The Virtual Vandal Page 4

  Amy seemed surprised when Sam, Noah, and I laughed. I don’t think she meant to make a joke. Her face flushed a bit before she joined in.

  After the bus pulled to a stop in the camp’s large parking lot, everyone stood, shuffled down the main aisle, and exited the bus. From the look of things, it appeared that the Swift Academy students were the last to arrive. Two other large charter buses were already there, with two other panel trucks. Students and teachers from the other schools were already milling about and unloading their gear.

  Each group wore matching T-shirts, so it was easy to tell which students belonged to each school. The Swift Academy students all wore yellow shirts with the academy logo plastered across the front. The students from the Bradley Institute wore bright green shirts while the Liniford STEM school students wore blue shirts. As the students mingled, the colors swirled like a hydrothermal chemistry experiment.

  I snapped out of my daze when I realized that I had better find Jenna before everyone swirled together too much. I honed in on all the yellow shirts and scanned everyone as quickly as I could. Luckily, I spotted Jenna in the cargo truck. She was already there, helping people unload their projects.

  “Hey, Jenna.” I ran up to the ramp. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

  “Okay,” she said, looking a little confused. She walked down the ramp and joined me at the side of the truck.

  “Did you happen to tell anyone that Sam has been sabotaging people’s projects?” I asked.

  Jenna wrinkled her brow and shook her head. “No.” Then her eyes widened. “I did tell Ashley that you were joking about it. But there’s no way she took me seriously.”

  “Maybe she did,” I said. I told her about the rumor Noah had heard.

  Jenna brought her hands to her mouth. “Oh no!” she said. “If she’s telling people that, I’ll tell her to stop right away.” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Tom.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “You know how these things can start.”

  Jenna rolled her eyes. “Don’t I know it.” She turned and disappeared into the multicolored crowd.

  As soon as she was gone, Noah appeared. “Well?”

  “It was her, all right,” I said. “Well, her and Ashley. But Jenna’s going to take care of it.”

  “I hope so,” Noah said, shaking his head. “Because I’d hate to be you if this thing gets back to Sam.”

  “I’d hate to be me, too,” I agreed.

  We both talked big, but I’m sure Sam would understand if she ever did find out. It might take a while, but she gets how things can be taken out of context.

  Honestly, I was more worried about how the rumor would affect her confidence. Samantha Watson was probably one of the smartest students at Swift Academy. But most of the time, her confidence level is the polar opposite of her IQ. She is constantly trying to prove herself to everyone around her, and holds herself to an impossible standard. If this rumor got back to her, she’d be crushed.

  Noah dusted off his hands. “Now that that’s settled, let’s get our gear.”

  “I think we just have to unload it,” I said. “They are supposed to have someone…”

  “Welcome to camp… Junior,” interrupted a familiar voice.

  My shoulders tightened at the sound of that voice. There was only one person in the world who called me Junior. Well, two people, actually. There was also my dad’s sister, Aunt Susan. But Junior doesn’t sound like a derogatory name when she says it. No, only one person calls me Junior with the transparent delight of knowing that it really, really bugs me.

  I turned around to see my old nemesis, Andrew Foger.

  7 The Nemesis Resurgence

  “JUNIOR?” NOAH ASKED WITH A wide grin. “Oh man. I’m so using that.”

  “Hey, Andrew,” I said, trying my best to hide my annoyance. I even forced a weak smile. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “What you don’t know can fill a stadium, Junior,” Andrew said with a laugh. He hadn’t changed much. He was still larger than me, and stockier, and his bushy blond hair was as much of a bird’s nest as ever. Even his half snarl, half grin was exactly the same. “I’m at Bradley now,” he said proudly. “My dad’s a major shareholder.”

  I ignored the stadium dig and nodded at Noah. “Noah, this is Andrew. Our dads used to work together.”

  Andrew snorted. “His dad used to work for mine, actually.”

  Actually that wasn’t true (although I don’t doubt Andrew saw it that way). Mr. Foger was a silent partner at one of my father’s first companies. He was a banker who put up the capital while my father had the ideas. So, yeah, in a sense, Mr. Foger paid for everything while my father did all the work.

  Either way you look at it, Andrew and I used to hang out a lot while our fathers took meetings, drew up business plans, and sometimes bickered over what direction the company should take.

  Andrew was a year older so he always acted like the world’s worst big brother. Not only would he talk me into doing crazy, sometimes dangerous things, he would also make it so I took the blame whenever we were caught. I don’t know if it was the stress of starting a new company or all the mischief Andrew and I would get in, but my dad was not a happy camper back then.

