Martin Bridge: Blazing Ahead!

by Jessica Scott Kerrin

  For Peter and Elliott. And for my sister Leslie, the real camper of the family — J.S.K.

  For my dad Joe, the snappiest dancer in the USN, who really has seen manta rays, circular rainbows and a chocolate river called the Orinoco, all from the pilot seat of a blimp! — J.K.

  ISBN 978-1-894786-61-4 (ePub)

  Text © 2006 Jessica Scott Kerrin

  Illustrations © 2006 Joseph Kelly

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of Kids Can Press Ltd. or, in case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, a license from The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (Access Copyright). For an Access Copyright license, visit www.accesscopyright.ca or call toll free to 1-800-893-5777.

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance of characters to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Kids Can Press acknowledges the financial support of the Government of Ontario, through the Ontario Media Development Corporation’s Ontario Book Initiative; the Ontario Arts Council; the Canada Council for the Arts; and the Government of Canada, through the CBF, for our publishing activity.

  Published in Canada by

  Kids Can Press Ltd.

  25 Dockside Drive

  Toronto, ON M5A 0B5

  Published in the U.S. by

  Kids Can Press Ltd.

  2250 Military Road

  Tonawanda, NY 14150

  www.kidscanpress.com

  Edited by Debbie Rogosin

  Designed by Julia Naimska

  The art in this book was drawn with graphite and charcoal; shading was added digitally.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Kerrin, Jessica Scott

  Martin Bridge blazing ahead! / written by Jessica Scott Kerrin ; illustrated by Joseph Kelly.

  ISBN 978-1-55337-961-4 (bound)

  ISBN 978-1-55337-962-1 (pbk.)

  I. Kelly, Joseph II. Title.

  PS8621.E77M36 2006 jC813’.6 C2006-901302-0

  Contents

  Relish

  Lightning Bolts

  Make Martin’s Slime

  Send Secret Signals

  An Excerpt from The Lobster Chronicles

  Meet …

  Trailblazing Junior Badger

  King of pranks

  Houdini with tape

  Camp maestro

  Leading expert on the use and abuse of tools

  Family photographer

  Lost without a compass

  Mechanical genius

  “Ready and steady”

  Lightning bolt superhero and toolbox wizard

  Relish

  “Psssst! Check this out,” said Martin’s friend Alex from the backseat as he pulled a jar from his knapsack.

  Martin turned around to read the label.

  “Relish?” he asked. “What do you have relish for?”

  “It’s not relish,” said Alex mysteriously. “Open the lid.” He rocked the jar from side to side with a flick of his wrist.

  “Forget it!” said Martin matter-of-factly. He straightened the tie of his Junior Badger uniform. Knowing Alex, there could be anything in that jar.

  Anything.

  And Alex’s eagerness made Martin extra suspicious.

  Martin returned his attention to the road. His dad was driving, but Head Badger Bob’s van led the way. Eight vehicles trailed behind, each one crammed with Junior Badgers going on their very first overnight camp trip.

  It was supposed to be a short ride, yet they had been driving for hours. Martin’s dad thought Head Badger Bob was lost, especially since they had passed the same gas station twice.

  “I’ll open it,” offered Clark. He and Stuart were sharing a seat with Martin.

  Alex handed the jar to him. Martin and Stuart leaned away.

  “It’s just relish,” said Clark with disappointment.

  Martin cautiously peered inside the jar at the chunky green contents.

  “Try it,” urged Alex.

  Clark was about to stick his finger in when Stuart batted Clark’s hand away.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” warned Stuart. He commandeered the jar and twisted around to face Alex. “What is it, really?” he demanded.

  “Classic horror-movie slime,” announced Alex in a haunted house voice.

  “Can you eat it?” asked Clark. He was known for eating anything on a dare. Crayons. Eraser shavings. Even paste.

  “Clark!” blurted Martin. “You’ve really got to stick to regular food. No kidding.”

  “Come on, Martin,” said Alex. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” He turned to Clark. “Sure you can eat it,” he said. “I made it from stuff in the kitchen. It’s all natural.”

  “Natural slime,” Stuart scoffed. “Now I’ve heard everything.”

  But Martin had watched a show about different types of slime on the all-science channel.

  “Let’s have a look,” he said with new fascination. He took the jar from Stuart to pour some into his hand.

  “Stop!” said Alex. “Don’t waste it!” He rescued the jar from Martin.

  “What are you going to do with it?” asked Martin.

  “You’ll see,” said Alex. He returned the jar to his knapsack. “I just hope we get there soon. I’ve got to get this back in a fridge, or it will go bad.”

  Martin glanced warily at Stuart.

  Stuart shook his head. “Ka-boom!” he muttered. Stuart said “ka-boom” whenever he thought something would go wrong.

  A few minutes later, their van passed a large sign.

  “Camp Kitchywahoo,” read Martin’s dad with relief. “Next turn on the right.”

  The boys shifted excitedly in their seats as Martin’s dad parked beside the large ranch-style gate that marked the entrance to the camp.

