“I saved your life, Arlo!” said Andrea, who calls me by my real name because she knows I don’t like it. “And this is the thanks I get?”

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

  “I go to Camp Botshagotta,” Andrea said. “It’s on the other side of the lake.”

  “I dragged you out of the water,” said Uncle Craig. “You were drowning, dude.”

  “Then why didn’t you give me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?” I asked him.

  “This young lady volunteered,” he explained. “She said she took a CPR class after school.”

  Of course. Andrea takes classes in everything after school. If they gave classes in clipping your toenails, she would take that class so she could get better at it.

  I changed my mind. This was going to be the worst summer in the history of summers.

  After my humiliation at the lake, we changed into our clothes and walked to the dining hall, which everybody calls the mess hall. When I walked in, the first thing I saw was a giant moose head sticking out over the door. That was weird.

  “What’s with the moose head?” I asked Candyman.

  “Anybody who gets a care package in the mail has to kiss the moose,” he told me.

  “Why?”

  “It’s a camp tradition,” he explained as he picked some spoons out of the silverware tray and put them in the pocket of his trench coat.

  “Why are you stealing spoons?” I asked.

  “I can’t take it anymore,” he whispered. “So I’m gonna tunnel out of this joint. Shhhh! Don’t tell anybody.”

  “You’re going to dig a tunnel with spoons?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “In the middle of the night. You wanna help?”

  “Uh, maybe some other time,” I replied. That guy is weird.

  It was really noisy in the dining hall. After I found a seat at the Owl table, Uncle Ahdoanwanna came in. He clapped his hands and shouted, “I would like to make an announcement!”

  “ANNOUNCEMENTS! ANNOUNCEMENTS! ANNOUNCEMENTS!” everybody chanted.

  “This afternoon,” announced Uncle Ahdoanwanna, “we will have softball, basketball, and pickleball. And tonight will be a campfire in the woods.”

  “YAY!” everybody shouted. “Ahdoanwanna! Youdoanwanna! Wedoanwanna! Theydoanwanna!”

  “Okay, let’s eat!” shouted Uncle Ahdoanwanna.

  The Owl table went up to the window to get our food. There was a lady behind the counter wearing a yellow hat, yellow shirt, yellow pants, and yellow gloves.

  “I’m Aunt Kim,” she told us. “Are you boys hungry for lunch?”

  “I’m starving!” I replied. “Do you have hamburgers?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Hot dogs?” I asked.

  “Sorry, no.”

  “Uh, chicken strips?”

  “Sorry.”

  “How about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” I asked. She would have to have that.

  “Today is Yellow Day at Camp Ahdoanwanna,” she said. “All the food is yellow.”

  Huh? That was weird. It must be another one of those camp traditions. I guess you can explain anything that makes no sense by calling it a tradition.

  “Do you like mac and cheese?” Aunt Kim asked me.

  “No,” I said. “I can’t stand mac and cheese.”

  “No problem,” she replied. “We have lots of other choices. Do you like corn on the cob?”

  “Not really,” I replied.

  “We also have hard-boiled egg yolks, pineapples, lemons, and yellow oatmeal.”

  Yellow oatmeal?

  “I’ll have the mac and cheese,” I told her.

  “Good choice!” she said, putting a big glop of the stuff on a plate. “Want more? It’s all you can eat.”

  “I don’t want to eat any of it,” I said.

  “How about a tall glass of yellow bug juice?” she asked.

  Oh, man. They have so many bugs here that they put them in the juice.

  “Can I have juice without bugs in it?” I asked.

  “Sorry,” she replied, “it’s impossible to remove the bugs. I can give you extra bugs if you’d like.”

  “I’ll just have water,” I told her.

  “Lake water?”

  “No!”

  I brought my tray to the Owl table. Ryan was eating yellow oatmeal, which looked totally gross. But then, Ryan will eat anything. He had an empty glass in front of him. While he ate, he started putting stuff in the glass—ketchup. Mustard. Mayonnaise. Salt. Pepper.

  “What are you doing?” I asked him.

  “I’m inventing a new drink,” Ryan replied as he mixed it up with a spoon.

