Revenge of the Happy Campers

by Jennifer Ziegler

  “It’s at our campsite, sir,” I said. “Follow us.”

  I gently pushed Darby upright and waited until she seemed awake and steady on her feet. Then I headed toward our camp.

  Aunt Jane had gone to help Mrs. Kimbro prep for the lunch rush — making us promise before she went that we wouldn’t try any more moneymaking schemes. I was kind of glad she wasn’t here to witness our defeat.

  “Here it is,” I said, gesturing toward our tent — now even more crooked-looking. At least our flag looked good tied to the stick we had staked in the ground nearby. And we’d done our best to clean it. Dawn even swept the grass around it.

  I could see the boys’ eyes widen. Jay grinned and nudged Robbie and Nelson with his elbows, and Nelson let out a little snort of laughter.

  “Wo-ho! I haven’t seen one of these old models in years,” Mr. Bartholomew said. He walked around it, glancing up and down, just like he did with the boys’ tent. Only this time he moved a little faster and hummed a little tune I didn’t recognize.

  He kept nodding his head and saying things like “Umm hmm” and “Yep.” Darby kept nodding, too. At first I thought she was agreeing with whatever he kept yeping to, but soon I realized she was nodding off and then jerking her head back up.

  On the other side of me, Dawn let out a long sigh. I knew she was wanting him to hurry up and get it over with.

  Mr. Bartholomew completed his circle of the tent, poked his head inside, and chuckled. Then he patted the canvas wall. Unlike the boys’ tent, it didn’t spring right back into shape. Instead, the whole structure thrummed and wiggled and eventually stood still — looking slightly saggier. “Yes siree, I slept in old shelters like this back when I was in the military,” he said. “Oh, this brings back memories. Waking up to see coyotes poking their heads inside, looking for food. Mud everywhere. Yep, those were good times.”

  Dawn and I exchanged confused looks. I saw the boys do the same.

  “All righty, then. I have chosen a winner,” Mr. Bartholomew said, standing extra straight as if he were a soldier at attention.

  The rest of us glanced around at one another. Finally, I said, “Who’s the winner?”

  Now Mr. Bartholomew looked baffled. “This one.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Jay said.

  “What?” Dawn said.

  “But … but …” Nelson stammered. “It’s old and ugly. Ours is lots nicer.”

  “As I recall,” Mr. Bartholomew said, “when you approached me early this morning, you wanted me to decide who did the best job assembling a tent — not which tent was the nicest. Well, I happen to know how hard it is to put up one of these doggies.” He patted the side of the tent again and it slumped even more. “That new model? It could be set up in a windstorm by a kindergartner.”

  Jay looked a little shriveled and Nelson’s mouth hung open super wide, like a snake about to swallow vermin.

  Robbie and I locked eyes. He shrugged and smiled.

  “So … we won?” I asked, just to make sure I understood. Beside me, Darby kept blinking hard. I wonder if she thought she was dreaming.

  “No contest,” Mr. Bartholomew said. “This right here was the best effort.”

  Dawn sashayed forward. A rosy glow had come over her, and her smile gleamed in the sunshine. “Thank you, Mr. Bartholomew, for serving as judge. And for serving our country. We sure do appreciate you sharing your expertise.”

  “A pleasure,” he said with a head bow. “Now if you young folks will excuse me, I want to catch some perch before they stop biting.” He strode off down the trail, whistling that same tune I didn’t recognize.

  “Well, well, well,” Dawn said. She slowly strode in front of our tent, running her hand on the canvas in a lazy, carefree kind of way. I still couldn’t believe it had won. It looked so slouchy and sad-looking.

  “Well, well, well what?” Jay asked.

  “Nothing,” Dawn said with a sly smile. “Just that … Well, it looks like we have a legitimate decision by a judge. Well, it looks like my team is now officially in the lead. And well, what do you know? Your sneaky tactics didn’t work.”

  Jay’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

  “Come on! We know that you knew you were renting the last tent. We had to take this old retired one. But we persevered. We pulled together and worked hard, and” — she waved her arms toward our tent in a grand gesture — “managed to build this.”

