Marty was trying to impress Cindy by showing her “icky stuff.” It was a little third grade–ish, Trevor felt, but he could still respect that. Except he didn’t understand why Marty wasn’t worried that Cindy would scream at a bug.
He watched Marty pull out a pen from his pocket and scribble some words on the bag. Then he held it up for her to see. Trevor couldn’t hear what Marty said to her, but he saw Cindy smile wider than ever and throw her arms around him.
What in nature was going on?!
Wow, Trevor thought. Girls now LIKE it when we show them icky stuff? Good to know.
As Tad led the group down the trail, his pace began to pick up. “Kids, up here! I want to show you something!”
Trevor popped up on his toes to get a look at whatever it was that Tad wanted to show them now.
But what was up ahead was not a rock. Or a twig. Or anything vest-related.
What he saw made his stomach drop.
It was a swiftly moving river with a rickety-looking log bridge across it.
“Time for some adventure!” Tad yelled.
Trevor came to a halt.
No. No, no, no.
He knew that if he tried to cross the river using that bridge, he would—without a doubt—fall in and get sopping wet. And if he didn’t fall on his own, Corey would push him in. It was just too tempting to a guy who was constantly looking for ways to humiliate seventh graders. Plus, that strange smirk Corey had given him earlier was a sure sign that humiliation was soon to follow.
Trevor had to find a way out of this.
His heart raced, and his palms turned clammy.
Think, think!
As all the kids excitedly gathered along the side of the river, eager to cross over, Trevor snuck around and rushed up to Tad. He had to try something. “I can’t cross over this rickety bridge,” he said in a low voice so no one could hear.
Tad’s smile turned to a frown, and he looked almost hurt. “But this is the adventure part.” He looked through the list of names on his clipboard. “What’s your name?”
“Trevor Jones.”
“I don’t see anywhere in my notes here that you’re supposed to get special treatment.”
He shook his head. “No, my mom didn’t make any requests. Wait. People can make special requests?!”
“Sure. I have one student who is a vegetarian and one who’s”—he followed the words with his finger as he read—“an only-meat–eater.” Tad looked up. “Do you have a food allergy?”
“I have a swift-water-river allergy. Is there another way to get across the river? An easier way?”
Tad pointed upriver. “Around the bend, the water’s not so fast, and there’s an easy rock crossing. You won’t even get wet.”
Trevor grinned. “Perfect.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to try the bridge? It’ll be fun.”
Trevor started backing away. “I’m afraid of heights.”
“It’s only two feet high. And it’s nice and wide.”
“I’m scared of widths, too.”
Tad looked like he was trying to hold back his laughter. “We’ll meet you on the other side, then.”
Trevor quickly took off upriver and didn’t tell Libby or Molly what he was doing. No doubt Libby would talk him out of it, explaining that crossing over would be some metaphor for conquering fears, and Molly would just roll her eyes at him. Some decisions he had to make for himself.
As he pushed his way through the brush and approached the easy rock crossing, he could hear the voices of the students crossing the river. But then their voices turned to squeals. Then laughter. Then more squeals. High-pitched squeals! What was going on?!
He hurried across the river and ran down the trail on the other side, searching for his group. When he spotted them, all he could do was drop his head.
The entire group had fallen in the river. ALL. OF. THEM.
They were splashing around, laughing and having the time of their lives. Standing on the opposite side with completely dry clothes, Trevor looked like the odd duck. (If odd duck meant a seventh grader who is left out by looking ridiculous in his dry clothes.)
Trevor decided right then and there to stick with the group no matter what. Surely that way he wouldn’t feel humiliated.
Surely.
We all got sopping wet! It was EPIC! And did you see Trevor on the OTHER side of the river? COMPLETELY DRY! He must have felt ridiculous being the only dry one.
And get this…it ended up that the entire group falling into the river was the best thing that could have happened to me! Now EVERYONE has straggly hair hanging in their eyes, and I finally don’t feel like a loser.
You know what? I’m starting to like the outdoors. Thumbs-up, nature. You rock.
I’ve decided that crossing a river is a metaphor. For going on to the next phase in life. Or crossing over your troubles and leaving them behind. Or helping you figure out if a certain someone—I’m not going to mention names, but let’s just say his name is, oh…Lorey Cong—is a good match for you.
