Save Rafe! Read online

  “Wrong,” Mrs. Stonecase told her. “We’re saying that if Rafe participates—”

  “—and if he completes The Program—” Stricker said.

  “—then we’ll consider re-enrolling him,” said Stonecase.

  Seriously, these two were starting to creep me out.

  But that didn’t even matter. I already knew I had to do this thing, no matter what. Not for my own sake. For Mom’s. She deserved the best. And since I couldn’t give her that, I’d have to give her my best.

  Whatever it took.

  “I’ll do it,” I said. “And I won’t mess it up. That’s a promise.”

  “All right, Rafe,” Mom said, looking at me like she was mad, sad, and proud, all at the same time. “I have to talk with Mrs. Stonecase and Mrs. Stricker a little more about this. Why don’t you wait outside?” She handed me the brochure.

  And that’s when I got my first real look at what I had signed up for.

  The kids in the pamphlet weren’t hiking. They were marching through the mud. And they weren’t exactly rafting either. It looked to me like they were just trying not to drown. There was also some writing at the very bottom that I hadn’t seen before. It said in boldfaced letters, “The hardest week of your life is about to begin.”

  As far as I could tell, that pretty much said it all.

  I couldn’t imagine what could be in store for me at The Program. I was kind of used to being a loser, sure, but I might need a miracle or two to make it through this one.

  It was time for a little art therapy.

  The Sisterhood

  What are you working on there?” someone said.

  I slammed my sketch pad closed and looked up. “Ms. D!” I said. I thought I was alone. While I was waiting out in the hall for Mom to finish up with Stricker and Stonecase, I’d been drawing to take my mind off the nightmare I was about to face at The Program.

  Ms. Donatello was my favorite teacher when I was at HVMS before. Not that there was a lot of competition for that spot.

  Now she was standing there in the hall with a big armful of books and posters. “I just came in to work on my classroom,” she said. “And, Rafe, I’m so sorry to hear about Airbrook. I see you’re keeping up with your art, though. That’s wonderful.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I could tell she wanted to see what I was drawing, but I kept that sketch pad closed tight. I wasn’t ready for anyone to see my Loozer comics yet, especially the parts about Leo the Silent.

  Leo was my brother who died a long time ago, when we were practically babies. So in that way, he’s a real person to me. Nobody can see him or hear him, but we still talk things through sometimes.

  If you know my story, then you might have started wondering where Leo’s been. I still talk to him, but mostly these days, I do it in my art. That seems like a pretty good place for Leo to hang out, right?

  One of these days, maybe I’ll start putting those comics online. Then Leo won’t be a secret at all. In fact, maybe he’ll even be famous.

  But in the meantime, I was keeping that stuff to myself.

  “So does this mean you’ll be joining us back here at HVMS?” Ms. Donatello asked me.

  “Uh… maybe,” I said. “Mom’s in the office, talking to Mrs. Stricker and Mrs. Stonecase about it right now.”

  “Ah, the Sisterhood,” Donatello said, and winked at me.

  “Huh?” I said.

  “Ida and Charlotte are sisters,” Donatello said.

  “No way!” I said.

  “Way,” she said. “Did you notice they both have an initial P in their names? It stands for Petaluma.”

  And almost right away, it all started making sense.

  The Sisterhood didn’t think I could make it through this crazy Program thing, did they? They couldn’t just keep me out of school for good, but they could make it really hard for me to get back in.

  I mean, unless I was being totally paranoid and living in my own fantasy world on Planet Rafe.

  I kept thinking about what it said on that brochure. “The hardest week of your life is about to begin.”

  But now I was also thinking, Okay, bring it. Game on, sisters!

  “Hello?” Ms. D said, and waved her hand in front of my eyes. “Earth to Rafe, are you there?” When I looked up at her, she was staring back at me kind of funny.

  “You know what?” I told Ms. Donatello. “Forget what I said before. I’ll definitely be back here at HVMS this fall.”

  Because now I had two good reasons for doing this.

