Question 3: would you rather pass wind or make a speech?’” Nish read out loud from his dressing-room locker. “WHAT IS THIS?” “Aren’t they pretty well the same thing for you?” Sarah asked from a stall on the other side.
The Owls all had their heads down, trying to fill in the blanks on a document they were balancing on the tops of their shin pads and hockey pants. They had just had their first practice at the Drumheller arena–a marvellous rink, where the Zamboni drove onto the ice through the mouth of a dinosaur and green dinosaurs were painted into each side of the faceoff circle–and then Kelly Block had handed out an eight-page questionnaire that he said would help him get to know the team. He wanted what he called “psychological profiles” of the whole team.
Travis understood some of the questions–“Do you feel you have leadership qualities?…If you play well but the team still loses, are you satisfied?”–but a good many of them made no sense whatsoever. The Owls were asked about their ambitions and interests, as might be expected, but also about daydreaming and private fears and, as Nish had just loudly pointed out, even passing wind.
“GIVE ME A BREAK!” Nish shouted from the corner. “‘Question 14: Would you rather kiss a member of the opposite sex or finish your homework?’”
“I picked homework,” Sarah said.
“I’d rather pick my nose,” grumbled Nish, burying his head in the final page of the questionnaire.
Kelly Block came in and rounded up the finished questionnaires. He had that slightly knock-kneed, bounce-on-the-balls-of-the-feet way of moving. He was wearing expensive running shoes without the laces tied up, and he had on a track suit with his name stencilled over the heart and the name of his business–Camp Victory–emblazoned across the back.
Camp Victory must have been mostly a summer operation, for it had a musty smell to it that suggested the place had only recently been opened up and still needed some airing out. Fortunately, it was like summer right now. If it had been typical March weather, and the windows had remained locked up tight, the camp buildings might have been unbearable. Travis figured Kelly Block spent most of the winter months working for big companies like the one Mr. Higgins was with. Judging from Block’s clothes and the expensive 4x4 sports utility vehicle he drove, Travis figured he must do pretty well as a motivational psychologist.
Certainly, he had spent a lot of money setting up this camp. There was a main building with a full gymnasium–weights, workout bikes, treadmills–and a kitchen that served meals so good that Nish forgot he’d seen the golden arches of McDonald’s on the drive into town. There were individual cabins, each with four beds and the hottest, softest showers Travis had ever been under. There was a small enclosed rink for Rollerblade hockey, a basketball court, and a “garage” filled with mountain bikes, good ones with full shocks.
The Drumheller area was a mountain-biker’s dream, with deep valleys and high rounded hills and natural trails everywhere you looked. The camp was out along the Red Deer River, halfway to a suspension footbridge at Rosedale that headed deep into the hills. They had already been out past Rosedale to see the hoodoos–bizarre, cartoon-like pillars of rock the shape of mushrooms and monsters that had been formed by thousands of years of erosion–and there were said to be more hoodoos farther up a trail beyond the swinging bridge. It was more like they’d come to another planet than another town.
“We did die when the bus went over that hill,” Nish announced. “And this is heaven!”
“Not if you’re here, it isn’t,” corrected Sarah.
In Mr. Dillinger’s old team bus, they had toured the town and the surrounding countryside. Drumheller was fascinating, with dinosaur models–some of them life-size–at every corner, and dinosaur murals painted on most of the buildings. They visited the Little Church, a building so tiny they had to take turns just to get inside and see. “SEATS 10,000,” a sign said. “SIX AT A TIME.”
“How come they don’t have a little priest?” Nish asked aloud when the others were trying to sit and kneel in their seats. “And a little Bible and a little God and a little Jesus?”
“How about a little quiet?” Sarah said over her shoulder.
They stopped for the better part of the afternoon at the fabulous Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, a huge complex on the other side of town, deep in the high, barren hills. Travis had seen dozens of museums in his lifetime, but never one so spectacular as this. It sat, like a spaceship on the moon, perfectly placed in what seemed its very own canyon.
