Nerd Camp (8 page)

“Music,” said Nikhil. “We got a guitar—one without books on it.” He held up that picture, then the next one. “And clip art of some music notes.” His voice trailed up at the end as if inviting Gabe's approval. When he didn't get it, he kept going. “Treble clef … and bass clef—we didn't know which you like better, so we got both. Just to be safe.”

“We can put them on opposite sides of the room,” said Wesley, “like they're enemies. And—show him the other one, Nikhil—a picture of Beethoven, who's the awesomest composer ever.”

Gabe's spirits were sinking. They were trying, all right, but these guys just didn't get it. “What'd you get for sports?” he asked.

“A football.” Wesley held up an enlarged clip-art image of a football.

Gabe tried to smile.

“The Olympic rings,” Wesley continued, showing it off. “And the official rules of badminton!” Beaming, he showcased three pages of words. “I can't
wait
to read these.”

“I wanted to put up the rules of Ping-Pong,” said Nikhil.
“But Wesley thought we should only have one racket sport.”

“Actually,” said Wesley, shoveling some eggs into his mouth, “if we do both, we can put them on opposite sides of the room, next to the other archrivals”—he swallowed—“treble clef and bass clef.”

“Yeah!” said Nikhil. “I like treble better.”

“Bass rules!” shouted Wesley.

“No way. Treble clef forever!”

“That's it. Prepare to die!”

Gabe leaned out of the way as the two of them began swordfighting with their knives. They kept going until a passing counselor made them stop, even after Nikhil offered to wrap both knives in napkins, to be safe.

Gabe spent the day convincing himself that these posters were better than nothing—and they were definitely better than losing his bunkmates as friends, like he'd feared this morning. They hung them up that night before lights out. Gabe dispensed the tape, which required the least amount of involvement, while Nikhil took care of measuring and leveling and Wesley provided the sound track of an original bunk-redecorating theme song.

“This looks awesome,” said Nikhil when they were done.

“There are a lot of new things,” said Gabe, not wanting to lie. “And the badminton rules are very interesting,” he added. That was also true.

“Good night, Beethoven,” Nikhil said as he climbed into bed. “And Wesley and Gabe and football and Olympic rings.”

Gabe couldn't help but laugh. “You forgot about the treble clef.”

“Team Bass!” Wesley shouted.

Problem: Am I a nerd who only has nerdy adventures?

Hypothesis: No.

Proof:

Most nights, Gabe was so exhausted from the day that he conked out as soon as the bunk went dark. But tonight he lay awake for a long time thinking about the new decorations. Treble and bass clef weren't exactly what Zack would think of when he thought about music. And badminton, interesting as its rules were, wasn't exactly the world's coolest sport. All in all, the room was probably just as nerdy as it'd been before.

Trying to forget about it, Gabe closed his eyes and listened. The air was thick like pea soup, and though Gabe could make out some sounds from outside, they were muffled. It was as if the cicadas were buzzing from inside a bowl of Jell-O.

“What's that?” said Wesley suddenly.

Gabe startled. He lifted his head and looked around, but he couldn't figure out what Wesley was asking about.

“Hel-
lo
,” Wesley intoned. Then he added forcefully, “Mousepad.”

Gabe almost choked on his laughter. Wesley was most definitely asleep. He often talked in his sleep—but could he listen, too? “What about mousepad?” Gabe said.

Wesley sighed. “I don't know. Just mousepad.”

Gabe smiled. “Okay.”

Wesley rolled over so that his whole body was up against the wall. He didn't say anything for a few seconds, and Gabe's shoulders sank. He took off his glasses and flopped over onto his stomach. He tried counting sheep, first in multiples of two, then in multiples of three.

“Oh,” said Wesley suddenly. “The Pythagorean theorem.”

Gabe opened his eyes into his pillow. He turned onto his side so that he could hear better.

“
X
equals seventy!” said Wesley.

Was he solving math problems? “What's four times five?” Gabe tried.

“No,” said Wesley with a laugh. “Number fifteen is hard.”

Gabe covered his snicker with his hand. Clearly, Wesley only wanted to solve problems like number fifteen, hard ones that required the Pythagorean theorem.

Wesley mumbled something Gabe couldn't make out. But then he spoke clearly once more. “The square root of sixty-five.”

He said it with such certainty that Gabe knew it was important. He put his glasses back on and fumbled for a pencil and paper. It was difficult to write in the dark, but Gabe did the best he could.
, he scribbled.

“Got it,” he said to Wesley.

“Toyota Corolla,” Wesley replied with a romantic sigh.

Gabe was groggy when the wake-up siren sounded in the morning, but he jolted to life when he remembered what had happened the night before.

“Wesley!” he said. He jumped out of bed and poked Wesley's knotted sleeping bag, trying to find his body.

