Chapter Twenty-Seven: Rabble Rousing

There was a visible shift in the late-night gathering in the dining hall, as the news about Racetrack got around. As most people arrived, spirits were high and excited by the reunion of friends who hadn't seen each other in a year. Most of them were girls, though there were a few guys, but David didn't care too much at that moment.

Jack, who had decided that after a day of shlepping people's luggage around he had earned some coffee and relaxation, dutifully pointed out who each of the new kids was, but David lost each name after he was told it almost immediately. But after the celebration, sooner or later everyone looked around and noticed Racetrack was missing, and considering his family ran the camp, there was no way he should have been gone. And someone would explain what had happened, and eventually everyone sobered up and looked a little depressed.

"Well, Dave?" Blink asked, coming up behind him, with a girl close behind. David glanced around the room and saw Smurf scowling in their general direction, which was at least a little bit more normal. "Any bright ideas yet?"

"I'm working on it." David sighed. "No good ones yet."

The girl behind Blink leaned forward, resting her arm and chin on his shoulder. "Who's that?" she asked.

"Get outta my ear," he answered.

"Oh, sorry," she answered, still on his shoulder.

"Stop it!" He jerked away from her, then took a second to gain his composure. "Uh, Dave, this is Mayfly. Uh... yeah."

"Ideas?" Jack asked, glancing over at them. "What kinda ideas are we talking about?"

"Dave decided he's going to rescue Racetrack," Blink explained.

"Are we talking jail break?" Jack asked. "I mean, he and I've snuck out of his house before, but that wasn't in the summer..." He hesitated. "I mean, not that I can help. I'm a counselor. So, uh... Stop that." But he winked, and David smiled.

"You're so responsible, Jack," Blink nodded, and shrugged. "Well, when you think of something, let me know."

"Well, I think the problem is that we don't know what happened. I mean... We see the end results, but we need to know."

"Well—" Jack started, but stopped and glanced over at the door as it swung open. Sneakers was walking in, but Mark was with him. "Mark, don't you have a job? And classes? What are you still doing here?"

"Well, uh... Yes," he said. "But I took a few days off. I mean, this is my summer break. I should get to relax."

"I'm sure your professors understand."

"Uh..." Mark coughed. "Yeah, sure. I might have neglected to tell them, though."

"Did you tell your mom that?" Sneakers asked, sounding amused.

"Are you crazy? She didn't ask, so I didn't mention it. Besides, school's only an hour away, I go out for a few hours in the afternoon, she figures I'm going to classes."

"You know, I bet if we told Mrs. Higgins about that, she'd forget how angry she is at Racetrack," David mused.

"Hey, now," Mark said quickly. "Let's not be hasty, here. I'm sorry about Tony too—if I'd realized something like that was gonna happen..."

"Well, it happened," David said simply. "Now we have to fix it."

"Good luck," Mark answered. "You don't know what she's like. She won't let him off the hook, she won't even talk to him until he apologizes."

"So we have to make them talk."

"Yeah, right. If you can manage that..." Mark shook his head. "If you can manage that, then you'll pull off something that, between the eight of us, we haven't been able to do in... Geeze, thirty years. Man, Steve's old."

"Dave?" Jack asked. "You got an idea?"

"I'm thinking."

Mark shrugged. "Well, if I can help..."

"Can you get me in to talk to him?"

"Uh... Nope."

"Can you get him out to talk to me?"

"No..."

"Thanks, you're a big help."

Mark hesitated. "Look, uh... He's not allowed to use the phone when he's grounded, but Mom and Dad both are out of the house after breakfast for cabin inspections."

David nodded. "Okay... Thanks."

"So don't tell Mom about me and my classes, okay?"

"Hey, your classes are none of my business." David shrugged, and didn't mention that in his whole life, he'd only stayed home sick from school five days, when he'd been too sick to get out of bed and couldn't keep food down.

He suddenly found that a little lame instead of a point to be proud of.

"So..." David said, musing, as Mark walked off to get a cup of coffee. "How are we gonna get to a phone?"

