I Have a Bad Feeling About This (6 page)

Schoolyard pick.

There was nothing more cruel. Nothing more evil.

By his calculations, Henry was picked last for sports approximately forty-five percent of the time. The only reason the percentage wasn't higher was that Randy sometimes got picked after him.

When a new kid named Frank had moved to his school from Seattle, Henry had been secretly thrilled because Frank had an artificial leg. Unfortunately for Henry, Frank turned out to not only be the fastest runner in the class but a bully who liked to kick weaker kids with his artificial leg.

With only five people to choose from, Henry didn't think it would be
too
humiliating to be picked last for the shelter-building teams, but this wasn't how he wanted to start his new era of dominating the camp.

“Stu,” said Max, “pick a number between one and ten.”

“One.”

“One?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You realize that if somebody else picks two, they get all of the numbers between two and ten, right?”

Stu nodded.

“Henry, pick a number between one and ten.”

“Two.”

Stu cursed.

“Randy, pick a number between one and ten.”

“Two.”

“Was he allowed to pick the same number?” asked Erik.

“No, he disqualified himself. Erik, pick a number between one and ten.”

“Five.”

“Excellent choice. But the number was one. Stu and Henry, you're the team captains. Henry, make your first and only selection.”

“Randy.”

Max glared at him. “With all due respect, I think we can all agree that Randy is not your best possible option. Please explain your reasoning.”

“He's my best friend,” said Henry.

“And that automatically makes him the best shelter-builder?”

“No,” said Henry, thankful that he had blurted out Randy's name before he stopped to seriously consider who might be best at the task, which would have plunged him into a moral quandary about the loyalty of friendship versus the end goal to be achieved. He wanted to win, but he wasn't going to dump Randy to help him achieve that goal. Only a total jerk would do that. He was a nerd, not a jerk.

Max nodded. “In a survival situation, it is often more important to have people who are trustworthy than people who are competent. You don't want to share a shelter with somebody who will try to feed you to whatever might be trying to eat you. Well done.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Stu? Your pick.”

“Aw, man.” Stu looked back and forth between Erik and Jackie. “I feel like Erik is probably stronger—”

“
Probably
stronger?” asked Erik.

“But Jackie would take up less room in the shelter, so we wouldn't have to make the shelter quite as big. Then again, Jackie's hair would be more likely to stain the pillows, unless we use leaves for pillows, in which case he would just be staining the leaves the same color that they already are.”

“
Probably
stronger?” Erik repeated.

“Hey, it's not like I've seen you two arm wrestle,” said Stu.

“Make your pick,” said Max.

“Okay, the person I choose for my team is…umm…
Jackie.
”

Jackie beamed.

“…Stay in line,” Stu continued, “because I pick Erik.”

“Aw, dude,” said Jackie. “That wasn't a cool way to do it.”

“Yeah, you're right. I change my pick to Jackie.”

“You don't get to change your pick,” said Max.

“Okay, good.”

“Jackie, since you were picked last, you will be given the most important task. You are now the sabotage crew. At certain brief intervals, you will be allowed to destroy the hard work that your fellow campers have done.”

“
Sweet
!”

“Here's how this is going to work,” said Max. “You will have one hour to build a shelter. The team that does the best job of constructing a shelter in which you could spend the night and not die is the winner.”

“What do we win?” asked Henry.

“You win the gift of potentially not being dead. Also, the losing team has to make lunch. The competition begins…now!”

Erik whispered something to Stu and they immediately took off running. What did Erik know that Henry didn't? Was there a Home Depot nearby?

Randy held the injured bird, wrapped in a blue cloth, and gently stroked the top of its head with his thumb. “We could try for an underground one, if you can dig really fast,” he said.

“I can't dig really fast.”

“A lean-to then?”

“Sure.”

“Do you know how to make one?”

“I can't even visualize a lean-to,” said Henry. “I'm picturing something, but I think it's a teepee.”

“We may be screwed on the lean-to idea then.”

“Why didn't you look it up before we got here?”

“I thought they were going to
teach
us survival skills! I purposely
didn't
look up how to build a shelter because I thought the instructor would appreciate me being a clean slate! Otherwise, I would've been all like, ‘No, no, that's not how Wikipedia says to do it.' Why didn't
you
look it up before we got here?”

“We can't turn against each other,” said Henry. “That's what Erik and Stu and maybe Jackie want us to do. We've got to work together. If we work together, what do you think the odds are of us finding a cave?”

“Poor.”

“I agree. Okay, so however we build the shelter, we're going to need branches. Let's get lots of branches.”

Randy nodded. They searched for the nearest branch-producing object, which was not a time-consuming task since they were in the woods.

Henry found a tree that had at least twenty or thirty accessible branches that looked perfect for building the shelter he couldn't visualize. They didn't have a chainsaw, hacksaw, machete, pocketknife, butcher knife, steak knife, tin can lid, sharpened teeth, or anything else that would help them to saw off the branches, but suddenly, Henry got an idea.

He walked over to where Max and Jackie stood, watching them. “Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Can you spare a grenade, sir?”

“Why?”

“In a survival situation, having a grenade to blow off a bunch of branches can save time.”

“I like the way you think,” said Max. “But a criminal level of irresponsibility can only be taken so far and I have to say no.”

“Well, sir,” said Henry, not giving up, “nothing would be a greater honor than to watch you explode the branches for us.”

“Are you patronizing me, you little puke?”

“No, sir. I'm here to learn.”

“Pig, horse, and bull crap. Jackie, sabotage their shelter.”

“They haven't started it yet, sir.”

“Then pee on the ground where they're going to build it.”

“I don't have to go, sir.”

