Lions & Liars

by Kate Beasley

  Frederick was power walking, his arms pumping like pistons and his legs speedboating him around and around the yard. He wove in and out between the other boys, aware of them giving him strange looks and jumping out of the way so he wouldn’t brush against them. Frederick knew he looked stupid, but he didn’t care, because as long as he kept moving the tears wouldn’t catch up.

  “Zero nine hundred hours!” Eric shouted into his megaphone as he strode through the boys. “Swimming rotation! I want you changed and riverside in five!” He dodged out of the way as Frederick sped by him. “Quit playing around, Dash!” he said. Then he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

  The boys broke up, heading toward their cabins, several of them leaping sideways as Frederick motored past them.

  He made it back to Group Thirteen, where the boys and Benjamin were waiting for him. Frederick stopped in the middle of the group, leaning over and putting his hands on his knees. The heavy, about-to-spill-over feeling in his chest had eased. He had outrun the tears.

  “Okay,” Frederick said, and let out a whoosh of air through his mouth. “Okay. I’m all right.”

  “That was…” Benjamin trailed off and shook his head. “That was the … weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “You looked like you had bees chasing you,” Nosebleed said.

  “Why’d you try to hang on to the bell?” Specs asked.

  “He didn’t mean to hang on to the bell,” the Professor said to Specs. “He accidentally let go of the rope.”

  “Well, why’d he let go of the rope?” Specs demanded.

  “Ac-ci-dent,” Ant Bite sounded out each syllable loudly for Specs.

  Specs shoved the younger boy’s arm.

  Then Frederick turned to Nosebleed and said, “Your turn.”

  “My turn?” Nosebleed put his hands on his chest as if to say, Who, me?

  Frederick’s own chest heaved. “You have to climb.” He pointed at the rope, but his arm felt like it weighed three hundred pounds, and it flopped back to his side.

  “The race is over,” the Professor said.

  Frederick shook his head. “That doesn’t matter.” He could hear that what he was saying sounded unreasonable, but he couldn’t seem to do anything about it. The words were falling out of his mouth without his having any control over them. He gestured clumsily at Nosebleed. “He has to climb.”

  “The Professor’s right, Dash,” Benjamin said. “We should go get changed. Don’t you want to go swimming?”

  “I can’t climb,” Nosebleed said to Frederick.

  “What?” Frederick said, panting.

  “I. Can’t. Climb.” Nosebleed said each word loudly and slowly. He pointed with both hands at his nose. “If I exert myself, my nose will bleed.”

  “What? If you exert yourself?” Frederick looked at the others. “Did you hear that?” he demanded. “He can’t even climb. He can’t even climb because he would exert himself.”

  “Whatever, man, it’s over,” the Professor said in a just-drop-it tone. He bent down and scooped up his book.

  “We didn’t win,” Frederick said, his voice cracking. He was getting shrill, and he knew that wasn’t cool, but he couldn’t let it go.

  “And whose fault is that?” Specs asked, accusation in his voice.

  “Sometimes you win,” Benjamin said. “And sometimes you lose, but either way you learn.”

  “We didn’t lose, either,” Frederick said. “We didn’t even finish.”

  “I think not finishing qualifies as losing,” the Professor pointed out.

  “I know this is disheartening,” Benjamin said. His hands fluttered, adjusting his name badge.

  Frederick didn’t feel disheartened. He felt like he was an incredibly tiny person, like the size of a flea, and a larger, evil person was holding a magnifying glass over him, directing a beam of sunlight to try and burn him up, and Frederick was shouting for help but no one could understand him because he had a tiny little flea voice.

  “You were never even going to climb!” Frederick said to Nosebleed. “And you!” He walked up to Specs and got in his face. The other boy stuck out his chin and didn’t budge.

  “You didn’t really hold up a bank with a hand grenade and a parasol, did you?” Specs asked with narrowed eyes, studying Frederick like he was seeing him clearly for the first time.

  “You were … so … slow,” Frederick said. “You were slower than a—a…”

  “Sloth?” the Professor suggested.

