Cartboy Goes to Camp (7 page)

Like the girl from Cabin 5, who found an arrowhead. And the boy from Cabin 3, who uncovered a silver knife handle buried near the clearing.

I would say he got four hats for it. But the handle had
S. PRENTICE
etched on one side. So I'm going with
five
.

By the time the gourd sounded for dinner, I was beyond hungry. So I sprinted to the dining hall as fast as I could.

I planned on going to the same table where I'd sat during lunch. The one that was far from Ryan and Billy. But I never made it there.

Seeing as how Ryan
tripped
me as I walked through the door.

“Not so fast, Cartboy.”

He “helped” me up, then pulled my face toward his. “There's not enough food at this place. And I need food. You're gonna take one bite of your dinner, then sneak the rest to me.”

Like clockwork, Billy appeared at Ryan's side. “And ssssneak me sssome too.”

I stared up at Ryan and Billy, drooling over the thought of eating my dinner, and I couldn't help but think of Arnie back at home.

Safely in his room. Playing
RavenCave.
Feasting on doughnuts. Sleeping until noon.

I also couldn't help but think that after just one day at camp, I was already on my way to becoming a real Jamestown settler:

Someone who starves to death.

 

Hunting, Digging, and Cake

Dear Possible Driver of a Time-Traveling Vehicle:

Today's first activity was bow-and-arrow practice, and Theo started preparing us the minute we got to breakfast.

“You'll need to concentrate hard,” he said. “Bow-and-arrow skills were critical to the settlers. They had to hunt to survive. So you'll be judged on accuracy. And remember, the bow-and-arrow activity is worth the most hats on Pioneer Day. As much as the tug-of-war.”

As soon as breakfast was over, Mr. Prentice told us to meet him near the pond, where the bow-and-arrow practice would take place.

All I knew was that this time, if he asked a question, I was not going to answer it. No matter what, I was going to make sure he didn't point to me.

So the minute I got to the pond, I scoped out a good hiding place. Right away I spotted one. It was behind some cattails, not too far from the grassy area where campers were gathered.

It was pretty mosquitoey back there, but I figured, what's a few itchy bites compared to being humiliated in front of fifty kids?

Mr. Prentice blew the gourd and then faced the campers. “As ye know,” he said, “the settlers needed meat to supplement their diets. Who amongst thee can name the wild Virginia game which they hunted?”

I tucked even farther into the cattails. Maybe, I thought, Mr. Prentice would point to Vinny or Scot. Or a kid from another cabin.

I stood there, waiting for someone to answer the question. And that's when the mosquito bit me in the face. My hand hit my head with a
slap
.

And Mr. Prentice pointed straight at me. “Mr. Rifkind!”

“What? No. There was a mosquito—”

“Your answer, please. Name the game native to Virginia?”

“Uh. Game?”

“Yes. I'm waiting.”

“Baseball?”

“Try again. Think wild game.”

“Rugby.”

“No! One more try. ‘Wild game' is an
animal.
”

By this time, most of the kids were laughing. So I thought hard. Something that lives in bushes and trees and tastes gamey. What could it be?

“I've got it, sir,” I said. “Parrots.”

“Mary Mother of Smoke Signals!”

Before Mr. Prentice could say anything else, Cora raised her hand. “Raccoon, opossum, black bear, white-tailed deer, and small woodland animals such as squirrels and skunks,” she said.

“Correct. Now ye shall practice your shooting.”

I was pretty relieved to see Mr. Prentice and a bunch of counselors pull some paper targets out from a storage shed. The targets had silhouettes of animals on them. So we wouldn't have to shoot the real thing. So nothing would get hurt.

Of course, hunting and shooting were not a problem for Ryan Horner.

Somehow, he had managed to “limp” down to the pond. I guess he couldn't resist the opportunity to hurt a living creature. Even if it was just a
picture
of one.

Ryan didn't hit a single target. But he got
three
hats. “Thee has braved an injury and hunted for the good of the settlement, Mr. Horner,” I heard Mr. Prentice say.

Our cabin would have done a lot better if it wasn't for me. As it turns out, I am not actually able to aim a bow. Or shoot an arrow. Or concentrate hard.

MY CABIN'S SCORE

Vinny: 3       Scot: 2       Perth: 2       Me: 0

“Don't worry about it, Hal. I have some good news,” Vinny said as soon as we sat down for lunch. “The afternoon activity is Free Time. We can do any pioneer activity we like.”

Right away, Vinny, Scot, Perth, and I knew what that meant: digging. We ate fast and ran to our cabin for our shovels.

But mine was stuck in the bottom of my pack. “I'll meet you guys behind the museum,” I said.

After a good
ten minutes
of tugging and pulling, I hoisted my dad's old shovel out of the moldy green bag and ran toward the back of the museum.

Just as I passed the woodpile at the edge of the clearing, I heard a girl's voice.

“Hal?”

“Oh, hey, Cora,” I said. I tried to keep on running.

“Wait. I see you have your shovel—”

“Yep. Shovel. Gotta dig. Bye.”

“Hold on. While you're digging for artifacts, could you keep your eyes peeled for arrowheads? We need them for decorations for the dance.”

I stopped in my tracks. “D-d-dance?”

“The theme is the Powhatan Tribes of Virginia. It's on the last night of camp. Are you going?”

“D-dances are not really my thing…” I started to say.

It looked like Cora was gonna ask me to go
with her,
so I did what any sensible man would do when a girl is about to ask him out. Hightailed it out of there as fast as I could.

When I got to the back of the museum, the guys had already started digging. By the looks of things, they hadn't found anything yet.

So once again, we dug and dug. We dug until Scot's hands were covered in dirt. Perth got a stomachache. And I got a blister the size of a quarter.

“Maybe someone already found the pearls and took them,” said Scot, throwing down his shovel.

“Maybe that Sam what's-his-name never buried it,” said Perth.

“Maybe you should tell us exactly what makes you think there is a treasure, Vinny,” I said.

Vinny put his shovel on the ground and pulled a small paper out of his pocket. “This is what I found in the Museum of Colonial Artifacts a few years ago. It's the page from Sam Prentice's dairy. Here.”

September 1607

The trove of pearls are buried within the walls of the Prentice compound. I hid them lest we needeth them to trade with the Powhatans for food. As the crops are thin and the winter grows bitter cold.

“It was even signed,” said Vinny, pointing to the bottom of the paper.