“Good morning to you, too,” said Nikhil, who was folding his sleeping bag neatly.

“Morning, Nikhil,” Gabe said quickly. “Wait'll you hear about Wesley. Wesley!”

Wesley opened his eyes slowly and tried to stretch, but his sleeping bag was so tightly wound from him rolling around all night that he couldn't. “Good morning,” he said through a huge yawn. “Are you ready?”

“I'll do it,” said Nikhil. He clicked the side button on his watch to select the stopwatch mode. His finger poised over the start button, he said, “Ready … set … GO.”

Wesley began to twist around like a worm trapped in a spiderweb. He kicked his legs, which made the bottom mass of the bag wave up and down. “How long so far?” Wesley asked.

“Six seconds,” said Nikhil. “Seven. Eight …”

Wesley rolled over once, then again in the same direction. The bag was now unraveled at the bottom, but his arms were still trapped at the top. “Bottom's up!” Wesley called. He scooted on his back until his legs were hanging off the bed.

Gabe took a step back, and Nikhil closed his eyes but kept his finger on the stop button.

“Land ho!” Wesley slid down off the top bunk and squirmed like crazy in the air. He landed in a heap on the floor.

Gabe waited. Nikhil opened one eye.

Wesley jumped up, throwing his arms in the air and leaving the sleeping bag limp on the floor. “Ta da! How long?”

Nikhil pressed stop. “Sixteen point four,” he reported.

“You could be an escape artist like Houdini,” said Gabe. “You could get out of a straightjacket underwater.”

“No offense,” said Nikhil. “But I don't think Houdini would take sixteen seconds to get out of a sleeping bag.”

“He would if he rolled around as much as Wesley in his sleep.”

Nikhil walked to the graph on the wall and found that day's date with his finger. His bunkmates watched as he slid his finger up to halfway between sixteen and seventeen seconds and put a dot. He took a step back and looked at the graph. “Not as fast as yesterday, but still not as slow as July seventh.”

“I'll never be as slow as July seventh. It'll go down in history.”

On their graph, the line rose steeply to a dot at forty-five seconds, the time it had taken Wesley to get free from his sleeping bag the morning of July 7. It made the graph look like a heart monitor with only one spike of life.

Wesley pulled some wrinkled clothes out of his duffel
bag. “I've got to hurry,” he said. “I have a couple of geometry problems to finish before breakfast.”

Gabe clapped his hands once. “Were you thinking about your homework last night?”

“Yeah,” said Wesley. “I had a dream that I was in Shapeland.” He shuddered and shook his head.

The other two looked at each other. Shapeland must not have been a pleasant place.

“Well,” said Gabe. “I bet the answer to one of your homework problems is
x
equals seventy.”

Nikhil and Wesley looked at each other, waiting for an explanation. Nikhil moved his finger around his ear.

“Just check it,” said Gabe, smiling. “You use the Pythagorean theorem.”

Wesley took out his geometry book and unfolded the piece of paper that he'd stuck in between the homework pages. He did a few calculations. When he got the answer, he paused for a second before looking up with suspicion. “How'd you know?”

Gabe's eyes became rounder. “No way. It's really
x
equals seventy?” His mouth fell open. This was certainly nerdy, but it was so unbelievable that Gabe couldn't be anything but amazed.

“Did you do Wesley's homework after lights out?” asked Nikhil.

“No,” Gabe explained. “Wesley did it in his sleep!”

He told them what he heard, and Wesley plugged “
√
65” into problem number fifteen, which also ended up being right. Nikhil was in awe, but Wesley claimed that Gabe had waited until he'd fallen asleep, taken out his math book, and done the problems by flashlight.

“I didn't,” Gabe insisted. “How would I even know what problems to do or how to use the Pythagorean theorem? I just heard you say it before I fell asleep. You also said ‘Toyota Corolla.'”

Wesley gasped. “I was driving a Toyota Corolla in Shapeland,” he remembered. “Those problems were
so
hard. I'm a genius at night!”

“Did I say anything?” Nikhil asked Gabe hopefully.

“No,” said Gabe, but Nikhil looked so disappointed that he added, “but maybe you did after I fell asleep.”

“We should set up a recording system for after lights out,” said Wesley. “Tonight I might solve the mystery of life.”

“What's the mystery of life?” asked Nikhil.

“I don't know,” said Wesley. “That's why we should record what I say.”

Problem: Am I a nerd who only has nerdy adventures?

Hypothesis: No.

Proof:

Dear Eric,

Did you really grow half an inch? That is a pretty good amount!

I can't believe camp is already half over! Color War didn't break yet. According to our algorithm, it won't break until almost the end of camp. But I don't know about that, because it seems like that wouldn't be a surprise. But the last four years it broke at a surprising time, so maybe this year the surprise is that it will break at a not-surprising time.