  “Yeah!” I added. “Twice!”

  “Those are serious allegations,” Jay said. “But rather than dignify your assumptions with a defense, I will simply say, congratulations. You might have won this competition, but there’s one more contest in this challenge. I propose that our final challenge not be one that requires a judge, but one that is decided by a clear measurement — an indisputable fact.”

  “Yeah,” said Nelson. “You guys just got lucky with judges. That’s all.”

  “Sore loser,” Dawn said.

  “But what can we do that wouldn’t require a judge?” I asked. “What sort of thing would have measurements determine the winner?”

  Nelson raised his hand. “I know! Shooting arrows at a target!”

  “That’s not a camping-related challenge,” Jay said.

  Nelson scowled.

  “I have a proposal,” Robbie said. “But it’s a little more complicated than the first two challenges.”

  “Are you worried they can’t handle it?” Jay asked with a smirk.

  Dawn folded her arms across her chest. “Bring it on.”

  “Yeah, bring it on!” I echoed. “Right, Darby?”

  I looked over and saw Darby teetering beside me. At the sound of her name, she straightened up and blinked her eyes wide. “Yeah,” she said.

  “Well? What is it, Robbie?” Nelson asked.

  Robbie glanced around at us. He kept swallowing and blinking his eyes. I could tell he was nervous about everyone looking at him — Darby gets that way, too, sometimes. It made me feel bad for him.

  “Come on, Robbie,” Jay said. “You need to officially state it for the record.”

  “Okay.” Robbie cleared his voice. “I propose that our third and final challenge be …”

  I nodded my head and bounced on my toes, trying to urge him on.

  “ … A fishing contest,” Robbie finished.

  “Yesss!” I shouted raising my fist in the air. I was so proud of him. Then I quickly pulled my arm down. I’d suddenly realized what he said — and I suddenly realized I didn’t like it.

  Not fishing! Fishing and I went together like … well … like scrambled eggs and sardines. Fishing takes someone who’s not too squeamish to put a worm on a hook — which isn’t me. And someone who’s able to stand or sit still for long periods of time — which is also not me.

  “That’ll be cool!” Nelson exclaimed.

  “Sounds good to me,” Jay said. He turned toward Dawn. “Well? What do you say?”

  I figured Dawn understood my predicament and would counter with a different idea. But to my horror, she stuck her chin in the air, held her hand out to Jay, and said, “You’re on.”

  This is all you have?” I asked, lifting one of the three cane fishing poles Mrs. Kimbro had set on the counter in front of us.

  Mrs. Kimbro nodded. “That’s all I’m able to rent out to folks your age.”

  “But … it’s just a stick with a piece of string attached,” I pointed out. “There’s no reel.”

  “That’s right.”

  “But … my friend Lucas, back home, has a lightweight silvery rod and reel that can catch anything. He says it costs more than his bicycle — and his bicycle is super fancy.”

  “It sure is,” Darby mumbled. She sat farther down the counter, feet dangling from the stool, her sleepy head resting on her arms.

  “It’s like a bike from the future,” Delaney said. She stood behind Darby and was swinging a fishing bucket around. “If the future is fast and gleamy.”

  “I’m sure it wou
ld cost more,” Mrs. Kimbro said. “And that’s exactly why these are the only poles we rent out to young people.” She grinned one of her sympathetic grins at me. “Sorry, sweetheart. I hope you understand.”

  “Don’t worry, Dawnie,” Aunt Jane said. She sat at the counter on the other side of me, looking through an old photo album that Mrs. Kimbro had handed her. “You can still catch plenty of fish with a cane pole. I’ve done it lots of times.”

  “I guess,” I said with a sigh.

  “I’ll give you pointers,” Aunt Jane said. “And you can use my rod and reel and I’ll show you how to use it, too.”

  “Um … Aunt Jane? No offense but … this is a club thing … with the other campground kids. We kind of want to do it on our own. You know. For the experience.”

  Aunt Jane tilted her head and peered at me closely, like she could see into my brain. “You mean like when you set up the tent by yourselves?”

