The Second Adventure

by Gordon Korman

  “Mary Catherine says hurry up and change,” she advised. “You and Bobby are the last two for ‘Gettysburg’!”

  “I’m on it!” he promised.

  A small tent had been set up backstage to serve as the wardrobe room. Bobby had thrown off his Timon costume and was about to don the long frock coat and stovepipe hat of Abraham Lincoln when Logan dashed inside, stripping out of Pumbaa.

  “What’s going on, Logan? Why is Pride Rock moving?”

  “The dog woke up,” Logan explained breathlessly. “And the farmer has two guys at the Showdown, looking for him. Mary Catherine needs to talk to you right away about what we’re going to do!”

  The trusting Bobby rushed out in search of the Ta-da! captain.

  Grim with determination, Logan crammed himself into the President’s black frock coat and trousers. He felt bad about tricking Bobby, who was a nice kid, even though he had no talent. But this was necessary. The Ta-da! revue had started off in the toilet, yet he could tell from the judge’s eyes that the second half had brought steady improvement. They were in striking distance. He could taste it. But they needed an Abraham Lincoln who could bring the house down. It called for a touch of Kellerman magic.

  He put on the fake beard and stovepipe hat, and checked his reflection in the mirror. A jarring note: The burgers in his pocket made him look fat, and Lincoln was anything but. Still, he couldn’t dump the burgers. They might be needed to keep Luthor quiet.

  Where could he stash them?

  In a moment of inspiration, he stuffed them into the tall stovepipe hat, and crammed it tightly onto his head. Perfect. No one would ever know there were hamburgers up there. It might even help his posture look more presidential.

  Bobby came rushing in. “Mary Catherine didn’t — Logan, why are you wearing my costume?”

  There could be no reasonable explanation, so Logan just ran out of the tent and took the stage. The Union soldiers seemed a little bewildered to see the wrong Lincoln standing there. So he launched right into, “Four score and seven years ago our fathers . . .”

  It was a little fast and energetic for a man with smallpox, so he slowed down and mopped his brow with a handkerchief, being careful not to dislodge his hat. He could feel Mickey Bonaventure’s eyes on him. This was it! He was doing it! He was winning over a real Hollywood actor!

  A rumble like thunder shook the stage. In that instant, Logan realized that the judge hadn’t been looking at him, but at Pride Rock, which was vibrating like a volcano about to blow. Two black-and-tan paws appeared in the gap between set and floor.

  “Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation . . .”

  Pride Rock rocked. It bounced once, slammed back to the platform, and then tilted up again, teetered there, and finally tipped over.

  Luthor came roaring across the stage like he’d been launched by a catapult. He gamboled all around Logan, leaping and barking.

  The audience was thunderstruck. Was this part of the show? And if so, what version of the Gettysburg Address had Mr. Lincoln being attacked by a giant dog?

  “The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here . . .” It was the greatest challenge any actor could possibly face — to deliver a classic speech while fighting off a wild beast. Logan never wavered, and he never blew a line. Mickey Bonaventure couldn’t have done it! Not even Johnny Depp! When Luthor knocked the hat off and the hamburgers came tumbling down, Logan didn’t falter. He finished with “. . . government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” Luthor stood beside him, his large snout buried in the pile of fallen food.

  Mickey Bonaventure leaped to his feet, applauding and howling with laughter. With him rose the entire audience, including the competition from Camp Spotlight. This was a comedy routine without equal.

  Melissa didn’t know much about drama, but she understood instantly that Logan had just put Camp Ta-da! in position for the greatest come-from-behind win in Showdown history. So she cued the music for the final number of the revue — the song “Tomorrow” from the Broadway show Annie.

  Mary Catherine was beside herself. “We can’t do the finale now! The show’s ruined!”

  “No, it’s not!” Melissa insisted. “We’re a smash! Look!”

  It was true. Logan was taking bows, basking in the glory of his standing ovation.

  Melissa put the curly red wig on Mary Catherine’s head. “You go out and sell this song, and we’re winners for sure!”

  It had to be the first time all summer that Mary Catherine did what someone else told her to do, without putting up an argument. She walked to the center of the stage, took a deep breath, and inhaled a few stray hairs from Luthor. Her allergies kicked in.

  Mary Catherine Klinger dissolved into fits of sneezing that had no end. It was so violent and so loud that, for a moment, Luthor looked away from his food. The audience watched, transfixed. Was this another surprise comedy routine? Should they laugh?

  Standing in the wings, Melissa was frozen with indecision. They were going to lose the Showdown because of Mary Catherine’s allergies!

  Before Melissa fully understood what she was doing, she was striding across the stage in front of all those people. If there was one thing she didn’t relish, it was being the center of attention. Yet she had to do this — not for Mary Catherine, who had been horrible to Logan, and none too pleasant to everybody else. This was for the Ta-da! performers, who had worked so hard. It was even for herself, to prove that she could do it, so she could retire undefeated and never do it again.

