“Yeah,” I said, “sure. Makes total sense.” She was messing with me. Cute and sarcastic. I was liking this girl more and more by the second.
“But since he’s the Delta, it means he has the power to be dangerous rather than just annoyingly unpredictable.”
I shook my head. “I’ve dealt with his kind before,” I said. “He’ll get over it.”
She laughed and then stopped abruptly. “Oh, you were being serious.” She bit her lip. “I know him. Or, at least, I’ve seen him pick on people before. Trust me; your best bet is to get picked by a different Delta. It’s a long shot, but …”
Okay, now she seemed really sincere, and that just made me nervous. But I remembered that Dalson guy saying something about how I was going to be a Delta. I almost mentioned it to Rylee, but stopped myself. I wasn’t sure what it was to be a Delta, and clearly I was supposed to know.
“What about you?” I asked. “Are you a Delta too?”
A boy from across the aisle looked up from his laptop and laughed. “Her? A Delta?” He laughed again. “Not likely.” He had a tangle of orange hair and pasty skin that looked almost translucent. If he hadn’t been on the bus, I’d have thought his skin had never seen sunlight.
Rylee frowned. “Shut it, wire-head.” She looked back at me. “He’s a techie. He knows very little about anything outside of computers.” He shook his head and turned back to his computer, and Rylee straightened. “Chase has been a Delta for at least six camps now, so he’s going to be named a Delta. I could probably guess who the others will be, but no one really knows until they’re called.”
The kid hunched over his keyboard snickered.
“It could happen,” she whispered. Then she looked back at me. “I haven’t been one yet. But if I were picked, I’d be brilliant.” She leaned forward. “I have my team all picked out.”
The frizzy-haired kid sighed.
Rylee glared. “Keep it up and I’ll take you off my list.”
“All right,” I said under my breath, “there are teams, and the Deltas are like the captains? What sport are we playing?”
“Wow, you are new,” Rylee said. “Which is really weird since you’re so old.”
“Old?”
“You know what I mean.”
I didn’t have a clue what she meant, but for the hundredth time that morning, I had a feeling I should. “What kind of competition is it?” I asked. “How do the teams compete?”
Rylee fished an iPod from her pocket and put one of the earbuds in her ear. “You’re asking the wrong questions, Matt.” She nodded toward the back of the bus. “You should be working out a plan to avoid Chase.” She slipped the other earbud in place and leaned forward. “And that’s not something I’m interested in getting involved in.” She pressed a button on her iPod and closed her eyes.
I turned back around in my seat and stared straight ahead. I wasn’t actually worried about Chase. He was a bully, and I’d deal with him if I had to. I was more worried about the fact that my dad had asked me to blend in, and instead of doing that, I’d somehow landed a spot as a Delta—a team captain. Maybe I could still fake it if I knew what sport we’d be playing or what was expected of me as a team captain, but I didn’t have a clue, and I had a feeling I was going to have a very hard time when we got to camp.
Alaska wasn’t always cold, was it? I wasn’t really a fan of the cold.
I rubbed the side of my chest where Chase had pounded me and turned my attention to the road.
Dad, what have you gotten me into?
Chapter 6
At the beginning of eighth grade, my science class had taken a field trip, and in two hours on the bus, three fights had broken out, one boy had been taped to the emergency exit, and another had been stuffed under a seat. The trip to the camp was more like an hour and a half, but in that time, no one did anything that could’ve been seen as bad. And it wasn’t that they were good either. In fact, with a few exceptions, everyone on the bus had these icy expressions. Mess with any one of them, and I was reasonably certain you’d end up with a sharpened toothbrush in your spleen.
Maybe this camp was for criminally insane youth, and my dad had sent me here because he saw these campers as my peers. One little prank goes wrong, and everyone thinks you’re a dangerous criminal. Give me a break! I shook my head. No, he’d said it was for rich kids. Not that rich kids couldn’t be dangerous criminals, yet somehow I doubted there’d be a camp for that sort of thing.
