“Too bad there’s no tent for the boys,” Ellie said.
“A small problem,” Mr. Oakley said.
A truck rolled into the Nature Center. One fender was dented. Mitchell thought the whole thing might fall apart any minute.
A man got out. He had a gray ponytail. He looked as old as his truck.
Next, a skinny kid slid out. He had a ponytail, too. A red one. He had something all around his mouth.
Oatmeal?
Yuck.
“That kid’s a walking cereal box,” Habib said.
Mitchell and Habib began to laugh.
Mrs. Farelli snapped her fingers. “We don’t need a pair of sillies here.”
Mitchell edged behind Habib. He bit his lip hard.
He watched the man with the gray ponytail. The man gave Mrs. Farelli a hug. “I’m late,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Farelli smiled at him. “This is the head of the Steven Z. Zigzag Nature Center,” she told everyone. “His name is”—she took a breath—“Mr. Adam Farelli.”
She swiped at the oatmeal on the skinny kid’s face. “This is Owen, my grandson. He’s visiting from New Jersey. A very unusual boy.”
“More like weird,” Habib whispered.
Wow, Mitchell thought. Mrs. Farelli has a husband and a grandson with matching ponytails.
Mitchell had always thought Mrs. Farelli lived alone. Her house would look like a classroom. Chairs would be lined up in the living room.
Mr. Adam Farelli rubbed his hands together. “Are you ready for the Great Nature Hunt?” he asked.
A nature hunt?
Mitchell guessed he was ready. Habib had great food. Habib had Bugs Be Gone.
They’d stick together like glue.
“Pick a partner,” Mr. Farelli said. “My partner is the beautiful Mrs. Farelli.”
Beautiful! Mitchell could hear Habib taking deep breaths. He was trying not to laugh again.
Everyone was picking a partner.
Mitchell didn’t have to think about that. Habib was right next to him.
They were always partners.
But Mrs. Farelli pushed the ponytail kid toward him. “Owen will be a great partner for you, Mitchell,” she said.
Owen opened his mouth. His teeth were covered with oatmeal globs.
Mitchell swallowed.
“Great,” Owen said.
Mitchell and Habib looked at each other. “Maybe we could be three partners,” Mitchell said.
Mrs. Farelli held up two fingers. “Two by two,” she said. “Like Noah’s Ark.”
“Right,” said Mr. Adam Farelli. His ponytail bobbed up and down. He handed a pile of papers to Mitchell. “Would you pass these out, buddy?”
Mitchell began to give out the papers. He looked down at pictures of birds and plants.
A fat animal stared out at him.
Mitchell looked closer.
The animal’s teeth were the size of a basketball.
Angel stood next to him. “Don’t be a baby, now,” she said.
Bears beware, Mitchell said in his head.
Behind Angel, Gina was humming an opera song.
Charlie put on giant sunglasses. “I made them myself,” he said.
Mitchell leaned over. “Why don’t you be Owen’s partner?”
“Are you crazy?” Charlie said.
Mrs. Farelli frowned.
“I guess I’ll be partners with Owen,” Mitchell said.
“Good going,” said Mr. Adam Farelli. “Look for everything you see on your paper. Check off each one when you find it.”
“There will be prizes for sharp eyes,” Mrs. Farelli said.
Owen was nodding. “I know what the prizes are.”
“Never mind, Owen,” she said.
Mr. Farelli leaned against his truck.
Mitchell waited for the fender to drop off.
Mr. Farelli held up his hand. “Look for something unusual.”
Mitchell didn’t want to be surprised. He wanted to be home watching television.
Mrs. Farelli nodded. “Keep your eyes peeled. Check the pictures. Keep away from poison ivy.”
Mitchell would keep away from animals with teeth, too.
“Ready, set—” Mr. Farelli began.
Owen didn’t wait for go.
He grabbed Mitchell’s arm and took off.
“Don’t forget,” Mr. Farelli called. “Stay on the paths.”
Mitchell stumbled along with Owen. He’d probably have black-and-blue marks later.
“We have to hurry!” Owen yelled. “We have to win.”
They zigzagged down the paths.
Owen hopped over a rock.
Mitchell hopped too late. “Yeow!” he yelled.
His toe was probably broken in half.
At last Owen let go of his arm.
Mitchell took a couple of deep breaths. He bent down to rub his toe inside his sneaker.
“I know we’ll win this,” Owen said. “My grandmother said she’d give me a great partner.”
Mitchell had a warm feeling in his chest.
Mrs. Farelli thought he was great!
Then he thought of Habib and Charlie. They’d have Bugs Be Gone all over them. They’d be eating chicken and cupcakes.
Mitchell looked around.
Were he and Owen lost?
Already?
He could just about see a corner of the Critter Cabin.
Owen leaned closer.
He still had oatmeal on his chin. There was a blob on his ear.
How did he eat, anyway?
“Guess what the prizes are,” Owen said.
Mitchell thought. Something wonderful?
A couple of days off from school?
Owen grinned. “Oatmeal bars with raisins for dessert.”
Gross, Mitchell thought.
