Disruption (9 page)

Her voice was like a cannon, and I jumped. Then I realized everyone was looking at me. I wasn’t exactly sure what kind of response she wanted, though. It’s not like she’d asked a question. I settled on, “Um, yes, ma’am?”

“
Um, yes, ma’am
?” the woman repeated. She took a step closer and narrowed her eyes at me. “That’s how you’re going to speak to me? Like a frightened, stuttering schoolgirl?”

Under normal circumstances, I probably wouldn’t have backed down. I’d gone toe-to-toe with teachers or other figures of authority, but that was because I knew that when push came to shove, they couldn’t really do anything to me. I was just a kid. What were they going to do—call my parents? Oh, well. If this woman had been one of my teachers at school, I would have said something smart-alecky. But this wasn’t school, and just a couple hours ago, I’d nearly been blown up. For all I knew, being a smart aleck at Camp Friendship meant I’d be hanging from my fingernails in a cellar somewhere. Plus, she glared at me like her favorite hobby was kid-killing.

“Sorry, ma’am,” I said.

The woman forced a breath through her nose. Then she smiled and relaxed her stance. In an instant she’d gone from looking like she might skin us all alive to looking like she’d be right at home in a kindergarten. When she spoke again, her tone was as pleasant as an aunt talking with her favorite nieces and nephews.

“Did you see what I did there?” she asked. “Make a slight adjustment to your body language, add a smile, and you transform your entire demeanor. You can come across as tough as concrete or as pleasant as a summer’s day.” She licked her lips. “Remember, this is a kids’ summer camp. My number one priority is to make sure you all understand that you’re expected to act accordingly.”

Juno and Rylee instantly adopted a more relaxed posture. Angie was already as calm as she could be, and Yaakov remained as nervous as ever. Amara seemed to try to relax too. He even dropped a shoulder a bit and forced a grin, but all it did was make him look like a creepy kid who couldn’t stand up straight.

The woman patted his shoulder. “We’ll work on it.”

She took a step back and addressed the group. “My name is Elizabeth Clakk. I’m your camp counselor. I’ll answer questions, address concerns, set up your Delta training modules, and most importantly, should you make it to Week Two, I’ll be the one who approves event strategies.”

“What are the modules?” Rylee asked.

“Normally you’d get to pick your modules,” Clakk said, “but with the exception of Matt, all of you are new to being on a Delta team.”

With the exception of me? I clenched my jaw.

Dad, how many lies have you told them?

“As such,” she continued, “your modules are picked for you.” She slid several papers from her clipboard and handed them out. “Make note of time and location. Memorize the list, then destroy it in the usual fashion. The next time you find yourself on a Delta team, you’ll have your pick. Unless, of course, you win, in which case you won’t have to come back here.” She laughed and then said, “I’m not joking. Win, and you move on—and so do I.” She looked up at the ceiling and muttered, “Oh, what I’d give to not have to be surrounded by little brats every summer.” She paused a moment and turned to me. “But that’s unlikely, isn’t it? You’ve picked a Delta team of rookies, Matt Cambridge. Any particular reason for that?”

I shook my head. “Um, no reason. Just, er, thought they looked like an interesting group.”

“Interesting?” Clakk asked. “Really? Interesting trumps experienced?”

“I think we’ll do all right,” I said. She was easier to talk back to when she looked pleasant, but not so easy that I wanted to risk sarcasm. Besides, I didn’t know why, but I had a sudden pang of defensiveness over my crew.

“You’re not like other Deltas I’ve met, Matt. Apparently the Agency hasn’t even released your full records yet. Do you know how unusual that is?”

I shrugged. “Very?”

“Indeed,” she said, “very.” She stared at me for an awkward moment and then slid another sheet from her clipboard and handed it to me. “Your training modules are mostly predetermined as well, Matt. There were one or two electives, but I picked the ones I thought would be most advantageous given your scores from previous camps.”

Great. So I had gotten a bunch of things my dad said I was good at, but which I probably hadn’t even heard of.

“If there’s something you feel you must change, let me know now and I’ll see what I can do.”

I glanced at the page. The title read CT/SERE and was followed by Archery, Swimming, Orienteering, Basic Self-Defense, and Arts and Crafts.

