by R. A. Spratt
Chapter 9
Arrival
As the bus pulled in through the gates of Camp Courage, the students were very cheerful. This was largely due to the fact that for the first time in four hours they were going to be allowed to use the lavatory. But some students were excited just to be away from their desks and textbooks. Friday was not so upbeat.
‘This camp is surprisingly scruffy,’ said Friday as she looked about at the location. There was one building that was a regular timber house, and alongside it was a larger building with the words ‘Mess Hall’ handpainted on a plank of wood nailed to the front doorway. Both buildings looked like they hadn’t been painted in fifty years. The bus pulled up in the central dirt courtyard, next to a sports field covered in dried-out yellow grass.
‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d mind a scruffy building,’ said Melanie. ‘You seem to like most other scruffy things.’
‘I don’t,’ said Friday. ‘I just think it’s odd. Highcrest is such a fancy school, I’d assumed they’d be sending us to a fancy camp as well.’
‘They didn’t have much choice,’ said Melanie. ‘This is the first time they’ve been able to hold the camp in five years. The school has been banned from all the reputable camps within a five hundred-kilometre radius.’
‘Why?’ asked Friday.
‘My family is partly to blame,’ said Melanie.
‘Really?’ said Friday. She only knew Melanie and her older brother Binky, and they were both lovely and totally harmless.
‘Five years ago my older brother Jub …’ began Melanie.
‘Hold it right there,’ said Friday. ‘You have a brother called Jub?’
‘Hey, your siblings are called Halley, Orion, Quasar and Kryptonite,’ said Melanie.
‘Quantum,’ corrected Friday. ‘Although if my mother ever does have a sixth child, I will suggest “Kryptonite” to her.’
‘Anyway, Jub fell asleep and accidentally set fire to his hut,’ said Melanie.
‘How do you start a fire when you’re sleeping?’ asked Friday.
‘He was cooking pizza on an open fire,’ said Melanie.
‘Okay, I can imagine that,’ said Friday.
‘And the year before that, my other brother Henk,’ continued Melanie, ‘tried surfing a bore wave up a river and ended up twenty kilometres from camp. It took him three days to walk back.’
‘So your family have been systematically ruining camps for years,’ said Friday.
‘The year before that it wasn’t any of my brothers,’ said Melanie. ‘One of the supervising teachers couldn’t handle the pressure. He went mad and blew up the mess hall.’
‘Why?’ asked Friday.
‘He didn’t like the food,’ said Melanie. ‘Once you’ve had Mrs Marigold’s cooking, baked beans every day just doesn’t cut it.’
‘Line up, maggots!’
Friday and Melanie turned around to see a rotund middle-aged woman standing on the verandah of the mess hall. She was dressed in khaki shorts and shirt, thick leather boots and a large broad brim hat, as if she was going on an African safari and needed to be ready to run away from lions. But the most eye-catching thing about this woman was that she had a prosthetic leg. Her left leg from the knee down was made of plastic and aluminium. No attempt had been made to paint the leg; it was the colour of the original materials.
‘Did she just call us maggots?’ asked Friday.
‘Move your butts!’ yelled the lady even louder. ‘Two straight lines. Right now. On the double!’
The students started to shuffle in the direction she had indicated. Highcrest Academy students did not often have to line up. Their school had given up most attempts at trying to instil order on the student body, so forming lines was an alien thing to them.
‘Everybody freeze!’ screamed the woman. She sounded so genuinely angry that even the most disrespectful students froze where they were. ‘You stuck-up rich kids are pathetic! You can’t even form two lines when you’re told to.’
‘I don’t think this lady has heard about positive reinforcement and building self-esteem,’ Melanie whispered to Friday.
‘Drop and give me twenty!’ hollered the woman.
‘Twenty what?’ asked Friday. Having grown up in a house full of physicists, Friday had not watched the usual war movies and was not familiar with the expression.
‘Now!’ bellowed the woman. And so great was her natural authority that all the students did get down on their hands and knees and start doing push-ups.
