33 - The Horror at Camp Jellyjam

Mom pointed excitedly out the car window. “Look! A cow!”

My brother, Elliot, and I both groaned. We had been driving through farmland
for four hours, and Mom had pointed out every single cow and horse.

“Look out your side, Wendy!” Mom cried from the front seat. “Sheep!”

I stared out the window and saw about a dozen gray sheep—fat, woolly ones—grazing on a grassy green hill. “Nice sheep, Mom,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“There’s a cow!” Elliot exclaimed.

Now
he
was doing it!

I reached across the backseat and gave him a hard shove. “Mom, is it possible
to explode from boredom?” I moaned.

“BOOOOOOM!” Elliot shouted. The kid is a riot, isn’t he?

“I told you,” Dad muttered to Mom. “A twelve-year-old is too old to go on a
long car trip.”

“So is an eleven-year-old!” Elliot protested.

I’m twelve. Elliot is eleven.

“How can you two be bored?” Mom asked. “Look—horses!”

Dad sped up to pass a huge yellow truck. The road curved through high,
sloping hills. In the far distance, I could see gray mountains, rising up in a
heavy mist.

“There’s so much beautiful scenery to admire,” Mom gushed.

“After a while, it all looks like some boring old calendar,” I complained.

Elliot pointed out of his window. “Look! No horses!”

He doubled over, laughing. He thought that was the funniest thing anyone had
ever said. Elliot really cracks himself up.

Mom turned in the front seat. She narrowed her eyes at my brother. “Are you
making fun of me?” she demanded.

“Yes!” Elliot replied.

“Of course not,” I chimed in. “Who would ever make fun of
you,
Mom?”

“When do you ever stop?” Mom complained.

“We’re leaving Idaho,” Dad announced. “That’s Wyoming up ahead. We’ll be up
in those mountains soon.”

“Maybe we’ll see Mountain Cows!” I exclaimed sarcastically.

Elliot laughed.

Mom sighed. “Go ahead. Ruin our first family vacation in three years.”

We hit a bump. I heard the trailer bounce behind us. Dad had hooked one of
those big, old-fashioned trailers to the back of our car. We had dragged it all
over the West.

The trailer was actually kind of fun. It had four narrow beds built into the
sides. And it had a table we could sit around to eat or play cards. It even had
a small kitchen.

At night, we’d pull into a trailer camp. Dad would hook the trailer up to
water and electricity. And we spent the night inside, in our own private little
house.

We hit another bump. I heard the trailer bounce behind us again. The car
lurched forward as we started to climb into the mountains.

“Mom, how do I know if I’m getting carsick or not?” Elliot asked.

Mom turned back to us, frowning. “Elliot, you never get carsick,” she said in
a low voice. “Did you forget?”

“Oh. Right,” Elliot replied. “I just thought it might be something to do.”

“Elliot!” Mom screamed. “If you’re so bored, take a nap!”

“That’s boring,” my brother muttered.

I could see Mom’s face turning an angry red. Mom doesn’t look like Dad,
Elliot, and me. She is blond and has blue eyes and very fair skin, which turns red very easily. And she’s kind of plump.

My dad, brother, and I are skinny and sort of dark. The three of us have
brown hair and brown eyes.

“You kids don’t know how lucky you are,” Dad said. “You’re getting to see
some amazing sights.”

“Bobby Harrison got to go to baseball camp,” Elliot grumbled. “And Jay
Thurman went to sleepaway camp for eight weeks!”

“I wanted to go to sleepaway camp, too!” I protested.

“You’ll go to camp
next
summer,” Mom replied sharply. “This is the
chance of a lifetime!”

“But the chance of a lifetime is so boring!” Elliot complained.

“Wendy, entertain your brother,” Dad ordered.

“Excuse me?” I cried. “How am I supposed to entertain him?”

“Play Car Geography,” Mom suggested.

“Oh, no! Not again!” Elliot wailed.

“Go ahead. I’ll start,” Mom said. “Atlanta.”

Atlanta ends with an A. So I had to think of a city that starts with an A.
“Albany,” I said. “Your turn, Elliot.”

“Hmmmmm. A city that starts with a Y…” My brother thought for a moment.
Then he twisted up his face. “I quit!”

My brother is such a bad sport. He takes games too seriously, and he really
hates to lose. Sometimes he gets so intense when he’s playing soccer or softball, I really worry
about him.

Sometimes when he thinks he can’t win, he just quits. Like now.

“What about Youngstown?” Mom asked.

“What about it?” Elliot grumbled.

“I have an idea!” I said. “How about letting Elliot and me ride in the
trailer for a while?”

“Yeah! Cool!” Elliot cried.

“I don’t think so,” Mom replied. She turned to Dad. “It’s against the law to
ride in a trailer, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Dad said, slowing the car. We were climbing through thick
pine woods now. The air smelled so fresh and sweet.

“Let us!” Elliot pleaded. “Come on—let us!”

“I don’t see any harm in letting them ride back there for a while,” Dad told
Mom. “As long as they’re careful.”

“We’ll be careful!” Elliot promised.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Mom asked Dad.

Dad nodded. “What could happen?”

He pulled the car to the side of the highway. Elliot and I slid out. We ran
to the trailer, pulled open the door, and hurried inside.

A few seconds later, the car pulled back onto the highway. We bounced along
behind it in the big trailer.

“This is so cool!” Elliot declared, making his way to the back window.

“Do I have good ideas or what?” I asked, following him. He slapped me a high
five.

We stared out the back window. The highway seemed to tilt down as we headed
up to the mountains.

The trailer bounced and swayed as the car tugged it.

The road tilted up steeper. And steeper.

And that’s when all our troubles began.

“I win!” Elliot cried. He jumped up and raised both fists in triumph.

