After lights out, Archie quietly pulled his shoes from under the end of his bed, and tiptoed out of the Walleyes’ cabin. He held his breath as he eased open the creaky screen door, but none of his bunkmates budged. They were all fast asleep. He’d convinced Nurse Jack to let him come back to his bunk after dinner, but even without the plans he needed to put in motion, he was sure he’d never sleep. Too itchy. Besides, he wasn’t at all sure his cabinmates had believed the story he’d told about Alicia. All the more reason to win this bet, and fast.
As soon as he reached the bottom of the front steps he shoved his feet into his sneakers and then, with a quick look to the right and left, headed for the main office, keeping well into the shadows and away from the lighted parts of the path.
Oliver was already there, nearly invisible under a tree around the corner from the door. Archie gave him a thumbs-up and then, standing as close to the building as he could without touching it, slid his body around the side of the main office and peered in the window next to the door. Nobody was inside, and the lights were out. Another thumbs-up, then he quickly darted around the back of the building where there weren’t any windows. However, there was a service door next to the camp store that had a flimsy, easy-to-jiggle-open lock. A few tense moments later, he was inside.
He allowed himself a minute to let his eyes adjust to the darkness and willed himself to ignore the horrible itching of the bee stings. Without the moonlight it was almost pitch-black, but Archie didn’t mind. The less light, the less likely someone would see him or what he was about to do.
He was in the short hallway that divided Miss Hiss’s spacious office from the even larger camp store. She often walked across the way to grab pens, or a snack—unlike the campers, her credit was excellent there. But he knew the store would be locked up tight at this hour. Miss Hiss’s office, however, opened directly onto the hall, with a large archway that allowed her to watch the comings and goings of the store staff with intense efficiency.
Once in the office he took a quick look around—the temptation to snoop was immense, though he knew that she kept her most important files up in the house on the hill, where she was undoubtedly nursing the headache she always got on Parents’ Day. He liked to think that despite the personal horrors of the day, he’d at least contributed a small part to that. He smiled to himself at the thought, for what seemed like the first time in eons.
Alicia had been kind enough, when she and the twins had said good-bye that afternoon. But he could see the hurt in her eyes.
The walls around Miss Hiss’s desk were covered with awards and photos from her days as the director of the biggest chain of camps in New England. In the most prominent place was a large plaque, dark wood with a brass plate on the front that was inscribed, CAMP DIRECTOR OF THE YEAR, PHILOMENA HESS. Archie briefly wondered what had changed for Miss Hiss, how she had fallen so far. One day, winning awards, the next day, in charge of the worst camp in Vermont. No wonder she was so angry all the time.
But he didn’t have time to ruminate on Miss Hiss’s failed career trajectory. So he sat down on her desk chair and quickly started up her computer. Which immediately asked for a password.
Archie said a word he wasn’t normally allowed to say around his father.
Or at school. Or anywhere, really. The computer hadn’t needed a password the year before, when he and Oliver had first figured out they could get into the office at night.
With mounting panic, he considered the situation. The pain and itching from the bug bites made it hard to concentrate. But, he reasoned, Miss Hiss wasn’t someone who loved computers or any other type of technology. Her attitude toward kids having access to anything of the sort at camp made that abundantly clear. In some ways, she reminded him of his stepmother—Alicia loved her phone when it worked, but was completely mystified by it and called it names when it didn’t. And one of the things his stepmother hated the most was remembering passwords.
So instead of actually committing them to unreliable memory, she always kept hers on a list . . . right inside the top drawer of the desk in their kitchen. He’d used that list himself, once or twice, when he was curious about the family finances.
With a sudden burst of inspiration, Archie pulled open the top drawer of Miss Hiss’s desk, and, bingo. A piece of paper was taped right inside, with a list of words and phrases.
“ShadyBrook1” was the first one. Really? he thought to himself. What’s the point of having a password at all if that’s what you’re going to pick? She might as well have picked “password.”
But he didn’t really have anything to complain about, because the password worked on the first try. He started up the Web browser and quickly got to work.
First he needed to print out an old-timey treasure map. It didn’t really matter what it was—by the time his plan was in motion, it would be fine if it was a map of the Ozarks. Just as long as it looked old. But the second piece of his plan would take a little more work. He went to a website he’d found at home one day where you could make fake newspaper clippings. They weren’t all that realistic looking, but it would work for something that was supposed to look like it was printed off the Internet. He carefully copied the text he’d written on a piece of paper earlier, and then used the formatting tools to make it look just right.
Sitting there in the darkness working on the computer, with the clock on the wall ticking ominously behind him, he felt like a superspy. Or a master criminal. If a master criminal would be sitting at a computer covered in bee stings and pink anti-itch lotion.
After another quick read-through of his work, he hit print and the surprisingly high-quality printer in the corner sprang to life.
And almost immediately started beeping and flashing a red light.
Archie sighed. For a moment he’d almost felt like James Bond. But he suspected James Bond never had to deal with paper jams.
Once he’d manhandled the printer into submission he printed out his map and fake news clipping and looked them over. They looked pretty professional, even in the dim light of the computer screen.
And that’s when he heard Oliver’s signal. “Caw, caw.”
Archie stood straight up from the desk. He quickly shut down the Web browser and the computer and, willing himself to stay calm, grabbed his papers and bolted out of the office. Then he and Oliver ran as quietly as they could, hearts pounding, back to the cabins.
“Who was it?” Archie whispered once they had stopped, a few yards away from the Walleyes’ cabin. They rested in the shadows to catch their breath.
“I don’t know,” Oliver said, still panting from the run. “I just heard something. And then I saw someone—out behind the arts and crafts cabin.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know,” Oliver said. “A kid. But it was so dark, I couldn’t see his face. Whoever it was, they spotted me and ran, then I panicked and gave the signal.”
“It’s okay,” Archie said. “You were just being careful. That’s what you get paid to do.”
Oliver gave him a small smile. “Did you get everything?”
“Yeah,” Archie replied, waving the papers in his hand. All present and accounted for. Honestly, he wasn’t all that concerned about some strange kid lurking around the arts and crafts cabin.
Because it was finally time to con Mitchell the Unconnable.