Nothin But Net (8 page)

“It’s time,” he heard Billy murmur. “Let’s rock and roll.”

Tim sat bolt upright and grabbed a plastic bucket from the floor. They’d borrowed it from the cleaning closet earlier so they
wouldn’t have to make a lot of noise now. Tim went to the bathroom and filled the bucket with warm water while Billy scouted
the territory, watching for intruders, listening for the sounds of campers who were still awake. “The coast is clear,” he
whispered to Tim.

“Here I come,” Tim whispered back. They made their way down the stairs, holding their breath with every creak of the old wooden
steps. No one inside any of the little rooms stirred as they passed, even though some of them had their doors wide open.

They stopped in front of room five — the room shared by Brian Kelly and Mike Gruber. Tim and Billy
nodded to each other, and Billy slowly turned the knob. The door opened with only a few minor creaks. Good thing they’d oiled
it earlier, before the other kids came back from the social.

Tim put the bucket down at the side of Mike’s bed. Then Billy gently took Mike’s arm by the wrist and lowered his hand into
the bucket of warm water. “Let’s go!” he mouthed, not making any sound.

They left the room as quietly as they had come and didn’t bother to shut the door behind them. Again, they held their breath
till they nearly turned blue as they mounted the steps and tiptoed back to their room. Safe in their beds, they went to sleep
smiling, knowing what was bound to come at the first light of day.

“AAARRRGH!”

“What happened?”

“What’s going on?”

“Gruber wet the bed!”

“What? No way!”

“Yes way!”

“Shut up, you jerks, it’s not funny!”

“Sorry, Mike.”

“Sorry, Mike … you really did it, huh?”

“I said SHUT UP!”

Billy and Tim lay in bed, laughing to split a gut, then got up and high fived each other. But they wiped the smiles off their
faces when they heard multiple footsteps clunking up the stairs.

“You two are history!” Mike screamed as he barged through the door. “I’m gonna take you apart!”

“You’re not gonna do anything,” Jody said, grabbing Mike from behind and holding him in a bear hug. “You just calm down, Gruber.”

“They stuck my hand in warm water!” he shouted, and Tim could see the tears of humiliation forming in Mike’s eyes. “I’m gonna
make them pay!”

“You’re gonna do nothing, you hear? You dish it out, you gotta be able to take it.” Jody spun Mike around and forced him to
look him in the eye. “I want a promise from you right now, or you can go speak to Coach Gabe, okay?”

Gruber snarled, but relaxed his body. The immediate threat, Tim could see, was over. Still, he knew Mike Gruber would remember
who had given him his comeuppance. The battle was over — the war had just begun.

The water trick was an old stunt Billy had read about in a book of practical jokes once. Tim was surprised the other kids
hadn’t already tried it on the two of them but thought it sounded like a great trick to play on his enemy — even if it was
kind of cruel.

It turned out that with all the pranks that went on at Camp Wickasaukee, this one had never been tried on a camper over the
age of ten before, let alone brought off successfully. Tim could understand why Mike was so upset — if it had been him, he
would have been totally furious. It was even worse than kissing the whoopee cushion.

Mike continued to be sullen all that day, through basketball clinic, swimming, and soccer. Tim and Billy, on the other hand,
were having their best day yet at camp. All of a sudden, the other kids were treating them with warmth and friendliness. Tim
guessed that he and Billy had earned their respect, not just for striking back, but for pulling off such a big prank on such
an untouchably popular kid.

Funny, though — the more slaps on the back they got about it, the more Tim felt guilty for sinking to their level. He was
no longer angry — which was good, because last night, he’d been like a volcano
ready to blow. But now that he was over it, Tim could see that he and Billy had started a feud that was going to last the
rest of their four weeks here, and make it a totally miserable experience.

By the second afternoon, Tim had made up his mind to apologize to Mike Gruber and to try and turn the page on everything that
had happened. He told Billy about it during letter-writing period, an hour before supper.