“Three out of five!” I demanded, rubbing my wrist. “Come on—three out of
five. Unless you’re chicken.”

I knew that would get him. Elliot can’t stand to be called a chicken. He
settled back in the seat.

We leaned over the narrow table and clasped hands. We had been arm wrestling
for about ten minutes. It was kind of fun because the table bounced every time
the trailer rolled over a bump in the road.

I am as strong as Elliot. But he’s more determined. A
lot
more
determined. You never saw anyone groan and sweat and strain so much in arm
wrestling!

To me, a game is just a game. But to Elliot, every game is life or death.

He had won two out of three about five times.

My wrist was sore, and my hand ached. But I really wanted to beat him in this
final match.

I leaned over the table and squeezed his hand harder. I gritted my teeth and
stared menacingly into his dark brown eyes.

“Go!” he cried.

We both strained against each other. I pushed hard. Elliot’s hand started to
bend back.

I pushed harder. I nearly had him. Just a little harder.

He let out a groan and pushed back. He shut his eyes. His face turned
beet-red. I could see the veins push out at the sides of his neck.

My brother just can’t stand to lose.

SLAM!

The back of my hand hit the table hard.

Elliot had won again.

Actually, I let him win. I didn’t want to see his whole head explode because
of a stupid arm-wrestling match.

He jumped up and pumped his fists, cheering for himself.

“Hey—!” he cried out as the trailer swayed hard, and he went crashing into
the wall.

The trailer lurched again. I grabbed the table to keep from falling off my
seat. “What’s going on?”

“We changed direction. We’re heading down now,” Elliot replied. He edged his
way back toward the table.

But we bumped hard, and he toppled to the floor. “Hey—we’re going
backwards!”

“I’ll bet Mom’s driving,” I said, holding on to the table edge with both
hands.

Mom always drives like a crazy person. When you warn her that she’s going
eighty, she always says, “That can’t be right. It feels as if I’m going
thirty-five!”

The trailer was bouncing and bumping, rolling downhill. Elliot and I were
bouncing and bumping with the trailer.

“What is their problem?” Elliot cried, grabbing on to one of the beds,
struggling to keep his balance. “Are they backing up? Why are we going
backwards?”

The trailer roared downhill. I pushed myself up from the table and stumbled
to the front to see the car. Shoving aside the red plaid curtain, I peered out
through the small window.

“Uh… Elliot…” I choked out. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Huh? A problem?” he replied, bouncing harder as the trailer picked up speed.

“Mom and Dad aren’t pulling us anymore,” I told him. “The car is gone.”

Elliot’s face filled with confusion. He didn’t understand me. Or maybe he
didn’t believe me!

“The trailer has come loose!” I screamed, staring out the bouncing window.
“We’re rolling downhill—on our own!”

“N-n-n-no!” Elliot chattered. He wasn’t stuttering. He was bouncing so hard,
he could barely speak. His sneakers hopped so hard on the trailer floor, he
seemed to be tap dancing.

“OW!” I let out a pained shriek as my head bounced against the ceiling.
Elliot and I stumbled to the back. Gripping the windowsill tightly, I struggled
to see where we were heading.

The road curved steeply downhill, through thick pine woods on both sides. The
trees were a bouncing blur of greens and browns as we hurtled past.

Picking up speed. Bouncing and tumbling.

Faster.

Faster.

The tires roared beneath us. The trailer tilted and dipped.

I fell to the floor. Landed hard on my knees. Reached to pull myself up. But
the trailer swayed, and I went sprawling on my back.

Pulling myself to my knees, I saw Elliot bouncing around on the floor like a
soccer ball. I threw myself at the back of the trailer and peered out the
window.

The trailer bumped hard. The road curved sharply—but we didn’t curve with
it!

We shot off the side of the road. Swerved into the trees.

“Elliot!” I shrieked. “We’re going to crash!”

The trailer jolted hard. I heard a cracking sound.

It’s going to break in half! I thought.

I pressed both hands against the front and stared out the window. Dark trees
flew past.

A hard bump sent me sprawling to the floor.

I heard Elliot calling my name. “Wendy! Wendy! Wendy!”

I shut my eyes and tensed every muscle. And waited for the crash.

Waited…

Waited…

Silence.

I opened my eyes. It took me a few seconds to realize that we were no longer
moving. I took a deep breath and climbed to my feet.

“Wendy?” I heard Elliot’s weak cry from the back of the trailer.

My legs were trembling as I turned around. My whole body felt weird. As if we
were still bouncing. “Elliot—are you okay?”

He had been thrown into one of the bottom bunks. “Yeah. I guess,” he replied.
He lowered his feet to the floor and shook his head. “I’m kind of dizzy.”

“Me, too,” I confessed. “What a ride!”

“Better than Space Mountain!” Elliot exclaimed. He climbed to his feet.
“Let’s get
out
of this thing!”

We both started to the door at the front. It was an uphill climb. The trailer
tilted up.

I reached the door first. I grabbed the handle.

A loud knock on the door made me jump back. “Hey… !” I cried.

Three more knocks.

“It’s Mom and Dad!” Elliot cried. “They found us! Open it up! Hurry!”

He didn’t have to tell me to hurry. My heart skipped. I was so glad to see
them!

I turned the handle, pushed open the trailer door—

—and gasped.

I stared into the face of a blond-haired man. His blue eyes sparkled in the
bright sunlight.

He was dressed all in white. He wore a crisp white T-shirt tucked into baggy
white shorts. A small round button pinned to his T-shirt read ONLY THE BEST in
bold black letters.

“Uh… hi,” I finally managed to choke out.

He flashed me a gleaming smile. He seemed to have about two thousand teeth.
“Hey, guys—everyone okay in there?” he asked. His blue eyes sparkled even
brighter.