If you are planning to ask someone to do something as a favor to you that they really don’t want to do, you’d best have a convincing argument ready. And if you are embarking on a highly illicit expedition, you’d do well to have a clear idea of the strengths and weaknesses of your plan. It will help when you encounter those inevitable obstacles.
Jesse and his orienteering skills were the great strength of Alice and Fergus’s plan. His absolute determination to win the Orienteering Challenge and his well-known strict adherence to school rules were its fatal weaknesses.
On the morning of their second day, Jesse emerged from a long, deep sleep in excellent spirits, which were lifted even further when he discovered that Alice and Fergus had risen before him, that they had made tea and porridge, and that the porridge was actually good. Even the weather, which had turned cold and gray overnight, could not dampen his mood.
“Not such a long walk today,” he said, shoveling down his breakfast. “Two hours south along the coast, I reckon, then three hours inland, but all on tracks and roads. Add in a stop for lunch, and a couple of rests, that’s six hours, plus we’ve got to pack up here and the weather’s not . . . What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Tell him,” said Fergus.
And so the second betrayal began.
Alice fed Jesse the same unconvincing lies she had told Fergus—Barney and the castle where she was to meet him, the island paradise he longed to show her, the puffins . . . Jesse’s reaction went from bafflement—“Island? Castle? Puffins? What are you talking about?”—to hurt—“You’ve known all this time and didn’t tell me?”—to flat refusal—“I’m not going, and I’ll tell school.”
“Please, Jesse,” said Alice. “We need you.”
“Need me?”
“You’re the best orienteer. A great orienteer.”
“Don’t try and flatter me! How long have you been plotting this?”
“Not long,” lied Alice.
“Ages,” admitted Fergus.
“Why are you doing this?” demanded Jesse.
“I do wonder, sometimes,” said Fergus. “But it’s important to Alice.”
“Will you do it?” Alice asked.
An uncomfortable lump was forming in Jesse’s throat. That they had plotted this for ages! That they had known, yesterday on the beach, and last night by the fire, and before going to sleep in the tent! Known, and kept it from him, and made a fool of him! You should be an explorer—that he should have felt so happy, when they were about to stab him in the back, knowing how much this Challenge meant to him, knowing how much their friendship . . .
“No,” he said. “I won’t.”
Fergus, who really was wondering about the plan, whooped silently, then sighed as Alice set her chin in a way he was beginning to recognize.
“Then we’ll just have to do it without you,” she said in a very small voice.
“Alice!” he whispered. “We can’t! Not without Jesse!”
“I’ll go alone if I have to.”
He tried to reason with her. “Think of the Consequences if Jesse gets back without us! School will know we split up—he’ll have to tell them!”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Despite the chin, there was an unmistakable quaver in her voice. And Fergus knew that he could never let her go alone.
Silently, they washed their bowls, packed up their rucksacks, and dismantled the tent.
“You should take it,” Alice told Jesse. “It’s only fair.” She hesitated, then, standing on tiptoe, kissed him quickly on the cheek. “Good luck, Jesse. I’m sure you’ll win.”
“Please come with us, Jesse.” Fergus couldn’t believe this was happening. Now that they were separating, he realized how much it meant to him for them to all be together. Not because they might—would probably—get lost without Jesse, but because, astonishingly, he liked him.
And oh, thought Jesse, the swim and the stars and the bonfire and the fish! The seals, and the sound of the waves at night!
“I’m not coming,” he said. “And that’s that.”
“Alice!” begged Fergus. “Let’s talk about this!”
But Alice was already walking, and Jesse was looking away. Fergus sighed, swung his pack onto his back, and ran after her.
The beach was pristine again, all traces of their fire wiped clean by the tide. Jesse thought he saw a sleek black head in the water, but it was only driftwood, bobbing.
“I’m going to win this,” he said out loud. “I’ll show them!”
His words scattered on the wind.
Alice and Fergus were nearing an intersection on the path they had come down the day before. Jesse knew, without even looking at the map, that if they wanted to go north, they had to turn left. Whereas he had to go right. Right, and then inland, and then he would win, because no one was faster or better than him. Especially with no one to slow him down. He would win.
He would win!
Except—could he even win if he lost half his team?
His heart tightened. He had loved being part of their team. They had stopped now and were looking at the map.
“Left,” Jesse muttered. “It’s not difficult. LEFT!” They turned right. He waved. They didn’t see. He shouted. They didn’t hear. “Oh, come on,” he groaned. It was true—they couldn’t do it without him.
That wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was that he didn’t want them to. “WAIT!” he shouted again, and this time they looked back, and stopped, and grinned. “Wait for me!” he bellowed, and began to run. After all, Jesse had always longed for a real adventure. Here it was, just begging him to join in.