Cheesie Mack Is Cool in a Duel Read online

  Georgie and all the other Cabin H bunk mates used large bows. I selected one of the smaller bows meant for Little Guys. They don’t shoot as far or as hard, but they’re just as accurate, IMO, and much easier to draw back.

  “Oh, sweet! That’s perfect. A baby bow for the Runt!” Kevin shouted.

  “Go ahead and laugh,” I said. “You’re a lousy shot. I bet at least three of my arrows end up in the target.”

  Derek, the archery counselor, shouted from the other side of the archery range, “Cut the goofing around and get going! We’re almost out of time.”

  As I nocked my first arrow, I looked toward Georgie (I wanted him to watch me outshoot Ty and Kevin), but he couldn’t see me. Ty was standing between us, blocking (on purpose, I figured) his view. I pulled back the bow … aimed … and just as I let fly, Kevin squirted me in the back of the head with a water pistol he’d hidden in his pocket.

  My arrow hit the dirt about ten feet in front of the hay bales.

  I turned around angrily, and a second squirt hit me smack in the face.

  Everyone laughed.

  Derek tried to be stern. “No fooling around when someone’s got a bow in his hands.” But he was chuckling as he looked at his watch and took my bow. “Time to wrap things up,” he said.

  As soon as Derek and a couple of kids left to put all the equipment in the archery shed, Kevin squirted me again. I stomped toward him while getting splashed over and over, and exploded. “That’s your plan? Being a bully?”

  Kevin laughed.

  “Face it, Kevin!” I shouted, slapping his water pistol to the side. “What you do is way too easy. Anybody bigger can always pick on someone who’s littler!” I’m sure everyone was watching, but I was so mad I couldn’t see anything except his stupid face. “Bullying me doesn’t win you anything!”

  “What’re you going to do about it, Runto?” Kevin said, puffing out his chest.

  “You’re chicken, Kevin! You’re a bully and a chicken! You’re afraid to face me in a fair fight!” I was so mad I wasn’t thinking about what I was saying.

  Kevin’s smile disappeared. He looked around. All the kids were silent.

  “Okay,” Kevin finally said. “You want a fair fight? I’ll make it as fair as I can. I challenge you to a duel, and you can choose the weapon.”

  I didn’t know what to say. What had I gotten myself into?

  “C’mon, Runt,” Kevin taunted. “Are you chicken? Pick a weapon. You can choose anything.”

  I was frozen. I couldn’t think of a single weapon with which I could beat Kevin. But as I desperately tried to think of something, I suddenly realized that thinking of something is what I’m best at! I knew if there was any kind of brain work involved, I’d have a chance to beat him. But I also knew I would have to be tricky. Kevin would never agree to a straight-up quiz contest with questions like “Where do lemurs come from?”

  (Lemurs are primates, but not monkeys. I have a page about lemurs—and the answer—on my website.)

  Then—I don’t know where in my brain ideas like this come from—I had the answer!

  “I’ll fight you,” I announced, looking Kevin straight in the eye. “And since I get to choose the weapon …”

  I glanced at Georgie. His eyebrows were waggling like they always do when he gets nervous, and he was shaking his head stop-stop-STOP! But I couldn’t stop. I took a step toward Kevin and spoke loudly. “Since I get to choose the weapon, I pick coolness. The winner will be the kid who does the coolest things at camp—and the guys in our cabin will decide. I accept your challenge, Kevin! You’re cool, or you’re a fool. I accept your challenge to the Cool Duel!”

  “That’s stupid,” Kevin said, but the rest of the guys were hollering, “Go for it!” and “Yeah!” and stuff like that. Kevin stood alone, fuming mad. Ty came over to him and began whispering. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Kevin was shaking his head.

  Then Jimmy Kelly and Danny Stephens, two Cabin H boys I’d been sort of friendly with last summer when they were still Little Guys, changed the noise into a chant: “Cool Duel! Cool Duel! Cool Duel!”

  Kevin gave them a super-mad look, but when lots more boys joined in, Kevin pushed Ty away and said, “Okay, Cheesie. You want a duel? You got it!”

