The Nerdy Dozen (8 page)

AS NEIL UNDID THE HELMET AND THE SAFETY BELT SECURED around his body, he could hear the muffled whines of the others around him. He shook his head, confirming that no bones were broken, only to grimace when Jones's voice echoed through the cockpit.

“Grunsten! Andertol! Are you trying to get us killed?” Jones fumed.

Jones yanked open the ship's glass top, hastily undoing his safety harness and slamming down his helmet. The major hopped out of the plane to survey the damage, his strong arms and legs moving like a machine.

“Out here, soldiers!” Jones yelled. The four recruits hurried to stumble out onto the fine white sand.

“Well, great. Just great,” Jones began. He walked around the fighter, frowning as he surveyed the damage. Fortunately, aside from a few long scrapes and a thick vine tangled into one of the turbines, there didn't seem to be too much damage that couldn't be fixed.

Neil glanced around at their surroundings, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes from the intense sunlight. The beach they were standing on ran around the edge of the island, skirting a dense jungle in the island's center. The rim of the crater they'd flown over peeked out just above the top of the tree line. The island looked to be uninhabited, apart from large animal tracks that were sketched out onto the sand in every direction.

“Way to go, copilot,” Trevor spit, turning to Neil.

“Hey, I was just trying to slow us down. You were the one going too fast,” Neil replied.

“Listen up, everybody, and do exactly as I say.” Jones glared at Neil and Trevor. “Diagnostics confirm the Chameleon is still operational. We just need to dig it out. Since we're here because of their little stunt, Grunsten and Andertol will go get the gear that's now made a home in the jungle. The rest of you will stick with me and help dig—and when I say dig, I mean actually dig. We'll rendezvous with the others once they've secured a location.”

“Jones, I—” Neil started.

“Andertol, I don't even want to hear it. You two get moving—
now
.”

In silence, Neil and Trevor slowly plodded into the lush green landscape. Behind them, Neil faintly heard Riley ask Jones how he should begin digging out their metal steed.

“Great, now I have to get lost in the woods to make up for your mistake,” Trevor said. Neil did his best to ignore him and focus on their task.

As they walked farther into the shadows of the trees, a symphony of jungle noises immediately surrounded them. Tall, thin bamboo stalks stretched up all around, and birds of nearly infinite species squawked and warbled. Vines hung sporadically like tossed limp noodles. Huge trees cast cool shadows, while monstrous ferns and giant-leafed plants filled in the space on the jungle floor. Neil could barely see much farther than a few trees ahead of him and had to zigzag through the forest, making his way slowly ahead.

“I think the gear dropped down not too far from here,” Neil said, trying to get his bearings. Trevor just shrugged.

They walked on in silence. But soon Neil heard a rustling from the bushes behind them. He shivered, all his senses on edge, and paused as Trevor crept slowly forward. The noise grew closer. It was footsteps, Neil realized. Somebody was following them.

“Trevor, run!” yelled Neil, and the two of them took off, bobbing between massive trees that looked like dinosaur legs. Neil turned back to see who was after them, but he got only a faint glimpse before whipping his head back around to duck under a low-hanging branch.
It couldn't be
, he thought. And yet he could have sworn that they were being stalked by an ostrich.

Just as Neil turned to look back again, he and Trevor collided in a small clearing where a small patch of daylight was shining through the spaces between the palm leaves overhead.

“Watch it!” yelled Trevor.

“No, ostrich!” Neil shouted back.

“Whatrich?” Trevor responded as his foot caught on something, and suddenly, in a flurry of green and brown leaves, he and Neil were yanked up and away from the jungle floor, engulfed in a handmade net of vines. They squirmed together, human pretzels in organic netting.

“How did you not see the trip wire?” Neil yelled in frustration as he looked over to see a tree house perched high in the nearby trees. A makeshift ladder was secured to one side. He scanned the ground below for any signs of its inhabitant.

“Whoever made this doesn't know what's about to happen to them,” Trevor fumed. “When my dad hears about this—well, let's just say it'll be a new record for a lawsuit on net-related trauma!”

