Camping Chaos (2 page)

E
xcuse
me?” Joe snapped. He glared at Beatrice.

Joe didn’t know Beatrice really well, since she was two grades ahead in school. But he’d heard from some of the other kids at Bayport Elementary that she could be a big show-off.

“Yeah, my tent’s going to be amazing,” Beatrice said with a smirk. “It’s going to have a princess theme!”

“Well,
ours
is going to be even better,” Joe shot back. “Our theme is—”

“Shhh. Let’s let Ranger Gil finish talking,” Mr. Hardy whispered, putting his finger to his lips.

“. . . you’re all welcome to start decorating your tents before dinner. The deadline for finishing is tomorrow by lunch, and the winner will be announced on Sunday,” Ranger Gil was saying. “So! I’ll see you all back here at five for the cookout. That will be followed by a special screening of
The Invasion of the Swamp Monsters
inside the lodge.”

Chet pumped his fist in the air. “
Yes!
I love that movie. I’ve seen it five times, and I have all the comic books, too.”

“Big deal. I’ve seen it ten times. And comic books are for babies,” Beatrice said, flipping her long blond hair over her shoulders.

Chet gave Beatrice a look as though she were
crazy. He was a
huge
comic book fan, and so were Phil and the Hardys.

“Is Beatrice obnoxious, or what?” Joe muttered to Frank.

“Just ignore her,” Frank advised.

As soon as the welcome meeting was over, Joe and his group started back in the direction of their campsites. As they passed the two counselors, Fish and Wendy, Joe heard Fish say: “So this is your first job as a counselor, huh?”

“Yeah. Got any advice for me?” Wendy asked him.

“Just make it superfun for the kids,” Fish replied.

Sounds perfect,
Joe thought. He just hoped that certain campers, like ones named Beatrice, didn’t spoil the fun for everyone else.

•  •  •  •

Joe had actually never seen
The Invasion of the Swamp Monsters
before. As he, Frank, Chet, and Phil
huddled together in the darkened lodge snacking on sodas and nacho-cheese-flavored popcorn, Joe found himself more scared than he’d thought he would be. He was secretly glad that his dad was sitting close by, although he would never admit that to anyone.

All the campers and their parents were in what was called the “great room” of the lodge. At one end of the great room was an enormous stone fireplace. At the other end was a large plasma-screen TV. Maps of the region covered the walls, along with posters about insects, birds, and rocks. There was
a glass case filled with snake skins, different kinds of fossils, and a stuffed fox with beady golden eyes.

Joe liked the great room. He especially liked the snake skins, since he and Frank planned on a snake theme for the tent-decorating contest. In fact, they’d already started decorating before dinner, draping toy snakes over the top of their tent.

And speaking of slithery, slimy creatures . . .

A swamp monster appeared on the TV screen. It staggered across the marsh with its dripping wet arms outstretched, ready to attack. Joe grabbed a handful of popcorn and munched intently.

Just then he felt icy-cold fingers on the back of his neck.

“Agggghhh!” he yelled.

The lights snapped on. Joe spun around. A little boy with short, curly brown hair and freckles grinned at him. He was holding a soda can.

Joe’s cheeks grew hot. So
that
was what had grazed
the back of his neck. How embarrassing was that?

Ranger Gil hit the pause button on the movie. “What on earth is going on?” he demanded.

“Did my ginger ale scare you?” the boy asked Joe with a giggle.

“Garrett! Come over here right this second,” Ranger Gil ordered.

“But, Daddy, it’s not my fault! My soda can touched him!” Garrett insisted.

“Over here,
now
!” Ranger Gil repeated sternly.

“Oh, okay.” Garrett stood up and shuffled over to his father with a glum expression.

“Are you all right?” Mr. Hardy asked Joe.

“Yeah. I just feel dumb,” Joe mumbled.

After a moment Garrett returned to his seat. “My daddy says I’m supposed to tell you I’m sorry,” he said with a shrug.