  “Shut up, everybody!” Georgie shouted. “I’ll be Cheesie’s second.”

  In the olden days, when men fought duels, each man had a trusted assistant—called a second—who would make sure the fight was fair and the weapons were equal.

  Interesting fact: In 1804, there was a very famous duel where Aaron Burr, the vice president of the United States—I’m not kidding—shot and killed Alexander Hamilton, the man whose picture is on our ten-dollar bill!

  Derek and everyone else began walking back, but Kevin and I (the duelists), helped by Ty and Georgie (our seconds), stayed behind. After a lot of discussion and arguing, we finally agreed on the Cool Duel Rules:

  1. The Cool Duel would begin the next morning right after flag raising and last seven days.

  2. All Cool Duel activity had to be visible to all the boys in the cabin … no secret deals, bribes, or dirty tricks.

  3. Only the kids in Cabin H would be in on it. No one else in camp could be told about it, especially counselors and Uncle Bud.

  4. We’d have a silent, hand-raising vote every night just before lights-out so we’d know who was winning. The final, deciding vote would come at the end of the seventh day, with each kid voting out loud in alphabetical order. (Kevin insisted on this. His last name is Welch, and he wanted to be last.)

  5. The loser would have to stand up during announcements the morning after the final vote and say, “In my opinion, [Kevin or Cheesie—whoever won the vote] is the coolest guy in camp.” And then the loser would have to drop to the ground and bow five times to the winner. It would be very embarrassing.

  Georgie and I were last to leave the archery range. “This is going to be so awesome. What’re you going to do first? You know … to get ahead in the Cool Duel.”

  “I have no idea,” I said as we walked toward our cabin. “But after dinner, let’s think about—”

  Georgie stopped suddenly and grabbed my arm. “Dinner! The girls! We forgot all about Marci’s twin brother’s broken legs!”

  “We need Uncle Bud’s keys!” I shouted, and one microsecond later we were running.

  Kids are always running every which way in camp, so even though we sped right past lots of boys, no one paid any attention to us. We were breathing heavily when we got to Uncle Bud’s house.

  “Shhh.” I put a finger to my lips. “Listen …”

  There was no sound from inside.

  Georgie whispered, “Why don’t you just knock? If he’s not home, great. If he is, just say hello and tell him you want to play with Deeb.”

  Oh, yeah, I thought. Duh!

  I knocked. No answer.

  I opened the door—which Uncle Bud never locks—and surprise! Deeb was very happy to see me. She started jumping, all four legs off the ground, and barking like crazy, so I immediately dropped to my knees and petted her until she quieted down. Then, with Deeb tagging after me, I went over to Uncle Bud’s desk and grabbed the extra set of keys hanging on a hook next to his lamp.

  I looked at the wall clock. Dinner would start in seventeen minutes. Perfect. I gave Deeb one last head rub, closed her up inside, and met Georgie outside.

  On the way to the dining hall, we spotted Uncle Bud walking near the cabins, so we skirted behind the canteen.

  (You can sock or belt someone. I wonder if there are any other clothing words, like skirt, that mean to do something unrelated to clothing … you know, verbs. I’m going to make a list on my website. You can help me.)

  Marci and Lana were waiting outside. I opened the dining hall door and peeked in. It was empty except for one of the kitchen workers putting red and yellow squeeze containers on each table.

  “I bet it’s hot dogs or hamburgers tonight,” Georgie said softly to no
one in particular.

  “Follow me,” I said, “and let me do the talking.”

  Normally kids come into the computer room through an outside door on the back of the dining hall. It’s in plain sight. My plan was to go in unseen by using a locked door that once connected the kitchen to the bakery. (Did you remember that the computer room was a bakery in the old days and that it’s attached to the dining hall?) That meant going through the kitchen, which was off-limits to campers.

  “Hiya, Mookie!” I called out as the four of us went into the kitchen. “We won’t bother you,” I said before he could reply. “The camp’s got a problem with its data divider. We have to restart the memory multiplier.”

  He was dropping piles of hot dogs into a giant pot of boiling water. “Can’t you go in the other door?” he asked.

  “Nope. That’s one of the problems. Something to do with Internet interference whenever that door is open.”