“Dude! We're in a net!” Neil snapped. “Your dad can't help us right now. We need to figure out how we'll actually get out of here!”

Neil reached for the vines encasing them and tried to rip them apart, but they were sturdy and thick, almost as wide as the climbing rope in his gym class.

“Do you have a Swiss Army knife or anything?” Neil asked, thinking of ways to cut themselves free.

“Um,
no
,” Trevor said.

Neil rolled his eyes and tried to examine his surroundings some more, but with his body stuck at a sixty-degree angle and his head jutted to the side, it was difficult to see much. Pushing his head through a small hole in the netting, Neil ratcheted his head to the left as far as possible. In the distance he could just see the cache of gear and food they'd dropped, and something else.

Out of the woods, a shadowy figure appeared behind their gear, lumbering slowly toward them. Neil caught his breath in panic. “Trevor . . . ,” Neil whispered, “someone's coming!”

THE TREE HOLDING NEIL AND TREVOR CREAKED SUBTLY WITH their weight as they swayed back and forth twenty feet in the air. Rays of yellow sunlight leaked in splattered patches through the canopy of leaves. Neil twisted to see the figure as it approached, but the person remained shapeless, still nestled in shadows. Neil closed his eyes, bracing himself for the worst; but after a few long, uneventful moments, he opened them again and saw only a boy, maybe fourteen years old, standing right below them.

“Hey!” Neil shouted. “Can you help us out? We stepped on some booby trap and ended up here!”

“Shhh!” Trevor nudged Neil in the ribs. “This thing could be his!”

Oh no . . . Trevor might actually be right
, Neil thought. Neil looked down at the boy, who, smiling lazily, was taking sips from a coconut in his hand. He wore sunglasses, a dirty white captain's hat over his mess of dark hair, and khaki shorts with a thick leather belt, held by a gold clasp. He was shirtless, and his shoulders and arms looked strong, probably from tree climbing.

The boy looked up at them a bit longer, then tipped his hat and slowly started to climb the ladder to the tree house made of bamboo, straw, and trees without their bark.

“Hey!” Neil called out. “What do you want from us?” The boy didn't respond and eventually reached the thick wooden platform suspended high above the ground. He walked into the house without looking back.

“Help! Help us!” Trevor shouted while trying to squeeze an arm through a small opening in the netting, but he quickly gave up. “Jones! Jones!”

Neil rolled his eyes. They were too far away from the beach for their voices to carry. He scoured the net for a point of weakness that they could use to escape, but there was nothing. Trevor was still yelling, his voice beginning to rasp.

“Save your energy, Trevor. I don't think they can hear us,” Neil said.

“I'll use my energy however I want to,” Trevor snapped.

Neil had tried his best with Trevor, but now that they were smashed together in a vine-woven net, he couldn't let Trevor get away with his jerky comments anymore.

“Listen,” Neil said. “I know you don't like me, man, and the feeling is mutual, but we're in this together, for better or worse. Look around—we're stuck in a freaking
net
, and you're acting like you always do. I know how you are during games.”

“What does that mean?” Trevor asked, turning his net-squeezed face away from Neil.

“You only look out for yourself!” Neil thought of how Trevor had flown in the simulator, how he had climbed up Neil on the Decider.

“Because why bother with the rest of you when I know I'm better?”

“You're wrong,” said Neil.

“
I'm
wrong? I feel sorry for you, Ashley. You always pair up with losers like Sam and Biggs when you could be so much more. Why do you think you're still second in the standings? If you stopped playing team games with all the mediocre gamers, you might have a chance. You're actually pretty good. But you're letting them hold you back.”

“Watch it,” Neil snapped. Trevor could insult him all he wanted, but he refused to let him bad-mouth his friends.

“You know you're better than them. Admit it.”

Before Neil could respond, a rustling sound came from inside the tree house and he turned to look. Through the lone window, he saw something flicker, and then he heard the distinct buzz of a tube television.

