A Week in the Woods (11 page)

Leon popped the trunk open and Mark jumped out. He grabbed his pack and slung it onto his back. It was about three pounds heavier than it had been when he had tried it out in his room that first night. The extra weight wasn't because of the last few items from Mr. Survival's list—the space blanket, the extra flashlight batteries, and the other items weighed almost nothing. He'd found a couple of other neat things at Wal-Mart too, like the saw that was just a piece of rough wire with a ring on each end, and the plastic emergency poncho. But that stuff was real light too. The extra weight in his pack came from the school materials he was required to bring along.

By the time Mark got onto the sidewalk, about ten other kids were in line ahead of him, waiting to be checked in by Mr. Maxwell. Mark was surprised to see that two of the boys and one of the girls in the line had framepacks too.

He suddenly wished he'd just thrown his stuff into an old suitcase. Compared to the packs these kids had, his looked brand-new, because it was—and his was also a lot fancier. The fact that his pack was bright yellow didn't help. And the one-liter water bottles he had tucked into the mesh pockets on either side of his pack seemed silly now, unnecessary. Like he was showing off or something.

When it was his turn, Mr. Maxwell glanced at him, then ran a quick eye over his gear, and said, “Toss that into the fourth pickup and then get onto the first bus.” That was it. No greeting, no comment, no smile.

On the bus Mark was glad to see Jason Frazier sitting near the back. He waved at Mark and then pointed at the seat across the aisle from him.

As Mark sat down Jason said, “Did you check out Old Man of the Mountain Maxwell?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah. I didn't even recognize him.”

“Takes this whole deal pretty serious, y'know?” said Jason. “Sort of too much, maybe. But who cares? No school, man—that's what I like! And my brother said the food's good too. Not like the stuff at our cafeteria.”

When the bus was almost full, Mrs. Stearns and Mrs. Leghorn got on. Mrs. Stearns smiled and joked with a group of girls sitting near the front of the bus. She had on hiking boots, jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt. She was in a good mood, and she was ready for the woods.

Mrs. Leghorn was wearing a pair of bright white tennis shoes, some pale purple slacks, and a long red wool coat with wide sleeves. A large black purse was looped over one arm, and in her other hand she kept a tight grip on a tall stainless steel coffee mug. She stood stiffly, flinching every time a kid yelled or laughed too loudly.

Mrs. Stearns called off the names from the list on her clipboard. Two kids hadn't arrived, but by the time she'd read off all the names, they had slipped aboard. The bus driver climbed on, buckled her seatbelt, yanked on the door lever, and as soon as Mrs. Stearns and Mrs. Leghorn took their seats, the bus lurched forward.

A Week in the Woods had officially begun.

* * *

When they arrived at Gray's Notch State Park, the boys on the first bus were divided up into three different groups. Mark and Jason and eight other boys were assigned to a one-room cabin called the Raven's Nest. A man named Mr. Frost—Jessica Frost's father—was their cabin chaperone. He looked nice enough to Mark, but he wasn't an outdoors type. More like a salesman, or maybe he worked in an office.

Mr. Frost helped the boys find all their luggage, and then he led the way down the campground road, past the restrooms and bath houses, past three RV slabs and two other cabins. Pointing at a log building down a short path from the road, Mr. Frost said, “Here it is guys, Home Sweet Home!”

The Raven's Nest had the smell of wood smoke and pine logs, and Mark liked the place instantly. It reminded him of a cabin at his summer camp, except this one was larger and brighter. Six windows, one on either side of the door and two on each of the long walls, let in the midmorning sun.

There were six bunk beds, three along each side wall, leaving an open space in the middle. The wooden floorboards were painted a pale gray. At the end of the cabin opposite the door there was a stone fireplace, but the opening had been covered with a sheet of black metal. A woodstove stood in front of the fireplace, and its black pipe ran up and then back into a thimble two feet above the fireplace mantel. The stove was lit and it threw off a comfortable warmth.

There were three sturdy tables, two on the left of the fireplace, and one on the right side, each with four wooden chairs. The table tops were made of thick pine boards. The chairs and the table legs had been painted dark green.

While Mark stood in the middle of the room looking around, a mad scramble for the beds began. He turned and rushed to the nearest bunk, arriving at the same moment Jason did. But what looked like a contest never happened, because Jason yelled, “I call top!” and Mark shouted, “I got the bottom!”

Amid the jumble and noise Mr. Frost said, “All right, boys, take it easy, now. Plenty of room for everyone. Get your sleeping bags unrolled, set out your shoes and boots, just sort of get settled in. And if you've got things to hang up like coats and jackets or towels, use the hooks on the walls, or the hooks on the ends of the bunks. Don't be throwing stuff around or dropping it wherever. We're going to be here a while, so keep things organized, okay? Now, on my schedule it says we've got some time here before the general meeting at the big lodge at eleven. But that doesn't mean you can wander off somewhere. No one goes anywhere unless I know about it first. And I mean
anywhere.
All week. We clear on that? Everyone?”

All the boys nodded, so Mr. Frost said, “Good. Now, most of your things should stay in your suitcases, and you should keep them pushed under your bunks so we're not tripping over them. So just get your stuff organized a little, and then we'll explore the area if there's time.”

It turned out there wasn't time, because once everyone was settled in, Mr. Frost decided to organize a firewood brigade. “Listen up, guys. It's not going to get above fifty today, and it's going to be downright chilly tonight. So anybody who doesn't want to shiver all night, line up.”

All ten boys from the Raven's Nest followed him down the road to the parking lot beside the gatehouse
at the entrance to the campground. Mr. Maxwell had arranged to have two cords of split stove wood dumped there. The boys lined up beside the pile and Mr. Frost pulled back a corner of the big blue tarp and began to load wood onto the outstretched arms of the first couple of boys.