  “We’re here!” he announced. The boys whooped and tumbled out the doors as the rest of the cars and vans pulled up.

  Martin took a deep breath. The air smelled like pine needles and moss and lake water. This was going to be way better than playing park rangers in his tree fort back home!

  “Attention, men!” announced Head Badger Bob between cupped hands. “Grab your gear and follow me!”

  The troop formed a ragged line and marched past the gate into the compound. Shoving through the double doors of the lodge, they gathered in the colossal mess hall. Rows of tables and benches made from logs filled the room. The kitchen was off to one side, and tiny cabin rooms beckoned from the other.

  Martin looked up at the banner that hung from the ceiling. “Blazing Ahead,” he read out loud. It was the Junior Badger motto.

  Head Badger Bob consulted his giant clipboard jammed with papers.

  “Listen up!” he ordered above the growing hum of excitement. “Pick your bunks and be quick. We have a busy day ahead of us.”

  Badgers scurried past him, then crisscrossed from cabin to cabin trying to team up with friends.

  “In here, Martin!”

  Martin followed Alex’s voice to cabin room number seven.

  “Saved the top bunk for you,” Alex continued in high spirits.

  Somehow, Alex had already unpacked. His gear was strewn everywhere. Stuart and Clark sat on the opposite bunk beds bounce-testing the mattresses. Their room had a soft, woodsy smell, and former Badgers had covered the walls with their signatures.

&nb
sp; It was nice.

  “Okay, troop!” Head Badger Bob called as he marched up and down the hallway. Papers kept dropping from his clipboard. “I want everyone to report to the flagpole. Pack your bug spray, your field guide and your mess kit.”

  “What’s a messy kit?” asked Alex.

  “A mess kit,” corrected Stuart, side-stepping Alex’s overflowing duffle bag. “But I could see how you’d get confused.”

  Alex scowled.

  “A mess kit is your plate and cup and fork,” explained Martin proudly. “We’re going to have our lunch in the woods.”

  At the last Junior Badger meeting, the troop had been given a schedule chock-full of meals and activities. Martin had reviewed it every night at bedtime for the past week.

  “You go ahead,” said Alex. “I’ve got to put this in fridge.” He bolted out the door with his jar.

  Martin sighed. He knew that someone would be slimed before the weekend was over. But maybe, if he kept an extra-sharp lookout, it wouldn’t be him.

  The entire troop stood waiting by the flagpole when Alex finally joined them.

  “Let’s head out!” commanded Head Badger Bob, big whistle, compass and binoculars hanging from his neck.

  The troop whooped.

  When Martin entered the woods, it felt like he was stepping into a tunnel. The trees overhead blocked much of the sun. The path was damp and spongy.

  Pinecones. Birch bark. Deer droppings. Head Badger Bob pointed them all out. And the Badgers made notes in their field guides to earn their Junior Hiking Badge.

  Martin was about to draw the woodpecker he had glimpsed when Alex came over.

  “Look what I spotted,” he said mischievously. He had drawn some kind of life form in the margin. It had knobby antennae, an extra set of arms and it appeared to be yelling.

  Martin gave him a puzzled look.

  “It’s Stuart,” said Alex, chuckling, and then he moved off.

  When Martin looked up again, Alex was showing his sketch to Stuart. The shoving match that followed broke up only when Head Badger Bob blasted his whistle.

  Birds and animals scrambled for cover, and any chance of seeing more wildlife disappeared with them.

  At last, the troop came to a clearing and stopped for lunch.

  “The blackflies seem hungry, too,” observed Martin, swatting his neck. He doused himself with half a bottle of bug spray.

  Satisfied with his efforts, Martin turned to Alex, who was sitting beside him. Only Alex was now fiddling with Martin’s mess kit!

  “Gotcha!” Martin shouted as he snatched his mess kit back.

  “Got me? For what?” asked Alex, startled.

  “What were you doing with my mess kit?” Martin demanded, checking for slime.

  “Your mess kit? That’s mine.”

  “Oh, really?” said Martin, eyebrow raised. He flipped the kit over and pointed to his name written on the bottom.

  “Easy mistake,” said Alex. “My mess kit’s the same color.” He looked about. “Oh. Here’s mine.” He plucked his kit from the ground nearby.

  Martin stared at the two mess kits. They were the same color.

  “Fine,” admitted Martin, wagging his finger. “But I’m on to you.”

  Alex shrugged innocently. His infuriating grin said something else.

  The hike back was uneventful except for the occasional soaker that happened whenever a Badger stepped in a puddle deeper than he thought.

  “Cripes!” muttered Martin when he got one, too. He had been so busy keeping an eye on Alex, he hadn’t watched where he was going. His footsteps made embarrassingly squishy sounds all the way back to the lodge, much to Alex’s amusement.

  After a big dinner of spaghetti, with chocolate brownies for dessert, the troop was ready for the next adventure.

  “Attention, men!” Head Badger Bob called as they cleared their plates. “It’s time for a campfire. Go back to your rooms and grab your jackets.”

