By the time the sun came up, I was too tired to think straight and too wired to sleep. We agreed to stick together as much as possible that day, to watch each other’s backs for whatever was coming, wherever it was coming from.
At breakfast, nothing happened. Thank you, God, thank you so much.
Nothing in school either. Thank you, Ms. Kim. And thank you, God.
Nothing at lunch. Thank you, counselors. And God.
In some ways, the waiting was worse than anything. It’s not like we thought Doolin had forgotten about us. It was just a matter of time before the bombs started to hit.
Then that afternoon we had Day Two of the Olympics. Surprise of surprises, the Muskrats came in dead last on the water-balloon slingshot. I did my best on the pole climb but got only halfway to the top. And we broke all of our stupid eggs by the second round in the stupid egg toss.
The whole time, all I could think was—
When’s it coming? Where are the bombs? What’s it going to feel like when I get hit?
Overhead, a huge crate (marked WATCH OUT BELOW!) hangs by a pulley on a rope, which is being burned through by a blowtorch. Buzzards are circling. Buzzard One: “It won’t be long now.” Buzzard Two: “I live for dead meat.”
The final events of the day were the boating and swimming relays. Everybody was supposed to head down to the waterfront. I’m a pretty good swimmer, so I went to put on my suit. So did Smurf, Dweebs, and Cav. The rest of the guys went ahead with Rusty.
When I got there in my suit, everyone was standing around on the shore of Lake Wannamorra. Except Katie Kim. She was over on the dock, already soaking wet and looking concerned about something in the water.
“There’s something very strange down there,” she said. “I don’t know what it is. But I can’t move it by myself. It’s too heavy.”
Of course, about a dozen counselors and thirty or so campers started tripping over themselves to help her. The counselors ended up telling the kids to stay back for their own safety while Rusty and some of his brave cohorts dove down with Katie to get whatever weird thing was at the bottom of the lake.
After about ten totally tension-filled minutes, they managed to haul it up out of the water and onto the dock. Everyone watched. I mean, you couldn’t take your eyes away.
“What the…?” Rusty said. “How did…? Who…? Why would…?”
It was a trunk! Someone had obviously thrown it in the lake, and now water was running out through the cracks and pouring all over the dock.
“It’s locked up tight,” Katie said. “Does anyone recognize this trunk? Or know how it got here? I want to know the truth!”
Oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man…
My stomach felt like it had just been ripped out, tied in a knot, and stuck back in my gut. Only it was way worse than that.
Yes, I recognized the trunk, all right. And I knew why it was so heavy. Because it was filled with all of Norman’s precious books. So I guess the Bob-cats had heard everything after all. And they were willing to do anything and everything to get their revenge.
When I turned around to where he’d been half a second ago, Norman was long gone.
