Camp Wild (6 page)

“Think I could have gone over the falls in it and lived?” Charlie asks, inspecting it.

“Don't even think about it,” Herb and I say together.

“Hey! Is that my paddle?” he asks, pointing to an eddy further downstream.

Herb canoes down to it, picks it up, gives us a victory sign.

Too bad, I think. Now I've lost my slave. So Charlie climbs back in his kayak, and the three of us meander on down through playful rapids: canoe, kayak and canoe, staying in the order we've agreed on. Herb and I are careful to pick routes Charlie can follow, more careful than we were above. Even if it's easier here, there's no point losing him after all we've been through. And okay, I've undergone an attitude adjustment.

“Hey Herb. The way the trees look up ahead, I'd say we're about to dump into a lake. You figure?”

He slows his stroke rate for a second. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Then what?”

“Well, first we break out the marshmallows, because I've been saving them for a celebration. Then you catch us a fish and we'll have a delicious fry-up. Then we
look for a break in the trees that might be a road access.”

“Then you and Charlie can hike out if no one has shown up looking for us yet.”

“You're still set on staying here?”

“Can I stay with you?” Charlie asks.

“Not in a month of Sundays, kid. You get back to camp and show Patrick and Claire how your ferry moves and eddy turns have improved.”

“Awwww!”

“Not much food left, Wilf,” Herb objects.

“That's what my fish hooks and survival skills are for. Tell ‘em I'll be back before my two weeks is up.”

“They'll grill Charlie and me about where you are.”

“Well, I know Charlie won't break,” I tease back.

As we're talking, the river gets shallow and gurgles as it feeds into the lake.

“Sounds like it's farting,” Charlie says, laughing so hard his kayak shakes.

“It's just saying goodbye.”

We take a good look around. Forget a break in the trees indicating a road. The glare of the sun on a bunch of vehicles beside a dirt ramp across the lake hits us. It's matched by the sparkle of aluminum canoes coming at us, like maybe someone's binoculars spotted us on the last portion of the river and served as the signal for launching.

“Three double canoes. Isn't that a bit large for a Camp Wild posse?” Herb says uncertainly. “I think we might be in a little trouble when they get here.”

“Doesn't leave many canoes back at camp,” I mumble, realizing I have no time to hide now.

“Or counselors,” Charlie inserts.

We paddle slowly toward the middle of the lake as the canoes close on us. I can't figure out who's in the boats. I'm guessing it might be Claire and Patrick in the front one, and judging from the color of their clothing, park rangers in the second. Looks like a middle-aged couple in the third. Herb's folks? The couple is struggling to keep up with the other two boats, like they're not very fit, but their paddling technique clearly shows they've spent lots of time in canoes. Hopefully they're not police officers or anything.

My paddle keeps dipping, my eyes on the party approaching. Definitely Patrick
and Claire, definitely rangers. But...
my
mom and dad? What the heck would they be doing here, in a canoe of all things?

As five canoes and one kayak converge in the middle of the lake, people practically tip over reaching out to shake hands or, in the case of Mom and Dad, hug me.

“We're so relieved you're safe,” Claire gushes. “I just want you to know how happy we are that you're all here. Everyone at camp has been worrying like crazy about the three of you. Especially you, Charlie,” she says as he squirms a little and gives me a sideways smile.

“Herb, your parents are at Camp Wild now, manning the phones. Charlie, your parents are a mess.”

“Before you say a word,” Dad starts— not knowing I'm incapable of saying a word as I stare at him and Mom in utter shock—”your mother and I want to say we're very angry you would dare to try a
stunt like this. What is it you were trying to prove, young man?”

Slowly my tongue comes unstuck. “I told you that you couldn't force me to go to summer camp,” I say as defiantly as I can.

Claire starts staring at the water. The others are trying not to shift in their canoe seats.

My parents both start speaking at once, until my mother puts her hand on my dad's shoulder as if insisting she get her turn first. “You had us worried sick,” she starts. “Did you think about how panicked we'd be? And why put others in danger, especially someone as young as this boy?”

Charlie bristles at that but seems to know when to keep silent.

“They followed me,” I declare. “I didn't put anyone up to anything. I didn't want anything to do with them. Just ask them.”

Dad looks from Charlie to Herb and seems satisfied with the looks they return.