  First, more than anything, I needed to make Mom happy.

  But also now, if I had to go back to HVMS (and I did), then I was going to make sure the Petaluma Sisters were just as sorry about it as I was.

  So how weird was this? All of a sudden, I was fighting to GET BACK IN to Hills Village Middle School. Life is crazy sometimes, isn’t it?

  Maybe this game wasn’t going to have a whole lot of winners, but if I played it right, then at least I wouldn’t be the only loser.

  Let’s Go to the Movies!

  When we got home, Mom surprised me and gave me and Georgia twenty dollars to go to the movies. That was enough for food too. The only catch—obviously—was that I had to bring Georgia. I guess Mom needed some Mom Time.

  “Hey, it’s my twenty dollars too!” Georgia said when I wouldn’t let her pick the movie (like I was going to sit through two hours of whatever lame movie she’d want to see) or the snacks (Twizzlers and popcorn, extra butter).

  Then, when we walked into the theater, I noticed the last person I wanted to see when I was at the movies with my sister: Jeanne Galletta. I recognized the back of her head. And her laugh too, which sounds kind of like sunshine, I guess. I mean, if sunshine had a sound.

  But then I figured out why she was laughing. She was sitting next to some guy, and they were sharing an extra-large popcorn and soda between them.

  “Hey, it’s Jeanne!” Georgia said, but I pulled her right into the back row before she could yell out and embarrass me.

  “Shhh! She’ll hear you. Who’s that kid with her?” I said, trying to hide behind my Twizzlers.

  “You know him,” Georgia said. “That’s Jared McCall.”

  “That’s Jared McCall?”

  The last time I’d seen Jared, he was shorter than me. Now he was someone you wouldn’t even want to sit behind at the movies.

  “Jeanne’s so lucky,” Georgia sighed. “He’s supercute. And he plays lacrosse. And sings with a boy band at school—Jared and the Jaguars.”

  “Is that all?” I muttered. “He’s not that great.”

  “Yeah, and you’re not that jealous.”

  “Whatever,” I said. “Have some more popcorn.”

  “You know, if you want Jeanne to like you, you’re going to have to talk to her sometime. You get that, right?” Georgia said.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I’m serious,” she said. “You should just—”

  “No, I mean, do you seriously think I’d take any advice from you about girls?” Then I gave her the whole thing of popcorn to hold, so she wouldn’t talk anymore. But even that backfired. In about a minute, Georgia got up and handed it back to me.

  “Take this,” she said.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “I’m going to ask Jeanne for a sip of her soda.”

  “No!” I said.

  “I have to. That popcorn’s making me super-thirsty,” she said. “And besides, you’re funny when you’re worried about girls.”

  Before I could grab her and pull her back, Georgia was walking down the aisle. And then she was talking to Jeanne. And to stupid, perfect Whatshisname. And then—even worse—all three of them turned around and looked right at me.

  “Hi, Rafe!” Jeanne said.

  “Hey,” I said, feeling totally stupid. Not because I’d done anything dumb, but because I probably would, any second now.

  “Do you want to come down here and sit with us?” Jeanne
offered.

  No, that’s not really what I said.

  “I’m good,” I said. “I think I, uh… need glasses or something. I can see better from back here.”

  And there it was—dumb-dah-dumb-dumb-dummmmmb!

  Now even Georgia was looking at me like I was insane. “Suit yourself,” she said, and plopped down next to Jeanne.

  And that’s when I realized that maybe Georgia wasn’t just torturing me. Maybe she was also trying to help at the same time. But I’d just blown that opportunity, hadn’t I? Way to go, Khatchadorian!

  And I was starting to think maybe surviving out there in the wild was going to be the easy part. At least if I drowned I wouldn’t have to watch The Jeanne and Jared Show.

  Brave… ish

  So, the movies were a disaster.

  It turns out, once you decide you basically love someone, it gets a lot harder to act like a normal human being and make words come out of your mouth when they’re around. It doesn’t seem fair, but I guess a lot of stuff in my life hasn’t exactly seemed fair.