Jack shrugged. "There's one in the office, and one in the infirmary. So you either gotta go through Triage or Denton. Uh, not that I... You know."

"I know." David smiled over at Jack for a second, wanting to hold his hand under the table, but knowing better than to risk it. Instead, he shifted slightly closer to Jack, just millimeters, and as he reached for his mug of cocoa the back of his hand "accidentally" brushed Jack's.

"So, Dave?"

"Well, they both seem nice..." David said. "I, uh... I've only talked to Denton when I was in trouble."

"Actually, I was in trouble," Jack said. "Denton's a stickler, though. He'd only let you call anywhere if it was calling home when you get sick, and he'll only clear that if Triage says to."

"So... Triage, then. But how do we get her out of the infirmary? We'd have to get by her..."

Blink glanced over at him. "I think I've got an idea," he said. "I mean, it's worked before. A couple of times in the last couple of years..."

"Yeah?" David said, and Mayfly giggled.

"Oh, like last year when you didn't want to say you hurt your ankle in case they made you sit out the race, so you stole the bandages!"

"Uh..." Blink gave her a slightly frightened look. "Yeah." He glanced across the auditorium. "Mush! Hey, c'mere!"

Mush gave him a grateful look, shrugged out of Trixie's grasp (David had to wonder how Trixie constantly managed to wrap herself around him, given his evident dislike of her.) She followed him over, but he managed to wedge himself between Jack and David, elbowing them aside to make room. David felt slightly grumpy about that, but didn't say anything.

"Mush," Blink said. "We need a diversion to get Dave into the infirmary."

"What?"

"See, Dave has to call Race, so we need to get him into the infirmary. And you've fooled Triage before."

"I think she's catching on," he said. "I mean, I did it twice last summer, and once already this year. I can't hurt myself stretching that often."

"Well, something else then. Take a fall!"

"I can't do that, she'd give me crutches. And that's awful at camp—you've seen how long it takes Crutchy to get to the dining hall and back."

"Well, you've gotta do something."

"Breakfast could make you ill," David said sardonically, not expecting much of an answer.

Mush paused. "Sick," he said. "Food poisoning—upset stomach. I could play that. I mean..." He looked over at Jack, who began to whistle, staring out the window blankly. "I could," he said. "It would be... a challenge."

"You're already being over-dramatic," Mayfly mumbled.

"You be quiet, he's perfect," Trixie snapped, trying to rub Mush's back as she defended his honor.

Mush rolled his eyes, but glanced at David. "So... I pretend to be sick. Loudly. I get her into the bathroom or the back room, you sneak in... Call Race... And sneak out. How could it possibly go wrong?"

David raised an eyebrow, and didn't grace him with a reply.

*

Not going to an activity was surprisingly easy. David has never done it before, though he knew that other campers skipped activities all the time. None of the counselors actually followed you to make sure you went to one, and there was no master list they compared at the end of the day to ensure everyone did as they were supposed to. No one would notice if a camper slipped through the cracks...

As wandered down towards the theater, looking as though he had a destination in mind but planning to wander off before he got there, he mused that he could use this new discovery to get a few extra hours of sleep a day. At least, until he got caught...

It was probably a bad idea, he decided. Though if somehow he managed to pull this off with Mush, he might actually consider it.

He got as far as the main field, then wandered across to a small grove of trees near the tennis court, and hung out, waiting. He could see the main field and the path through it clearly, and waited until he saw Mush, hands wrapped around his abdomen and staggering slightly, bending over, hobble up the path. He'd managed to make it out without Trixie this time.

David followed cautiously, and Mush glanced back once, saw him, and winked. Then he continued staggering up the path, as though nothing had happened.

David waited off the edge of the path as Mush entered the infirmary, and saw Triage through the window. The door shut and he crept closer, nervously, and finally put his ear against the door.

"—I think it's food poisoning, oh god I'm gonna die—"

"Oh, calm down; you're not going to do. I'm trying to take your—"

"I'm gonna puke!"

