33 - The Horror at Camp Jellyjam (7 page)

Buddy had been staring at me from the path. His eyes were narrowed, and his
mouth was set in a stern, unhappy expression.

How long had he been standing there?

Why did he look so unhappy? His grim expression gave me a chill.

As I turned to him, he stepped forward. His blue eyes stared hard into mine.

“I’m sorry, Wendy,” the counselor said softly. “But you have to go.”

“Excuse me?” I gaped at him. My mouth dropped open.

What was he saying?
Where
did I have to go?

Did he mean I had to go—
like Dierdre and Alicia?

“You have to go find a sport,” Buddy repeated, still speaking softly. His
solemn expression didn’t change. “You can’t stand around watching other kids
play. King Jellyjam would never approve of that.”

I’d like to
step
on that ugly little blob! I thought angrily. What a
stupid name. King Jellyjam. Yuck!

Buddy had just scared me to death. Was he
trying
to frighten me? I
wondered.

No, I quickly decided. Buddy doesn’t know that I’m upset about things. How
could he know?

Buddy hurried on to the basketball court. He slapped Jeff on the back and
handed him a gold King Coin. “Way to go, guy!” he cried, flashing Jeff a thumbs-up. “I’ll see you in the Winners Walk tonight. Only The Best!”

Buddy said a few words to my brother. Elliot shrugged a few times. Then he
said something that made Buddy laugh. I couldn’t hear their words.

When Elliot trotted off to find his next sport, Buddy strode quickly back to
me. He put an arm around my shoulders and guided me away from the basketball
court.

“I guess you’re just not a self-starter, Wendy,” he said.

“I guess,” I replied. What was I supposed to say?

“Well, I’m going to give you a schedule for today. See if you like it,” Buddy
said. “First, I have a tennis match fined up for you. You play tennis, right?”

“A little,” I told him. “I’m not that great, but—”

“After tennis, come down to the softball diamond, okay?” Buddy continued.
“We’ll get you on one of the softball teams.”

He flashed me a warm smile. “I think you’ll have a lot more fun if you join
in—don’t you?”

“Yeah. Probably,” I replied. I wanted to sound more enthusiastic. But I just
couldn’t.

Buddy led me onto one of the back tennis courts. An African-American girl
about my age was warming up by hitting a tennis ball against a backboard.

She turned and greeted me as I approached. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” I replied. We introduced ourselves.

Her name was Rose. She was tall and pretty. She wore a purple tank top over
black shorts. I saw a silver ring dangling from one ear.

Buddy handed me a racket. “Have fun,” he said. “And watch out, Wendy. Rose
already has five King Coins!”

“Are you a good tennis player?” I asked, twirling the racket in my hand.

Rose nodded. “Yeah. Pretty good. How about you?”

“I don’t know,” I told her honestly. “My friend and I always play just for
fun.”

Rose laughed. She had a deep, throaty laugh that I liked. It made me want to
laugh, too. “I
never
play for fun!” she declared.

She told the truth.

We volleyed back and forth for a while, to get warmed up. Rose leaned
forward, tensed her body, narrowed her dark eyes—then started slamming the
ball back at me as if we were playing the final set of a championship!

She played even harder once we started our match.

I found out very quickly that I was no match for her. I was lucky to return a few of her serves!

Rose was a good sport about it. I caught her snickering a few times at my
two-handed backhand. But she didn’t make fun of my pitiful game. And she gave me
some really helpful tips as the match continued.

She won in straight sets.

I congratulated her. She seemed really excited about winning her sixth King
Coin.

A woman counselor I hadn’t seen before appeared on the court and presented
the coin to Rose. “See you at the Winners Walk tonight,” she said, grinning.

Then the counselor turned to me. “The softball diamond is right over that
hill, Wendy.” She pointed.

I thanked her and began walking in that direction. “Don’t walk—run!” she
called. “Let’s see some spirit! Only The Best!”

I let out an unhappy groan. I don’t think she heard me. Then I obediently
started to run.

Why was everyone always rushing me around here? I complained silently. Why
can’t I go lie down by the pool and work on my tan?

