Chapter 24

Crack!

The rock hits a corner of the outhouse, chipping off a tiny piece of shingle.

“No way!” Josh exclaims. “I had that shot!”

“You need to feel the trajectory of the rock,” Mia instructs. “Like, in your breath, in your chest.”

Mia aims for the back of the door and lets her rock fly. It pings loudly and hits right in the center, making a large mark. “See?” she says.

“Hey!” a voice yells from inside. “Cut it out!”

“Got it.” Josh nods solemnly. “Breathe. Aim.”

Chris from Bunk 3 stumbles from the outhouse, tucking his shirt into his shorts. “You mind?!” He scowls at us as he stomps off.

“I thought you checked to see if it was empty,” Tyler says to Josh.

“No, dude. I only go in there when absolutely necessary,” Josh answers. “I thought you checked.”

This will make awesome footage for my opus, I think happily as I adjust my camera headpiece. My mates and me, horsing around, damaging camp property, strategizing to save the world.

“Can I have a go?” Simon reaches for the slingshot.

Mia gives him a quick overview of slingshot placement—explaining something about aim, velocity, cleansing meditative breaths, and letting it fly. Which he does.

“Yes!” Simon pumps his fist in the air. “A perfect shot.”

“Not bad,” Mia says reluctantly.

“He plays soccer,” I announce, proud that my best mate and my potential girlfriend are bonding over sports.

“It’s not exactly the sa—” Simon pauses mid-syllable. “Never mind.”

“Free period’s almost over,” Tyler says, checking his phone. “We better come up with a plan.”

Mia and I sit on flat rocks, and Simon and Tyler sit on the ground, making a circle.

“So . . . um . . . what do we do?” Tyler says.

“I dunno,” I reply. “But we have to move fast. According to our sources, Agatha is set to strike within weeks. That means Pops and George have to get the tablet, get to Washington, show the government the tablet, convince the government that they’re ready to go public, and give the government enough time to destroy the asteroid. That’s a lot.”

“How are we gonna find the tablet?” Mia asks.

“I bet Mike and Jake know where it is,” I reply.

“So we follow them and, hopefully, they’ll lead us to it,” Simon suggests.

“What if they don’t?” Tyler asks.

We ponder this for a second.

“Then we’re in trouble,” I say.

We all agree to that.

In the distance, Yipsy’s whistle blows.

“So, step one,” Simon says, “we follow Jake and Mike. Tyler, Josh, Noah, and I will slip out after dinner.”

“Wait,” Tyler interrupts. “It’s Hangout Thursday. Nathan will probably notice if we don’t show up.”

“We can meet here then,” I say. “Afterward.”

“No, too much traffic by the outhouse,” Josh says.

“What about over there where the path ends?” Mia suggests. “Past the signpost, a few yards down the embankment.”

Yipsy’s whistle blows sharply again.

“Right.” Simon nods.

“I’ll send a Sal note to Pops and George,” I say.

“It’s on!” Josh and Tyler slap hands.

As the guys head for the bunks, Mia grabs my sleeve. “I just wanted to say thanks.”

I turn to her. “For what?”

“For, like, including me,” she says. “And for reminding me about stuff . . . that, like, I care about.”

She takes a step toward me. She’s closer than she’s ever been. She smells a little like guitar-string resin. I know this because my friend Bailey from film club plays the cello.

It’s already a hot day, and here in the woods, the morning dew mists and sizzles off the flat green leaves, causing me to wonder, what do I smell like? Are my armpits rank? Also, what’s tickling my ankle? I fight the urge to lean down and scratch it.

Is Mia about to kiss me? If so, I really regret not brushing my teeth for, like, four days.

“So, um,” Mia continues, “I hope we can, like, save the world. It’s a really timely cause and not even overexposed like other causes. We could totally spearhead the movement. I could write penetrating songs, and you could make meaningful films. It could be like the ’60s, but with social media.”

She steps in closer. “But if we don’t save the world in time, we could, like, die soon.”

“Yeah,” I say.

And, wow, I’m super nervous.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” she asks, leaning in so close that I can count the small pores in her nose. There’re more than twenty.

I don’t know if I know how to kiss, and that thing tickling my leg just bit me. I reach for my ankle just as she dives in, and our heads smack together.

“OW!” we both exclaim at once.

Then there’s just a lot of talking over each other like, “Sorry, sorry!” “No, sorry.” “It’s all right. Are you all right?” “Yeah, yeah. You?” “Yeah. You?” “Fine.” “You sure?”

Yipsy’s whistle shrieks long and loud. Last call.

It’s super awkward for a few seconds. I readjust my headpiece, and she looks all embarrassed. Eventually, she tucks her hair behind her ear, clears her throat, and jumps in front of me onto the path. I scramble up behind her.

Wow! Saving the world and almost getting my first kiss! I guess coming to Camp C was the right thing to do after all, because I can’t imagine that the DLFC could be any more exciting than this!

Tyler, Simon, Josh, and I slip back to the bunks. After a few hours’ sleep, all I can do is lie awake and think about our plan. Or more specifically, all the holes in our plan.

What if Mike and Jake have no idea where the tablet is? What if they do but don’t want to give it to us? What if their contact is a big angry guy with no neck who wears a trench coat and wants to whack us? What if, by the time George drives his usual three-miles-an-hour over to the camp and spends another ten minutes parking the car, we’ve already been whacked? What if squatting in the woods results in me getting tick bites in places I don’t want the doctor to examine?

The rest of the day is like being in some moody film-noir Hitchcock movie, moving through camp in slo-mo, nodding to friends and acquaintances and catching the eyes of all the main players.

On the way to Virtual Bungee Jumping, Tyler, Simon, and I share a secretive look.

In Armchair Travel to the Precambrian Age, I shoot Josh a sly thumbs-up, and he winks.

Strolling past the baseball field, where I almost get hit by a rogue ball, Mia and I exchange shy nods.

During CPR for Future Doctors, I spy the Rottweilers swinging over the lake on tire swings. They narrow their eyes angrily at me before belly-flopping into the lake.

And throughout the day, I repeatedly pass Lily and her friends, and she pretends not to see me. But by the fourth time, her bro-dar kicks in. She glares directly into my face. She knows something’s up.

I think I’ll miss her.