“Forget it then.” Max looked at Henry and then cracked his knuckles in such a way to clearly send the message:
Pretend
that
my
knuckles
are
your
neck. Or your spine. Either one works.
“Do not try to outwit me. I'm smarter than I look. And I'm smart enough to know that you're thinking, ‘That's not very hard to do.' Go on. Think it if you weren't already.”

Henry was already thinking it. It was extremely difficult to keep his face from giving that away.

“I could probably pee now,” said Jackie.

“Nah, save it. Henry, get back to your shelter.”

“He won't let us blow up the tree,” Henry said, walking back over to Randy.

“Oh well.” Randy had only gotten three branches off. They were going to have to work faster than that if they expected to win, although Henry didn't say this, because it could be interpreted as a similar comment to the “Why didn't you look it up before we got here?” one, which had been poorly received.

Randy had laid the cloth out on the ground. The bird chirped. Henry wasn't sure if the bird was offering moral support or insulting him.

Henry grabbed one of the lower branches. “Ow,” he said.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You shouldn't grab the poky part.”

“I didn't know there was a poky part.” Henry grabbed the branch and tugged a few times. It wouldn't come free.

“Dude, are you trying to pull off the branch or are you trying to milk it?”

“What's wrong with the way I'm doing it?”

“You have to pull down or twist it or use your foot. You really don't know how to pull off a branch? Even by my standards that's lame.”

Henry had to admit that for somebody who was sixteen years old instead of three, it was a pretty feeble effort. But why should he know how to debranch a tree? He lived in a world where wood was conveniently cut for you. He had his own set of skills. After all, how many lumberjacks could…?

After a moment of thought, he realized that he didn't really have any skills that were out of reach for a lumberjack.

He yanked the branch again, pulling downward. This was an improvement in that the branch felt more likely to come off than his arms did, but it still wasn't all that productive. He worked at it for a few more moments. The branch didn't come loose. He couldn't help but feel that he wasn't dominating the camp to quite the extent that he'd intended.

Randy pressed his foot against a branch and kicked down a few times until the branch came off the tree.

Henry pressed his foot against a branch and kicked down a few times until the branch remained exactly where it was.

Randy must've been working on a thinner branch or he had heavier shoes. Henry continued to kick. He almost jumped up onto it, but knew that would not end well.

“Gosh darn it all to heck,” he said, approximately.

He was getting mad, but that was good because he needed adrenaline. In fact, he tried to think angry thoughts, like “Evil exists in the world” or “Nobody makes good chimpanzee movies anymore.”

Clearly, he had been unfortunate enough to pick the one tree in the forest made out of solid steel. He hoped that Max wasn't watching him, but Henry knew deep in his heart that he was. Max was standing there, shaking his head sadly, wondering where humanity had gone wrong, wondering how evolution and/or creationism had come up with something like Henry.

The madder Henry got, the harder he tried, and the exact amount the branch continued not to come off the tree. Henry's was not a life devoid of embarrassment and this probably wasn't even
Henry
Lambert: His Top Ten Biggest Moments of Shame
material, but still, he needed this to stop.

“As team captain, I've decided to delegate,” he told Randy. “Your job is to keep breaking off the branches because I'm less awesome at it than you are. My job is to find us a good tree to use for the shelter.”

Randy pointed at a large tree. “That one's perfect.”

“There might be better ones.”

“You don't know a good lean-to tree from a bad lean-to tree.”

“Actually…do you even use a tree for a lean-to shelter? I think I'm finally picturing one. The branches aren't leaning against a tree.”

Randy's face fell. “You're right. And we're going to need bigger branches.”

Henry successfully kept his wail of eternal torment on the inside. “Okay,” he said, though the word sounded more like “aacchk.”

“Do you want to go see what Erik and Stu are doing?”

Was ripping off other people's ideas okay in a survival situation? Henry started to nod but changed his head movement to side-to-side shaking instead. “If we're going to win, I want to win fairly. And if we're going to lose, at least we lost with dignity.”

“What dignity?” Randy asked. “There's no dignity here.”

“I mean the dignity of not having cheated. Maybe that's too strong of a word. Anyway, I'm going to look for a—”

Henry did not have anything specific in mind that he was going to look for and had hoped that an idea would occur to him between the time that he said, “I'm going to look for a—” and the time it was necessary to complete the sentence. Instead, he was distracted from his sentence-finishing when he stepped on a branch.

It was a very sharp branch but not sharp enough to go through his shoe and cause any kind of foot-jabbing injury. It was merely sharp enough to make him stumble a bit and step on a second branch.

The big problem with this second branch was that it was shaped sort of like a garden rake. Now, if you were to attempt to use it to rake up leaves or piles of newly mown grass, it would be a very inefficient tool. You'd quickly get frustrated, possibly use some foul language if that's your thing, and snap it over your knee. The most important property that this misshapen branch shared with a garden rake was the fact that if you stepped on the curved end, it would cause the straight end to flip up at an extremely high velocity. You would have a brief instant of awareness about what was going to occur, enough time to anticipate the pain but not enough time to prevent it from happening. If you reacted quickly, you could say the “N” part of the word “Nooooooooo!”

And then…impact.

The branch felt like it split Henry's skull in half, though fortunately, it didn't really do that. His bellow of pain caused seven different species of birds to flee their nests. He squeezed his eyes shut and clutched at his forehead with both hands. “Ow!” he said.

“Ow!” he repeated.

“Ow!” he added.

“Ow!” he added again, for clarification.

“Are you okay?” asked Randy.

“I just got hit in the face by a branch!” said Henry.

“I saw.”

“It's not funny!”