How did you get those?” Garry asked, his voice a whisper of dread.
Michael laughed low in his throat. “Let’s just say I found them,” he answered. He came around the bunk until he was nose to nose with Garry. “I can see the headline now: Hero Saves Camp from Fire, Names Arsonist.”
Garry blanched. “Arsonist? I didn’t start the fire … not on purpose, anyway!”
Michael smiled. “But you admit you started the fire? With these matches?”
Garry hung his head. “I-I don’t know, not for sure.”
“You probably did, though, right?” Michael tsked. “And yet you never said anything, not even to the coach. And now it’s too late!”
Garry’s head shot up. “Why? Why is it too late?” He waited for Michael to say that he’d already gone to the authorities.
Instead, Michael guffawed. “Think about it, Wallis! You’d only be confessing because I found out your secret and you’re afraid I’m going to tell!”
“That’s not true!” Garry protested. “I was planning to tell the coach what happened. But there wasn’t time —”
“There’s always time for the truth, Garry,” Michael said piously. “And now I’ll be the one to tell it. But first …”
Garry stared. “First what?”
“First, you’re going to help me get something you stole from me.”
“I never stole anything from you!”
“Oh, yes, you did!” Michael’s eyes suddenly blazed with anger. “You stole the top scorer award from me last season! Well, now you’re going to make sure I get what I deserve” — he held up the matches — “or I’ll go to the coach and see that you get what you deserve!”
Garry sank down onto the bottom bunk and waited, certain Michael was going to explain — and equally certain he wasn’t going to like the explanation.
“You’re going to feed me the ball every time you get it,” Michael said. “Every time. And,” he continued with a nasty grin, “you’ll tell everyone else on the team to do the same thing.”
“Is that all?” Garry asked.
“Almost. You’ll also tell your stupid brother that he’s not welcome on the Rockets. You’ll get him to quit the team like I told you to do last season.”
“What if I don’t?”
Michael shrugged. “Then I’ll tell everyone what I know. See ya.” With that, he pocketed the matches and left, banging the door behind him.
Garry lay back against Conor’s bunk and stared at the slats above him. He wished he could rewind time, go back to the night before, stop Michael from getting under his skin, and most of all, stop himself from lighting those matches and starting the fire.
Then suddenly, he thought of something. He sat up abruptly and almost hit his head on the bunk.
I still don’t know for sure if I started that fire! Well, there’s one way to find out!
He snatched up his sweatshirt and ran out of the cabin to retrace his steps back to the boulder. At one point he thought he’d gone the wrong way, but then he passed the rusty bucket that had covered the matches.
Then he saw the boulder. He blinked. There were the charred remains of a small tree and some surrounding brush, but it was several yards away from the boulder. He couldn’t imagine the third match landing that far from where he’d dropped it.
Breathing hard, he scrambled to the top of the rock and found the two matches he’d lit exactly where he’d left them. Then he hurried to the spot where he’d struck the third match. He gave a cry.
There was the match, and it was only half burned!
“I didn’t do it!” he crowed happily.
“Didn’t do what?”
Garry jumped at the sound of the voice. He peered over the side of the boulder. It was Scottie! “What’re you doing here?” he asked.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” a different voice intoned.
Garry shrank back as Coach Hasbrouck stepped into view.
“Garry, please come down from there,” the coach said.
Garry hesitated, then obeyed. When he landed on the ground, he was startled to discover that Scottie’s coach and the burly firefighter were with them.
“Wha-what’s up?” he asked in a small voice.
“I told them about last night,” Scottie said. “About what you did. They wanted to see where it happened.”
“But I didn’t do it!” Garry protested. “See?” He held up the third match. “It burned out on top of the boulder when I dropped it! I didn’t start the fire!”
The firefighter and the coaches exchanged looks. “You were lighting matches out here last night?” the firefighter said at last.
Garry gulped and slowly lowered his hand. “I-I — yes. But you knew that already, didn’t you?” He turned to Scottie. “Isn’t that what you told them? That I started the fire?”
“Huh?” Scottie shook his head. “Why would I think you started the fire?”
“Because you found the matches in my sweatshirt pocket!”
Scottie raised and lowered his shoulders. “I didn’t find any matches, Garry. We’re out here so I can show them where you rescued me from the river!”
The firefighter stepped forward then. “Perhaps you boys better walk us through what went on here last night. Maybe we’ll be able to piece together this puzzle once and for all.”