  When my father and Mr. Foger parted ways, I never expected to see Andrew again.

  Andrew jutted a thumb at me. “So, what’s Junior’s big project this year?” he asked Noah.

  “Actually, we have a cloud-seeding project,” Noah replied.

  Andrew nodded. “Not bad. Not bad,” he said. “Not original, but not bad.”

  I shook my head. “Whatever.” I started to walk away but Noah grabbed my arm.

  “Wait a minute,” Noah said to Andrew. “If you’re so special, what’s your project, then?”

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” I muttered under my breath.

  Andrew took in a deep breath. “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he said proudly. Then he guffawed at his own punch line.

  Andrew might’ve gotten a little taller, maybe a little wider, but he really hadn’t changed much.

  This time I grabbed Noah’s arm and led him away. “Glad you asked?”

  Noah shook his head. “Don’t worry, man,” he said. “I will not call you Junior.”

  “Thanks, dude,” I said.

  “Can I have your attention, please?” asked a tall man in a brown shirt. He had gray-speckled hair and a friendly smile. Once the conversations died down he gazed out at the students and teachers. “My name is Tom Alexander, owner of Camp Northwood. I want to welcome everyone here and I hope your weekend is filled with discovery, innovation, and invention!”

  There was a light smattering of applause.

  “Now, you’ll notice that my counselors are handing out maps,” he continued. “These will direct you to your schools’ cabins.”

  Some older kids, also in brown shirts, handed out maps to everyone. When I got mine, I opened it up to see the entire campgrounds laid out before me. There was a main road that ran down the middle of the camp, toward the lake. Several hiking trails branched off the road, leading to different clusters of cabins. It looked as if the Swift Academy male students had the longest hike. Our cabins were on the other side of the lake, so we had to trek to the end of the road and cross a bridge over a small inlet to get there.

  “Don’t worry about your luggage and your gear,” Mr. Alexander continued. “Just group everything together and our counselors will make sure it gets to your cabins before you know it.”

  I glanced around and saw that the counselors were doing just that. Several older boys and girls loaded backpacks, trunks, and plastic bins onto low trailers. Once the trailers were full, electric golf carts would quietly haul them down the main road and out of sight.

  “You have your maps, so have fun exploring the camp for a few hours,” Mr. Alexander said. “Then everyone meet in the chow hall for lunch.”

  The giant herd of color-differentiated kids sl
owly broke up as everyone organized his or her gear. Noah and I put our backpacks onto the large plastic bins that held our rockets and balloon launchers. After that, we fell into step with the students walking down the main road.

  We quickly caught up to Amy and Sam. They had the map spread open, gesturing to various points of interest.

  “What about here?” asked Amy. She pointed to a large field beside an illustration of a swimming pool.

  “Too public,” Sam said. “I bet everyone who needs an open space will flock to that area. Besides, it doesn’t have to be that big.”

  I looked over their shoulders. “There’s some kind of field near our cabins,” I said. “That might work for our rockets and your digger.”

  Sam cocked her head. “Could be.”

  “We can check it out and let you know,” Noah suggested.

  “Okay,” said Sam. “Shoot us a text.”

  “If you can get a signal,” Amy said. “One of the Bradley students said the cell coverage is very spotty out here.”

  “Okay, then let me ask you this,” Noah said with a grin. “Did you bring your VR gear?”

  Amy smiled and nodded. “Oh yes.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I couldn’t resist either.”

  I spread my arms wide. “All of this nature around you and you want to spend your time glued to a screen?” I asked. “And not only that, but in a virtual version of our school? A place we get to escape for a few days?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to see the new program since Noah showed us the other day,” Sam admitted. “And I hear that a bunch of people are already making cool changes.”

  “Once we set up our project, it takes care of itself,” Amy added. “We can check it out then.”

  “The reason I ask,” Noah continued, “is if the cell coverage is so bad, we can all use the camp’s Wi-Fi to log on to my VR school. Then we can leave each other messages in the basement.”

  “Why not just send an e-mail?” I asked.

  Noah shook his head. “Because leaving a message in the basement is way cooler.”

  Sam and Amy peeled off onto one of the trails with the rest of the girls from Swift Academy. We kept moving with our little pack down the main road, toward the lake.

  “Hey, Junior,” came Andrew’s voice from behind us.

  I sighed and glanced at Noah. He rolled his eyes.

  I looked back to see Andrew Foger walking several paces behind us. He had two other Bradley students with him. And they were all blinding in their bright green T-shirts.