‘Bravo!’ said Mr Maclean. ‘It’s about time someone showed these children who’s in charge.’
The woman turned and glared at Mr Maclean. She took in his polished boat shoes, immaculate chinos and freshly ironed shirt. ‘You can drop and give me twenty as well!’
‘But I’m a teacher,’ blustered Mr Maclean.
‘I’m in charge here,’ yelled the woman, ‘and I say, DROP AND GIVE ME TWENTY!’
Mr Maclean was face down on the ground knocking out push-ups before the echo of her yell had stopped reverberating off the buildings.
Everyone was doing push-ups now. Even Melanie. And it was particularly hard for her because she had no upper-body strength.
‘My name is Geraldine and I am in charge of you for the next four weeks,’ she bellowed. ‘You aren’t at your posh school or your fancypants homes now. You’re in my world. And my world is your worst nightmare!’
‘There are so many contradictions in the collection of metaphors she has just used,’ whispered Friday between push-ups.
‘Huh,’ said Melanie. She wasn’t capable of more advanced speech because she was so exhausted.
‘You may not want to be here,’ said Geraldine. ‘Tough. I don’t care. I don’t want to be here taking care of you lot, either. But we’re stuck with each other and the only way you’re going to make it through is by following the rules. Rule one – do as you’re told! Rule two – never ever ask me about my leg. Rule three – and this is the most important one – do not go near the river at night! That’s when the ghost of Ghost Mountain comes down from the hills in search of children to torment.’
‘Oh, please,’ said Friday, pausing mid push-up and kneeling up. ‘I enjoy hyperbole and storytelling as much as the next person –’
‘No, you don’t,’ panted Melanie.
‘But a ghost?’ said Friday. ‘You can’t expect us to believe in that.’
‘I don’t care what you believe,’ said Geraldine. ‘I just don’t want to have to fill out the paperwork when the ghost drowns you in the river. Now, hurry up! The first ten people to finish their push-ups are going to win a prize.’
The more athletic students started push-upping faster. The first few finished and ran out to the front. Ian was amongst them. Then Jessica Dawes and Mirabella Peterson leapt up and raced forward. Soon the ten spots were full.
Everyone else slowed down again.
‘You ten get the best accommodation,’ announced Geraldine.
The athletic students cheered.
‘You get the Treehouse,’ said Geraldine. ‘You’ll be competing against the other teams to gain privileges and avoid penalties. Pedro is your counsellor.’
A swarthy man stepped forward. He looked more like a professional boxer than a camp counsellor. He was wearing khaki like Geraldine, but with long sleeves and trousers. From the number of tattoos visible above the neckline of his shirt, Friday guessed he most likely would have a lot of tattoos on his arms and legs as well. Perhaps with some rude language that needed to be covered in front of children.
‘This way,’ said Pedro. He turned and walked into the forest. The Treehouse team nervously followed him.
‘You don’t think he’s taking them off to kill them, do you?’ asked Friday.
‘They get all the luck,’ said Melanie.
Another ten students had finished and straggled to the front.
‘You ten get the next best accommodation,’ announced Geraldine. ‘You’re in the Tent with Nadi
a.’
‘If a tent is second best,’ whispered Melanie, between her eleventh and twelfth push-ups, ‘how bad are third and fourth going to be?’
A muscular blonde woman stepped forward. She was very good-looking, although she had a lot of nasty scratches on her forearms.
‘I wonder how she got those scratches,’ said Friday.
‘There must be a lot of thorny bushes near the Tent,’ said Melanie.
The Tent team followed Nadia into the forest.
Another ten students had finished and gathered at the front.
‘You are pathetic,’ said Geraldine. ‘But at least you’re not as pathetic as that lot.’ She pointed at the least athletic students. There were only six of them still doing push-ups.
‘You ten get the Hole,’ said Geraldine. ‘Go with Louise.’
Louise stepped forward. She was in her mid-twenties too. She had red hair tied back in long dreadlocks. She beckoned to her group and they began following her up the road towards the Hole.
