Ollie and the Science of Treasure Hunting by Erin Dionne

Author:Erin Dionne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-06-16T16:00:00+00:00

DAY 9

19

Ranger Johnson patrolled back and forth from our tent to Derek and Steve’s. Did he think we were going to sneak out? Did Mr. Fuentes know he was doing this?

At first, it freaked us out, but by a little after twelve, Manny was getting antsy and the rest of us were still wide-awake. I couldn’t sleep knowing the ranger was just outside of my tent—and I think the other guys felt the same way. Ranger Johnson was targeting me—and my friends—because he thought I was hiding something from him.

He was right, but still.

“I can’t break my streak,” Manny whispered to us. We knew Ranger Johnson could hear us through the not-quite walls, so we had to lie still and not say anything until we heard his footsteps head toward Derek’s tent, two rows away from ours.

“Dude, you are so dead,” Jack said. “Don’t do it.”

“Is it worth getting caught?” I added. Actually, it might be. At first, I thought Manny should just skip it and stay in. Streaks break all the time, big deal. But the more I thought about it, Manny hadn’t done anything wrong—according to what Ranger Johnson actually knew, none of us had—so why was he patrolling our tents? Dr. Gupta and Mr. Fuentes never did this.

“Go for it,” I whispered. The other guys stared at me like they had laser eyes. “We’ll cover for you.”

Manny grinned. Together, we hatched a quick plan: Manny and Chris would sneak out of our tent the next time Ranger Johnson left for Derek’s. Manny’d swim, Chris would hide in the tree line shadows as a lookout. If Ranger Johnson saw him, he’d pretend he needed to visit the latrine. Jack and I would stay inside in case he stuck his head in.

We stuffed Chris’s and Manny’s laundry into their sleeping bags. It wasn’t sculptural genius, but the results were passably lumpy. We waited.

Ranger Johnson clomped back to our tent. We quieted down.

Just then, from somewhere outside came a series of loud pops.

The sound scared the noodles out of me and probably everyone else in the camp. I jumped. Jack grabbed Chris, and Manny hit the deck. Ranger Johnson shouted and ran toward the noise, which, a second later, we realized was from firecrackers.

We laughed at our silly reactions, then left the tent—along with every other scout. Guys were milling around by the dying fire, and Ranger Johnson and Mr. Fuentes were shouting for order.

“Now’s your chance,” I said to Manny. Smart kid went back into our tent and out the rip in the back.

“Enough nonsense! Everyone back to bed,” Mr. Fuentes called. His tent was across from ours, on the other side of the fire. He looked like he was about go back into it, when Ranger Johnson crossed over to him and whispered in his ear. We couldn’t hear them, but it was clear from Mr. F.’s posture that whatever the ranger said was completely annoying.

“This is a serious offense,” Ranger Johnson said. “Fireworks are illegal in Massachusetts, and we need to know who was responsible for this.

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