Footsteps, fast heavy ones; then lighter, slower ones. All away from the door. David let out a deep breath and pushed the door open. He glanced down the hall and saw Triage's back, as she watched Mush in the bathroom, from which he was emitting horrible noises. David shuddered and quickly started down the hall, trying to be as quiet as he could.

He got into Triage's room, feeling awkward for invading her personal space. The room was surprisingly messy (he pictured nurses as always living in a sterile environment, but there were clothes strewn around all over), and the phone was sitting on the headboard. He pulled the crumbled piece of paper with Race's number written on it out of his pocket and dialed, still able to hear Mush groaning in agony in the other room.

It rang once, twice, three times, four, five—

"Hello, you've reached the Higgins family residence—"

"Hiiiii!"

"Tony, Mark, be quiet—"

"OW! Mommy he bit my arm!"

"Please leave a message and—"

"Tony, no crying!"

"—we'll get back to you—"

"Mommy Daddy I'm bleeding!"

"Boys, if I have to turn around again—"

"Sorry, Mommy."

"You've reached the Higgins family residence, please leave a message with your name and number and we'll get back to you as soon as we can."

Beep.

David found himself laughing as he reached to hang up, but then another voice cut in. "Hello?"

"Race?"

There was a pause. "Dave?"

"It's me, yeah."

"How—"

"Mush is fake puking in the bathroom, Triage is trying to help. Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm at home. I'm fine, just bored. No TV, no computer, no phone. Mom would flip if she knew I answered this."

"Hey, uh, how old were you when that message was recorded?"

"Five. My parents refuse to let me record over it."

"Aww." David laughed, then, "Anyway, uh, look. I'm working on a plan to get you out of there."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I don't know if it'll work, though. But I just wanted to make sure—is it okay? To do that? I don't want to get involved if you don't want—"

"It's been less than a day and I'm going insane, Dave. I've just been sitting on the porch, staring out at camp. Did you know you can see the girls' bunks from my house? And archery and tennis."

"Uh... okay."

"I'm so bored, I'm going to go crazy."

"What... what happened, anyway?"

"I don't even know. I yelled at Mom, she yelled back for, like, four times as long, and told me I was grounded."

"She didn't let you defend yourself at all?"

"Yeah, right. If only. She doesn't care what I have to say."

"How long are you grounded for?"

"Until I die, she forgets, or school starts. Whichever comes first."

"Geeze."

"Yeah."

"Look, I can't promise anything—but I do have an idea, though. We'll do what we—"

"Crap, someone's out front. I gotta run."

"Bye—"

But he'd already hung up. It didn't matter, though, because David's idea was growing and solidifying, and Mush didn't sound like he could keep Triage busy for much longer.

David crept out of the bedroom and saw Mush and Triage, and Mush saw him. "Oh, God, I'm really gonna puke—"

He ran back into the bathroom and she followed, and David slipped out the door.

*

"How'd it go?" Jack asked softly, as everyone streamed into the dining hall for lunch.

"I can't believe it worked," David answered, before they split ways to go to their tables. He'd already thanked Mush and begun to quietly spread the word—that night, the senior campers should all meet in the dining hall to talk. He couldn't believe he was really doing any of this, but he also couldn't back down now that he'd talked to Race.

David sat down at his table, but a moment later he was tapped on the shoulder and looked up to see Mrs. Higgins looking down at him disapprovingly.

"A word with you, Mr. Jacobs," she said, and pointed off to the porch.

He swallowed hard. "Okay," he said, trying to remain cool. But half of the seniors were staring at him, and everyone knew he was in trouble. Probably deep, deep trouble.

David followed her out to the porch like a prisoner being led to the gallows, and she turned to face him menacingly.

"I found a very interesting message on my answering machine, David."

"Oh... really?" he asked, surprised Racetrack hadn't deleted the message, unable to believe that it had slipped his mind.

"Where did you call from?"

David shrugged.

"Please answer me."

"Sorry. But..." He shrugged.