Outside were bronzed, full-sized models of various dinosaurs. Travis thought if the museum weren’t there, someone who happened to walk in here over the hills could easily think they had stepped back in time a hundred million years. It sent a shudder of excitement up his spine.
Mr. Higgins had arranged for a special tour of the museum. Mr. Dillinger got Data’s wheelchair out of the bus, and Sarah was quick to move in behind it to push him around. The Owls set off, and were soon swarming around displays of huge jawbones and skulls of dozens of prehistoric beasts, including one magnificent model of what looked like a giant flesh-eating Tyrannosaurus rex. The monster was fighting a couple of small, vicious Domeosaurs over the bloody remains of a dead Parasaurolophus.
“Sick,” said Jenny.
“Awesome,” said Fahd.
“It’s not a Tyrannosaurus,” corrected Data. “It’s an Albertosaurus.”
“Good for you,” smiled the guide. “A much tougher beast than T. rex. How did you know that?”
“I study dinosaurs,” Data said, blushing.
“I want to see an Ontariosaurus!” called Nish.
“Sorry,” said the guide. “There’s no such thing.”
“That’s not true,” Sarah whispered to the rest of the Owls. “There’s Nish. He’s creepy. He’s got a brain the size of a peanut. He makes your skin crawl. And he’s from Ontario.”
Nish turned sharply as the others began giggling. “What’s so funny?” he demanded. But no one would tell him.
Travis had never had such a marvellous day. The Owls were taken on a hike around the neighbouring hills, and were shown where fossils had been dug out of the ground. They were told that alligators had once lived here. They were told that there were still dangerous beasts about, not dinosaurs but poisonous snakes and scorpions and black widow spiders, and that they had better be careful where they stepped.
The Owls visited a lab and saw scientists cleaning newly discovered fossils and getting ready to assemble the skeletons. They saw fossils embedded in rocks, and whole reconstructed skeletons, and artists’ depictions of life, and death, as it must have been more than a hundred million years ago. They learned that dinosaurs might have lived to be as much as 150 years old. They learned that no one really knows what the largest dinosaurs were, though the Brachiosaurus stood as tall as a five-storey building and weighed as much as eighty tonnes. They learned that the smallest dinosaur was no bigger than a chicken, and that the toughest dinosaur was not, as they had thought, Tyrannosaurus rex. The most fearsome of all was a little featherweight called Deinonychus, which was no bigger than a man but could move so fast and slash so quickly with its long, sickle-shaped claws and razor-sharp teeth that no dinosaur would dare tangle with it. They learned that they were standing on the richest dinosaur land known on Earth: some thirty-five different dinosaur species had been identified in the Alberta Badlands.
“There’s so much we don’t know,” said the guide. “Before 1824 they didn’t even know dinosaurs once existed. We don’t know whether they were cold-or warm-blooded. We don’t know what colour they were. We don’t even know what they sounded like.”
“Did they fart?” a small voice squeaked from the back.
“Excuse me?” the guide said, trying to see who had spoken.
No one spoke. Travis cringed, knowing at once who it was.
“You said something, young man?” the guide said pointedly to Nish.
“N–no,” Nish mumbled.
“I didn’t think so,” the guide said. “If you have something to say, please tell us all, though, will you?”
“O…kay,” Nish mumbled even lower.
“Ontariosaurus,” Sarah said. Everyone, the guide included, laughed.
“Actually, young man, we do have something over here you might be interested in.”
They crossed to a special display, and the guide stopped in front of what appeared to be a polished rock.
“Any idea what this might be, young man?” the guide asked Nish.
Nish looked, his eyes squinting with suspicion. “N–no.”
“It’s coprolites. Anyone have any idea what that means?”
The guide looked around. Data was raising his hand.
“Yes?” the guide asked.
“It’s dung, isn’t it?”