  Ugh. Now I know why they call it the mess hall. We all agreed that Ryan’s drink looked gross.

  “That’s probably what they said about Mr. Pepsi when he invented Pepsi,” Ryan said.* “What’s the big deal? These are all ingredients you eat anyway.”

  That made sense, I guess. I do like ketchup and mustard and all that other stuff. But still, his drink looked totally disgusting.

  “Hey, A.J.,” said Michael. “I’ll give you a quarter if you drink that.”

  “I’m not drinking that,” I told him.

  “What if I gave you two quarters?” asked Michael.

  “No way,” I said.

  “I’ll give you a dollar to drink it,” said Neil.

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” I replied.

  “I’ll give you five dollars,” said Candyman.

  Hmmmm. Five dollars is a lot of money.

  “You mean all I have to do is take a sip?” I asked.

  “No,” Candyman replied. “You have to drink the whole thing.”

  I looked at the glass. Ugh.

  “Would you give me ten dollars?” I asked.

  “I think it’s worth ten dollars to watch A.J. drink that,” said Candyman.

  “DRINK IT! DRINK IT! DRINK IT!” all the Owls chanted.

  Everybody in the mess hall started banging on their tables, stomping their feet, and chanting, “DRINK IT!”

  “For ten dollars?” I said. “Okay, I’ll drink it.”

  “YAY!”

  Everyone was looking at me.

  I picked up the glass.

  I closed my eyes.

  I brought the glass up to my lips.

  I tilted my head back.

  And I drank it. The whole thing. Ugh. It was horrible. I thought I was gonna die. But I did it. I put the empty glass down and let out a nasty burp.

  “Okay, I drank it,” I told Candyman. “Give me ten dollars.”

  “I don’t have any money,” he replied.

  WHAT?!

  I wanted to yell at him or something, but I didn’t have the chance because Uncle Ahdoanwanna got up and said he had another announcement.

  “ANNOUNCEMENTS! ANNOUNCEMENTS! ANNOUNCEMENTS!” everybody chanted.

  “We have one care package today,” announced Uncle Ahdoanwanna as he held up a box. “It’s for someone in the Owl cabin . . . named . . . A.J.!”

  A care package for me? Wow, I guess my parents must have mailed it a few days before camp started.

  “He has to kiss the moose!” somebody shouted.

  “I don’t want to kiss the moose,” I said.

  “You have to,” said Candyman. “It’s the tradition.”

  Everybody started banging on their tables, stomping their feet, and chanting, “KISS THE MOOSE! KISS THE MOOSE! KISS THE MOOSE!”

  So I stood up.

  Somebody brought a ladder under the moose head.

  I climbed the ladder.

  And I kissed the moose.

  I thought I was gonna throw up. This was the worst day of my life. I wanted to run away to Antarctica and live with the penguins. Penguins don’t have to kiss a moose. Or mooses. Or meese.

  Before we could leave the mess hall, the counselors made us scrape off our plates and put them on a long conveyor belt that went into the kitchen. Candyman told me there are a bunch of Oompa-Loompas from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory back there who wash the dishes, but I’m not sure if he just made that up.

  “Follow me, Owls!” said Uncle Ray.

  We went back to our bunk and I opened my care package. And you’ll never believe what was inside it.

  Candy!

  Yay! I have the best parents in the world.

  Too bad my stomach was upset from drinking Ryan’s gross drink in the mess hall. I love candy, but just the thought of it now made me want to throw up. Uncle Ray said the candy would attract bugs, and I had to eat it right away or get rid of it. So I gave all the candy to my bunkmates.

  It wasn’t fair! I had to drink that horrible drink and kiss a dead moose head, but I couldn’t eat my own candy.* Bummer in the summer!

  Uncle Ray said it was rest hour. We had to stay on our beds the whole time. Yeah, like we were babies.

  “I’m not tired,” I told him.

  “Too bad,” he replied. Then he lay down on his bed and fell asleep.

  Rest hour is boring. There was nothing to do. Michael was playing solitaire. Ryan was eating my candy. Neil was reading a book. Candyman found a little hole in the floorboard under his bed, and he was trying to dig a tunnel with a spoon.