“Trevor, look!” Neil exclaimed, pointing a finger. Trevor arched backward to see. The small television in the tree house was playing
Wheel of Fortune
, one of Neil's favorite shows. The boy inside plopped down on a wooden chair and began to watch as white spaces for letters lit up the screen.

Neil thought furiously. Every morning before school for the last three years, he'd watched the show while being force-fed oatmeal by his mother. He could guess every puzzle with no more than two or three letters provided and knew what kind of spinning finesse was required to land on the $2,500 space.

Neil leaned forward in the net as a jubilant woman named Sherry shouted “
L
!”

“THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW!” Neil proclaimed before all the
L
s even lit up the board. The boy inside looked surprised and glanced over at Neil and Trevor, then turned up the volume. He watched as Sherry bought more vowels than necessary and then promptly went bankrupt. A truck driver named Thad solved the puzzle, needing five more letters than Neil.

The same continued with the next round, with Neil shouting out “UMBRELLA STAND AND DELIVER!” The boy turned again, possibly impressed with Neil's
Wheel
prowess.

As the final round neared and a botanist named Cecilia hoped to leave in a Hyundai or something, Neil had an idea.

“Hey!” he shouted. “I get this puzzle before you, and you let us down. If not, we stay in the net. Sound fair?”

The boy didn't respond but was intently watching Cecilia guess if the final puzzle, a “thing,” contained
W
,
X
,
F
, or
Y
.

Truly awful choices, Cecilia
, Neil thought.

With only _ _ S_ _ _ _N to work with, Neil's mind scrambled to fill in the spaces. As seconds ticked by, it finally clicked.

“OBSIDIAN!” Neil shouted with a satisfied grin. He heard the boy in the tree house holler the same answer a second later, and he watched Cecilia recoil as her time ran out, frowning at a shimmery envelope worth $30,000.

The boy flipped off the television screen and slowly walked outside to the creaky wooden deck. He reached up to a vine in front of his house and pulled, sending Neil and Trevor to the ground in a clump. Then he grabbed a second vine and promptly did a looping swing to land next to Trevor and Neil, who were now scrabbling with the net, searching for an opening. The boy's bare feet hit the ground lightly, leaving graceful footprints in the spongy, moss-covered dirt.

“I'm glad to see the adjustments worked. Last time they got away,” said the boy.

Last time? They?
Neil thought it best to ask as few questions as possible. Just being out of the net was a step in the right direction, and he didn't want to press his luck.

“Um, hi. I'm Neil,” he began. “And this is—”

“Kenny. Kenny Boseswich,” Trevor said, cutting Neil off. He held out his hand for a handshake.

“Sorry about that,” said the boy. “The surf doesn't break that well over on this side of the chain. You must be pretty lost if you're on this island.”

“Yeah, we just sort of dropped in,” Neil said. “Maybe you could show us around?” Neil thought if he returned to Jones with some reconnaissance information as well as their gear, it might help get him out of hot water.

“Sure,” the boy said with a shrug as he spun away quickly and started into the wilderness. “Least I can do for the capturing thing. I'm Weo, by the way.”

Neil followed Weo as Trevor hung back. The three stepped over dark soil, at times walking on the tops of roots that trickled out from trees in every direction.

“If we can get to high enough ground, I bet we can see where that Chameleon is,” Trevor whispered from the corner of his mouth. “It's gotta be on one of these islands.”

“I doubt it. It's invisible,” Neil reminded him as he followed Weo. “But yeah, maybe we can get an idea.”

Weo cut through the jungle instinctively, moving much faster than Neil and Trevor had on their own. Occasionally he paused and touched the rough exterior of a palm tree or giant leaf with the tips of his fingers. Neil did the same, wondering if doing so would reveal jungle secrets.

They soon reached the base of the small crater that Trevor had almost crashed their jet into earlier. The lush jungle plants gave way to glossy black rocks of all sizes, reflecting back the intense sun. Weo scooped down to pick up two fallen coconuts and cracked open the tops on a large volcanic rock. He handed one each to Trevor and Neil. At first they hesitated, but after the first sip, they drank greedily. The liquid inside was smooth and refreshing.