“Five minutes,” the driver yelled. I jumped because until that moment he hadn’t uttered a single word, and hearing an adult’s voice caught me by surprise. “You’re to head directly to the soccer field. Deltas will be named, and selections will commence immediately.”
Everyone straightened in their seats and clutched their backpacks against their chests. Rylee wasn’t kidding about Delta being a big deal. The more I watched, the more I realized these kids weren’t like other kids, at least no kids I knew. They were disciplined, but not in the cadet-at-military-camp way. I had friends who were in Junior ROTC, and they said bus trips were as wild as ever. Plus, the only supervision on the bus was the driver, and yet, with the single exception of what had happened before we left, no one had gotten out of hand.
I craned my head over the back of the seat to ask Rylee if there was anything else I needed to know before we got off the bus, but she shook her head before I could speak. She pressed her finger to her lips and whispered, “Just follow me when we get off the bus. And for Pete’s sake, stay away from Chase.”
The bus turned off the highway and followed a narrow road for a few minutes, then turned again, this time onto an even narrower dirt road. The branches clawed at the windows of the bus until they thinned and finally fell back. Before long the trees disappeared behind rolling hills that stretched out around us. A moment later we passed through a wooden gate with a large crossbeam high overhead that said CAMP FRIENDSHIP.
“Camp Friendship,” I muttered, holding back a laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” The kids looked like criminals. The staff looked like soldiers. That name had to be a joke.
The camp came into view a couple seconds later. Manicured lawns dotted with red-roofed cabins stretched out on both sides of the gravel driveway. I spotted an archery range a short distance down a small grassy hill, and on the other side of the bus, I noticed a row of dirt-bikes lined up beside a course that disappeared into the woods, only to re-emerge a short distance later and then weave back in.
I’d never been to camp before, but this was exactly what I’d expected. In fact, the entire place could have been designed from images taken out of every clichéd after-school special I’d seen on TV. I half expected to see a camera crew standing by to film us when the bus skidded to a stop. There wasn’t one.
“Out!” the driver yelled.
I squeezed in front of Rylee as everyone shuffled down the aisle. The doors folded open and a cloud of dust was sucked into the bus, reminding me of one of those Vietnam War movies where soldiers jump out of a helicopter, only to get blasted before they hit the ground.
“Move it, Matt,” Rylee whispered, nudging me out the door. I hit the ground and jogged after the rest of the kids, who all seemed to know exactly where to run. Rylee jogged beside me and ushered me to the right, between rows of cabins. “Chase will be front and center,” she said. “Just stay on the outer edge and maybe he won’t notice you.”
“I don’t think this is necessary,” I said. “He wasn’t that mad. I’ve been in bigger fights.”
“Yeah, you looked like you were handling yourself just fine,” Rylee said sarcastically. “If you want to take your chances, go ahead. I don’t care. Go stand beside him and hold his hand for all I care.”
I quickly decided it wasn’t the smartest move to alienate the one person who’d talked to me. If the kids on my bus were any indication, Camp Friendship seemed, ironically, like the least likely place to make friends. “Nah, you’re right,” I said. “Sorry, didn’t mea
n to sound ungrateful. Do you really think I should go over and hold Chase’s hand?”
She laughed. “Yeah, you should. Maybe he’s so mean because he didn’t get enough hugs as a baby.”
“That’s just what I was thinking,” I said.
She laughed again and then came to an abrupt stop. She pointed at my chest. “Just so you know, I’m not your friend, or your asset. Don’t try to make me one. This isn’t a Level One camp. I earned my spot.”
Huh? I stood there, staring dumbly back at her, trying to make sense of what she’d said. I couldn’t.
She glared at me for another moment and then smiled. “Now c’mon. If they call my name for Delta, I want to be there.”
We rounded another cabin and came up on a large soccer field. There had to be at least two hundred campers crammed together on the field and dozens of others standing on the sidelines. Rylee and I wove through the mob until we were standing near the front, but on the far left of the group.