  I started writing a letter . . .

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  This place is horrible. I have 39 mosquito bites. I mean 40. I just got another one. Ryan played connect the dots on my back, and it made a picture that looks like the Big Dipper. I had to drink a horrible drink with ketchup and mustard in it. Then I had to kiss a dead moose. And that’s just the first day! I want to come home! Can you pick me up ASAP? If I have to spend another hour here, I’m—

  I didn’t have the chance to finish my letter because the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened.

  “EEEEEEEEEKKKKKK!”

  It was Neil, screaming.

  “What’s the matter?” Ryan asked.

  “There’s a daddy longlegs on my bed!” Neil shouted.

  Gross! Spiders are yucky. I’m glad it wasn’t on my bed.

  Uncle Ray jumped up off his bed when he heard Neil scream.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “There’s a daddy longlegs on my bed,” said Neil. “I’m afraid.”

  Uncle Ray just laughed.

  “Spiders are nothing to be afraid of,” he told Neil. “They’re part of nature. Tell you what. Let’s give the spider a name. If we name any spiders we find in our bunk, it will make them less scary.”

  Hmmmm. I had to admit it. That was pretty smart. I wouldn’t give Uncle Ray the Nobel Prize or anything, but he did have a good idea.

  “Let’s call this one Henry,” said Uncle Ray, flicking the spider off Neil’s bed. “See, now he’s not so scary.”

  Neil calmed down. I went back to writing my letter home. I was almost finished when I felt a funny feeling on the back of my neck. I thought it was another mosquito bite.

  “Dude,” said Ryan, “I think Henry is on you.”

  “He’s crawling up your head!” Michael shouted.

  “EEEEEEEEEK!” I screamed.

  “Kill him!” everybody was shouting. “Kill him!”

  So I whacked Henry with a sneaker. And that was the end of Henry.

  Torture hour, I mean rest hour, was over. I felt bad for Henry the spider, after we had given him a name and all. Everybody felt bad. So we held a little funeral. Candyman dug a hole with a spoon, and we buried him next to the bunk.

  We buried Henry, that is. Of course we didn’t bury Candyman.

  Our bunk was scheduled to play pickleball in the afternoon, but it was raining, so all outdoor activities were canceled. Instead, we had arts and crafts. Or as everybody calls it, arts and farts.

  You should always call arts and crafts arts and farts. That’s the first rule of being a kid.

  “Welcome to the arts and crafts room,” said the arts and farts counselor. “I’m Aunt Nancy. Today, we’re going to use rubber bands to make friendship bracelets for each other. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

  “No!” we all shouted.

  “I’m not making a friendship bracelet,” I announced.

  “Me neither,” said Ryan.

  “No way,” said Michael.

  “Friendship bracelets are for girls,” said Neil.

  “Yeah!” we all shouted.

  We crossed our arms in front of our chests. That’s what you do to let grown-ups know you’re not going to do something.

  “Oh, did I say friendship bracelets?” asked Aunt Nancy. “I’m sorry. I meant to say we’re going to make man bands.”

  Well, that’s different.

  Man bands are cool, and they show everybody that you’re a guy. Each of us made a man band, and then Aunt Nancy said we could pass them around to our friends if we wanted to. I gave my man band to Ryan. Ryan gave his man band to Michael. Michael gave his man band to Neil. Neil gave his man band to me. Candyman just kept his man band.

  After that, we went to the mess hall for dinner, where we ate some disgusting yellow food that I couldn’t identify. The evening activity was some dumb movie about rabbits. Then we went back to the bunk.

  “Okay, brush your teeth and put your pj’s on,” said Uncle Ray. “Lights out in fifteen minutes.”

  “What?” I shouted. “It’s still daytime!”

  “We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow,” said Uncle Ray.

  “But it’s too early to go to bed!” complained Ryan.

  It wasn’t fair. I told Uncle Ray that I get to stay up as late as I want when I’m at home. That wasn’t exactly true, but I thought it might help us win the argument.

  It didn’t. Uncle Ray flipped off the light and told us he was going to play Ping-Pong with the other counselors in the aunts’ and uncles’ lounge.