  You can probably guess that what I said was total nonsense. I just strung words together, hoping Mookie didn’t know much about computers.

  Mookie and the other kitchen workers went back to their tasks while I tried Uncle Bud’s keys. After three keys didn’t turn, I dropped the ring and had to start over. Then, after about five keys, I lost my place and had to start over again.

  “Get it together, man,” Mookie said as he walked by us with a tray of buns.

  I was a little embarrassed. But there were about a dozen keys on Uncle Bud’s ring, and more than half of them were identical except for the zigzag cuts that make each key different. Finally I found the one that worked. I pushed on the door, but it only opened partway because of a computer desk.

  “I’ll wait in the kitchen,” Georgie said.

  I gave him a look.

  “To stand guard,” he whispered.

  I nodded, and the girls and I squeezed through the half-open door.

  “Okay,” I told Marci as I shut the door behind us. “Make it quick!”

  I needn’t have worried. She was very fast. She ran to the shelves where all the kids’ electronic gear was stored, found her cabin’s labeled plastic bin, shuffled through a bunch of electronic gadgets, and pulled out the plastic bag with her cell phone. In a few seconds she was tapping her thumbs on the keyboard, texting.

  I don’t have a cell phone. I’m getting one in September when I start middle school. My sister has one, and she’s pretty good at texting, but Marci was super fast. Her thumbs were flying! I walked over to watch, but she turned away.

  “It’s private,” she mumbled.

  “Sorry,” I replied.

  Lana smiled at me.

  “Sorry,” I repeated.

  Moments later Marci announced, “Okay. Done.”

  She turned off her phone and replaced everything, and we went out the door. We’d been in the room less than four minutes.

  Georgie was not guarding the door when we reentered the kitchen. He was standing near Mookie, eating a hot dog. I gave him a what’s-going-on look, but Mookie was the one who responded.

  “Kid was hungry. Wanted one dry. Condiments are out on the tables.”

  Georgie grinned and opened his mouth to show us. Gross.

  I turned to relock the door.

  “You gonna need to do this again?” Mookie asked.

  “Huh?” I responded.

  “How often these computer thingies gonna need jump-starting?”

  “Oh, yeah … yeah, we might need to come back,” I said, recovering quickly. “Maybe tomorrow. It depends.”

  “Then why don’t you leave it unlocked? Won’t bother us in here. And next time you won’t have to fiddle with all those keys.”

  “Good idea. Thanks, Mookie.”

  Georgie held up his half-eaten hot dog. “Thanks, Mookie.”

  Just as we reached the door leading out of the kitchen, Mookie called out, “Hey, Cheeseman! Think fast!”

  I looked back. A chocolate chip cookie was Frisbeeing toward me from all the way on the other side of the kitchen.

  If you’re wondering if I caught it …

  Yes!

  We reentered the dining hall just as the other campers were streaming in.

  “Thanks,” Marci said. “I mean for my brother.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I said.

  “May I have a bite?” Lana asked, pointing to my cookie.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. I broke off a piece for her.

  She took it, smiled, and just stood there holding it. Marci was grinning. Georgie was chewing the last of his hot dog. Finally …

  “We’d better get over on our side of the Border Line now,” Lana said.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. “Hurry.”

  Maybe it was the excitement of actually doing the Hack. Maybe it was because the Cool Duel hadn’t started yet, so Kevin and Ty didn’t do anything at dinner to bother me. Maybe it was Mookie’s cookie. Whatever it was, dinner was great. Georgie ate three more hot dogs.

  That night, after lights-out, I lay in bed thinking about the Cool Duel. It would start in the morning, and even though I didn’t have any idea what I would do, I wasn’t the least bit worried.

  My last thought before I fell asleep was Look out, Kevin. Cheesie’s coming!

  The Cool Duel Begins

  Uncle Bud’s wake-up loudspeaker announcement said it was going to be a hot day (shorties on top/shorties on bottom), so I rolled out of bed and sleepily reached for the pile of clothes from yesterday. One benefit of sleeping in the cove is that most of my area was not visible from the rest of the cabin, so I could get away with much more mess than the other kids.