“Are you out of your gourd?” was Billy’s response. “You seriously think he’s gonna forgive you and want to be your best buddy
from now on?”

“All I want,” Tim responded, “is a truce.”

“Yeah, well, good luck,” Billy snorted. “Fat chance.”

“I’m gonna go talk to him right now and apologize.”

“What if he snot alone?”

“I don’t care. If I have to say I’m sorry in front of everybody, I will.”

“Suit yourself,” Billy said. “But don’t include me, because I’m not about to apologize. He deserved it if anybody ever did.
Have you already forgotten what he did to you?”

“I’m not even sure he was responsible for that,” Tim admitted. “It might have been her idea.”

“Yeah, right,” Billy sniffed. “And I had nothing to do with the other night.”

“I won’t say you did,” Tim told him. “I’ll take total responsibility.”

“You’re a nut,” Billy said, shaking his head. “But thanks. Sorry I was mad at you before.”

“Huh?”

“You know — when you laughed at me with the rest of them.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry for that. It was just … you know … kinda comical.”

Billy smiled. “So was Gruber with that wet stain on his pajamas.”

They both cracked up, but then Tim said, “I’m going now.”

“Hey,” Billy said. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’m sure I’ll need it.”

He went downstairs and was about to. knock on Mike’s door, when there was a commotion outside on the front steps. “Get it!
Get it!” kids were yelling, and the next thing Tim knew, a squirrel raced into the building. Its eyes were wide with panic
as it zigzagged toward him, looking for a safe place to hide. In hot pursuit, in came seven or eight of the Eagles, some of
them carrying baseball bats and tennis racquets, yelling for squirrel blood.

Mike Gruber opened his door. “What the —?” he started to say, and then, everything happened in a blur. The squirrel raced
up the stairs, and before anyone could react, there was a scream from Billy Futterman. “AAAAAHHH! Help! Help!” he cried. “There’s
a squirrel under my bed. Somebody help!”

Tim was up the stairs in a flash. He knew that squirrels could do incredible damage to walls, doors, windows, and furniture
if they were on the loose and terrified. Unless they could confine it to a small space and then bag it with a net, it could
totally trash Eagles Nest. He slipped into the room and slammed the door behind him.

There was a blood-curdling scream from the other side of the door. “Open the door!” kids were shouting. “Open it! Open it!”

“I can’t!” Tim shouted back, leaning against the door with all his weight to keep the kids from forcing it open. “Go get a
net. I’ve got it trapped in here!”

“You idiot,” came Brian Kelly’s voice. “You’ve got Gruber’s finger trapped in the door!”

T
he finger was broken in two places. Mike Gruber came back from the infirmary with a cast on the finger and murder in his eyes.
“You just wait till I’m out of this cast,” he managed to say before he was restrained by Tito and led into his own room for
a “calm-down” talking-to. “You’d better watch your back, Daniels!” were the last words Tim heard before the door slammed shut.

Dick Dunbar steered Tim back upstairs and into his room, a safe distance from the wounded but still dangerous Gruber. “He’ll
chill out after a while,” Dick said, slapping Tim on the back. “I mean, you didn’t do it on purpose, right?” He paused, which
told Tim that he actually expected an answer.

“Of course not!” he said. “You actually think I —?”

“No, no, of course not,” Dick said. “I just needed to hear it from you is all.”

Tim sighed and slumped into his bedside chair. “I don’t know why Mike hates me so much,” he said.

“Well, you did break his finger.”

“No, I mean before that. He’s hated me practically since I got here.”

“Why you?” Dunbar asked.

“I don’t know,” Tim said. “I guess because I was friends with Billy, and he didn’t like Billy.”

“When was the first time you remember him being hostile to you?”

“I guess since I blew the game against Chickasaw,” Tim said. “Or maybe it was before that, at practice. I’m not sure. He might
have been mad at me over this girl Stephanie.”

“A girl, huh?” Dick said, his lips curling into a sly smile.