“Actually,” I add boldly, “I didn't think you'd worry much at all. I thought I'd get the summer I really wanted, and you'd just fit in some more work. You know, take care of clients.” The word “work” comes out way louder and more bitter than I plan. It also seems to hit and stick in them like a carelessly tossed fishhook.

Dad opens his mouth, then closes it, just like a new catch in the bottom of the boat. He also goes a bit red.

“So,” he finally begins, as Patrick trails his canoe paddle in the water and sneaks glances at the rangers, “you thought you were too old for Camp Wild, and you thought you had to do something dangerous to make your point.”

“Sweetie, I think you're ignoring his real point,” my mom says unexpectedly.

“Which is?” my father says stubbornly.

She gives him the silent treatment.

“That you kind of dumped him at camp,” Herb ventures.

Everyone turns and stares at Herb. Charlie gets an evil smirk on his face.

“‘Cause you work too much!” Charlie explodes, taking his cue from Herb's remark. “And he's way more adventurous than you are!”

Claire reaches across to put her hand over Charlie's mouth. She removes it right away, but he gets the idea.

“Is that what you think?” Dad asks, but his tone has lost its sharp edge.

I shrug. “Whatever.”

“You know,” my mother speaks up, “we used to canoe and camp a lot before you were born.” My dumbstruck look seems to amuse her. “It has been a long time. And I guess we've been working way too much. But believe it or not, we can understand why you might want to do something more adventurous. I guess
we didn't listen very well when you tried to tell us that.”

“This was a very foolish way to try and get your way,” Dad says, gesturing toward the river behind us. He takes a deep breath. “But here we are. And you know what? Except for the worry and anger, I kind of enjoyed the trip out here. I'd forgotten how beautiful this lake is.” He studies me, and his voice goes softer. “What do you say we stay on a few days, roast some marshmallows, get some mosquito bites, do some hiking and canoeing together?” He coughs. “The bank will run itself for a few days. And maybe your mother can make a few calls from camp and arrange for a break. Somehow I'm guessing Camp Wild would be okay with dismissing you early.”

Patrick and Claire look up, then at one another.

“I'm sure it can be arranged,” Patrick says, squinting at me a little.

I try clearing my throat, but that's about all I can manage.

“Luck-eeeee,” Charlie protests. “You're going to make me go back, aren't you?” he accuses Claire and Patrick.

“Absolutely. No question,” Patrick responds sternly, shaking his head while trying not to smile. The rangers look far less amused. I'm guessing that they're still waiting their turn for a nasty lecture.

“But if you survived the canyon, Charlie, I reckon you can help teach the other juniors,” Claire adds. “Can I count on you as a helper?”

Charlie looks at me and shrugs. “Dunno. I don't really like kids.”

This sets us all off laughing, even the rangers, which breaks the tension still hanging at the edges of our reunion.

“Wilf, we promise we won't make you go to Camp Wild next year,” Dad says solemnly.

I look at Herb and Charlie, then at Claire.

“But I'd like to come back next year,” I announce. “Then Claire could train me up as a junior counselor.”

Patrick looks startled, then angry, like I might have to submit to a few severe lectures and suffer a period of probation between now and then.

Herb says, “Me too.”

“All right!” Charlie explodes, jabbing his kayak paddle up and down wildly.

Claire gives me a glowing smile that makes me think I'm going to capsize in my canoe right then and there and need a deep-water rescue if not mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

Pam Withers
is author of
Raging River
,
Peak Survival
,
Adrenalin Ride
and
Skater Stuntboys
. She is also a former summer camp coordinator, whitewater kayak instructor and river raft guide. She lives in Vancouver with her husband and teenage son when not touring North America giving school presentations. Her website is
www.TakeItToTheXtreme.com
.

by Frieda Wishinsky

“Ohmygod! Is that what it said?”

I wondered what they were whispering about. I knew something was going on but what?

A crowd was milling around the lockers, talking and laughing, but as soon as I showed up, the noise stopped dead.

A few kids coughed. A few others snapped their lockers shut and left. One girl gave me a strange look, as if I had horns growing out of my head.

When Renata is chosen to play the lead role in the school musical, students who used to ignore her start saying hello and congratulating her in the hall. She is happy until it becomes evident that Karin, a wealthy girl who expected to get the lead role, will go to great lengths to ruin Renata's reputation.