“I helped my grandmother make them. Stuck my fingers in the dough a thousand times,” Owen said. “I ate a bunch of raisins. The cookies are all wrapped up now so ants and things can’t get to them.”
Mitchell took a step away from him. It was too horrible to think about.
Mitchell walked along. He looked back.
What had happened to Owen?
He heard a clicking noise ahead. It was Trevor on his stilts. He was talking to his friend Clifton.
A moment later, the path disappeared.
Mitchell seemed to be going up a hill. There was a sign: DEER WALK.
He didn’t see deer.
He saw a mess of weeds. He heard a mosquito.
His feet were sinking into mud.
Maybe that was one of Mr. Farelli’s surprises.
He heard Angel crashing around. “Mitchell!” she screamed.
She’d be calling him a baby any minute.
He kept going down the other side.
He looked at his paper. The first picture was a sticker bush with berries.
Watch out, the paper said. Stickers are sharp!
Mitchell raised each foot high as he walked.
He kept his eyes peeled for stickers.
He kept his eyes peeled for other surprises. Snakes. Poison ivy. Coyotes.
He heard Gina humming an opera song.
And wasn’t that Charlie talking to Habib?
“Wait up, guys!” Mitchell yelled. He yelled quietly. He didn’t want Angel to hear him.
He dashed through a bunch of weeds.
Yeow!
They weren’t weeds. They were stickers.
He bent down to scratch his leg.
Never mind. He crossed the sticker bush off his list.
He couldn’t hear Habib and Charlie anymore.
Everything was quiet.
No, not exactly quiet.
Birds chirped. A red one flew around.
Mitchell hoped it wasn’t a bat.
He found a picture of the bird: a cardinal.
He checked it off.
He was getting as smart as Gary Bopper. And brave, too. Out in the wilderness alone.
<
br /> He began to whistle. Almost whistle. It was more like a windstorm.
Too bad. Everyone else in the world could whistle. Even Angel.
He heard something.
It wasn’t a bird. Not unless the bird was a hundred pounds.
Mitchell stopped on one foot.
The sound stopped, too.
Was an animal stalking him?
Last night he’d watched a movie on TV. It was the scariest thing he’d ever seen.
Angel hadn’t thought it was scary. She’d sat on the couch. She’d put polish all over her nails.
In the movie, the good guy had tried to hide. But he couldn’t find a place.
Mitchell looked around. There was no place to hide here, either.
Run, then.
The guy on TV had tried to run, too.
He’d tripped and fallen off a cliff. He’d almost broken his arm off.
Something zoomed past Mitchell.
A bear? Don’t be scared, Mitchell told himself. “Bears beware,” he whispered.
He began to run.
He dashed around bushes.
He waded through plants.
It was a good thing there weren’t any cliffs.
There was the animal! Right in front of him.
It was small, and it was round and fat.
The animal saw him, too. It stared with terrible little eyes. Then it dashed away on skinny legs.
Mitchell dashed away, too.
Right into a tree.
Oof. He felt as if his head were dented in.
He was like Mr. Farelli’s old truck. A broken head. A broken toe.
Gary Bopper, he told himself about ten times. Bears beware!
He looked up at the tree. It was an oak tree. He knew that without looking at the picture on the paper.
He’d check it off if he didn’t get eaten alive.
Behind the bushes, something was breathing hard.
He poked his head around the tree.
Owen Farelli!
Owen looked as if he’d been running a race. His face was almost as red as his ponytail.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Owen said. “We’re partners, remember?”
“Right,” Mitchell said.
“Did you hear those strange sounds?” Owen asked.
Now what?
Mitchell shook his head.
“It must have been a huge animal,” Owen said. “I’m glad I’m not afraid of anything.”
Mitchell looked at Owen. Owen was skinny, but maybe he was tough. Gary Bopper tough.
Owen pulled out his paper. “I’ve checked off a bunch of things. A woodpecker. A squirrel’s nest. Even a turtle down at the pond.”
Better than just a red bird and an oak tree, Mitchell thought.
“We still need this guy.” Owen pointed to a picture. It was a fat little animal with skinny legs. “A groundhog.”
Mitchell took a breath. “I saw that!” He checked it off.
They were probably going to win the prize.
Oatmeal bars made by Owen. And half-eaten.
Never mind that. Mitchell was going to stick to Owen like glue until they got back to Mr. and Mrs. Farelli.
At last, everything was checked off.
It was a good thing. The sun was going down.
Mitchell headed for the field. Owen was right behind him.
Owen kept talking about raisins and oatmeal dough.
“I can’t wait to win,” he said.
Mitchell didn’t want to think about oatmeal bars. But there was something worse to think about.
Sleeping outside on the ground.
They stopped at the edge of the field.
The girls’ tent was set up at one end. In front of the tent were picnic tables.
Mr. Oakley was building a fire. It was a great crackling thing.
Mr. Oakley must have watched the same movie Mitchell had watched. The good guy had built a fire. The animals had stayed away. You could see their huge eyes in the jungle.
Mitchell looked for Habib.
He wasn’t at the fire. He wasn’t at a picnic table.