“Yeah, he’s kind of going with her, but she asked me to dance,” Tim said, letting Dick draw his own conclusions, and not bothering
to tell him his own suspicions — that Stephanie had been egging Tim on from the start just for her and Mike’s amusement.

“I see,” said Dunbar. “Makes sense, kinda. Anyway, he’s got even more to be mad about now.”

“You mean his finger?”

“You bet. He’s sidelined for the next two weeks at least. And because of that, guess who our new starting point guard is?”

Suddenly, it sank in. “Me?”

“You bet,” Dunbar smiled, ruffling Tim’s hair. “You da man. We’ve got another intercamp match day after tomorrow. Be ready.”

“Who is it?”

“Camp Woodbine. Should be easy pickin’s, but you never know. I think losing to Camp Chickasaw took a lot out of our guys.
Killed the mystique, the aura, know what I mean?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hang in there, Tim,” Dunbar advised as he got up to go. “Stay cool, and distribute the ball around. You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks,” Tim said, but as the door closed behind Dick, he felt anything but fine. The weight of the world had just come crashing
down on him. The whole camp would be watching him — the kid who
took Mike Gruber out of contention — to see if he could measure up to Gruber’s high standards.

If he failed …

Tim swallowed hard. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if he let the team down, and they lost another intercamp
games because of him.

Tim had made up his mind. He’d had enough of getting revenge, on Mike Gruber or anybody else. It didn’t make him feel any
better, really, and it just made the other guy madder. Sooner or later, Tim would find himself the victim of Gruber’s revenge,
or whomever’s, and the whole cycle would go on forever, or at least until Tim and Billy’s last week here was up. No, revenge
wasn’t where it was at. Tim had decided that the way to show Gruber was to become the best point guard Camp Wickasaukee had
ever had.

Of course, that was easier said than done. In his two-plus weeks here, Tim had already blown it big time by losing the game
against Chickasaw. But from now on, as Dick Dunbar had said, he would be the Eagles starting point guard. He’d have a lot
more minutes on the court to show what he could do. And
Tim was determined to make the most of his opportunity.

Camp Woodbine was supposed to be a pushover. At least, that’s what the veteran campers all said. But something about the way
they said it made Tim wonder. They sounded as if they were saying it to convince themselves of something they didn’t really
believe in their hearts.

Tim knew why, too. It was because the loss to Chickasaw had shaken their confidence. No longer was Camp Wickasaukee invulnerable.
Superman had met kryptonite, and now, nothing was a sure thing — especially not with the great Mike Gruber sidelined. And
that, of course, was Tim’s fault, too.

He heard the nervousness in Jody’s voice that morning as they prepared to take on Camp Woodbine. “This camp has never lost
two intercamp games in one summer — never. And we’ve got the big rematch with Camp Chickasaw next week. So if you guys blow
it today, and we get beat again next week … well, let’s just say it better not happen, okay? Every kid who ever went to this
camp is counting on you guys to come through today.”

Well, thought Tim, that’s easy for him to say. He
doesn’t have to get out there and play. But he didn’t say anything. All morning, as they battled Camp Woodbine in soccer (a
3–2 loss), swimming (a narrow victory), and softball (a lopsided win), Jody kept reminding them of what was at stake.

The basketball game was set to begin at 4
P.M
., and by 3:30, the gym was already filling up with spectators. “We’re up by two points,” Tim heard Brian Kelly tell Mike
Gruber as the two of them sat on the Eagles bench. Brian was suited up, but Mike was in jeans and a T-shirt. His eyes, shooting
daggers of hatred, followed Tim wherever he went. It was almost more than Tim could stand.

He wanted to go over and speak to Mike, to tell him he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant to break his finger. But he knew Mike
wouldn’t believe him — not after the warm-water stunt and all that business with Stephanie Krause.

They were only up by two points. The basketball game was worth five. This was it, and everybody knew it. Lose, and they’d
set a record for failure that would probably live in infamy forever in Camp Wickasaukee lore. Win, and he could start to turn
the page on all the bad stuff that had happened so far this summer.