Save Rafe! Read online

  Mom smiled and reached over to give me a big long hug. Then she whispered in my ear, “That’s what you’re here to find out.”

  I guess that was the end of one minute, because Sergeant Fish started screaming across the parking lot again.

  “TIME TO ROLL, KHATCHADORIAN! LET’S GO! MOVE LIKE YOU’VE GOT A PURPOSE!”

  “That’s your cue,” Mom said. Then she started walking me toward the bus. “I love you, Rafe. No matter what,” she said.

  “Love you too,” I said. I wanted to say more, but my throat was closed up tighter than Santa’s workshop on December 26. And I definitely didn’t want to start crying.

  Mom didn’t cry either, even though I thought she might. I think she was trying to show me she could be strong if I could. It was one more reason why she’s basically the most awesome mom in the world.

  Also—one more reason why I had to just shut up, buckle down, and get on that bus. After her speech, I wasn’t going to let her down ever again, if I could help it.

  Sarge in Charge

  When I got on the bus, there was a lady sitting in the driver’s seat. She had the same fatigues on as Sergeant Fish.

  “Welcome aboard, Rafe. I’m Sergeant Pittman,” she said, and then pointed at all the kids in the back. “That’s Carmen, Arnie, Burp, Thea, Diego, D.J., and Veronica. Got it?”

  I didn’t really catch any of the names. I just noticed how everyone looked like they’d rather be taming rattlesnakes blindfolded while on fire than sitting on that bus.

  Also, I couldn’t help noticing that some of the guys in this program… were girls. I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting that.

  “No talking until we reach base camp,” Sergeant Pittman said. “Take a seat, Rafe. Sixth row on the left.”

  “Am I allowed to—” I said, but Fish was right there to shut me down.

  “WHAT DID SERGEANT PITTMAN JUST SAY ABOUT NOT TALKING?” he asked me.

  It seemed like a trick question. So I kept my mouth shut and just went to find my seat instead.

  “ALL RIGHT, COCKROACHES, LISTEN UP!” he said. “We’ll be at base camp in two hours. Settle in, keep your eyes front and your lips closed tight. Any questions?”

  A couple of hands went up.

  “Too bad! No talking until we get there!” he said.

  In that Program brochure, they talked a lot about how much I was going to learn out here. And even though nobody’s ever called me a fast learner, I’d already figured out that I hated Sergeant Fish more than asparagus, paper cuts, and pre-algebra combined.

  And this whole thing was just getting started.

  Ten minutes down. Seven days to go.

  Busload of Misfits

  For a while after that, nothing happened. But once we were about a half hour down the road, I started hearing this leaky tire sound.

  “Psst!… Psst!”

  When I looked around, the girl across the aisle was staring at me. She seemed kind of pretty, in a pretty-scary kind of way. I’d never seen a kid that young with a real tattoo before, but she had this crazy snake around her arm. She had some muscles too. That snake looked like it could wrap around my neck and squeeze my head right off. I couldn’t help but wonder how old she was when she got it in the first place. I bet her first words were telling the tattoo artist what color its eyes should be.

  “I’m Carmen,” she whispered. “What’s your name?”

  “Rafe,” I whispered back.

  “What’d you do?” she said.

  “Huh?”

  She looked at me like she’d just figured out how dumb I was. “Why are you here?” she said.

  “Oh,” I said. “I got expelled.”

  “Is that all? That’s nothing. I once—” she said.

  But then I heard a lion roar from the front of the bus.

  “WHO’S TALKING???”

  Fish was on his feet and coming up the aisle before I could even break a sweat. At least he wasn’t looking at me.

  “CARMEN, WAS THAT YOU JABBERING BACK HERE?” he said.

  “Nah,” she said, like she barely cared. “I heard someone, though.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet,” Fish said, right in her face. Then he looked around at all of us. “Next one of you cockroaches to let out a peep gets ten extra pounds in their pack tomorrow morning! Are we clear? Do not test me on this.”