  Melissa took the wig from Mary Catherine and placed it on her own head. Then she stood beside Luthor, and began to sing.

  “THE SUN WILL COME OUT TOMORROW,

  BET YOUR BOTTOM DOLLAR THAT TOMORROW

  THERE’LL BE SUN. . .”

  Strong, full, and clear as a bell, the voice that came from behind the curtain of hair was not to be believed. It seemed to soar over the outdoor auditorium, leaving the spectators unmoving and transfixed.

  Lincoln’s hat dropped from Logan’s nerveless fingers, and he didn’t even notice, so enthralled was he with his friend’s performance. Mary Catherine stared, openmouthed, at the girl who had absolutely refused to sing. Luthor stopped eating and listened, as if hypnotized.

  Her eyes squeezed shut, the star of the moment noticed none of this, so petrified was shy Melissa at being the object of such total focus. In her mind, she was not singing; she was repairing a fried computer circuit board. As the powerful melody swelled from her throat, she was painstakingly working with a tiny tweezers, reattaching color-coded wires to gold-plated connectors. It was the only thing preventing her from passing out from sheer stage fright.

  She finished the number and opened her eyes to make sure the world hadn’t ended during her ordeal. There was stunned silence, broken only by Mary Catherine’s wheezing. Then waves of rapturous applause flooded the stage.

  “I declare Camp Ta-da! the winners!” shouted Mickey Bonaventure over the noise.

  The response was nothing short of pandemonium. The entire Ta-da! cast swarmed the stage, bumping the upended Pride Rock and knocking it back on its base again. The counselors were right behind them, escorting a sheepish but triumphant Bobby, who was wrapped in a blanket.

  Logan enfolded Mary Catherine in an ecstatic bear hug. She sneezed in his face, but looked very pleased to accept the trophy as the winning captain. It was a celebration three years in the making, and it was all the more joyous because it had taken so long to come to pass.

  The Spotlight visitors, good sports in the end, joined the cheers.

  Amid the chaos, Melissa glanced down and noticed something that very nearly stopped her heart. Luthor was no longer by her side. Frantic, she looked around. There was the elder of the two bus drivers, slinking through the partying throng, leading Luthor at the end of his leash.

  Melissa was a quiet person, but her solo had twisted her volume control to maximum. She used every decib
el now. “It’s the farmer! He’s taking the dog! Stop him!”

  The dognapper never had a chance. The campers were on him in an instant, knocking him to the ground and sitting on him. Athena wrenched the leash from his hand and tossed it to Melissa. She caught it — just in time to see the other driver, the one with the spiky hair, pushing through the crowd toward her.

  Her eyes met Logan’s. Neither of them was The Man With The Plan, but they had been friends with Griffin long enough to recognize a classic Code Z when they saw one. The jig was up, and it was time to get Luthor away from there.

  They leaped off the back of the stage and made for the trees, Luthor loping along beside them. They had not yet reached cover when Spiky Hair broke free of the chaos in hot pursuit.

  “Where are we going?” Logan rasped.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she panted in reply, “so long as we can lose this guy, hunker down, and call Griffin and Savannah!”

  “What if they don’t answer their phones?”

  “I’ve got seventy-four missed calls,” Melissa gasped. “I’m pretty sure they’ll pick up!”

  The logo on the Chevy Silverado read NORTH COUNTRY POOL COMPANY. Rattling east on the bumpy road, the driver had no idea that he had two unofficial passengers lying under a tarpaulin in his flatbed.

  Savannah was practically hysterical. “Why don’t they answer? What’s happened to them? What’s happened to Luthor?”

  Griffin was worried, too, but he knew that panic could only jeopardize the plan. “If you don’t stop calling, you’re going to drain your battery. We’ll know soon enough. I’m pretty sure we’re almost there.”

  Cautiously, the two poked their heads out of the tarp and peered over the side wall of the flatbed. An amazing sight greeted their eyes. Coming toward them, running full-tilt along the dirt shoulder, were Logan, Melissa, and Luthor. Griffin was just about to call out to them as they flashed by, when he caught sight of their pursuer, a young man with spiky hair.

  Savannah did not hesitate to act in defense of her beloved dog. She picked up the long-handled bug dipper, raised herself to her knees, and brought it down like a butterfly net just as the pickup passed Spiky Hair. Her aim was perfect. The netting stopped his head, and the rest of him wiped out on the shoulder and rolled down into the ditch. His cry of shock was so loud that the pool man screeched to a halt and jumped from the truck, thinking that he’d hit someone.

  Griffin and Savannah hopped out of the flatbed and took off along the road after their fleeing friends.

  Even at full gallop, Luthor picked up Savannah’s scent on the wind. He made a U-turn so tight that it would have jackknifed a tractor trailer. In an instant, he was in Savannah’s arms, being hugged, kissed, and fussed over.