Mr. Smith and Mr. Dalson stood side by side on a large platform in front of us, and a row of stern-faced adults stood behind them. Dalson looked relaxed and even had a half smile, which put me at ease a bit. The others, including Mr. Smith, looked like angry gym teachers who were looking forward to tormenting a fresh batch of students.
“Welcome to Camp Friendship.” Dalson spoke in the same friendly tone he’d used in the parking lot, and he paced casually along the front of the platform. “I see a few new faces and would like to extend a special welcome to you. Delta selections for this year were scheduled to begin after Week One, but we had a bit of luck this morning with our temporary accreditation.” He drew in a breath and held it while he cast his gaze over the crowd. “As such, Delta selections will begin … immediately.”
Rylee drew in a quick breath and chewed her lip. Whatever it was to be a Delta, she wanted it. Bad.
“I want to be clear,” Dalson continued, “that even though we might have temporary accreditation and not be under the same scrutiny as we had expected, surprise visits are always a possibility. I expect you all to follow proper protocol and remain proper campers at all times.”
Campers sounded like a code word. I glanced at the people around me, but none of them seemed to notice, or if they did, they didn’t care. This was one strange place.
“Let’s not waste any time,” he added. He gestured behind him at the line of adults. “You’ll get to know most of these counselors during your stay, and your team counselors will introduce themselves at some point before competitions begin.” He turned to Mr. Smith and nodded.
Mr. Smith took a step forward. When he spoke it was in stark contrast to Mr. Dalson’s friendly tone. “This year,” he began, “we will have five Delta teams.”
“Five?” Rylee muttered. “Last camp I went to only had four.” She looked straight ahead when she spoke. I figured she was probably talking to herself. I really hoped she would be picked to be a Delta. She could have my spot. Maybe I’d misunderstood what Dalson and Smith had said in the parking lot. Maybe I was worried about nothing.
While Rylee chewed on her lip and stood on her tiptoes to see over the couple kids in front of us, I took a second to study the faces of the other kids nearby. They looked like just a regular bunch of kids, except for the overly serious expressions. There were small scrawny kids, and there were fat kids, and kids who looked like jocks, but most of them just looked like average, everyday kids like me. If they did call my name, I really hoped it would turn out that we’d be doing a sport I was good at, like soccer or baseball.
“When I call the names of this year’s Deltas, you are to present front and center,” Mr. Smith continued in his marching-order tone. “When all Deltas have been named, team selection will begin.” He turned and said something to the adults behind him.
“They’re not going to tell us what sport we’re playing?” I whispered.
Rylee swatted my arm. “Shut up, and stop trying to be funny. You sound stupid.”
I grimaced—I wasn’t trying to be. That’s when it hit me, and I suddenly felt like an idiot. We were standing on a soccer field. Maybe Camp Friendship was some kind of super-serious soccer camp or something. I should have realized that as soon as I saw the field. I smiled as a wave of relief washed over me. Soccer I could do. It might even be fun. I glanced at the kids around me again, hoping to spot a few I’d like to use on my team—if they did call me up as a Delta. But as I looked around, I was struck yet again by how average most of the campers were.
Soccer camps were for jocks. The kid to my right was shorter than me and had to be about two hundred pounds. I bet if they searched his pockets they’d find a dozen Twinkies … or at least a dozen wrappers. Plus, on the bus Rylee had said she had a team all sorted out, and that the computer geek from the bus had been on it. He did not look like a soccer player either.
No. It had to be something else. My stomach flipped. Maybe they wouldn’t call me.
Mr. Smith finished speaking with the other adults and now faced the campers, looking down at his clipboard. He glanced up, paused for a beat, and said, “Team Octopus will be led by … Dexter Miller.”
“Octopus?” If I hadn’t been so nervous, I probably would have laughed.
“All kids’ camps have cutesy names for teams,” Rylee whispered. “It would be a pretty big red flag if the names were more appropriate, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” I said, doing my best to mask my confusion, “sure would. Total red flag.” Total red flag for what, I had no clue.
“Not a big surprise they’d pick him to be a Delta,” Rylee said. “Dexter has won a number of smaller competitions in lower-level camps on the east coast.”