  Benches scraped against the floor as the mess hall quickly emptied.

  “How’s it going, Sport?” asked Martin’s dad as he intercepted Martin.

  “Great, Dad,” said Martin, anxiously watching Alex bolt from the room at top speed. “But I should get to my cabin.”

  “Oh, yes. Campfire,” said his dad appreciatively.

  Martin nodded, even though the campfire was not his immediate concern.

  “See you out there,” called his dad as Martin hurried away.

  Martin barely heard him. He burst through the doorway and saw Alex scrambling up to Martin’s bunk.

  “Gotcha this time!” shouted Martin.

  “Got me?” repeated Alex, puzzled. He turned around on the ladder to face Martin. “For what?”

  “Get away from my bunk!”

  “I wasn’t doing anything to your bunk. I was juggling,” said Alex, pointing to a couple of pinecones on the floor. “But I lost control.”

  “Move out of my way,” insisted Martin, pushing by Alex. He whipped open his sleeping bag.

  No slime.

  He thrust his hand under his pillow.

  Nothing!

  But he did find the third pinecone wedged in the corner of his bunk.

  “Here,” he said curtly, handing it to Alex.

  “You seem awfully jumpy,” said Alex in a tone that made Martin’s ears burn.

  Moments later, smoke began to drift back to the lodge. Cabin rooms sprang to life as Badgers rummaged through their duffle bags for their jackets, then scrambled out the door.

  Martin stayed behind, searching for his Park Ranger Super-Charged All-Night Flashlight. He finally found it buried underneath Alex’s jumbled gear. Cripes! Martin rushed outside and joined the others.

  Flames crackled and licked the tepee of logs under a black sky loaded with stars. The campfire blazed so high, the troop had to stand way back.

  Martin glanced over at his dad and the other leaders, who stood by with buckets of water. Head Badger Bob busily whittled marshmallow sticks, ignoring the raging inferno.

  Eventually, the fire burned down. Head Badger Bob showed them how to roast marshmallows and slide them between chocolate chip cookies. It made for a delicious, gooey sandwich.

  Martin ate six.

  “Okay, troop,” boomed Head Badger Bob. “A few of you are going for your Junior Campfire Badge tonight. To earn this badge, you have to entertain the troop.”

  There were excited murmurs from the crowd.

  “First up,” said Head Badger Bob, consulting his clipboard, “is Stuart. Stuart is going to play the recorder.”

  Stuart stood. He played a soulful rendition of Row, Row, Row Your Boat while Alex hummed loudly, off-key. Stuart glowered at him until Alex stopped. Then Stuart played the first few bars of the national anthem for good measure.

  He received a polite round of applause.

  “Next up,” announced Head Badger Bob, “is Clark. Clark will wow us with some magic.”

  Clark stood and pulled a roll of tape from his pocket. “Name an object, any object,” he called out.

  “Clouds!” Alex shouted a split second before the others.

  Clark blinked at him. “Pick something more solid,” he urged.

  “Campfire!” Alex called out. “Lake!”

  “Solid!” insisted Clark. “With shape!”

  “Bunk beds,” Martin suggested, coming to Clark’s rescue.

  “Thank you,” said Clark with relief. “Bunk beds it is.” He turned his back on the circle and began to fiddle with the tape.

  Screech, scritch went the tape as he pulled off various lengths. After a few short minutes, Clark wheeled around and held out his hand. There in his palm was a dollhouse-sized bunk bed made entirely out of tape.
With his other hand, he placed two tiny campers on the bunks and tucked them in with all-tape blankets.

  “Ooooooh!” chimed the crowd, applauding earnestly. “Neat trick!”

  “Martin Bridge,” called Head Badger Bob. “You’re next. Martin will entertain us with a lesson on Morse code.”

  Martin stood and turned on his flashlight.

  “Morse code is a way to send messages without a phone or a computer,” explained Martin. “Each letter is made up of short and long bursts of light or sound. I can signal any letter you want.”

  “How about the letter I’m supposed to write to my mom on this trip,” Alex called out. “Can you signal that?”

  “Not letters you mail,” said Martin, rolling his eyes. “Letters of the alphabet.”

  He took a deep breath, refusing to let Alex rattle him. “Here’s how to signal the word ‘lost.’”

  Martin proceeded to flash his light on and off, naming the letters as he signaled.

  “Now see if you can guess this word. It uses most of the letters in ‘lost.’”

  Martin flashed “stop.” But guesses from the troop were drowned out by Alex.

  “Clouds!” he shouted above the others. “Campfire! Lake!”

  “No,” said Martin, shooting Alex an icy glare. “I spelled ‘stop.’ Now here’s one more for you to guess. It uses some of the letters in ‘lost’ and ‘stop.’”

  Martin flashed his light for three short bursts, three long ones, then three short.

  This time, the troop buzzed with anticipation. Even Alex.

  “I signaled ‘S-O-S.’ It stands for ‘save our souls,’” said Martin. “That means ‘send help’ if you’re in an emergency.”