  Nobody answered. I guess we were all learning the rules of the game pretty fast. And we were all in the same boat.

  Or on the same doomed bus, anyway.

  But then that got me thinking.

  This wasn’t a program you signed up for on purpose. Everyone on that bus had done something to get themselves shipped out here for a week of suffering. Maybe something really bad.

  What was Carmen about to say?

  So if you were me, you know what else you’d be thinking, right? What did all these other kids do? And, How far to the nearest hospital?

  Some of them seemed kind of sad and scared, but some of those kids just plain looked like their favorite hobby was ripping other people’s faces off. (Hello, Carmen!) I know you’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover and all that, but at the time, the cover was all I had to work with.

  But that got me thinking about something else. What did everyone see when they looked back at me?

  What did my cover look like?

  Okay, I know I’m not exactly the type you run away from in a dark alley. But the point is, everyone on that bus was some kind of misfit, troublemaker, juvie, or whatever.

  I don’t know which one of those things I was. Maybe all of them. I didn’t really like thinking about it.

  And maybe it didn’t matter anyway. At least on that bus. Because we were all cockroaches now.

  Base Camp Blues

  All right, cockroaches, listen up!” Fish said. “Welcome to Rocky Mountain High Base Camp. This is where your journey starts, and if you’ve got what it takes to make it through the week, this is where it’ll end. Now grab your gear and follow me.”

  “What if we don’t have what it takes?” someone said, making Carmen snort a laugh.

  “Follow me anyway,” Fish told us.

  Base camp wasn’t much. There were a couple of ancient buildings, but it didn’t look like anybody lived in them. I saw some other groups too—mostly kids, and they all looked about as happy to be there as I was.

  Pittman and Fish hustled us around the back of the bus and handed out some old beat-up backpacks for us to put our stuff in.

  “I suggest you bring only what you need,” Sergeant Pittman said. “You’ll be carrying those packs for the next week. Everything else will be here waiting for you.”

  Every pack came with a sleeping bag (mine smelled like a giant old sock), a climbing helmet (with someone’s leftover hair inside, and what I swear looked like brain matter), and some of the supplies we’d use to make camp.

  I jammed most of the stuff from my suitcase into the ratty backpack, since I hadn’t brought much to start with. Just some clothes, an extra pair of shoes, my flashlight, my toothbrush, and my notebook with three pens in a big Ziploc bag. Besides the ban on electronics, we weren’t allowed to bring any of our own food either. In fact, I didn’t see any food at all, which seemed weird.

  And a little scary.

  After that, they marched us over to the main building for “orientation.” Once we were all lined up there, some older guy in fatigues and a T-shirt came outside. Sergeant Pittman told us to sound off and give him our names, which meant I’d have another chance to learn some of the people I was about to be stranded with.

  “Excellent! It’s really great to meet you guys,” the guy said. He flashed a big smile like he was in a toothpaste ad, but that didn’t make me feel any better. I mean, what’s the last thing you see on a shark before it eats you? A big mouthful of teeth, that’s what.

  “Good afternoon, boys and girls. I’m Captain Crowder, and I’m here to welcome you to The Program,” he said. “You all have quite the adventur
e ahead. You might even have some fun this week.”

  There was some nervous laughter, until Fish told us all to “ZIP IT!”

  Meanwhile, Captain Crowder was walking up and down like he was inspecting the troops. Which I guess he was.

  “One goal of wilderness trekking is to leave the woods, mountains, rivers, and streams a little better than we find them,” Crowder said. “That’s exactly what your parents and guardians have asked us to do with you. By next Saturday, each of you will be better off than you are today. Maybe a lot better off.”

  “Sheesh. What is this, Wilderness and Feelings Camp?” Carmen whispered next to me. “Someone get me outta here.”

  “In the meantime, let me give you one piece of advice,” Crowder told us. “You should think of The Program as a team sport. Believe me when I say you’re going to need each other to get through this.”