The guide’s eyes lighted up. “Good for you. Yes, dung. Prehistoric poop. This one’s probably twenty million years old.”
“Does it still smell?” Nish asked.
“A smell wouldn’t last twenty million years, young man,” the guide said, shaking his head.
“You obviously haven’t spent much time around Nish,” Wilson said, breaking up the group.
“Very funny,” Nish snapped, and stormed off.
It wasn’t a good day for Nish at the Royal Tyrrell Museum–but that was nothing compared to the evening he had back at Camp Victory. After a good meal, the Owls had been sitting around, talking about their wonderful day at the dinosaur museum, when Kelly Block walked in and announced that their day wasn’t done yet.
“We are going to build a team,” Block announced.
“We already are a team,” Nish protested, but he wilted under the stern gaze of Kelly Block.
“You are, are you?” Block asked, his eyebrows rising.
“We’re the Screech Owls,” Nish said weakly.
“Your name?”
“Wayne,” Nish said.
“Nish,” Fahd corrected.
Block smiled. “So, Mr. Nish, do you know what makes a team?”
Nish had turned crimson. “I guess…. Kids who play together. A coach.”
Block laughed. It was an ugly laugh. It seemed fake to Travis, and it had an insulting tone to it. “Not even close, mister.”
Block, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor as he talked to them, suddenly sprang to his feet. He stood himself in front of Nish.
“Stand up,” he instructed.
Nish reluctantly got to his feet. Travis could see that he was sweating.
Block pulled a chair out from a table and set it in the middle of the floor.
“Stand up here,” Block commanded.
Slowly, Nish climbed up onto the chair and stood.
Kelly Block pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. “Lean towards me,” he commanded. Nish leaned forward and Block tied the handkerchief over his eyes. He then straightened Nish up, keeping one hand on Nish’s arm to keep him from falling.
“You,” he said, pointing towards Sarah. “Back there.” He pointed behind Nish.
Travis realized at that moment that Kelly Block was no fool. He had already understood that there was a rivalry between Nish and Sarah.
Sarah rose, smiling, and stood where she was told behind Nish.
Block stared up at Nish.
“I’m going to push you over backwards,” he said. “One of your teammates will catch you. Do you understand?”
“N–no,” Nish said. His voice shook.
“I assure you that one of your teammates is behind you and will stop your fall,” Block said. “Do you believe me?”
“I–I guess so.”
“You don’t sound very certain.”
“I can’t see anyone.”
“But it’s your teammate. Wouldn’t they automatically be there to save you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know,” Block said with sarcasm. “You don’t know. What kind of ‘team’ is that, where you don’t know your own teammates?”
“I don’t know.” Nish repeated. He sounded near tears.
“I’m going to push you back,” Block warned. “Are you ready?”
Nish was breathing hard. “N–no.”
“Your teammate is there, waiting to catch you.” He turned to Sarah. “Are you ready to catch him?”
“Yes.”
Travis could see Nish jump with the realization that it was Sarah waiting behind him. Sarah, who never let Nish get away with anything. Sarah, who knew exactly how to wind Nish up or shut Nish down, whatever the situation required.
“Here goes,” Kelly Block said.
He placed a large hand over Nish’s chest, and pushed back. Sarah prepared to catch him.
Nish buckled! He folded and toppled forward rather than back, falling into Kelly Block’s big hands instead of back onto Sarah.
Block caught Nish easily and ripped off the handkerchief.
Travis noted Block’s smile. He had expected this.
Travis could see the terror in Nish’s eyes. And humiliation. And anger. He had been singled out, he had been tested, and he had failed. Nish wouldn’t look at Sarah, who also looked hurt. She had wanted to catch Nish. Travis knew she would never have let Nish fall and hurt himself.
But Kelly Block was ignoring both of them. He was standing in the centre of the room, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his hands out in front of him as if he were holding a phantom football. He nodded his head knowingly.
“There is no team here,” he announced. “We have a lot of work to do.”