  And besides, Georgia wasn’t totally wrong. If I wanted to impress Jeanne at all, I needed to get over myself and actually talk to her once in a while.

  So on the night before I left, I picked up the phone and called Jeanne to say good-bye. Hey, if I could face a week in the wilderness with a bunch of strangers, I could make it through one stupid phone call, right?

  (Yeah… I thought so too.)

  It started out okay enough. At least I didn’t hang up when I heard Jeanne’s voice at the other end of the line.

  “Hello?” she said. “Galletta residence, Jeanne speaking.”

  “Hi, it’s Rafe,” I said.

  So far, so good.

  “Hi, Rafe, what’s up?”

  “Well,” I said, “I just… um… I didn’t get a chance to tell you at the movies the other day, but I’m coming back to HVMS this fall.”

  “Yeah, I know,” she said.

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, Georgia told me.”

  “She did?” I said. And then I was wondering what else Georgia had said.

  Meanwhile, my brain was racing about a thousand miles a minute, while my mouth was stalled out at the side of the road. I couldn’t figure out what to say next—until I remembered (DUH!!) why I’d called Jeanne in the first place.

  “So anyway,” I said, “I’m going on this trip before school starts. No big deal, just a week in the Rocky Mountains. A little hiking, a little rock climbing, some highly dangerous white-water rafting—that kind of thing.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  And then there was this… big… long… silence. I kind of thought she’d have more to say about it than just Oh, really? But she didn’t seem too impressed. With my luck, Jared McJockstrap had just gotten back from a thousand-mile swim up the Amazon River to deliver fresh food to hungry animals and give a live concert to the people of South America.

  I probably should have waited until I got back and worried about impressing Jeanne later. But noooo, I just had to pick up the stupid phone and—

  “Hello?” Jeanne said. “Rafe? Are you still there?”

  “So… uh… yeah… okay… anyway,” I mumbled.

  Now what was I supposed to do? I’d run out of material. I didn’t think I could wing something without looking like even more of a doofus. I didn’t know if I should keep going, or if we were done, or what.

  So of course, I did the stupidest thing possible. I didn’t say anything at all. I hung up.

  That’s right. I just… hung up. On the girl I was in love with.

  Seriously, when it comes to being bad at this stuff, I am the absolute best there is. No contest.

  If I ever figure any of it out, I’ll let you know. In fact, I’ll have a party and invite you. In the meantime, you’re probably getting a good idea about why I call my comic Loozer Loses Again. Because I always do.

  I mean—he always does. Again, and again, and again.

  And again.

  Hitting the Road (and Hoping It Doesn’t Hit Back)

  At four o’clock the next morning (which is way too early for normal people), it was time to get on the road. Mom loaded up the car with me, my stuff, Georgia, and Grandma, and we took off for the Rocky Mountains, Colorado, USA.

  The whole family was coming along because Grandma’s brother Paulie lived outside Denver, so Mom, Georgia, and Dotty were all going to spend the week at his place. Georgia wasn’t too excited about it, but she was getting a luxury vacation compared to me. I told her I didn’t want to hear any complaining in the car. And believe it or not, I never did.

  In fact, it was impossible to hear anything besides all the singing. It turns out Grandma Dotty just loves to sing in the car. She’s like a human jukebox that only plays the world’s oldest, corniest songs. You probably know some of them, like “On Top of Old Smoky” and “Camptown Races” and “Oh! Susanna.”

  While everyone else was singing their heads off, I spent my time drawing in my notebook, staring out the window, and rereading that Program brochure. I wanted to know exactly what kind of torture I was getting into here.

  The brochure said it was going to be a seven-day, six-night “ADVENTURE” in the mountains.

  By the time we finally crossed the Colorado state line, I must have read that thing a hundred and sixty times, and I was getting crazy-nervous.

  I also had “She’ll Be Comin’ Round the Mountain” stuck in my head like a tattoo on my brain. I even made up my own version. It’s called “Welcome to The Program,” and you can sing along if you want. (Don’t worry, your singing voice can’t be any worse than mine.)