“Wow, that was great. Thanks,” Neil said, wiping his mouth. Neil mentally added fresh coconut to the list of things he enjoyed drinking, which so far only included chocolate milk: extra chocolate, less milk.

The three traipsed up the small rocky incline and soon looked out over the beautiful scenery. To the right was the largest island, white-capped waves lapping at its shore. Two surfers sat on foam boards a distance out, waiting to time their ride in. Small, makeshift buildings dotted the coastline.

To the left, and closer, was the third island, only slightly larger than the one they were currently standing on. Shards of black volcanic rock jutted from the ocean, and a thin ring of trees lined the outside. At its center, a giant modern gray building surrounded by a metal fence sat firmly planted in the otherwise rugged surroundings. A new-looking suspension bridge connected that island to the bigger island, leaving the small island that Neil was on completely secluded.

“So, what do you call this place?” Neil asked, shielding his eyes from the sun. Weo gave a short laugh.

“Well, there's the main island,” Weo said, pointing to the biggest one. “The old top-secret surf spot. Unreal waves. I guess some people call it Brosiah Bay now,” Weo explained.

“Brosiah Bay?” Trevor asked.

“Goofy, I know. It's a surf term, sort of. But now lots of nonsurfers live there, too.”

“Cool,” Neil responded. “And that other island. With all the rocks and that building. What's that?”

Weo's tone quickly changed. “That . . . that island is the . . . Well, it belongs to . . . Let's just say it's best to leave the billionaire alone.”

Billionaire?
Neil gasped.
That's unreal—a private island. I bet the floors are made of precious metals, and there's a video arcade, which is just off the bowling alley, next to a hangar full of motorcycles and jets . . . just like the missing . . .
“Chameleon!” Neil said aloud. Weo turned his attention to Neil.

“Really? Where? I haven't seen those on my island before.”

“Oh, yeah. Just found one. Tre—Kenny . . . ah, Ghostswitch . . . I've found our sample chameleon,” Neil said, doing a pretty awful job of playing it cool. “We can return back to the gear for sampling purposes.”

Trevor met Neil's gaze in understanding. “Yeeeah . . . ,” Trevor said slowly. “We should get back.”

“Can I see it?”

“Well, Weo, great meetin' ya and all, but we've got important scientist stuff to attend to. That's what we are; I forgot to tell you. Scientists. Surf-loving scientists. Obviously the chameleon is camouflaged on my friend's body here, so we can't disturb it. That's the first rule of surf science!” Neil said, slapping Weo on the back.

“Yeah, what he said,” Trevor blurted. “Any chance you can lead us back to our gear?”

Weo narrowed his eyes but simply nodded and turned back around, clambering down the path on the tough soles of his bare feet. Neil hated lying, especially to someone who had just released him from a net, but they needed to go tell Jones about the billionaire's island. And Weo had put them up in that tree anyway.

“There's the gear,” Trevor said as he saw their pile of bags in the same clearing as before. He scurried ahead, making sure to step well over Weo's trip wire.

After helping position the bags on Neil's and Trevor's flimsy shoulders, Weo quickly gave them directions to the beach, with a wide variety of landmarks to search for. They all had weird names, like “snake mountain” and “dung beetle waterslide.”

“Thanks, Weo.” Neil adjusted the black duffel bag of gear on his scrawny right shoulder and started after Trevor. He'd taken only a few steps when Weo called after him.

“Hey, Neil? This tree house and everything? Let's keep it our secret. But if you run into any of the ostriches, to get them to chill out, make a sound like . . . what's the word? Like you're choking on a sandwich that you made with too much peanut butter!” Weo shouted, climbing the ladder back up to his tree fort.

Neil nodded and plodded ahead, following Weo's bizarre instructions. He made a left at the first tree shaped like a Y and then a right at the “old man's face rock,” and by the time he had walked too far to go back, he realized that he had absolutely no idea what that ostrich noise would sound like.