By the time Friday finished and looked around, it was to see that she actually wasn’t last. Rajiv Patel had sprained his wrist playing Dungeons and Dragons (trying to put too much spin on the dice), so he was still struggling with one-handed push-ups. And Susan Baines was still going. She had asthma and had already stopped twice to take puffs from her ventolin inhaler.
Friday and Patel joined Melanie, Digby Harvey, a large short-sighted boy, and Wai-Yi Yap, a girl who was almost as much a bookworm as Friday. They all watched Susan struggle through her last couple of reps.
‘So you lot are the losers,’ said Geraldine, taking the time to glare hatefully into the eyes of each and every student individually. ‘You make me sick. I’m not going to put up with it. I’ve got four weeks to whip you into shape. And that’s going to happen. Do I make myself clear?’
Friday took a breath about to speak, but Melanie stomped hard on her foot.
‘Ow!’ cried Friday.
‘What was that?’ snapped Geraldine.
‘Nothing,’ said Melanie. ‘She just got bitten by a spider.’
‘Good,’ said Geraldine. ‘It will toughen her up. You ten are in the worst accommodation.’
‘But there are only six of us,’ said Wai-Yi.
‘I was told there would be forty students, so if four of them didn’t turn up, that’s not my fault,’ said Geraldine.
‘They must be the smartest four,’ muttered Susan.
‘But if we’re competing against the other teams, it won’t be fair,’ said Harvey.
‘Life isn’t fair,’ said Geraldine, ‘especially for losers. You lot need to toughen up and get used to it. You’re in the Houseboat down on the river.’
‘Didn’t you just say there was a ghost down by the river?’ asked Susan.
‘Yes, that’s why it’s the worst accommodation,’ said Geraldine. ‘Now get out of my sight!’
The six students looked about, but there was no counsellor for them to follow.
‘Where’s our counsellor?’ asked Friday.
‘What did you say?’ demanded Geraldine. Turning around, she marched right up to Friday and stood so uncomfortably close that Friday had to lean backwards.
‘The other groups had counsellors to show them to their accommodation,’ said Friday, ‘I assumed we’d get a counsellor too.’
‘You assumed, did you?’ said Geraldine. ‘Well, this is a wilderness survival camp. Don’t assume anything. What would you do if your counsellor got eaten by a bear?’
‘I’d probably be traumatised and seek psychiatric counselling,’ said Melanie.
‘I’d run away from the bear,’ said Patel.
‘You’d get on with it and cope on your own!’ yelled Geraldine. ‘So you can practise now – you can find the Houseboat yourself. Or your counsellor. Whichever one you come across first.’ She stalked off.
‘Is it too late to go home?’ asked Susan.
Friday turned and looked up the road. The bus was long gone. ‘I’m afraid so.’
‘How are we going to find the Houseboat?’ asked Harvey. He was wearing very thick glasses. His eyesight clearly wasn’t good.
‘Well, if it’s a houseboat and it’s on the river, then it must be downhill,’ said Friday. ‘Let’s see.’
Chapter 10
Sebastian
The Houseboat was even more underwhelming than the rest of the camp. The word ‘houseboat’ had evocative romantic connotations of lazy afternoons drifting along a serene river, revelling in the beauty of nature. In reality, this houseboat was just a floating shack.
‘Why a houseboat?’ wondered Susan. ‘At least in a regular shack, if it collapses, you just get a head injury. With this, when it collapses, we’ll all drown.’
‘They probably use it because it’s cheaper than constructing a building with proper foundations,’ said Friday.
‘And you wouldn’t need to get planning permission,’ said Harvey. ‘My dad is in development. Planning permission is always the hardest part of any job.’
‘Maybe it’s nicer inside,’ said Melanie.
They all trooped aboard to see for themselves.
It was not nicer inside. There were three bedrooms, but none of the furniture you would normally associate with a bedroom, just mattresses lying on the floor. Between the bedrooms was a common room with two very decrepit old couches, and a shelf holding some drinking glasses and an ancient stereo.
‘It looks like the inside of one of those shipping containers you see on the news that’s been used to smuggle illegal immigrants across a border,’ said Patel.