  I was supposedly going to “CHALLENGE” myself and “DISCOVER” what it meant to be “ACCOUNTABLE” for my actions, through a “VIGOROUS” program of “PHYSICAL AND MENTAL OBSTACLES.”

  The brochure also made a big deal about leaving behind the “EVERYDAY COMFORTS OF HOME.” I was pretty sure that meant pooping in the woods without toilet paper. And it definitely meant no computers, no phones, no video games—nothing. It literally said “NO ELECTRONICS” nine different times, in nine different ways.

  The whole thing made me want to “TOSS MY COOKIES” every time I thought about it.

  No Way Out

  After thirty-one hours, twelve hundred miles, one night in a seriously creepy motel, eight rest stops, two coolers full of sandwiches, and one whole apple pie from Swifty’s Diner… we finally got to the “rendezvous point” for The Program.

  And no, it wasn’t as cool as it sounds. It was just a dirt parking lot in the middle of the biggest nowhere you’ve ever seen. There was one Porta Potti, one yellow school bus with some people on it, and a guy in a cowboy hat and army fatigues standing outside.

  Mom pulled in and rolled down her window.

  “Are we in the right place for The Program with Rocky Mountain High?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the guy said. “I’m Sergeant Fish. And this must be Rafe in your backseat.”

  “How did you know?” Mom said.

  “ ’Cause you’re the last ones here. And you’re late. We’re getting ready to head out.”

  Mom looked at her watch. “But you aren’t supposed to leave until—”

  “Eleven hundred hours, ma’am, yes, ma’am. It’s now ten fifty-eight.”

  “But—”

  “First lesson of The Program—be early to be on time,” Sergeant Fish said.

  “Ah,” Mom said. “I see.” Then she winked at me in the rearview mirror. She’d been reading about The Program too, and knew what to expect.

  “Rafe, I’ll throw your gear on the bus while you say your good-byes,” Sergeant Fish told me. “But you need to make it snappy. Got it?”

  “I guess so,” I said.

  I was getting it, all right. Anywhere they use words like gear and eleven hundred hours, you can be pretty sure you’re not there for surfing lessons and make-your-own-sundae bars. I had plenty of time to fi
gure out just how serious of a mess I was in.

  What I didn’t have was enough time to figure out HOW TO GET MYSELF OUT OF IT!!!

  As usual, I had plenty of ideas, but not a single one that was going to do me any good. Everyone was staring at me and waiting for me to get a move on. All I could do now was step out of the car, hand over my stuff, and start figuring out how to survive the next seven days and six nights.

  It was time to say good-bye.

  What’s So Good About Good-bye?

  This is it, kiddo,” Grandma said, and gave me one of her famous bone-crushing hugs. “We’ll see you in a week. Unless you don’t make it that far, which you might not. I’ve seen that brochure too. But anyway, good luck!”

  “Um… thanks?” I said.

  “Yeah, good luck,” Georgia said. “I think you’re going to need it. That Sergeant guy looks like he could eat you for breakfast—”

  “Come here, you,” Mom said. She put an arm around my shoulder and walked with me away from everyone else, across the parking lot.

  “YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE!” Sergeant Fish yelled after us.

  “Yes, sir, Sergeant Fish, sir,” Mom said, just loud enough for me to hear. “I guess we better make this good and ‘snappy,’ huh?” I think she was making jokes to try and calm me down, but she would have had better luck giving a back rub to a brick wall.

  “Mom?” I said. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  Mom stopped walking then and looked me right in the eye. “Listen to me, sweetie,” she said. “All I can ask is that you do your very best. And I’ll tell you something else. I don’t think either of us has seen that yet. You have so much more inside you, Rafe. You just need to see that for yourself.”

  Mom’s pep talk wasn’t making me feel very peppy, to be honest. Mostly, I felt confused.

  “So… what does all that have to do with hiking and rafting and getting yelled at in the woods?” I said.