With everyone having scraggly hair and
Corey, er, I mean, Lorey, finally smiling and having a good time, I might find out my answer soon enough. Oh, who am I kidding…Corey is smiling! Quite nicely, I might add. But there’s still much more to find out. Favorite color. Movie likes. Personality quirks. Weather preferences. SO MUCH!
I have a feeling all my questions will be answered at the social tonight—the one that Savannah is planning. Which reminds me…
[twirls her wet hair nervously]
I’ve been focusing on this Corey thing to distract me from my REAL problem—the one where I haven’t yet come up with an epic idea for the Wednesday-night social. The thought of following Savannah, with her perfect party planning, is overwhelming.
How will I ever get through this without packets of emergency ranch dressing?
[narrows eyes]
I won’t give up—it’s time to do what I do best: scribble ideas in my sketchbook.
THE GROUP BLISSFULLY HIKED THROUGH the woods in sopping wet clothes. Step, squish, step, squish. And no one complained. Even Molly was almost pleasantly content since the wet clothes were keeping her from getting too hot in the sun, which kept annoyingly interacting with her. She wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t snarling, either.
Tad led the group to a clearing and had everyone sit down and get comfortable. “As part of your science curriculum, we are going to study animal tracks,” he explained as he held up cards showing what different animal tracks look like. “We have plenty of wildlife around here, and you’ll find raccoon tracks or coyote or black bear or even possibly…” He paused to add some drama. “The elusive, scary-awesome grizzly bear!”
The students squirmed with delight-slash-fear.
“If that’s too scary, though,” Tad added, “I have an alternate activity for you. A word search. Otherwise, explore the area with your Sensitivity Buddy, and let us know if you find something!” Tad said it with a wink because there had never been a grizzly bear sighting in the camp’s history. Grizzly bears didn’t even live in this part of the country.
Trevor had learned his lesson from last time. Just do what everybody else is doing.
He looked up and saw Corey stomping toward the thick woods.
Before he could follow, he heard a voice over his shoulder. “Why aren’t you wet like the rest of us?”
He whirled around to see Molly with her hands on her hips.
“I’m an idiot, of course,” Trevor said.
“I think we’re all going to act like idiots at some point on this trip,” she said.
This made him smile. There was something about Molly, like she was always there for him, but in an accidental way. Or maybe it was on purpose? He wasn’t sure. Either way, he smiled—big-time.
“Why are you smiling so big?” Molly asked.
He considered telling her that he liked how she always seemed to say the right thing, whether she meant to or not. But then he realized that sounded sort of weird. “I don’t know why I’m smiling. I’m supposed to be making you smile.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, then said, “Look, I have an idea. I’ll meet you back here after this activity and give it to you then.”
“Give what to me?”
He strolled off toward the woods and casually said over his shoulder, “You’ll see.”
It only took several long strides before he was in the woods, away from the group. After tipping over a few rocks, he found what he was looking for. A fat, squirmy potato bug. If Cindy liked icky stuff, he figured Molly would adore it.
Without even remembering that he had a fear of bugs, he stashed it in his pocket, then hurried into the forest to meet up with Corey.
Up ahead he saw Corey surveying the ground with a serious look on his face—a determined face. “Find anything yet?” Trevor asked.
Corey ignored his question as he scanned the ground, then said, “Tell me what’s going on with Libby.”
“What do you mean?”
“She won’t even look my way, and she spends all her time jotting down notes in her notebook. Tell me the truth. Is she writing letters to another guy? Is this because of my hair?”
Trevor’s stomach did a flip. This question, this moment. It was all too good. He could simply tell Corey, “Yes, she’s writing letters to another guy—a guy with amazing hair,” and his ego wouldn’t be able to take it. He’d give up on Libby, and this would be over.
But Trevor also had that truthiness problem. “She’s just writing notes about her plans for the social.”
Fine. You win, truth.
Trevor couldn’t help but add, “But if you knew Libby, you’d know that was normal behavior for her.”
Corey stood up taller and swiped his un-gelled hair out of his face. He looked relieved. “She’s making plans for the social. I like that. Now let’s hunt down some bear tracks and win this competition.”
“I don’t think it’s a game or anything,” Trevor said as Corey disappeared into the woods. He quickly sped up his pace and found Corey several oak trees away, staring down at the ground. But when he looked up at Trevor, his face had lost all color.