Those were not the activities I had expected to see. Not after what I’d already experienced and not after what Rob, Alexis, and Duncan had told me earlier. I half expected the first learning module to be something like
How to Treat a Gunshot Wound
or
Body Disposal 101
. One second I’m getting blown up and Rylee’s telling me we have psychopaths on our team, and then next, I’m getting a schedule of events that looks like it was plucked from
The Parent Trap
.

“You look confused,” Clakk said. “Is something wrong with the schedule?”

I shook my head. The only thing I
knew
was that Camp Friendship was not what it seemed. Which meant my list of activities was likely not what
it
seemed. Honestly, at that point, my head hurt from trying to keep things straight. Even if I’d wanted something changed on my schedule, it’s not like I’d have known what to ask for.

I shook my head. “No. It sounds good.”

Clakk raised an eyebrow and then shrugged. “Good, because as I said, it’s not like I could change a lot anyway. This year Deltas are required to take Crucible Training. Believe it or not, Ingleton is leading that section.”

Rylee gasped. “Robert Ingleton?”

Clakk nodded. “Deltas only, Rylee.”

Whatever Crucible
Training was, Rylee really wanted to be part of it. Or maybe this Ingleton guy was just young and super good-looking and Rylee really wanted to meet him.

Clakk turned back to me. “You did remarkably well with the preliminary challenge. Just keep up with it and you’ll be—” She stopped abruptly and pressed her finger to her ear. A moment later she checked her watch and said, “I’m on my way.” She dropped her hands and turned back to us. “I’ll finalize these training modules and bring you all your schedules at dinner.” She tapped her watch. “Five sharp. Don’t be late. Oh, and remember, Matt, Crucible Training modules can start anytime, so be prepared.” She bit her lip. “
Always
be prepared.”

“I think she had one of those ear-bud communication thingies the secret service uses,” I said after Clakk left the cabin.

Everyone looked at me like I’d just pointed at the floor and said, “Lookie, a floor.”

I wiped my palms on my jeans and cleared my throat. “So, anyone done this CT/SERE stuff before? I can’t remember what those letters even mean.”

Rylee narrowed her eyes and stared skeptically at me. “They stand for Crucible Training/Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape.” She waited for me to say something, and when I didn’t, she added, “Since Robert Ingleton is leading your training, you can be sure it will be brief but focused. It’s not like he has time to hang out at a camp for three weeks.”

I had no idea what she was talking about, and I didn’t want to sound dumber than I already had. So rather than ask another question I said, “Well, at least Ms. Clakk seemed nice. I’ve had friends go to camp and they’ve had evil counselors who made their lives miserable.” That wasn’t true, but I felt I had to say something, and that lie just sort of fell out of my mouth. The truth was, Ms. Clakk wasn’t at all what I expected. Every friend I’ve ever had who went to a camp always came back with stories about how their camp counselor was the lamest person they’d ever met. That’s how it was with regular camps. I mean, just imagine what kind of person has to sign up to be a camp counselor.

“I’ve heard of her,” Amara said. “She ran a few operations in Turkey.
Nice
is not a term I’d use to describe her.”

“Turkey?” Juno said. “Was she working for the Agency, or are you saying she’s—”

“I’m not saying anything other than what I said,” Amara cut in.

Juno nodded and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling.

“When did she join the Agency?” Rylee asked.

Amara shook his head. Rylee turned to Angie, and she shrugged. Then Rylee craned her neck and looked at Yaakov.

“Yak?”

He huffed and plopped back onto his bed and began tapping at his computer. “You know, Rylee, you can’t just expect me to have every answer to every question your little mind comes up with.”

Rylee looked at me and rolled her eyes. “He’ll find it.”

I nodded, even though I didn’t have a clue what Yaakov was looking for or what they were getting so worked up about. She ran
operations
in Turkey? That sounded military. And the way everyone said
the Agency this
and
the Agency that
was weird. It felt like a poke from a stick every time someone said it. There was something about that term I recognized, but I didn’t know what it meant.

Chapter 14

The mess hall was about the size of an elementary school gym. Large, rectangular tables were positioned end-to-end, forming five long rows that ran the length of the room. At the front of each row sat a circular table with six seats and above each of those five tables hung a banner with a shadowed figure of the animal associated with each team.