‘Is that how your family came to this country?’ asked Harvey.
‘My family arrived one hundred and twenty years ago on a luxury cruise liner they owned themselves,’ said Patel.
‘What’s that sound?’ asked Friday.
The group stopped to listen. It was surprisingly noisy on the river in the middle of the forest. There was the lapping of the water, the squawking of birds and the wind in the trees. But above it all, they could hear a faint droning.
‘It sounds like someone snoring,’ said Melanie.
‘It’s coming from the back of the boat,’ said Friday. ‘Let’s investigate.’
They went out on deck. There was a narrow walkway around the outside of the boat, which they followed to the back, or stern, as they say in nautical circles, where there was a narrow steep staircase.
‘It must be someone on the roof,’ said Friday.
‘Maybe it’s a home invader!’ said Wai-Yi.
‘Why would they break in then take a nap?’ asked Friday.
‘It’s the type of thing I’d do,’ said Melanie.
Friday took to the stairs first. She crept up, just in case this was the world’s weirdest home invasion. When she poked her head out above the flat roof of the Houseboat she was relieved to see no one. There was a small shed towards the front of the boat.
‘That must be the wheelhouse,’ said Friday. ‘The captain would steer the boat from there.’
‘That’s where the noise is coming from,’ said Harvey.
They walked across the roof to the shed. There were windows on all four sides so the captain could see in every direction. Friday and the others peered in.
Inside was a steering wheel and the controls for operating the Houseboat. But they were so covered in dust that they didn’t look like they’d been used for some time. Now it was a bedroom. Dirty clothes and toiletries were strewn about, and in the limited amount of floor space a mattress had been squeezed in. And sprawled across it was a large, lanky man. He was fast asleep and snoring.
‘This is how the three bears must have felt when they came back to find Goldilocks in their bed,’ said Melanie.
‘Is he some kind of vagrant?’ asked Harvey.
‘I know who he is,’ said Friday.
‘He’s not one of your physicist relatives, is he?’ asked Melanie.
‘Why do you say that?’ asked Friday.
‘He
’s scruffy enough,’ said Melanie.
‘My relatives may be messy, absentminded and bad at ironing clothes,’ said Friday, ‘but they would never dream of living on a houseboat.’
Friday stepped across to the cabin door and knocked. The man lying on the bed sat up with a jolt. When he looked around and saw six children staring at him through the window he yelped in shock. ‘Agh! What are you doing here?!’
Friday opened the door. ‘Hello, my name is Friday Barnes. I take it you’re Sebastian St John?’
‘How did you know that?’ asked Sebastian suspiciously.
‘The bag hanging on the hook behind your head has a name tag on it,’ said Friday. ‘From the Camp Courage t-shirt on the floor, I take it you are our camp counsellor.’
‘Yes,’ said Sebastian, hurriedly putting on his t-shirt. ‘You’re early.’
‘No,’ said Friday, ‘you’re late. Or rather, you were absent. To say you were late would imply that you had actually turned up to our arrival. Which you clearly did not.’
‘Friday, you might want to tone it back,’ said Melanie. ‘Waking someone up is never a good first impression. You don’t want your second, third and fourth impressions to be bad too.’
‘We were allocated the Houseboat as our dorm,’ said Harvey.
‘Bad at push-ups, were you?’ said Sebastian with a sigh. ‘I always get the ones who are bad at push-ups. But the main thing is – can you all swim?’
Everyone in the group nodded.
‘Not terribly well,’ admitted Friday.
‘Pretty badly, in fact,’ said Susan.
‘Then don’t fall overboard,’ said Sebastian. ‘There’s a waterfall downstream. If you have a history of sleepwalking, you might want to tie your ankle to the bedframe before you go to bed at night. And whatever happens, once it’s dark outside, stay inside the Houseboat.’
‘Why?’ asked Harvey.
‘Because of the ghost,’ said Sebastian.
‘Not you too?’ said Friday. ‘You can’t really expect us to believe something so silly.’