  “Sloths live in trees,” Ant Bite said.

  The Professor looked in surprise at Ant Bite and then said, “Oh, yeah.”

  “So what?” Frederick yelled, turning on Ant Bite and looming over him menacingly.

  Ant Bite didn’t look menaced. “So animals that live in trees are probably good climbers.” The smaller boy shrugged.

  “That’s … that’s a really good point,” Frederick said. His voice faltered and died, and he stared at a spot on the ground because he couldn’t seem to meet anyone’s eyes.

  It was important to Frederick that everyone in Group Thirteen and everyone in every other group and every human being on the planet understand that he was not the one who had let his team down. Yes, he was part of it. But it wasn’t just him! Nosebleed couldn’t climb at all; he wasn’t even going to try. And Specs had lost them valuable time; if he had done better, they might not have gotten so far behind. But no one was going to remember that, because Frederick had gone last and because he had fallen from the bell.

  “Hey,” Specs said with a pleased note in his voice.

  Frederick dragged his gaze up to look at the other boy, and something in the way one half of Specs’s mouth curled up in a smile gave Frederick a bad feeling—no, a bad certainty—about what was coming next.

  “I’ve thought of a nickname for you,” Specs said, squinting at Frederick. “We can call you Ding-a-Ling.”

  Frederick swallowed and looked at the ground again. None of the others said anything.

  “The way you were swinging from that bell,” Specs went on, and he let out a short, fake laugh. “It was hilarious. Ding, ding, ding. You looked like something out of a cartoon.”

  “Wait a second, Specs,” Benjamin began.

  “Cut it out,” the Professor said to Specs.

  Specs spread his hands wide in a gesture of innocence and then turned on his heel and sauntered after the other groups.

  “I think…,” Frederick said, more to himself than anyone else. “I think I’m ready to go home.” Not that home would be any better; home was terrible, too. But at least at home there were no ropes to climb and no teammates to let down. The fact that he’d thought this camp would be his Big Opportunity seemed ridiculous to him now, and he was mad at himself for being so stupid.

  “You know you can’t go home, Dash,” Benjamin said in a gentle voice. “You have to stay the whole weekend so that you can finish the program and be transformed.”

  “What?” said Frederick. He looked up. Nosebleed was shuffling his feet and watching Specs, who was heading for the sleeping cabins. The Professor had crossed his arms and was tapping the dimple in his chin with one finger. Ant Bite stood apart from the group.

  “What program?” Frederick asked. “Transformed into what?” Transformed. That sounded like something butterflies did. Or Autobots. Or people on plastic surgery reality shows.

  “Well,” Benjamin said. “You know … Transformed into a person who’s … Transformed into a better … uhh…”

  “What kind of camp is this?” Frederick asked, a fresh wave of alarm building in him.

  “Oh, it’s a great camp!” Benjamin said. “It’s a place to have fun and—”

  “It’s a disciplinary camp,” Ant Bite said, interrupting Benjamin.

  “Disciplinary camp?” Frederick repeated.

  “It’s a place to have fun!” Benjamin stressed. “And be transformed at the same time!”

  “That’s not…” Frederick’s voice trailed off. Discipli
nary? That was, like, for punishing kids, wasn’t it? Why were they at a camp for punishing kids?

  He looked, then, at Nosebleed, appreciating how very large the boy was. Not just heavy but strong, strong enough to slam Frederick to the ground. And the Professor, he wasn’t a little guy. And Ant Bite, the way his eyes were sizing Frederick up. The way he had kicked those rocks at the others. Snap ’em in twain, Specs’s voice echoed in Frederick’s head. The boys in Groups One through Five were loping up to the ropes for their turn at the climbing relay. They whooped and swung from them, making the climbing frame sway dangerously.

  These were bad kids, Frederick realized. Not like regular bad kids who didn’t make their beds or eat their vegetables. These boys were bad like Lex Luthor or Magneto or Cruella de Vil, only not her because she was a lady, so that was a bad example.

  “Oh,” Frederick said.

  “Do you have a problem with that?” Ant Bite asked.