“What. Is. THAT?” Corey pointed down at something on the ground.
Moving closer, Trevor saw that this wasn’t just a little paw print. It wasn’t even golden retriever big. It was huge. HUGE!
“No way!” Trevor squealed. “Is this a—”
“Bear print, and not even a regular black bear. It’s a grizzly, dude!” Corey started backing away.
Trevor’s mind flooded with all the wilderness facts he’d studied in an attempt to get out of this trip. Was it possible these were grizzly tracks? Do they live here? He searched and searched his brain, but he was too distracted by the frightened look on Corey’s face.
“We gotta go tell Tad!” Corey said. Then he took off in a sprint as he yelled, “Grizzly bear! GRIZZLY BEAR!!”
Trevor followed him and did the same. As they approached the open area where Tad and the rest of the group was, they continued yelling and throwing their arms in the air. “Help! IT’S A GRIZZLY BEAR!”
Except, somewhere along the way, Trevor noticed that Corey had fallen behind. He wasn’t with him, backing him up on their grizzly bear claim. Instead, Corey had strolled next to Libby and was chatting her up.
Tad shook his head. “Not cool, Trevor. Nature is a serious thing. Grizzlies don’t even live in this part of the country.”
Trevor sighed. Why was he always the odd duck? In related news, Trevor looked around and saw that everyone was gathered around Tad’s backpack, eating. Why weren’t they all out looking for animal tracks?
Cindy Applegate waved to Trevor and called out, “Trev, you should’ve stayed behind like the rest of us. The alternate activity was a word search and M&M’S! You’re no grizzly bear hunter!”
All the girls around her started laughing. Then everyone started. Trevor was pretty sure that even some squirrels nearby were laughing.
So rude.
When the laughter died down, Trevor quietly approached Molly. At least he had something to give her that would make her smile, and he could redeem this moment in some way. “Hey, Molly,” he whispered. “I found this for you.” Trevor reached into his pocket and pulled out her surprise.
Molly looked down at his hand, and her eyes grew big.
“Wait. You don’t like bugs? I’m confused.” Trevor just couldn’t seem to catch a break.
Molly scrunched up her face. “If the bug had been wiggling and alive, it would’ve been gross. But a dead bug?” She looked up, her eyes showing a sparkle. “It’s awesome.”
He couldn’t believe that ignoring his fear of bugs worked out. More than that, Molly Decker almost smiled.
Almost.
OF COURSE I’m going to mess with Trevor on this hike. That’s why I faked the grizzly bear sighting. It happened to me last year when someone in my group faked a Bigfoot sighting. It was pretty rude, man. So I’m just passing it along—circle of life–type stuff. And that’s nature, if you think about it. So technically, I should b
e getting extra credit for that grizzly bear stunt with Trevor.
At least it will impress my brother when I tell him. Not that I see him all too often since he’s usually involved in an after-school activity.
It’s called DETENTION.
And I have to find a way to go out in style. I mean, this is my last week at Westside Middle School. Only a few days left to leave an impression.
I guess impressing the other kids is what I did best at this school. It’s really the only thing I tried hard at.
Sure, I love dead bugs. But I do not love marshmallows; I’m going to put that out there right up front.
Things that decay are COOL. That bug Trevor gave me? It decays. Cool.
Apples? They decay. Also cool.
But marshmallows? No decaying. That’s creepy. They just hang around and never go away, like a weird cousin or something.
Gosh, I’m really talkative right now.
It’s from nerves. Because…here’s the deal. I need to find a time to tell Trevor my news. Even though he shouldn’t be shocked by it. I mean, I came to this school after being transferred from several other schools, all because my dad keeps getting moved around.
And Dad is getting moved to another school again. But this time it’s for a promotion.
The job is far away, so that means…
[takes a deep breath]
…this week will probably be the last time I’ll ever see Trevor.
Needless to say, I’m not talking to my dad right now.
I don’t even want to imagine how Trevor will take the news.
So right now I’m just going to focus on this dead bug.
THE DAY HAD BEEN FULL of activity—hiking, more hiking, and watching Tad clean off his vest. But the sun was falling, and that meant it was time for dinner. Mr. Skeely rang the bell, and the students scampered and skittered, descending on the dining room like an army of ants. Hungry ants.