  “I don’t think so,” Carmen said.

  I didn’t know what to think yet.

  “And just like any team sport”—Crowder kept going—“there are rules to be followed. Break them, and you suffer. Follow the rules, and I guarantee you’ll thrive here.”

  It was easy to see why Mrs. Stricker had picked this place for my trial. They were more rules-happy here than at HVMS. Maybe I could even introduce her to this Crowder guy. Then they could get married and live grumpily ever after, in a land far, far, far, far, far… FAR… away.

  “So!” Captain Crowder said. “Now that we understand how this place works, any questions?”

  Everyone kind of looked around at each other. I wasn’t sure if it was another trap, or if we were allowed to talk now.

  Finally, the musclehead kid, Arnie, spoke up.

  “What’s the deal on food?” he said. “ ’Cause I’m starving and I don’t see any.”

  Captain Crowder laughed like that was a good one. “Excellent question,” he said. “And in fact, what a perfect transition to your first obstacle. Sergeant Pittman? Sergeant Fish? You may take it from here.”

  “All right, people, let’s move out,” Pittman said. “Daylight’s burning and we’ve got work to do.”

  “Enjoy!” Crowder told us as we headed off for whatever came next. “Oh, and, children? Have a wonderful time!”

  He seemed like a decent old guy. He was all happy, and encouraging, and nothing like the Sergeants. So then… why didn’t I trust him?

  I guess it didn’t matter. We were already on our way to our first “obstacle,” and the way Fish and Pittman were marching us, I wasn’t going to have a lot of time to think about Crowder—or his overly nice shark teeth.

  The Tower

  What are we doing now?” I asked Pittman while we were marching through some woods and high grass up to my eyeballs. I could barely see where we were going, so I stuck close to the tall people.

  “You’ll see,” Pittman said. “I think you’re going to like it.”

  And since everything was kind of upside down here, I didn’t know if she meant I was actually going to like it. All I knew about Pittman was that she was “nicer” than Fish. Which isn’t the same thing as nice.

  A minute later, we came out of the woods and into another big wide-open space.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the first of your nine obstacles for the week,” Pittman said. “Also known as—the Tower.”

  For about thirty seconds there, I got kind of excited. Maybe Captain Crowder was right. Maybe I was going to have at least a little molecule of fun while I was here.

  But then Pittman started explaining what we were actually doing here.

  “Everyone take a look at that top platform,” she said.

  I looked up, but I couldn’t see much.

  “On that platform is a locked box,” she said. “And in that box are your dinner rations for tonight.”

  “Okaaaay,” Burp said, like he was expecting a big twist.

  Veronica said something too, but you needed ultrasonic hearing to pick up anything from her.

  “You’ll have five minutes to get all eight of yourselves up there, grab those rations, and bring them back down to the ground,” Pittman said. “That should be plenty of time—if you work as a team.”

  “And if not”—Sergeant Fish butted in—“well, there’s always breakfast tomorrow.”

  “Nuh-uh!” Arnie said. “Are you, like, totally serious? I’m already starving!”

  “One way to find out,” Fish said. Which meant yes, they were about as serious as a case of poison ivy in your boxers.

  In other words—if we didn’t get it done, we didn’t eat.

  “Drop your packs, put your helmets on, and get ready to go,” Pittman said. “You start in ten… nine… eight…”

  I looked around at everyone while I was throwing on my helmet and trying to adjust the straps. They all looked about the same way I felt right then. Confused, nervous, but mostly hungry.

  “… seven… six… five… four…”

  I hadn’t been on too many teams before, but none of them ever looked like this one. And I don’t mean that in a good way. I was already wondering if we’d be snacking on our socks later. Hopefully not.

  “… three… two… one… GO!” Pittman said, and we all took off running like our lives depended on it.

  Which, if you believed our stomachs, they kind of did.

  Chaos at Fifty Feet

  I’m not bragging or anything, but I’m pretty fast on my feet, which comes with the territory of being chased around by so many bullies over the years. All eight of us went after that tower like it was made of chocolate cake, and I was the first one to get there.