“Apology accepted. Just don’t do that again, okay?” Joe told him.

“But this movie’s so
boooring
,” Garrett complained.

“What? This is, like, the best movie ever! Wait till we get to the part where the swamp monster takes over New York City!” Chet spoke up.

Ranger Gil turned the lights off and resumed the movie. Joe scooted over so he sat farther away from Garrett. The ranger’s son seemed like trouble. Hopefully, he wouldn’t bother Joe again over the weekend.

•  •  •  •

That night Joe tossed and turned in his sleeping bag. The ground was too hard. The air was too chilly. And outside, strange creatures made hissing and howling noises.

“
Psssst!
Frank!” Joe whispered. “Are you awake?”

No reply.

“Bro!”
Joe said more loudly. “Are . . . you . . . awake?”

Frank snored and rolled over in his sleeping bag.

The moon lit up the walls of the tent and cast long, eerie shadows onto the boys. Joe eyed the shadows nervously.
They’re just trees,
he told himself.

Then one of the shadows moved to the right. Footsteps crunched on the ground.

Someone—or
something
—was out there!

3

F
rank! Wake
up
!” Joe reached over and shook his brother, hard.

“What?” Frank mumbled groggily, rubbing his eyes. “I was having the best dream ever. We were at the arcade, and I scored a million points on Space Raiders, and—”

“Forget about that. There’s a person outside our tent. Or maybe it’s a wild animal!” Joe whispered.

Frank sat up. “Wait, what? How do you know?” he whispered back.

“Listen!”

Frank listened. He could hear an owl hooting in the distance. He could also hear Chet muttering in his sleep—something about bears and panthers. Or was it brownies and pizza?

“There’s nobody out there,” Frank told Joe after a moment.

“There is! You should go outside and take a look,” Joe suggested.

“Why don’t
you
take a look?”

“Fine! Let’s
both
go.”

The brothers scooted up to the front of the tent and peeked through the flaps. Moonlight spilled onto the landscape and illuminated tents, trees, rocks—but nothing else.

“See?”
Frank hissed.

“I
know
I heard someone,” Joe insisted. “What if it was the swamp monster?”

Frank rolled his eyes at Joe and went back to bed.

•  •  •  •

The next morning Frank woke up early. He pulled his Bayport Bandits hoodie on over his pajamas, stepped into the sunshine, and stretched. It was going to be a beautiful day.

He was glad they were spending the weekend at the park. Camping was really awesome!

Except for the part when your little brother wakes you up in the middle of the night because he’s imagining things,
he thought, shaking his head.

Mr. Hardy, Phil, and Chet were apparently still asleep, as was Joe. Frank decided to make a fire so he could heat up water for hot chocolate. His mom had packed the kind he liked, with the little marshmallows that floated on top. He remembered Ranger Gil’s rule about building fires only in existing fireplaces and pits.

Frank started for the edge of the forest to collect some wood. Through the trees, he could make
out a bunch of other tents in the distance, including two matching bright pink tents.
Must be Beatrice’s and Lina’s,
he thought.

Then Frank stopped. There was something on the ground near his and Joe’s tent.

Footprints
.

He bent down and inspected them closely. They were about the same size as his and Joe’s shoes. But the sole had an unfamiliar pattern. It was a zigzag design, like a lightning bolt.

Who was hanging around our tent last night—and why?
Frank wondered. He saw that the footprints looped in a big circle from the main path, to their tent, and back again.

Phil and Chet had left their sneakers just outside their tent. Frank picked them up and studied the soles.
No lightning-bolt pattern
.

Joe poked his head out of the Hardy boys’ tent.
“Why are you up at the crack of dawn?” he called out sleepily.

“It’s not dawn, lazy. It’s almost seven thirty. Hey, check this out,” Frank said, pointing.

Joe stepped out of the tent. Frank showed him the footprints.

“I
told
you!” Joe exclaimed. “The question is, Who—”