Escape from Camp Boring
Page 16
‘It’s the effect of fresh air and exercise,’ said a bleary-eyed Ellie when Noah woke us up.
I mean … honestly … it wasn’t exactly fun to be back at camp but, you know what, there were worse things to be doing. Like escaping creepy sheds or being chased by mad llamas, for instance.
At the leaving ceremony, which all the family attended – Mum, Robbie and Dad – I was the first to get called up to the safe.
Faulkner gave back both of my phones. They were larger than I remembered and neither seemed to fit as well into my hand as they once did.
‘I didn’t think you’d last the week,’ said Faulkner, narrowing his eyes as if he suspected something. ‘Well done.’
After me, the others were called up in turn. I’m not going to pretend they weren’t glad to have their stuff back, but it wasn’t the kind of Christmas-morning fizzing excitement that you might expect.
Five minutes later, I was with the family.
‘So, Robbie, did you manage to submit your work?’ I asked. You won’t believe how innocent I sounded.
For a second I thought he might punch me but instead he smiled and said, ‘Of course. Not a problem.’
‘Apart from losing your hard-drive thing!’ said Mum.
(She was smiling. That was good.)
Again my acting was stunning – I looked so shocked.
‘Lasting the whole week, eh? I told you it wouldn’t be so bad. Good job, son,’ said Dad. ‘By the way, I’ve sorted our accommodation.’
My smile could have lit a football stadium.
‘Brooklyn. And the Q-Tip tickets are sorted and everything.’
‘You lucky—’ Robbie was prevented from finishing his sentence by the appearance of Alexa, Ellie and Zed. Not far behind them were their parents, all looking exactly as you’d imagine.
‘We thought we could have a wander before we leave,’ said Ellie. ‘For old time’s sake.’
‘Are these friends?’ asked Mum, adding, for the benefit of the grown-ups: ‘Hi, adults!’
We all nodded. We all smiled. V. polite.
‘So how about that walk to say goodbye?’ said Alexa. She was wearing a pair of Ellie’s jeans, rolled up to fit her, and my black-and-red checked shirt, not the kind of stuff you’d imagine her mum would have picked out. On her head was a baseball cap from Zed.
‘I can’t get over how different my Alexa looks,’ said her mum, placing a soft hand on her daughter’s shoulder.
‘I wish we could pause time!’ said Dad. ‘Stop them growing up so fast!’
The adults laughed politely. We kids rolled our eyes. Apart from Zed, who looked confused.
And so we drifted away from the gentle conversation about the healing power of nature.
‘Not much greenery in Brooklyn,’ said Alexa, looking up at the canopy.
‘Well … you say that, but there’s some kind of salt marsh nature trail. I saw it on Google Maps. And a nature preserve near the airport.’
‘Is it close to Flushing Meadows?’ asked Ellie. ‘That’s where they have the US Open.’
‘Are we going to set up a WhatsApp group or what?’ said Zed.
Chatting about nothing, about the group chat, I heard a rustling from the trees. I motioned for everyone to stop. A fox, our fox, I’m guessing, eyed us from the treeline.
‘It wants to make friends,’ said Alexa. ‘It’s lonely. It shouldn’t be out in the day.’
But there! It wasn’t alone! There were three cubs, fuzzy and stuck together, looking our way too, like the cutest thing you’ve seen since your best friend’s puppy.
‘They’re what’s keeping it up,’ said Ellie.
‘I’ll take a picture,’ I said.
And I don’t know how long we stood there, watching. After a while the cubs came closer, sniffing the air ahead of them, unsure, mewing. When Mum-Fox decided they were too close, she swept in front of them, her tail bouncing. In time the fox padded back into the trees. Her cubs followed.
‘I wanted to cuddle the cubs,’ said Alexa as we started off back towards the parents. ‘Is that bad?’
‘That was sick,’ Zed said, and offered me a wink. ‘I’ve never seen a badger in the wild. Send the picture to the group chat.’
‘Are you joking me?’ asked Ellie. ‘A badger?’
Alexa and I exchanged glances, remembering the squirrel skeleton, and smirked. We continued walking.
‘Alexa,’ I said, finally brave enough to ask the question I’d wanted to ask since first meeting her, ‘what will the weather be like tomorrow?’
‘Don’t,’ she said, swiping at me. ‘I don’t want to have to email you.’
‘Alexa,’ I said. ‘Mute.’
And she frowned at me. And she bared her teeth. And she actually looked fairly mean, up until the point she broke down laughing. Once you’ve been attacked by a llama, you’re never as easily unnerved again.
‘You know what you are?’ asked Alexa. ‘You’re a shazbot.’
‘A what?’
‘A smogging smurfle.’
The trees grew thick around us. The undergrowth was brown and dry, crackling and hissing underfoot. But the pines were green and their branches spread out a welcoming soft canopy. In places the summer sun broke through, flooding corridors with golden light.
‘Maybe we could come back for an adventure walk sometime?’ asked Zed.
‘Adventure what?’ said Alexa.
‘Adventure walk sounds so much better than nature ramble. We don’t want mates thinking the camp has worked. Anyway,’ I said, pulling out my phone, ‘are you lot on Snapchat?’
The others didn’t reply but it didn’t matter; there was no reception anyway. And, as we continued, we all agreed on one thing: it’d be awesome if forests had Wi-Fi.
Back at the gathering of parents, slow goodbyes happening, and in front of the others, Dad gave me a hug.
‘I’ll tell you what, Will, I’m amazed that you didn’t try escaping. I was saying to your friends’ parents here, I know exactly what you’re like with your schemes and plans. I was sure you’d dig a tunnel or construct a glider or whatever. Good job. Maybe you’re finally growing up.’
And what followed, maybe, was my finest moment of the whole camp. I didn’t smile or laugh or wink at the others or anything like that. Instead I said:
‘Maybe I am, Dad. Maybe I am.’
And then:
‘What about the raft?’ asked Zed.
Footnote
* * *
CHAPTER 4
1. Wikipedia. “Q-Tip (musician).” Last modified 26/02/2021, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Q-Tip_(musician).
Back to text
* * *
Writing is a collaborative process and this book wouldn’t exist without the help of a number of talented professionals. Thanks in particular to Julia Sanderson, whose editing eye is sharper than a very sharp stick. Thanks too to the amazing Harriet Wilson. Thank you, Ann-Janine Murtagh, Samantha Stewart, Jess Dean, Jess Williams, Nicole Linhardt-Rich, Deborah Wilton, Carla Alonzi and the rights team, Elorine Grant, Hannah Marshall and everyone else at HarperCollins Children’s Books. Emily Sharratt, Jennie Roman, Mary O’Riordan and Laure Gysemans: thanks so much for your help in the edit. And isn’t the front cover fantastic? Thank you, Robin Boyden and Kate Clarke. Without Lauren Abramo’s judicious advice and constant faith in my writing I’d have given up long ago. More than an agent, she’s a friend. And, on this side of the pond, I’m incredibly grateful for Anna Carmichael’s agenting assistance too.
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Tom Mitchell is a dad, a secondary school English teacher and a writer. He grew up in the West Country and settled in London after a brief interlude in the East Midlands. He lives in Kent with his wife, Nicky, and sons, Dylan and Jacob. How to Rob a Bank was his first novel.
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