When Katie blew her whistle at 3:05, I was the last one out of the water, as usual. I always liked swimming for as long as possible.
That meant I was also usually the last one walking up the path from the lake to the main part of the boys’ camp.
And that’s where I stepped into my next big, steaming pile of trouble.
The path goes right through the forest, and for about five minutes there’s nothing around you but trees. I thought I was all alone that day, but then I heard some voices back in the woods.
When I looked over, I saw Doolin and a couple of his friends giving Norman a hard time. They were tossing this blue towel back and forth, playing keep-away while he tried to grab it.
“Give it back!” Norman said.
“Not until you say it,” Doolin told him.
“I’m not going to say it.”
“Then you’re not getting your towelski back.”
I stepped behind the thick branches of a big pine tree to keep out of sight. I wasn’t really sure what to do, and I wanted to see what would happen before I made any stupid decisions that maybe could get me and Norman murdered.
“Go on,” one of the other guys said. “It’s not that complicated. ‘Booger Eater would like his towel back. Pretty please.’ Just say it.”
“Forget it,” Norman said. “Keep the stupid towel.”
He started to walk away, but Doolin’s two friends grabbed him by the arms. I still didn’t know those guys’ names. I just thought of them as Number One and Number Two (if you know what I mean).
I also saw an empty can and some old cigarette butts on the ground. This was probably where the idiots snuck out to smoke at night like the idiots they were.
“No way, Booger Eater,” Doolin told him. “You started this, and I’m going to finish it.”
“I didn’t start anything!” Norman said.
The one thing he had going for him was that he didn’t sound like he was going to cry. That was good. In a weird way, Norman was actually kind of tough. He’d probably been through something like this a million or so times.
And in a really weird way, I could relate. I’d been up against my own share of jerks, like my mom’s old boyfriend, Bear, and Miller the Killer, and Zeke McDonald. I guess I never would have survived this far in middle school if I weren’t at least a little bit tough myself.
But meanwhile, I couldn’t just walk away and leave Norman on his own.
The question was, what to do now? As usual, I had plenty of ideas. Just not good ones.
Then, before I could figure out a real plan, I leaned out to see better, and that’s when I totally blew it.
I guess my foot landed on a stick or something, because there was this loud SNAP! It went off like a gunshot in the woods. The next thing I knew, I had four pairs of eyes looking my way.
Doolin smiled. Then he laughed out loud. He actually seemed happy to see me.
“Look who it is,” he said. “The second-biggest loser at Camp Wannamorra. What’s your name again? Whatchamacallit? Katch-a-cold?”
My heart was bouncing around like a pinball by now. This was three against two—at best. I wasn’t even sure that Norman and I added up to two.
“Just give him his towel back, Doolin,” I said. “What do you care? He didn’t do anything to you.”
“Here’s the deal,” Doolin said. He pointed at the towel around my neck. “You can trade if you want. Yours for Booger Eater’s.”
“His name is Norman,” I said, but all that got me was another big horse laugh. I didn’t care about my own stupid towel anyway. So I walked over and held it out for Doolin.
“Here,” I said. “Take the towel. Satisfied?”
“Rafe, don’t!” Norman said, but Doolin already had it. He didn’t make any move to give back Norman’s.
“Wow. You’re even stupider than you look, aren’t you?” Doolin said.
Now I was starting to get this familiar feeling inside. It’s like when you’re halfway up that first hill on the roller coaster and you know what’s coming, like it or not. Also known as the “point of no return.”
My fingers curled into fists. My face felt like someone had just turned on the heat in the woods. If I had to fight, I’d fight.
“I’m not fooling around, Doolin,” I said. “Give me the towels. Right… now.”
Did I expect him to listen to me? Nah. It was more like one last try before I took a really dumb swing at him and started getting my butt kicked.
But then the unexpected happened. The very unexpected. The miraculously unexpected.
Doolin looked over at his friends—and kind of shrugged both his shoulders. “You know what? We’ve got better things to do than kick butt here.”
Then Doolin dropped the towels, and they all went tromping off through the woods, probably to go make someone else’s life miserable.
Just like that.
I couldn’t believe it. On the one hand, I never thought that Doolin would actually back down. And on the other hand, I was thinking—
I AM THE MAN!
THANK YOU, THANK YOU!
I AM THE MAN!
I was about to give Norman the first high five of his life when I realized that we still weren’t alone.
I turned around, and there was Legend. He was just standing on the path, watching us.
And I thought—Oh. That made a lot more sense. I wasn’t the man. Legend was the man. The minute he’d shown up, it went from three against one and a half… to three against one and a half plus one potential serial killer.
“Um… thanks, Legend,” I said.
“For what?” he said. “I didn’t do anything. Never lifted a finger. Not my style.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything. But as soon as Legend started walking away, I could hear that laugh of his. It’s not like a ha-ha-funny kind of laugh. It’s more like a haha-I’ll-kill-you-just-as-soon-as-look-at-you kind of laugh.
But whatever. I wasn’t complaining.
Norman didn’t say anything either. He just picked up his towel and headed back toward the cabins. And he didn’t thank Legend, and he didn’t thank me. Maybe he wanted to fight his own battles.
But later that day, when I came back from dinner, I found something waiting for me on my bunk. It was one of Norman’s precious books, sitting there like some kind of present. So I guess maybe he was grateful after all.
Weird.
But grateful.