  “Yes. Just like that,” I said. “Plus, weren’t you going to help Mrs. Kimbro update her website?”

  “Oh, honey, that’s not pressing at all,” Mrs. Kimbro said. “Your Aunt Jane is here to be with you. She and I can catch up later.”

  “It’s fine. Y’all go ahead and visit.” I tried to sound casual. “We won’t be too long.”

  “Yeah,” Delaney chimed in. “We’ll only be fishing for two hours.”

  I turned and made bug eyes at her to remind her that we didn’t want Aunt Jane to know about the contests. “Something like that,” I said.

  “Well, all right,” Aunt Jane said. “At least let me help you with your supplies.”

  A few minutes later, we set off for the old causeway freshly slathered in sunblock and wearing hats. Darby carried an empty bucket in one hand. In her other, she carried Aunt Jane’s cooler, which was full of water bottles, pimento cheese sandwiches, and a plastic container of night crawlers to use as bait. I carried the three cane poles and had Aunt Jane’s watch and a tape measure in my shorts pockets.

  Delaney, meanwhile, carried a big #3 galvanized washtub that banged against her legs as she walked. The only way we could calm her down about catching fish was to reassure her that we would throw them back after the competition was over. Since the buckets were small and any fish we caught might suffocate after a couple of hours, she convinced Mrs. Kimbro to let us borrow the washtub. All the clanging hurt my head, but at least it scared away Mo. That donkey tended to follow us around like a dog, and I didn’t want to run the risk of him coming onto the causeway and maybe scaring away the fish.

  Mrs. Kimbro had told us the causeway was an old road from long before the river was dammed up and the lake was made. When a new highway was built several years ago, bypassing their land, the old road was abandoned — yet another reason why fewer people knew about the campground. Apparently, it had always been a good place to fish, but that’s all it was now since it’s rarely used as a road.

  As the causeway came into view, we could see that the boys were already there. They weren’t fishing yet, but they’d staked out a spot. Jay was looking over his pole — which, of course, had a shiny reel.

  “Dagnabbit. I can’t believe we have to use these old poles in a fishing competition. It’s like doing a professional bike race with training wheels,” I grumbled. “Okay, team. Try not to let them intimidate you.”

  I wasn’t sure Delaney heard me with all her clanging and humming, and I suddenly realized Darby wasn’t beside me anymore.

  I glanced behind me to see her standing there, staring straight ahead. She was so still, I wondered if she had fallen asleep with her eyes open.

  “Darby?” I called out. “Darby, what are you doing?”

  She shook her head and blinked her eyes a few times. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just so pretty out here.”

  “It’s sparkly,” Delaney said, walking in a small noisy circle to take in the surroundings.

  It was true. While the causeway itself was just an old stretch of road over a narrow part of the lake, with rocky sides leading down to the water, the area around it was as scenic as a postcard. The campground side was a grassy slope with trees that seemed to be bowing their heads toward the shoreline. The other side was scrubby with chunky limestone hills up above and colorful bursts of wildflowers all over.

  “Quit noticing all the beauty!” I said. “We have a competition to win! Pick up the pace, you two!”

  Finally, we reached the causeway and approached the boys. Nelson immediately started pointing and laughing.

  “Are those your poles?” he asked. As he guffawed, he opened his mouth so wide, I could count his teeth.

  Robbie elbowed him. “Stop it,” I heard him whisper. “Don’t be obnoxious.”

  “No, it’s fine,” I said. “Go ahead and laugh. You laughed at our tent, too, remember?”

  That seemed to do the trick. Nelson’s freckled face went from laughing to scowling in two seconds.

  “All right, let’s go over the rules,” Jay said.

  “What’s to go over? It’s simple,” I said. “We agreed to fish for two straight hours and that the team with the most fish wins.”

  “But remember that only keepers count,” Jay continued. “We’ll have to identify the fish and make sure they meet the minimum length requirements.”

  Mrs. Kimbro had given us a color copy of the fish ID guide and a booklet listing the length requirements for each species. I pulled them out of the empty bucket Darby was holding and held it up for them to see. “We will.”

  “What are you guys going to try to catch?” Nelson asked.