Food was coming. The lunch lady carried trays back and forth.
Mrs. Farelli helped, too. She wore an apron that said ZIGZAG KIDS LIKE TO EAT!
She smiled when she saw Owen.
Mitchell was starving. He slid onto a bench. He made sure it was near the fire.
Away from animals.
He tried to take up a lot of room. He had to save space for Habib.
Where was Habib? And where was Charlie?
Owen slid in next to him.
Mr. Adam Farelli asked, “Any surprises?”
“I heard a bird sing,” Destiny said. “It sounded like a cuckoo clock.”
Angel opened her mouth. Then she shut it again.
“I think I saw a coyote,” Gina said.
“It was probably a rabbit,” Mr. Adam Farelli said.
Mitchell looked toward the end of the table. Trevor was sitting there. He had a big bandage on his forehead.
“I fell off the stilts,” he said.
“Too bad,” Mrs. Farelli said. “But it’s good to try unusual things.”
Next to Mitchell, Owen reached into his pocket. He pulled out a rolled-up paper.
The paper was filthy.
Inside was a pile of raisins.
They were probably filthy, too.
“I saved them from the oatmeal dough,” Owen said. He began to laugh.
Horrible, Mitchell thought. But then he had another thought. “That’s funny,” he told Owen.
Owen held out the paper.
“I’d have to be starving to death to take one,” Mitchell said.
And then they both were laughing.
Mitchell looked up at the Critter Cabin. Were those giant feelers in the window? Stingers?
The lunch lady came along with her tray. “Chicken tenders,” she said.
Mitchell’s mouth watered.
She dumped a pile on his plate.
They were green.
They tasted like grass.
“My surprise sauce,” she said. “Unusual, right?”
Habib would say weird.
Mitchell scarfed it down. Gina would say dee-lightful.
He stood up. He still didn’t see Habib and Charlie.
Suppose they were out in the woods?
Suppose they were lost?
It was really dark now. All except for Mr. Oakley’s great fire. And lights tacked up in the trees.
“Gather around,” Mr. Oakley called. “We’ll tell stories.”
Mr. Adam Farelli clapped his hands. “Don’t forget the prizes,” he said. “Oatmeal bars for everyone.”
“I love oatmeal bars,” Yolanda said.
“You can have mine,” Mitchell said.
“Your brother is generous,” Yolanda told Angel.
“Sometimes,” Angel said.
Mitchell started toward the fire.
But then he stopped.
What was moving at the window in the Critter Cabin?
Not feelers.
Not a tarantula.
Probably nothing.
But still …
Owen tapped Mitchell on the arm. “Something’s up there in the Critter Cabin. I saw it move.”
Mitchell looked toward the fire. “Maybe we should tell—”
But Mr. Oakley had begun a story about a woodsman. And Mr. Farelli was giving out cookies.
Mitchell took a step toward Mrs. Farelli.
She put her finger on her lips. She pointed to Mr. Oakley. “Shhh,” she said.
Owen had wiggled his way in front of the fire.
Was Habib up there in the Critter Cabin? Was Charlie?
Locked in?
He looked around for Ellie.
He didn’t see her.
What would Gary Bopper do?
Mitchell didn’t have to think about that.
He knew what Gary would do.
He’d
march straight up to the Critter Cabin. He’d save Habib and Charlie from—
Tarantulas?
Black widows?
Mitchell didn’t march straight up to the Critter Cabin.
It took him forever to get there. He had to find his flashlight. Then it was one foot in front of the other. He looked into the dark woods. Bears beware!
Maybe the door was locked.
He crossed his fingers. He hoped so.
He’d go back to the fire. He’d wait until Mr. Oakley finished his story.
The door wasn’t locked.
It was wide open.
Mitchell took a Gary Bopper breath.
He stepped inside.
There were plenty of lights, but no creatures.
Not yet, he told himself.
At the end of a long hallway were stairs.
“Hey, Habib,” he called.
His voice sounded odd. Just like Angel’s had before. Maybe he was getting a cold, too.
He knew he wasn’t getting a cold. Gary Bopper, he told himself.
“Hey, Charlie,” he called.
No one answered.
They were probably upstairs.
Mitchell went up. He could hear his sneakers flapping on the wood.
There was a big room with glass cages. He saw one with an anthill. “Dee-lightful,” he whispered.
He saw another with a lizard. A very large lizard.
He stopped to look at it.
The lizard blinked lazily.
He blinked back at it.
Where were Habib and Charlie?
He saw a case with lots of dead leaves. A few beetles were rushing around.
Mitchell went to the window. He could feel a breeze. A plant with long leaves waved back and forth on the sill.
That was what he’d seen outside.
He could see the fire now. He could almost hear Mr. Oakley telling his story.
Destiny was playing with her hair beads.
Yolanda was covering her ears. It must be a scary story.
Something was moving through the trees.
Downstairs, the door slammed.
“Habib?” he called.
No one could hear him. Not even the lizard, which was two inches away.
“Is that you, Mitchell?”
The voice was tiny.
He took a breath. Was that Angel?
Yes. It was only Angel.