  “Good night, Owls!” he said. “No talking.” Then he left.

  I lay there for a few minutes, trying to fall asleep.

  “Pssssst!” a voice psssssted at me. It was Candyman. “A.J., do you want some candy? I’ve got plenty.”

  “No thanks,” I whispered.

  “Hey,” he whispered, “did you hear about the demon drone that hovers over the camp at night?”

  “I’m trying to sleep,” I whispered.

  “He’s got laser eyes that can see through walls,” Candyman continued. “As soon as you fall asleep, he floats down and—”

  “Will you give it a rest?” I whispered.

  It was quiet for a minute or two.

  “Hey, let’s tell ghost stories,” whispered Neil.

  “Yeah!” somebody whispered.

  “I got a great one,” whispered Michael. “There was this ghost . . . ”

  “Yeah . . . ”

  “And he was dead,” whispered Michael.

  “All ghosts are dead,” I whispered.

  “So this dead ghost gets lost in the middle of the woods,” whispered Michael. “And he walks into a sleepaway camp.”

  “Yeah?” I asked. “Then what happened?”

  “Uh . . . ” said Michael, “the ghost killed everybody.”

  “That ghost story was lame, dude,” I told Michael.

  Ryan told a story about a ghost who eats aluminum foil and turns into a jet plane. Neil told a story about a ghost who eats kids, but only kids who are left-handed. We were making up scary ghost stories late into the night.

  Finally, at some point, I fell asleep. That’s when the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened. But I’m not going to tell you what it was.

  Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.

  It was pitch-dark, so I couldn’t see anything. But I heard a noise. It sounded like fingernails on the floor next to my bed. I didn’t think anything of it at first. But then, there was this soft grunting noise. I reached for my flashlight. I turned it on and pointed the beam at the floor. That’s when I saw it.

  “THERE’S A SKUNK IN THE BUNK!” I shouted.*

  Well that woke everybody up.

  “Eeeeeeeek!” somebody screamed.

  “What’s going on?” Ryan asked groggily.

  “THERE’S A SKUNK IN THE BUNK!”

  Everybody was yelling and screaming and hooting and hollering and freaking out. The other guys got out flashlights and shined them all over the place.

  “Where did it go?” somebody shouted.

  “Help!” yelled Neil. “I think the skunk touched me!”

  “I want my mommy!” somebody shouted.

  “This is your fault, Candyman!” I shouted. “They told us not to keep candy in the bunk! Now we have a skunk in here! He probably came out of that hole under your bed!”

  “Never mind that!” shouted Ryan. “Where’s the skunk?”

  “We should name the skunk so it won’t be scary!” Neil shouted.

  “Get a broom!” Michael shouted.

  “Open the door so it can run out!” shouted Neil.

  “If we open the door, ten more skunks might run in!” shouted Ryan.

  It was crazy. We chased the skunk around the bunk in the dark with tennis rackets and baseball bats. Everybody was tripping over the beds and crashing into each other. You should have been there!

  Finally, the skunk ran out the door.

  After we chased the skunk out of the bunk, it was hard to fall asleep again. My heart was racing. I think I got about twenty minutes of sleep all night. The first thing I heard on Monday morning was . . .

  “RISE AND SHINE!”

  It was Uncle Ahdoanwanna, the camp director.

  “Everybody up!” he shouted as he threw open the door to our bunk. “The rain stopped! The sun is out! It’s a perfect day for hiking!”

  Oh no. Not hiking.

  “Do we have to?” I groaned.

  “Yes!” he replied, all excited. “We’re going on a ten-mile hike.”

  What?! We have to walk ten miles? Didn’t they invent cars so people wouldn’t have to walk ten miles?

  We got dressed. Uncle Ahdoanwanna told us to put on bug spray and sunscreen, and to fill our water bottles.

  “Hydrate or die-drate!” he shouted.

  “What about breakfast?” Neil asked.

  Uncle Ahdoanwanna tossed each of us a granola bar and said, “Here’s your breakfast. Let’s go!”

  We followed him on a path that led to the woods behind the camp.