  “Wha— No,” Frederick said. “I don’t have a problem. I’m fine. I think disciplinary camps are great. And the people who go to them are great. Just … great.” He answered instinctively, not wanting to offend them.

  “You had to know it was a disciplinary camp,” the Professor said. “It was on the application.”

  “There was an application?” Nosebleed asked, looking around. “I didn’t know there was an application.”

  “We need to get changed,” Ant Bite said, turning his eyes away from Frederick, “if we’re going swimming.”

  He took off after Specs. The others turned, too. Even Benjamin started to head away.

  “Come on, Dash,” Benjamin cajoled, like he was trying to get a scared puppy to follow him. “Let’s go swimming, okay?”

  9

  The Dead Zone

  None of the counselors or other campers seemed to find it odd that Dashiell had arrived at a transformational-slash-disciplinary camp for a three-day weekend without any swim trunks for taking a dip in the river. Or pajamas for sleeping in, or a change of clothes, an extra pair of shoes, sunscreen, a toothbrush … his own pillow from home.

  While the other boys went into the sleeping cabins to change into their trunks, Frederick stayed outside and repeated to Benjamin that he didn’t have anything to swim in, so what was he supposed to do while everyone else was in the river?

  Benjamin frowned at Eric, who was barking orders through the door of Group Ten’s cabin. And then he frowned in the direction of the school bus, which was rolling out of the parking lot. Finally, he frowned at Frederick standing before him with his enormous nose and the wrinkled and bloodstained clothes that he’d worn to school the day before.

  “You can swim in the shorts you’re wearing?” Benjamin said, his tone making the sentence a question. “And they’ll dry out?” A smile lit his face. “And then they’ll be clean!”

  “Uhh,” said Frederick.

  “Two birds,” Benjamin said, lifting a finger philosophically, “one stone.”

  “What about my toothbrush?” Frederick said. He thought that this detail would for sure make Benjamin reconsider the conversation. “I can’t brush my teeth without a toothbrush.”

  “I don’t think you’ll get cavities from not brushing your teeth for a few nights,” Benjamin said.

  “Are you a dentist?” Frederick demanded.

  Benjamin blinked at him. Frederick looked around, and when he saw that no one was within earshot, he took a step closer to Benjamin, held the counselor’s eyes, and explained rapidly.

  “Listen, I really don’t belong here. I’m Frederick Frederickson. I’m not Dashiell Whoever. And I accidentally stole my friend’s dad’s boat and the motor just fell off in the water, and I was going to swim back but there was this alligator, and I had to defend myself with a hamburger.” He paused to suck in a big breath of air. “I need to get home,” he finished.

  He expected Benjamin to look surprised and then for realization to dawn on his face. And then the counselor would lead him away to some safe, air-conditioned room where he would wait for his parents to come and collect him.

  But the look of surprise never came. What happened instead was that Benjamin took a breath and focused on a spot over Frederick’s head for a moment. Then he looked back at Frederick with the closest thing to determination Frederick had ever seen on the counselor’s face.

  “I’m going to tell you a secret, Dash,” Benjamin said. His voice was serious, like he had come to a big decision.

  Frederick didn’t want to hear Benjamin’s big secret. He wanted to go home! But he thought it might sound rude if he told Benjamin that, so he swallowed the yell of frustration that was trying to get out.

  “Okay,” Frederick said in a tight voice, hoping that after the big secret thing, they would focus on the real problem.

  “Okay,” Benjamin said. “So we had to interview to be counselors. There was this whole long process where we got training and then took tests. It was really competitive. Everybody wants to be a counselor because it looks good on your résumé…”

  Frederick’s eyes wandered over the camp as Benjamin spoke. Two boys were sneaking behind the main cabin, cans of spray paint in their hands.

  “I really, really wanted them to pick me to be a counselor,” Benjamin said.

  “Uh-huh,” Frederick said, trying to hurry him through the story. “And they did. They picked you.”

  “But when I got my official letter,” Benjamin said, “I was rejected.”