"Never mind that; I know where you called from, the infirmary's number was listed. How—"

"Sorry, but—"

"I don't think you understand—"

"I do understand," he said quickly, cutting her off. "But you have to understand that I won't say anything in case anyone else gets in trouble, it was all my idea. Just blame me."

"I intend to."

He shrugged. So he was in trouble; what could she really do? Send him home? He'd wanted to get home all summer.

But... that had been before Jack, before he had friends. Before he fit in.

Not to mention the fit his mother would throw.

But...

"So what is this plan, Mr. Jacobs?"

"You'll see." He grinned at her, trying to lock back his nerves. He glanced inside the building and everyone was watching him. He stood up a little straighter.

"You do not seem to understand. Anthony is my son; you have no right to interfere in our relationship and private lives. I will not allow—"

"Mrs. Higgins," he said calmly, interrupting again, amazed she didn't just steam roll over him. "The thing is, when my parents decided to send me to camp, it was to learn to make friends, and I did. And Racetrack was the first person I was friends with here, and one of the closest, and he was the one who helped me learn the ropes and meet people. And I just can't stand the thought of him being locked away all summer."

"It is none of your—"

"Is he here as a camper or as your son?"

"What?"

"Which one?" David asked. "Because that's not a fair way to treat a camper."

"He's my son."

"Then why send him to camp to begin with?"

"This is ridiculous."

"Yes, it is," David agreed. "It's ridiculous for you to not be willing to listen to your own son when he's upset, and to ignore it for so long that he has to yell to try and make a point, and then to punish him for it."

"That is not what happened."

"That's what he thinks happened. You heard the phone message."

She glowered at him, and he stared back, not entirely sure what was going on, and even less sure where he was getting inspiration for what he was saying.

"How I raise my son is my business," she said finally. "Keep your nose out of it, promise you won't do that again, and go to lunch."

He nodded. "Okay," he said. "I promise not to call Racetrack again."

He was inside before she realized he hadn't promised to keep his nose out of anything at all.

*

David had a cup of coffee and a notebook in front of him, and waited while everyone settled down. He felt like the president of a club or something, still not sure why exactly people were following him.

"I told you you were a walking mouth," Spot noted, sitting down next to him. "You really got a plan?"

"Yeah, I do," David agreed.

"How'd you get Jack to keep Sneakers and all the counselors busy?"

"I asked him nicely," David answered, which was true. He just didn't mention the quick kiss on the lips that had been involved. "But we don't have that long."

"No problem." Spot cleared his throat, then roared, "Hey, listen up, Mouth wants to talk!"

Everyone fell quiet pretty quickly.

"Take it away," Spot added.

"Uh." David paused, shook his head to clear it, and nodded a little to himself. "So we're all here because we want to help Racetrack, because this isn't fair."

"And because he's creepy," one of the new girls said. David wasn't positive, but thought he'd heard someone call her Birdy. "He just sat on the porch all day and stared at us. I hope he couldn't see into the cabins. Pervert."

"Uh, yeah," David said. "So I talked to him today, and I sort of talked to Mrs. Higgins—" Which led to a round of applause, though he didn't quite know why, and when it calmed down he continued, "I talked to them, and the problem is, I think, that they won't talk. She won't listen to his side of things."

"So what do we do?" Mush asked.

"Well... If she won't talk to him, we won't talk either."

"What?"

"Think about it. If she doesn't talk to Racetrack, all of us stay silent. No one says a word until she caves."

"But... How?" Mush asked again. "I mean, I do theater—I can't exactly not talk."

"What about just meals, then?" David asked. "That's the only time we see her anyway. And it'll make her crazy—it would make anyone crazy."

"But what if she doesn't cave?"

"Then we don't talk. Look, I know this is weird—and hard—but we've got to be willing to go all the way. We've got to be serious about this." David sighed. "Spot, what do you think?"

Spot shrugged. "I think I still ain't beat Race at poker this summer, so I want him out of there."

"So you're in?"

"Sure."

David glanced around the room, and people were nodding now, murmuring among themselves. "I'll write up a petition, and we'll all sign it."