  “Fish,” Delaney said.

  “We’re going to catch bass,” Nelson said. “And Dad’s going to grill them on planks!”

  Delaney looked stricken. “That sounds like something a pirate would do.”

  “So when do we start the two hours?” I asked. “We need a little time to set up.”

  “Let us know when you’re ready,” Jay said. “We’ll all start fishing at the same time.”

  We walked along the causeway and set down our stuff in a spot several yards away from the boys. Delaney immediately started heading to the lake with the bucket to fill the tub, but I reminded her that we didn’t have any fish yet and that she should wait until our poles were put together.

  Delaney and I carefully assembled our poles, putting the pieces together and tying on the bobbers, sinkers, and hooks the way Aunt Jane and Mrs. Kimbro had showed us. Then we built Darby’s pole for her since we couldn’t be sure she’d stayed awake during the demonstration.

  Finally, we had ourselves three finished fishing rods — old-fashioned, but sturdy. I sure hoped they’d do the trick.

  “Let’s bait our hooks,” I said. I took the plastic container of night crawlers out of the cooler and opened it up.

  “Aww, they’re so cute!” Delaney said.

  “Someday those will be your famous last words, Delaney,” I said. “Are there any critters you don’t think are cute?”

  Ignoring me, she reached in and pulled out a fat crawler. Next, I put my fingers into the container and grabbed the end of a worm. As I lifted it, it stretched and wriggled like a shoelace come to life. I made a noise like “Yeep” and dropped it back into the container. Then I tried again, but this one twisted around even more than the first, so I went “Yap” and let him go, too.

  Meanwhile, Delaney was cooing to her bait. “Hello there, little fella. Hee! You tickle.”

  “Quit making friends with your worm,” I said. “Our opponents are waiting.”

  Only Delaney wasn’t listening. “Look! He’s a bracelet.” She held out her arm to show the worm wrapped around her wrist.

  “Great googly-moogly! Will you hurry up? The boys are waiting so we can start and you’re making jewelry out of our supplies!”

  Even though the weather was breezy and the temperature was mild, my face felt like it was sizzling. So far, nothing was going the way I wanted it to, and I didn’t want the boys to see us acting like a bunch of goof-o
ffs.

  I took a deep breath and tried to make the sizzles die down. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “It’s just … I can’t put my worm on a hook. Sorry.”

  I sighed even deeper. I should have expected this.

  “Where’s your worm, Dawn?” she asked, glancing down at my hands. “Did you already bait your hook?”

  “I … um … dropped it,” I confessed. “It was slippery.”

  “Are you ready yet?” Jay called out. I looked over and saw all three of them staring at us. Nelson had his hands on his hips.

  “Almost!” I called back. That’s when I realized Darby still hadn’t grabbed her night crawler.

  I turned and found her sitting on the causeway, leaning against the cooler with her eyes shut.

  “Darby!”

  “Sorry,” she said, blinking her eyes wide. She scrambled to her feet and glanced around, looking like she’d forgotten where she was.

  “You need to bait your hook,” I told her, handing over the container of worms.

  “And could you please do mine, too?” Delaney asked her. “I just can’t.”

  “Sure,” Darby said.

  “As long as you’re at it,” I said, “you might as well do mine. You know. Just to simplify things.”

  “Sure,” Darby said again.

  “If there’s a way to not prick him, do that,” Delaney said. “Like maybe tie him on like a bow?” She turned completely around, shut her eyes, and put her fingers in her ears. “Tell me when you’re done,” she said loudly and started going “La la la” to the tune of “Yankee Doodle.”

  When Darby was done, she handed a pole to Delaney. “Don’t look down,” she said. “Hold on to it and then, when it’s time, just lower it into the water.”

  Darby then handed me a pole and picked up one for herself.

  “Are we all set?” I asked.

  “All set,” Darby and Delaney said together.

  “Okay!” I shouted to the boys. “We’re ready when you are!”

  I heard some murmuring and then Jay called out, “On the count of three. One … Two … Three!”

  All at once we lowered our hooks into the water and they cast their lines. And then …