Jason was in front of Mark. Mr. Frost stacked three pieces of wood onto Jason's arms, and then he motioned to Mark. But Jason said, “I can carry more than this. Give me two more—at least!”

So Mr. Frost said, “Okay,” and put on another two pieces of wood.

It was Mark's turn, and Mr. Frost put three pieces of wood on his arms and then said, “Next boy.”

But Mark shook his head and said, “I can take at least two more pieces, maybe three.”

Jason had turned to start walking back, but when he heard Mark say that, he looked over his shoulder and said, “Sure you can—in your dreams!”

But Mr. Frost shrugged and said, “Fine,” and loaded Mark with two more chunks of wood.

When the last piece of wood was balanced on his stack, Mark turned and started walking. Jason was about twenty feet ahead of him. Mark lengthened his stride. After about thirty seconds he was only a step or two behind. Mark felt the muscles in his shoulders complain about the weight of the wood, felt his wrists ache from being bent upward at such an odd angle. But
he didn't care. With a grim smile Mark notched his speed up a little higher.

As if he had radar, Jason glanced over his shoulder and saw Mark closing in. He grinned. “Oh no, you don't!” he said, and he sped up.

It was an all-out race. Every time Mark tried to pass him, Jason accelerated and swerved like a NASCAR driver. Both boys were huffing, their faces red from exertion, and they zoomed by the other two kids who had loaded up before them.

At the last second Mark surged forward and managed to get next to Jason. Shoulder to shoulder they reached the path that went left from the roadway back toward the Raven's Nest. The path went between two trees, and it was narrow, and Jason had the inside position. Mark had to give way—but he wouldn't, and he didn't.

The racers collided, their loads of wood clunking into the tree trunks and clattering to the ground as the boys tumbled into each other and collapsed into a gasping, laughing heap.

Jason reached over and gave Mark a friendly thump on the arm. “That was cheap! I had you all the way!”

“Yeah?” said Mark. “Then how come you're flat on your back?”

Jason didn't answer, and Mark sat up and turned to look at him. Jason was looking up over Mark's shoulder. He wasn't smiling.

Someone said, “You all right?”

Mark knew that voice. It was Mr. Maxwell.

The boys scrambled to their feet, and Jason said, “Oh sure, we're fine.”

“We bumped into each other, that's all,” said Mark, turning to face the man.

When Mr. Maxwell saw it was Mark, he scowled and then spoke gruffly. “Well, be more careful—both of you. Now get that mess cleared away.” Then he turned on his heel and walked off toward the lodge.

Jason and Mark started picking up the wood.

When Mr. Maxwell was far enough away, Jason whispered, “I
still
beat you, loser!”

Mark whispered back, “Dream on—maybe you tied, but only because my wood was heavier than that little
baby
load of yours!”

Once their wood was stacked outside the door, Jason chased Mark into the cabin and they beat on each other with pillows until Mr. Frost arrived and added “No pillow fights” to his list of rules.

* * *

After the big meeting in the lodge, everyone ate lunch, had a restroom break, and then gathered outside in the council clearing at one o'clock. All the kids sat on logs that were arranged in a series of expanding circles. It was like an outdoor auditorium, and the stage was in the center. Except it wasn't a stage, just an open space with a stone fire pit. Next to the fire pit there was a big iron bell mounted on a sturdy wooden post.

Once everyone was settled Mr. Maxwell said, “We're going to start off our Week in the Woods with the annual Nature Study Scavenger Hunt. Here's how it works.”

Then he explained that they would split into teams made up of one boys cabin and one girls cabin—about twenty kids and three or four grown-ups each. Every team would get the same list of seventy-five things to search for—little things like an acorn, a piece of mica, a white oak leaf, a pine cone, a piece of quartz, a piece of granite, a shred of birch bark, an aspen leaf, a maple twig—on and on. Mr. Maxwell explained the special rules designed to keep the park from being trampled or ripped up, especially rules about where to search and how to collect the samples. For example, all the plant samples had to be picked up off the ground, never from living trees or bushes. Each team had to stay in a certain area of the campground. Plus, every hunter had to keep a written record of where each object had been picked up so that everything could be returned to its right place in the ecosystem after the hunt.

After all the explanations Mr. Maxwell said, “There's a one-hour time limit, and you've all got a lot of things to find. So let's get going!” Then he pretended to remember something. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you: Members of the
last
-place team will have to help serve and clear the tables at dinner tonight. And everybody on the
winning
team is going to get an
extra helping of dessert! So is everyone ready?”

A hundred and fifty kids yelled, “Yeah!” Mr. Maxwell rang the bell, and the hunt was on.

For an hour the woods around the campground echoed with the shouts and yells of the hunters.

“Quartz! I've got a chunk of quartz!”

“Hey, quick! Over here! I found a birch branch on the ground!”

Squads of kids picked their way carefully through the search areas. There were arguments and discussions, notes were scribbled into the logbooks, and as time ran out, the pace intensified. And all the while, the parents and teachers kept careful watch to be sure no one strayed off into the woods in search of that perfect granite pebble or a missing hemlock cone.

When the big bell at the council clearing rang at two fifteen, all the teams gathered for the judging. That part of the event was almost as noisy as the collecting had been. It went quickly, with three teams of judges moving from group to group. There was a lot of cheering and clapping, and there were more arguments, too. Disputes about what would count and what wouldn't were settled by Mr. Maxwell.

Mark watched carefully as the judges went over his team's collection. He and Jason had worked as a pair, and together they had found eighteen items for the team. All together, their group had found sixty-two of the seventy-five things on the list before time ran out.
But they didn't win. Another team had found sixty-seven. They wouldn't be having an extra dessert, but they wouldn't have to clear the tables, either.