Dexter was a tall, dark-skinned boy of about sixteen or seventeen. He pushed out of the crowd and stood to the right of Mr. Smith. His expression was about as friendly as a cobra’s.
“For Team Hyena,” Mr. Smith said next, “Becca Plain.”
Rylee groaned. “I hate her. She better not pick me.”
Becca Plain looked about the same age as me and had short red hair and a small pointy nose that made her face look very serious. She scanned the crowd when she took her position at the front, and I could actually feel her gaze as she sized up people in the crowd. She was at least a foot shorter than Dexter but looked mean and tough.
“For Team Squirrel,” Smith said, “Chase Erickson.”
I tensed at the name and noticed a couple kids around me do the same. Chase strolled up to the front, smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world. He nodded at a few kids in the crowd, and then his gaze flicked straight to me. He’d known exactly where I was the whole time. He glared at me in a way that validated what Rylee had been talking about. He had me in his crosshairs, and he intended to pull the trigger. It went against everything I knew about bullies. I’d stood up to him. I’d proven myself not to be an easy target, but he was still targeting me. What a jerk. I was officially worried but decided not to show it. I glared back.
“You’re just going to make it worse,” Rylee said.
“Team Arctic Fox will be led by …” Mr. Smith paused to consult his clipboard and then looked up. “Alexander Bratersky.”
Alexander Bratersky was the meanest-looking kid I’d seen so far. Way meaner than Chase. At best, he was sixteen, but I’d have bet he was actually only fifteen or maybe even fourteen. He had close-cropped blond hair and tattoos that crawled up his arms and disappeared under the sleeves of his dark T-shirt, only to reappear at his neck. Even though his sunglasses hid his eyes, his gaze felt ice-cold, or perhaps his presence cooled the area. Either way, I suddenly wished I had a sweater.
“One more,” Rylee whispered. “C’mon, c’mon …” She bit her lip and rubbed her hands together. I looked up at the sky and silently prayed that I’d misunderstood what Dalson had said in the parking lot. I didn’t want to be a captain. I just wanted to survive this stupid camp and go home.
“Delta for Team Grizzly will be …”
Ryle
e’s hands clenched and opened, then clenched and opened again while Mr. Dalson checked the clipboard. At least a dozen other kids that I could see were acting similarly nervous. My stomach did one final flip as Mr. Smith announced the last name.
“Matthew Cambridge.”
Chapter 7
I don’t think Rylee breathed as I moved forward. I glanced back once as I stepped out of the crowd, and her eyes were like giant orbs staring back above a gaping mouth. I did my best to seem confident as I made my way up to the platform.
I positioned myself beside Alexander Bratersky. He’d seemed large from a distance, but up close, he wasn’t much taller than me, an inch or two tops. I quickly realized it was his stance that made him seem bigger. He stood with a rigid posture except for a slight tilt of his head. It made him look like he wasn’t standing at his full height, even though he was. I wondered if that was something he did consciously. I took a mental snapshot. It might come in handy back in my real life.
Chase was at the other end of the line and looked as though someone had just forced gym socks into his mouth, which was about the only silver lining to this whole thing. I wondered if my dad had any idea where he’d sent me. I also wondered what he’d said, or written on my application, that would have made Mr. Smith and Mr. Dalson think I was captain—no, Delta—material. I had a passing thought that this whole thing was some really elaborate joke designed to teach me a lesson, but not even Jason’s dad had the money to make a hoax as elaborate as that happen.
“Your Deltas,” Mr. Smith announced to the gathering. I half expected cheers, but none came. Mostly, when I looked out over the crowd, I saw a mixture of disinterest, dread, and … hostility.
Dalson took a step forward and clapped his hands together once. “Excellent. Now, Deltas, it’s time to choose your teams. There are five Deltas, and you’ll each pick five teammates. Standard rules apply at this camp. Deltas have discretion on whom to cut from the program.” A visible wave of discomfort passed through the crowd, and Dalson paused as if to accent that piece of information. “But there will be no substitutions, and any major lapses in judgment will result in your immediate dismissal.”
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