Cartboy Goes to Camp (16 page)

“We thought the B. E. was the big elm. In the middle of camp,” I said. “But then Vinny said he wasn't sure. And now I'm not so sure either.”

“I bet you can figure it out, Hal. If you really try. Why don't you think about it while you eat your salad?”

The waitress in the Indian headdress came by and asked Theo if he wanted some coffee. “We're having a special today. Vanilla hazelnut…”

I watched her pour the special coffee into Theo's cup, and while I was sitting there, something flashed in my brain.

It was the word “special.”

I thought about what was special to the Powhatan Indians. What my dad had told me the day before I left for camp. And what Theo told me in the museum.

The bald eagle.

Could the treasure be buried five hundred feet west of a bald eagle's nest? Not the big elm?

If that was the case, all I had to do was figure out where the bald eagle's nest was. Or where it would have been when Sam Prentice was alive …

“Theo, can you drive me back to camp?”

“Yes. But not until you finish eating.”

I scarfed down my cheeseburger, and it was the best thing I'd ever tasted.

 

The Grand Prize

Dear Whoever You Are:

The minute Theo and I got to the camp parking lot, I jumped out of the car.

“Thanks, Theo!” I yelled when my feet hit the ground.

I had to find Vinny as fast as I could. Tell him that the B. E. might be the bald eagle. It was pretty dark out, so I figured we might get in some digging before anyone knew I was back.

I ran through the clearing and up to my cabin steps.

“Hal!”

A huge lantern shone on my face. My mom and the twins charged up to me and hugged me so hard, I practically fell on Bea and Perrie.

“Hal's back! He's back! Oh, thank God. Please don't do that again.” My mom had a big tear in her eye, and Grampa Janson smiled so wide, his dentures nearly flew out of his mouth.

Everyone was falling all over me, but my dad kind of hung back. I could tell he wasn't exactly sure what to do: hug me or send me to the stockade.

“Mr. Prentice is about to hand out the award for Best Pioneer!” said my mom. “Guess what? Your girlfriend Cora won!”

“I wouldn't say she's my girlfriend—”

D
OO
  
D
OO
  
L
OOT
!

“Let's all go to the bonfire.” My mom grabbed the twins and started to walk toward the pond. “All the families are there.”

The counselors had built a huge bonfire down by the pond, and everyone was gathered around it. My family and I took a spot in the area right next to the cattails. Or, as I like to call it, “the scene of the mosquito catastrophe.”

Cora was standing near the fire, surrounded by Mr. Prentice and all the campers, families, and counselors. Everyone clapped and cheered while she held up the grand prize.

“I would like to dedicate this award to my great-great-grandmother, going all the way back to the 1600s,” Cora said to the crowd. “I think she would have been proud.”

There was a huge round of applause while Cora's family bombarded her with hugs. I stood there, looking up at Cora, and the truth is, I felt kind of in awe of her too. Not only had she earned the grand prize, but her biceps were able to sustain the weight of an antique butter churner for two whole minutes too.

While everyone was clapping and cheering, my dad came over and touched me on the arm. I could tell it was time for “the talk.”

“Son, come with me,” he said.

I followed my dad a few feet away from the crowd, to a little patch of grass near a pine tree.

“What were you thinking, Hal? Running away like that. You scared the bejeezus out of your mom and me.”

I wanted to answer him. But I was having a lot of trouble thinking of what to say. I looked all around me—at the camp, the cabins, the outhouses, at all the old stuff everywhere. Stuff that only a history lover would like.

I took a breath. “You want me to be you, Dad. And I can't.”

“Hal, I don't want you to be me—”

“Why else would you send me here? To Camp Jamestown. You are the person who loves this place. Who loves to learn history. Not me.”

“Okay, yes. I sent you here to learn history, Hal. But it wasn't just that. I wanted you to have fun too. As the historian Thucydides once said, ‘History is philosophy teaching by examples.'”

“What are you saying, Dad?”

“Let me put it this way, Hal. There must be something about history you like.”

I glanced around camp, at every pioneer activity, trying to find something that was fun. Something I enjoyed doing while I was here. I looked and looked, and was about to give up. But then my eyes landed on the patch of ground behind the museum.

“There was one thing,” I said. “Hunting for a treasure that was buried a long time ago.”

I took another look at the back of the museum, and a thought came to my mind: Maybe the whole time I had been hunting for the treasure, I wasn't just trying to get a new scooter.

Maybe I was also hunting for the pearls because I thought they had a lot of historical value. And I wanted to be a part of uncovering that.

“So, yes, Dad,” I said. “I guess you could say I liked looking for the pearls.”

“There you go! That's great son. Wait. Did you say pearls? What pearls?”

I was about to tell my dad about Sam Prentice and his diary, but right then, Ryan Horner walked by. He saw me talking to my dad and decided to stroll right up to both of us.

“Excuse me, Mr. Rifkind, may I have a word with your son?” he said in a big phony voice.

Ryan pulled me away from my dad, and all of a sudden his voice changed back to normal: Deep. Gravelly. And evil.

“Cartboy, you better find those pearls for me before we leave this place. Or seventh grade is going to feel like one long prison sentence.”

Ryan turned around, flashed my dad a fake smile, then walked away.

“What was that about, son?” he said. “And what's all this talk about pearls?”

“Dad, I can't tell you now. I … I have go,” I said.

I started to walk back toward the bonfire. As I did, I heard my dad call after me. “Hal, wait. Tell me what's going on…”

As I kept walking, I couldn't help but think that when I got home, I was
definitely
going to be grounded for walking away from my dad again.

But I had no choice.

I had to find Vinny.

 

Pearls

Dear Reader:

It only took me a minute to locate Vinny. He was standing on the far side of the bonfire with Perth and Scot.

“Hey, guys,” I said when I got near them.

At first, they wouldn't look me in the eyes. They pretty much pretended they didn't know me.

“So, um,” I said. “I'm really sorry about everything. My score. The tug-of-war. The stupid idea to put all that stuff inside our clothes.”

The guys shuffled and shifted around a lot. It felt like about an hour, until finally Vinny said, “It's okay, Hal.”

“Yeah, no worries, Hal,” said Scot. “The truth is, I was pretty thirsty. That canteen came in handy.”

Perth faced me and rubbed his belly. “Honestly, that shovel hit my stomach so hard, it unclogged the pipes pretty good. Haven't felt this clear in weeks.”