  Boom!

  In one instant I was fully awake! I couldn’t believe what I’d found in the pocket of my shorts.

  If you are a careful reader, you probably already know what it was.

  Uncle Bud’s extra set of keys!

  I had completely forgotten to return them.

  A few minutes later the trumpet call announced flag raising, and every kid in every cabin streamed out.

  “Cover for me,” I said privately to Georgie.

  He looked at me with a why face.

  I flashed the keys and then stuck them back in my pocket. He nodded, and his why changed to I got it.

  Uncle Bud would already be at the flagpole, and everyone else would be walking in that direction, so I purposely lagged behind. When no one was looking, I ran toward Uncle Bud’s house. I was sprinting across an open area when Deeb, who I guess had been waiting by the flagpole, began running toward me, barking noisily. Lots of heads turned. I was busted.

  I don’t understand how human brains work … especially mine. I didn’t consciously think, but I instantly knew exactly what I had to do.

  I stopped, changed direction, jumped straight up, ran a couple of steps back toward the cabins, changed direction again, and repeated. Barking the whole time, Deeb stopped and started each time I did.

  I may not know how my own brain works, but I really know how my dog thinks. We’d played this try-to-catch-me game a million times at home.

  I zoomed behind Uncle Bud’s house, out of sight of the boys watching us, then I reappeared with Deeb close behind. I was trying to convince the watchers that I wasn’t a sneaky boy with keys to put back, but an energetic boy playing with his barking dog. Finally, after three now-you-see-me-now-you-don’ts, I secretly ducked into Uncle Bud’s house. In less than twenty seconds we were back out, the keys safely on the hook by his desk.

  I sprinted to the flagpole and arrived at Georgie’s side just as the Pledge of Allegiance began. Deeb’s tongue was hanging out. So was mine, and I was breathing too hard to speak until “… and justice for all.”

  At breakfast, after I checked for saltshaker booby traps, I decided to make sure the girls were ready for our next Hack. Jason was our table server, but I got up, popped the last rasher of bacon into my mouth, and grabbed the empty platter. “I’ll get some more.”

  (A rasher is exactly the same as one slice, but my dad told me i
t’s much classier to ask for rashers than for slices.)

  I picked up a bacon refill at the serving window and walked to the Border Line. I could see Marci and Lana, but they were several tables away. A girl passed by carrying a refill of French toast.

  “Excuse me, could you ask Lana Shen to come over?” I pointed. “She’s the girl at that table with the yellow headband and black hair.”

  The French toast girl didn’t change direction. She walked to her table, set down her platter, and yelled, “Hey, Lana! Some guy wants you.”

  Heads turned, including, to my complete embarrassment, Goon’s. Now, you might think this meant points for Goon in the Point Battle. Nope. Even though I was super embarrassed, Goon had nothing to do with it. No points. The score was still 664–661.

  When Lana got to the Border Line, I told her another Hack was on for tonight and immediately returned to my table. My cheeks were hot. I’m sure they were bright red.

  For the rest of the day, Kevin didn’t do anything special, and neither did I. We were like two boxers at the beginning of a fight, moving around the ring, sort of checking each other out, neither landing a punch.

  Just before dinner, Lana and Marci met us at the dining hall. This time the Hack was easy. We went into the kitchen, waved to Mookie and the others, and opened the door to the computer room. Marci did her speedy texting thing again, and we were back out in the dining hall in a flash. Georgie tried to mooch food from Mookie, but since the main dish was sloppy joes, you can probably guess that he was turned down.

  That night, while Lindermann was in the bathroom (he waits to be last), we held the first Cool Duel vote. At the whispered count of three, each kid held up one hand. A closed fist would be for Kevin; an open hand for me. Because my bed couldn’t be seen by the others, I stood in the cove doorway while I voted.

  The total was eleven for Kevin, four for me, with one kid (Sam) not voting. I was off to a terrible start. I sat on my bed, hidden from the other boys, writing down how each kid voted.

  I heard Lindermann come out of the bathroom and say, “Lights-out.” The cabin went dark.

  Sheets rustled. A bed squeaked.