We were getting a rep as the late cabin—it was Cleo’s fault—but we hit breakfast just in time to gobble down yummy pancakes, slathered in caramel syrup. If they made those every day until the end of camp, I sure wouldn’t complain.
The guys from the Panthers joined us on the hike. That pretty much guaranteed we wouldn’t see even one squirrel or chipmunk or bird on a branch. They hooted and shouted and called to each other as we bumped along the plank-covered walkway toward the woods. If the forest was usually silent, it sure wasn’t gonna be this morning!
“Hey, Firefly Girl!” Noah called out as the Panthers jostled past us. I did manage to wave back, but I’m not sure if he saw. Jocelyn noticed, however.
She grinned at me. “Lightning bug! Lightning bug! Lightning bug!”
I flicked out my hand like it didn’t matter. But I had to work hard to hold in my smile.
The guys tramped just ahead of us the whole time. That’s okay, I thought. We’d save our energy for a real competition! I was impressed with the power of Devin’s chair—must have had shock absorbers too, because he never even bounced. Malik passed us in his solid-gold-looking chair, shouting, “Hey, Falcon Girls! You can’t catch us!”
I didn’t think we were trying to get anywhere fast, but he seemed to think we were in a race. I remember reading about competitions like balloon soccer or something, but so far, nobody had talked about those. It seems to me that Malik, for sure, would love something like that.
Parts of this path were rockier and bumpier and muckier than others. I was glad my dad had switched out my wheelchair tires for ones he called “industrial-strength.” They weren’t as thick as Santiago’s—he could actually roll himself on his own for short distances!—but they were wider and sturdier than my regular wheels—kinda like what BMX bikes have. They can roll easily over rocks and through mud. The wheels on Karyn’s chair were thinner, and I could see the concentration on Kim’s face as she occasionally had to strain to get Karyn through the muck.
Penny had seemed to be sure that I was going to spend my whole time in the “forest,” but this was our first real venture into the actual woods. I’d gotten used to the bright sunshine everywhere, but in here, it seemed like somebody had put the sun on a dimmer switch. It glimmered through the tangled branches above, but sent down more shadows than sunbeams. Pine trees dropped fat cones—plop—right in front of us. Thanks to all the studying I’d done for the Whiz Kids team, I could identify just about every species of trees we passed—birches and black oaks and bitternut hickories. It was nice to able to reach out and feel their bark, instead of just looking at them online or in a library book.
I spied the parade of tiny black ants. There must have been a hundred of them, in the skinniest line dance I’d ever seen. They marched in almost single file from the base of a hickory tree, up the trunk, to the branches. They seemed to know exactly where they were headed and what their job was. How much time had the guy who wrote that Atta book spent watching lines of ants? These ants never seemed to stop, and yeah, they seemed to help each other as they took stuff from the ground, up the trunk, and on to whatever their goal was. When I got home, I thought I’d do a search on ants and how they survive. Okay, Mrs. V—get out of my head!
Then into my head came, “You think we’ll see any bears out here?” It was Santiago.
“Not likely,” I heard Harley answer. “If a bear saw all of us, he’d probably run in the opposite direction. We’re pretty fearsome-looking!”
“Betcha I spot one!” Santiago insisted.
Lulu chimed in with, “The park rangers around here haven’t reported any bear sightings in years.” I guess she was trying to reassure us. But now I was peeking around every tree—just in case. A bear might have decided to move back to his old territory. Or maybe come back to visit some old friends. I’d seen photos of bears online—their claws are like three inches long.
Just as I was laughing at myself searching for invisible grizzly bears, I saw… the skunk.
It was most definitely not invisible. It was sleek black, with two white stripes making a V shape down its back. And right down the middle of its face was another thin white stripe. The same time as my brain was screaming, A SKUNK!!, what was also flashing through it was that the little animal was kind of pretty when you thought about it—like a black-and-white painting that stood out in contrast to all the shades of green and brown around it. But skunks were not designed for cute—they were designed for secret battles they never lose.
Bright eyes peered at us, unblinking. Even though we were making all kinds of noise, it did not run away. Not one inch.
I think Trinity saw it just as I did because she jerked my chair to a stop and held up her right arm in warning. In the loudest whisper I’ve ever heard, “Uh, skunk, guys! Skunk just ahead!”
We Falcons froze. What should we doooooooo? my brain was yelping.
“What’s up?” one of the guys called out.
Trinity, her voice betraying a hint of a quaver, repeated, “Skunk! Skunk!”
It stood not six feet away from us, to the left of the path—like a traffic cop whose job was to move the cars in another direction. It was silent. So were we. I’m not sure if any of us even breathed.
As for the skunk, it tilted its head as if to say, Who are all these noisy intruders in my forest? It continued to peer at us, but also began waving its tail. That couldn’t be good! As I thought about it, we were large and clunky and noisy. But the skunk had stealth, silence—and a not-so-secret superpower.