When I went outside the next morning, my sneakers were sitting on the cabin steps. That seemed like a pretty good sign.
At breakfast, Doolin and fiends watched us like there was poison shooting out of their eyes—but they didn’t actually say or do anything.
Same thing in school that morning. I didn’t see Doolin (he was one of the Challenge Program brains), but the other Bobcats in my classes kept their distance.
I couldn’t say for sure that we had them where we wanted them. It was possible they were working on something. I mean, call me paranoid, but we’d basically left them with two choices: They could back off, or they could kill us in our sleep.
Not until what came next.
After lunch that day, we had the opening ceremony for the camp Olympics. It was supposed to be some huge three-day competition among all the cabins, with prizes for the most medals: gold, silver, bronze, whatever.
I hadn’t thought much about it, since I’m not usually the medal-winning type. But the opening ceremony was a big deal. Marching-band music played over the loudspeaker, and all the campers had to line up around the main field with their counselors.
Then Major Sherwood ran out and lit the Olympic torch, which was really just a lantern on a table, but I could tell he took it pretty seriously.
The first event was a gigantic game of dodgeball, which if you ask me is one step away from torture. I’m pretty sure dodgeball was invented by some gym teacher who hated kids and just wanted an excuse to throw things at them.
Anyway, there were a whole bunch of balls in the middle of the field, and as soon as Sherwood said “Go,” we were supposed to run in and try to grab one—then start throwing, or dodging, depending on how that went.
If you got tagged (or beaned, or smacked, or knocked unconscious) with a ball, you were out. The last three cabins with guys in the game would win the bronze, silver, and gold medals.
“It’s like the beginning of The Hunger Games,” Norman said. I never saw that movie or read those books, so I didn’t know. All I knew was that everyone was already tearing toward the middle of the field to grab a ball, so I took off running myself. If I had to be in this game, it was better to be armed and dangerous than empty-handed and dead.
I would have made it, too, if Norman hadn’t distracted me. When I got to the middle of the field, one of the Otters was just taking the last ball, and I had to get out of there, ASAP.
That’s when I came face-to-face with Doolin. Again. And of course, he was armed and dangerous—and rabid.
For a second, nothing happened. I looked at him. He looked at me, ready to kill.
And then he hauled off and threw that ball right past me, picking off one of the Not-Bald Eagles with a perfect shot.
Neither of us said a word. Nada. I just turned around and kept running. The Muskrats were dropping like flies, and I didn’t think for a second that we were going to get a medal in dodgeball.
But it didn’t even matter. Because I now officially knew that we were safe from the Bobcats—at least for the time being.
And that was better than gold.
Way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way better.