  The four friends met by the edge of the trees.

  “Run!” Logan choked. “There’s a guy after us!”

  “Old news,” Griffin soothed. “Savannah took care of him.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” Melissa panted.

  “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Savannah countered.

  “It’s complicated,” Melissa tried to explain. “We’re Code Z now, Griffin. Luthor’s compromised. He can’t stay here anymore.”

  “That’s why we came,” Griffin confirmed. “We’ve still got one secure location left. Pitch and Ben are at Camp Endless Pines. It’s only another twenty miles down the road.”

  “How are you going to get there?” Logan pointed to the pool truck, which was disappearing down the road. “There goes your transportation.”

  Griffin grinned. “I’ve memorized the schedule for all the delivery guys up here. The bakery van should be coming through in half an hour or so. Don’t worry about us. Everything’s part of the plan.”

  Their rendezvous was brief. Logan and Melissa knew that they had to get back to camp before anyone missed them. They were the two biggest stars of the Showdown — Comedy Abe Lincoln and Annie who sang with all the exquisite yearning of a young orphan girl.

  Back at Ta-da!, the revelry was winding down, and the visitors were climbing back aboard their buses for the trip home to Spotlight.

  Logan and Melissa received countless high fives, and even scattered applause. They were no longer the camp losers who had fought with the captain and alienated the judge. Everybody knew they were the two performers who had put Ta-da! over the top.

  “Ah — there you are.” Mickey Bonaventure came over to them. “I just wanted to let you know that I have no hard feelings for what happened between us.” He turned to Melissa. “In all my professional experience, I have never heard ‘Tomorrow’ sung so beautifully, even on Broadway. Congratulations. And you” — to Logan — “that was the most creative, unexpected, hilarious performance I’ve ever witnessed. I’m going to tell everyone I know in Hollywood to be on the lookout for Ferris Atwater, Jr.” And he melted into the crowd.

  “No! Wait! I’m not Atwater, I’m Kellerman! K — E —” He made to run after the judge, but his way was blocked by two very angry bus drivers. The older man was limping heavily. The younger man’s spiky hair was considerably flattened. As well, his face was mottled by a fine mesh pattern, a souvenir of his sudden meeting with the bug dipper.

  “All right!” growled the man with the bad leg. “Where’s the dog?”

  Logan drew himself to his full height, looked the man square in the face, and said, “What dog?” It was so outrageous that even Melissa stared at him in disbelief. Half an hour ago, the Doberman had been center stage in front of hundreds of people.

  Spiky Hair’s face reddened. “Don’t give me that! Where’d you stash the pooch?”

  Logan stood firm. “Sorry, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “We’re all loaded up,” called the Spotlight head counselor from behind them. “Let’s go.”

  “You haven’t heard the last of me!” the older man promised as the two drivers reluctantly retreated to their buses.

  “Wow!” breathed Melissa. “Where’d you get the nerve to stand three feet away from two professional criminals and lie to their faces when we all know there was a dog?”

  “It wasn’t lying,” Logan replied honestly. “It was acting.”

  “Acting?”

  “I was portraying a character who hadn’t seen a dog. Listen, Melissa, you’re a genius at computers, and I guess you’re pretty good at singing, too. But you’ve got a lot to learn about the theatre. Any bunch of idiots can put on a decent show if they practice hard enough. But to tell two hired goons there’s no dog after they found him, shot him, chased him, and almost got him in the end — now, that’s a performance!”

  From: Griffin

  To: Ben

  On our way. Get ready for Operation Hideout: Phase Three.

  Don’t miss the next adventure!

  Gordon Korman’s first four books featuring Griffin Bing and his friends were Swindle, Zoobreak, Framed, and Showoff. His other books include This Can’t be Happening at Macdonald Hall (published when he was fourteen); The Toilet Paper Tigers; Radio Fifth Grade; the trilogies Island, Everest, Dive, Kidnapped, and Titanic; and the series On the Run. He lives in New York with his family and can be found on the Web at www.gordonkorman.com.

  Published by Scholastic Australia Pty Ltd

  PO Box 579 Gosford NSW 2250

  ABN 11 000 614 577

  www.scholastic.com.au

  Part of the Scholastic Group

  Sydney ● Auckland ● New York ● Toronto ● London ● Mexico City ●

  New Delhi ● Hong Kong ● Buenos Aires ● Puerto Rico

  SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  Copyright © 2012 by Gordon Korman.

  Cover art © 2012 by Jennifer Taylor

  Cover design by Elizabeth B. Parisi

  First published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc in 2012.

  This electronic edition published by Scholastic Australia Pty Li
mited in 2013.

  E-PUB/MOBI eISBN 978 192198 979 7

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher, unless specifically permitted under the Australian Copyright Act 1968 as amended.