As the softball diamond came into view, I started to cheer up a little. I
actually like softball. I’m not much of a fielder. But I’m a pretty good
slugger.

The teams, I saw, had boys and girls on them.

I recognized two of the girls from my breakfast table this morning.

One of them tossed me a bat. “Hi. I’m Ronni. You can be on our team,” she
said. “Can you pitch?”

“I guess,” I replied, wrapping my hands around the bat. “Sometimes I pitch
after school on the playground.”

She nodded. “Okay. You can pitch the first couple of innings.”

Ronni called the other kids together and we huddled. We went around the
circle, giving our names. Then the kids who didn’t have fielding positions chose
their spots.

“If we win, do we
all
get King Coins?” a boy with a fake tattoo of an
eagle on his shoulder asked.

“Yes. All of us,” Ronni told him.

Everyone cheered.

“Don’t start cheering yet. We’ve got to win first!” Ronni exclaimed.

She went around the circle, giving the batting order. Since I was the
pitcher, I batted ninth.

But since I had a bat, I decided to take a few practice swings. I stepped
away from the others, behind the third base line.

Easing my hands up on the bat, I took a soft swing. I like to choke up pretty
high. I’m not very strong, and it gives me a harder swing.

The bat felt pretty good. I took a few more soft swings.

Then I pulled it behind my shoulder—and swung as hard as I could.

I didn’t see Buddy standing there.

The bat smacked him hard in the chest.

It made a sickening
thocccck
as it crashed into his ribs.

I let the bat fall from my hands. Then I staggered back. Stunned. Horrified.

Buddy’s smile faded. He narrowed his blue eyes at me.

He raised a hand and pointed a finger at me.

“I like the way you choke up,” he said. “But maybe we could find you a
lighter bat.”

“Huh?” My mouth hung open. I couldn’t move. I stood there, gaping at him.
“Buddy—?”

He picked up the bat from the ground. “Does it feel comfortable? Let me see
you swing again, Wendy.” He handed the bat to me.

My hands trembled as I took it from him. I kept my eyes on him. Waited for
him to cry out. To grab his chest and collapse in a heap on the ground.

“Some of the aluminum bats are lighter,” he said. He brushed back his blond
hair with one hand. “Go ahead. Swing again.”

I took a few shaky steps away from him. I wanted to make sure I didn’t hit
him again. Then I choked up on the bat and swung.

“How is it?” he asked.

“F-fine,” I stammered.

He flashed me a thumbs-up and went to talk to Ronni.

Whoa! I thought. What is the story here?

I swung that bat into his chest, hard enough to break a few ribs. Or at least
knock his breath out.

But Buddy didn’t even seem to notice!

What is the story here?

I told Jan and Ivy about it at dinner.

Jan snickered. “I guess your swing isn’t as hard as you think.”

“But it made a horrible sound! Like eggs breaking or something!” I exclaimed.
“And he just went on smiling and talking.”

“He probably waited until he was out of sight. Then he screamed his head
off!” Ivy suggested.

I forced myself to laugh along with my two friends. But I didn’t feel like
laughing.

It was all too strange.

I mean,
no one
could take a blow like that right in the chest and not
even say “Ouch!”

Our team lost by ten points. But after that
thocccck,
who could think
about the game?

I glanced across the room to the counselors’ table. Buddy sat at one end,
talking and laughing with Holly. He seemed perfectly okay.

I kept glancing at him all through dinner. Again and again, I heard the
sickening
thocccck
the bat made as it smashed into his chest. I just couldn’t get it out of my mind.

I kept thinking about it as we trooped out to the track after dinner for the
Winners Walk. It was a windy night. The torches flickered and nearly went out.

The trees around the track shivered and bent. Their branches seemed to reach
down for the ground.

The marching music started, and the winners paraded by. Rose waved to me as
she passed. I saw Jeff walking proudly near the back of the line, his gold coins
jangling around his neck.

After the ceremony, I hurried back to the room and climbed into bed. Too many
troubling thoughts whirred around in my brain. I wanted to go to sleep and shut
them out.