"What about the rest of the camp? Every other group?"

"I dunno..." David shrugged. "I think if we could get them to work, it would be good, but I don't know how—"

"Hey," one of the girls interrupted. "I've got a little sister who's a junior, I can get her to help and she'll talk her friends into it."

"My cousin's one of the littles—"

"I got the middle group, no problem."

"What about counselors?"

The question hung in the air for a moment.

"Same as the kids, I guess," David finally said. "I mean, if they'd join in, great... If not, we can't expect them to risk their jobs. I mean, this is their boss we're pissing off."

"Is it worth asking?" one of the girls asked.

David shrugged. "I guess it can't hurt. I mean, they're going to know what's going on when we stop talking anyway, they can't stop us if they know ahead of time. I'll... I'll ask Jack what he thinks, he might be able to help convince people."

Everyone nodded their agreement, and David promised to get the petition written up that night, so it could be signed in the morning. The plan was to start at lunch—hopefully, it wouldn't take too many meals to get done.

Hopefully.

*

"So what do you think, Jack?" David asked apprehensively, as Jack read over the neatly handwritten sheet of paper.

"I think you're going to grow up to be a politician," Jack answered.

"Jack, be serious."

"I am. This is good stuff, Dave. It reads like the Declaration of Independence or something."

David shrugged. "Jefferson was just copying English common law, anyway."

"What?"

"Uh... Nothing."

"Anyway, I think it's good. It makes your point. I can't believe you're going through with it, though."

"Do you think we shouldn't?" David asked cautiously.

"Well... I don't know, I think it's a good thing to try and help Race. You know he's my best friend, you know I don't think it was fair, but... It's a family thing."

"But it's wrong."

"I know—I know," Jack agreed. "What are you going to do if it doesn't work?"

"I dunno." David shrugged. "What's the worst she can do, send me home?"

"Davey..." Jack squeezed his hand. "I don't want you to get sent home."

"Well, I don't want to." David almost had to laugh at that, but it was true. Camp was fun, he had friends, he had Jack. He didn't want to get sent home, he didn't want to think about the end of the summer—a mere three and a half weeks away. But on the other hand, he was involved, and he'd already stood up to Mrs. Higgins about it, and he didn't want to back down, either.

There had always been a stubborn streak underneath his cynicism; that was half of why he was so cynical to begin with. No matter how many things he was good at, he kept insisting to himself that he was a loser. At least, until Jack... But he was too stubborn to give up on Racetrack, and he was too far in.

"You think we have a shot?"

"I have no idea," Jack answered.

"Would you, uh..." David trailed off. "I mean, feel free to say no, don't try to do anything because of how you feel about me, but... Would you help us?"

"Other than pretending I don't know what's going on?"

"Would you sign this? Get other counselors to sign it?"

Jack sighed. "Dave, I could get fired."

"I know, you shouldn't—"

"If you had asked me last year, I'd have been right with you. But I'm responsible now."

"I understand, Jack. I really do."

"Good." Jack nodded, then leaned over and kissed David's cheek. "I knew you would. Now give me a pen."

"Jack?"

"Dave, come on, he's my best friend. You think I'd miss having a part in this?"

David grinned. "You could get fired, though," he pointed out.

"Nah. You and me—we're in this together. I think we can move the world if we do it together."

David smiled over at him. "You're amazing, Jack."

"You're the one who wrote it." He accepted the pen from David and signed his name, then handed it back. "You're starting this thing at lunch? I'll have as much of the staff as I can on your side by then. Sneak around to the back of the dining hall and wait there for people to come sign."

"Thanks, Jack. You really think you can get other counselors to help?"

"Trust me, Dave." Jack beamed at him. "I think if you asked me to, I could move the world."

David felt himself blushing as he put the cap on the pen, not quite able to look up at Jack, though he felt Jack's gaze on him. Finally, wondering where his eloquence had gone, all he could say was, "You'll never have to move it alone."

[End Chapter Twenty-Seven]
Chapter 28: Screaming and Shouting