Camp Wild by Pam Withers

Author:Pam Withers [Withers, Pam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV000000, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2005-02-28T13:00:00+00:00

chapter eight

It’s the middle of the afternoon, and I’m peeling lumps of moss off our rock and hurling them into the river impatiently. Herb is babying Charlie, who is curled up in my sleeping bag on the flattest portion of our tiny island. He has stopped shivering. I figure he’s nearly warmed up enough to carry on.

“Sure you don’t need another snack?” Herb asks Charlie. “We have chocolate bars, canned applesauce, even canned chili.” Yeah, thanks to me.

“I’m okay,” Charlie says in a low, flat voice.

“What about another sweater? I brought an extra one.”

“I’m okay,” he says sharply. The flash of defiance is a good sign.

“Whatever made you think you could kayak whitewater like this by yourself, kid?” Herb continues. “Couldn’t you see how dangerous it was? What if we hadn’t been here? You’d have died! Not to mention how upset you’re making everyone back at camp. They know Wilf and I can cope. They’ll go nuts knowing you’ve followed us. Or they’ll think we had something to do with you disappearing.”

Charlie stays silently curled up like a caterpillar on a leaf.

“Wilf, try and tell him how stupid and unsafe this was.”

I shrug. “I never asked either of you to follow me. And I never fooled myself into thinking that it was smart or safe to canoe alone.”

“Yeah, well here we are. None of us can paddle back upstream or climb these cliffs. So what’re we going to do?”

I toss another lump of moss into the water. “I think you just answered that for yourself.”

“Wilf, are you saying Charlie should carry on down with us? He’s not good enough. His swim just proved that.”

“I got down lots of rapids already,” Charlie says, standing up. His eyes flash. “And I rolled three out of four times.”

I reach into my canoe for my waterproof sack and toss it to Charlie. “Back in your wetsuit, Charlie. I don’t care if you ride in Herb’s canoe or if you kayak. I’m outta here.”

Herb’s mouth drops open a little, but Charlie knows I mean it. He’s out of the sleeping bag and into his damp wetsuit and kayak fast. Within minutes, I’m leading, my rage fueling every stroke. Charlie is paddling like a madman to stay on my tail, and Herb is shouting at us to slow down. One big happy family. Every time we stop to rest, Herb’s all over Charlie like a Papa Bear. “Are you okay? Need to rest? Tell me if you want to ditch the kayak and get in my canoe. You aren’t shivering, are you?”

I say nothing. Half the time, I don’t even warn them before I surge on ahead. Charlie’s keeping up amazingly well. He capsizes and rolls once: a good, no-hesitation roll. The one time I see him nearly splat against a rock, he leans into it and pushes away, just like I taught him. He has no right to be with us, but he’s surviving. He deserves to be scared out of his mind, but he shows no fear.

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