Most of the other Deltas were settled at their tables. Alexander Bratersky, looking as mean as ever, sat with his entire group. Chase was seated with the rest of Team Squirrel, and everyone at the table glared across the mess hall at me as I approached the table beneath the bear silhouette.

“She’s not here,” Rylee said breezily after I’d taken my seat.

“Who?” I asked.

“Becca, of course,” she said. She craned her neck around a few other students. “Nope, she’s gone. Good.”

I glanced down the row of Delta tables to the one beneath the hyena silhouette. Three of Becca’s teammates were seated at the table, and all three of them looked like they’d just seen a puppy get hit by a car.

Angie leaned across the table toward Rylee. “Maybe if you hadn’t made Yaakov spend the last few hours searching for information on Clakk, he could’ve hacked the footage for Becca’s challenge and we’d know what happened.”

Rylee grumbled something she probably didn’t care for anyone to understand.

I considered asking Rylee why she hated Becca so much, but her foul expression made me think twice. It was probably something stupid like Becca had kissed the boy Rylee liked or something. Girls were always fighting about that kind of stuff.

“We all had the same challenge,” I said. “So, I mean, if she didn’t get out of the way of those land mines, she could be really hurt.” I glanced around the table. “You guys saw it. I could’ve been . . .”

“Killed,” Juno deadpanned.

“Yes,” Angie said, “we know. It was all very traumatic for you. I mean, you did get a scratch from it all. How terrifying.”

I felt my cheeks flush.

“Yeah, man,” Juno said, “we all saw the footage; it wasn’t that bad. I’ve seen worse. Besides, I bet that even if you had been blasted by those final mines, you’d be just fine. Bruised, sure, but
generally
fine. Certainly alive.”

“Oh, well, that’s fantastic,” I said.

Juno opened his mouth to say something else, probably to disagree, but before he could make a sound, Becca Plain was pushed into the mess hall in a wheelchair. Thick bandages covered her head and parts of her face. Her right forearm was encased in a green cast, and her left arm, while bare, bore long red scratches and purple welts. She looked, well, like she’d just been blown up by a land mine.

I turned back to Juno. “What were you saying?”

“Fine,” he said, wincing. “Maybe you could’ve been killed.”

“Thank you!” I said. I smiled at that small victory, and then stopped abruptly when I realized it meant I’d been right. I considered that as more campers filed in. I considered, too, the fact that no one seemed concerned that Becca, a fellow camper, had been so badly injured. She wasn’t surrounded by teammates or friends fawning over her and asking her if they could do anything for her. In fact, the way her teammates shook their heads as she rolled past, and the way the rest of her Delta team avoided looking at her altogether when she was pushed to the head table, it looked an awful lot like they were annoyed that she’d been so injured. Nice group.

“Welcome, campers.” Dalson’s voice carried throughout the mess hall, and I turned to the front of the room where he stood in yet another open-collared dress shirt and dress pants. “I hope you’ve all settled into your cabins and into your teams. I just have a couple of quick announcements before dinner begins. First, the results of the preliminary challenge are posted on the bulletin board outside the main office. Congratulations to all the Deltas. You all performed admirably.

“Second, we’ve said this before, but it really can’t be stressed enough: it’s imperative you remember this camp is undergoing the final stages of accreditation this summer. All of you must conduct yourselves in such a way that you appear to be typical campers. When you’re out of your cabins or wandering between activities, I’d like you all to keep shoptalk to a minimum.”

“Shoptalk?” I muttered.

“Don’t forget our motto.”

Suddenly everyone in the gymnasium yelled, “
Quisquam. Usquam
.”

They yelled it in unison, and with such force I nearly fell out of my seat.
Quisquam. Usquam.
I didn’t know what it meant, but I committed it to memory. Clearly, it was something everyone at camp knew, and knew well.

Doors at either end of the hall opened, and serving staff, wearing aprons and hairnets, pushed long rolling carts filled with food down either side of the mess hall. There was chicken and ribs, potatoes, and rice. There were curried dishes and pots of soups. There were burgers and tacos and several dishes I’d never seen, and I wondered if the diversity of the menu was in part because of the diversity of campers. One minute they were blowing you up, the next they were catering such an array of food that everyone would be happy.