  “What?” Frederick looked back at Benjamin. “But … you’re here…”

  Benjamin nodded. “They rejected my application,” he said. “And I was really down about it.” He took a breath and then smiled. “But then one of the counselors that got accepted got strep throat, and the camp called me to come in at the last minute.” He bounced on the balls of his feet. “And I was nervous at first. I’m still nervous. But I believe that I can do this. I belong here. Even if I don’t feel like it sometimes. I. Belong.”

  He reached out and put a hand on Frederick’s shoulder. “And I believe that you belong here, too.”

  “I’m not Dash,” Frederick said loudly. “I’m Frederick Frederickson!”

  “You don’t want to be here because you’re afraid that the program won’t work for you. That’s a normal reaction for someone who’s in the fear stage of the transformational process,” Benjamin said in a voice that had the bossy yet soothing tone of a training manual.

  “It’s not a reaction!” Frederick said. “It’s the truth.”

  “Once that fear has run its course, you’ll be ready to transform.” Benjamin’s eyes were shining with hope. “The Camp Omigoshee program is going to work for you.” He patted Frederick’s shoulder. “You think about what I said. You belong.”

  * * *

  The boys stood on the riverbank while Eric yelled into his megaphone about the dangers of the water.

  All the boys were in swim trunks except for Ant Bite, who was in swim trunks and a reflective orange life vest, and Frederick, who was in his shorts. They waved away gnats as Eric’s evil robot voice carried over the river and through the trees, punctuated by the distant sound of the climbing bells’ clanging.

  These were some of the dangers Eric covered in his speech: currents that could sweep them away in a moment; sharp objects on the river bottom that might puncture their bare feet and cause infections and lead to amputation of the affected limb; roughhousing and horseplay, which might cause drowning and dying; swimming under the water and then coming up under a log and knocking themselves unconscious, which, again, might result in a nasty case of death.

  Eric didn’t tell them how to avoid any of these outcomes, he just let them know that there was a very real possibility these things might happen. When he was done, Frederick raised his hand.

  Eric’s sunglasses pointed at him for a long moment before the counselor clicked the megaphone’s trigger. “What is it, Dash?”

  “What about alligators?” Frederick asked.

  “W
hat about them?” Eric said.

  Frederick looked around at the others. They were kicking the sand like bulls pawing the ground.

  “How do we…” Frederick tried to think of the right way to frame what he really wanted to know, which was How can we get some sonar equipment in here and make sure that the river’s clear? How can we make sure that we don’t get eaten? How can we ever live without fear again? “How can we know if there are alligators?”

  Click went the megaphone. “You can’t,” Eric said. “Any more questions?”

  Frederick gulped.

  Eric turned his face skyward for a moment, as if asking the universe how he was supposed to endure the existence of boys like Frederick. When he looked back down, he clicked the megaphone. “Men of character don’t obsess over what could go wrong, Dash. They’re aware of the dangers and proceed anyway.”

  Frederick thought that he was never going to be a man of character, and also that maybe Eric was suggesting something illegal.

  “Everyone in the water!” Eric ordered.

  The boys raced to the water. They hit the river with giant splashes, crashing into it and pushing forward as if they were diving into beautiful, clear, safe water instead of murky, tea-colored water concealing a multitude of potentially lethal dangers.

  Ant Bite followed more slowly. He walked into the river, holding on to the straps of his life vest. The younger boy eased out until he was bobbing like a cork. A glowering cork. The current spun him around and carried him down the river as the other boys splashed.

  Frederick crept to the river’s edge. Water lapped the tips of his big toes. The cool water did feel good. He thought maybe he could just wade a little bit, up to the shins. He was sure that he would be able to see an alligator coming if he was in the shallow water. Or the alligator would eat one of the boys farther out. He sensed someone behind him and turned to find Eric’s sunglasses looking down at him.

  “Get in the water, Dash,” the counselor said. It was the first time Frederick had heard Eric’s voice without the megaphone, and for some reason that made it super creepy. His lips didn’t seem to move enough when he spoke. “You have ten seconds.”