  That meant I was the first to start climbing one of the rope ladders at the bottom.

  And that meant I was the first to face-plant right back into the dirt when my ladder flipped over. Those things were harder to climb than they looked. In fact, a few seconds later it was raining cockroaches.

  “You’ve got to work together, people!” Sergeant Pittman yelled at us. “You can’t just run at this willy-nilly!”

  My stomach felt emptier than a Diarrhea Fan Club meeting, and my dinner was sitting in a box about a hundred feet up. We had to keep moving, because there was no way I was lasting the night without some chow.

  Arnie was the first to figure out that one person should hold each ladder steady while someone else climbed.

  “You! Snake girl!” he said to Carmen. “Go!”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” Carmen said.

  “I’ll go,” Thea said, and pushed right by her.

  “And don’t push me!” Carmen said.

  “Do you want to argue, or do you want to eat tonight?” Sergeant Pittman said.

  It took a while, but with Arnie holding the ladder, everyone finally made it up to the first platform. (Then Arnie climbed up with his astounding jock muscles.) But we still had two more levels to go, and then all three to come back down again.

  “FOUR MINUTES LEFT!” Fish yelled.

  The next climb was made out of tires, like one big wall of doughnuts (I wish!). I didn’t know how we were supposed to do it. I just jumped on and kept going.

  Which is why I got a sneaker to the head from Diego a second later.

  “Watch it!” I said.

  “YOU watch it!” he said.

  “Just MOVE!” Burp yelled—right before he got a sneaker to the head from me. (I guess that’s what the helmets were for.)

  When I reached the top of those tires, Diego put out his hand.

  “Here!” he said, and pulled me onto the next platform. Then I turned around and pulled Veronica up. I think she said thanks, but I couldn’t hear her.

  “There you go!” Pittman said. “Now you’re thinking like a team!”

  “THREE MINUTES!” Fish yelled. “MOVE, MOVE, MOVE, MOVE, MOOOOOVE!”

  The next part was the most complicated. There were two big climbing ropes that went up through this whole spiderweb of nets and more ropes, and then a little opening you had to pass to reach the top plat
form. It might have all seemed pretty awesome if we hadn’t had so much on the line.

  But we did. So it didn’t.

  Carmen and Arnie got up to the platform first while everyone else struggled with the climb.

  “Here’s the box!” Carmen yelled. “Let’s go!”

  “Nobody comes down until EVERYONE gets to the top!” Pittman yelled. “You’re not done yet!”

  D.J. and I were the last ones still on those ropes, and he’d already left me in the dust. That meant I was bringing up the rear, which was bad enough. But then I looked down…

  … down…

  … down…

  … all the way to the ground.

  That’s when everything went kerflooey.

  I don’t know what happened exactly. It was like a vacuum cleaner sucked the air right out of my lungs. My face got really hot, and all I could hear was this rushing sound like the inside of a seashell. It was like my stupid bad dream all over again.

  “HURRY UP!” D.J. yelled.

  “I AM HURRYING!” I yelled, even though I wasn’t. Not anymore.

  My terrible dream was all I could think about. My arms and legs were just cooked spaghetti by now, and all I could think was Don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall.…

  By the time I finally got up to that platform, I felt like I’d run a marathon. Backward. On one foot. And we weren’t done yet.

  “ONE MINUTE!” Fish yelled.

  “We’re never going to make it!” Arnie said.

  “Yes we are! Let’s go!” Thea said, and they practically threw that food box down to the middle platform as everyone started to climb down.

  I didn’t even care about eating anymore. All I wanted was a nice big piece of solid ground. And I guess that’s what kept me going. The whole thing was a blur.

  In fact, I barely even heard Sergeant Fish counting down the last seconds. People were yelling, and bodies were flying, and I was sweating my way through those tires again, looking longingly at the safe and solid ground, when he shouted out—