The next morning at breakfast, Rose and Jeff were gone.

I searched for Rose and Jeff. And I searched for my brother all morning. I
knew he’d be playing hard at one of the sports. But I walked from the soccer
field at one end of the camp to the driving range at the other end, and I didn’t
see him.

Had Elliot disappeared, too?

The frightening thought kept tugging at my mind.

We’ve got to get out of this camp!

I kept repeating those words to myself as I made my way along the
crisscrossing dirt paths.

King Jellyjam, the little purple blob, grinned at me from the signs posted
everywhere. Even his cartoon smile gave me the creeps.

Something was terribly wrong at King Jellyjam’s Sports Camp. And the more I
walked, my eyes searching every face for my brother, the more frightened I
became.

Buddy caught up to me after lunch. He led me back to the Softball diamond.
“Wendy, you can’t leave your team,” he said sternly. “Forget yesterday. You still have a
chance. If you win today, you guys all win King Coins.”

I didn’t want any King Coins. I wanted to see my parents. I wanted to see my
brother. And I wanted to get
out
of there!

I didn’t pitch today. I played left field, which gave me plenty of time to
think.

I planned our escape.

It won’t be that hard, I decided. Elliot and I will sneak out after dinner
when everyone is watching the Winners Walk. We’ll make our way down the hill,
back to the highway. Then we’ll walk or hitchhike to the nearest town with a
police station.

I knew the police would find Mom and Dad for us easily.

A simple plan, right? Now all I had to do was find Elliot.

Our team lost the game seven to nine.

I grounded out to end the game. The other kids were disappointed that the
team lost, but I didn’t really care.

I still hadn’t won a single King Coin. As we trotted toward our dorms, I saw
Buddy watching me. He had a fretful expression on his face.

“Wendy—what’s your next sport?” he called to me.

I pretended I didn’t hear him and trotted away.

My next sport is running, I thought unhappily. Running away from this
horrible place.

The ground began to rumble and shake as I passed the main lodge. This time, I
ignored it and kept walking to the dorm.

I didn’t find Elliot until after dinner. I saw him heading out the mess-hall
door with two buddies. They were laughing, talking loudly, and bumping each
other with their chests as they walked.

“Elliot!” I called, chasing after him. “Hey, Elliot—wait up!”

He turned away from his two friends. “Oh. Hi,” he said. “How’s it going?”

“Did you forget you have a sister?” I demanded angrily.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Excuse me?”

“Where have you been?” I asked.

A grin spread over his face. “Winning these,” he said. He raised the chain
around his neck to show off the gold King Coins he was wearing. “I’ve got five.”

“Awesome,” I said sarcastically. “Elliot—we’ve got to get
out
of
here!”

“Huh? Get out?” He twisted up his face, confused.

“Yes,” I insisted. “We have to get away from this camp—tonight!”

“I can’t,” Elliot replied. “No way.”

Kids pushed past us, on their way to watch the Winners Walk. I followed Elliot out the mess-hall door. Then I pulled him off
the path, onto the grass at the side of the building.

“You can’t leave? Why not?” I demanded.

“Not till I win my sixth coin,” he said. He jangled the coin necklace in my
face.

“Elliot—this place is dangerous!” I cried. “And Mom and Dad must be—”

“You’re just jealous,” he interrupted. He jangled the coins again. “You
haven’t won any—have you!”

I balled my hands into fists. I wanted to strangle him. I really did.

He was such a competitive jerk. He always had to win everything.

I took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. “Elliot, aren’t you at all
worried about Mom and Dad?”

He lowered his eyes for a moment. “A little.”

“Well, we have to get out of here and find them!” I declared.

“Tomorrow,” he replied. “After the track meet in the morning. After I win my
sixth coin.”

I opened my mouth to argue with him. But what was the point?

I knew how stubborn my brother can be. If he wanted to win that sixth coin,
he wouldn’t leave till he won it.

I couldn’t argue with him. And I couldn’t drag him away. “Right after the
track meet tomorrow morning,” I told him, “we’re out of here! Whether you win or lose. Agreed?”