  Was this guy following me just to be a pain? When I first looked over the map, I saw that the Bradley Institute students were placed at the other side of the camp. So there was no reason for them to be trailing behind the Swift Academy boys.

  I stopped and turned to face him. “What do you want, Andrew?”

  Andrew and the two boys caught up to us. As they approached, I saw that Andrew’s friends were identical twins. They were both tall and thin and had long dark hair.

  “This is Mike and Mark,” Andrew said.

  Noah and I introduced ourselves. The twins didn’t say anything; they simply nodded.

  “What do you want?” I repeated.

  Andrew pointed past us. “I just thought I’d show you my project. You’re about to pass it anyway.”

  The three Bradley students moved past us and continued down the road. Noah shrugged, and we followed them.

  We crested a hill and saw a large rectangular structure on the side of the road. As we moved closer, I realized that it was a huge shipping container, like the kind you see stacked all over those big cargo ships.

  “Check it,” said Andrew. “My dad had a guy truck it in this morning.” He spread his arms wide. “The Foger Survival Cabin. It’s portable, securable, and completely off the grid.” He sounded like a used-car salesman.

  But I had to admit that I was impressed. The long metal box was painted dark green and had two windows cut into the side. The other thing that made it different from regular cargo containers was the row of large solar panels angled along the roof. There was even a satellite dish up there.

  “You can keep the entire structure secure until you need it,” Andrew said as he approached the end of the container. He unlatched the two industrial doors on the end and swung them open. Recessed about two meters inside the container was a wall with another door, except this looked like a regular house door, with a window and everything.

  Andrew kicked at some empty cardboard boxes beside the door. “Excuse the mess. We’re still installing some components,” he said as he opened the door and went inside. Noah and I followed him and the twins.

  “This is cool,” Noah said as he looked around.

  “I know, right?” asked Andrew.

  The inside of the container looked like a regular house. A small kitchenette was on one end while the other end was dominated by a couch and a huge flat-screen television. In between, there were three beds, shelves of movies, and video-game consoles.

  “You guys are staying here?” asked Noah.

  “Beats staying in a musty cabin,” said Mike or Mark.

  I hated to admit it, but this was a great project. It was made by using a recycled shipping container and seemed very green all around—minus some of the creature comforts, of course.

  “Very nice, Andrew,” I admitted. “And completely off the grid?”

  “You didn’t see any wires, did you?” Andrew pointed to the ceiling. “Plus satellite Internet access.”

  “Probably faster than the Wi-Fi they have around here,” added Mark. Or was it Mike?

  “How many kilowatts do the solar panels generate?” I asked.

  Andrew’s brow furrowed. “Enough to get the job done.”

  “No, seriously,” I continued. “How much power would you say this setup draws in one day?”

  Andrew crossed his arms. “If you want to know the specs you’ll have to buy one once they go into mass production.” He turned to the twins and smiled. “My dad says we’ll make a killing with all the tiny-house suckers.” There were fist bumps all around.

  And on that note, it was time to go.

  “Well, thanks for showing us,” I said, moving toward the door.

  “Stop by anytime,” Andrew sneered.

  Noah and I stepped outside and continued up the main road.

  “Dude,” Noah said. “That kinda blows our project away.”

  “I think that was the point of that whole demonstration,” I said. “But don’t fall for it. I guarantee that he didn’t hammer one nail in building that thing.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Noah.

  “He and his dad always pay other people to do all their work for them,” I said. “And you heard him in there. It’s all about making money, not about helping people or making a cool discovery.” I shook my head. “It sounds like neither one of them has changed a bit.”

  We continued down the road, putting Andrew Foger’s cabin literally and figuratively behind us.

  By the time Noah and I made it to our own cabin, all of our gear had been delivered. And it turned out that we shared our cabin with Terry Stephenson and Toby Nguyen. The place was basically one big room with a small bed on each wall. Terry and Toby’s bins were already stowed next to their beds. Our gear was still in the center of the room. Of course, when we walked in, our cabinmates didn’t even notice. They each sat on their beds wearing VR headgear.

  I jutted a thumb at them. “I see the Wi-Fi works.”

  Noah threw his backpack onto his bed and rummaged through it. “I’m just about to find out.” He pulled out his own headset. “I gotta see what’s going on in there.”

  “Really?” I asked. “All this nature and you want to go back to school?”

  Noah looked at his headset and then at the cabin window. He nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

  “I thought we could get a test in before lunch,” I said. “Not with the chemicals. Just a flight test.”

  N
oah sighed and shoved his headset back into his bag. “You’re probably right. That guy’s survival bunker rattled me a bit too.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Maybe Sam and Amy’s project will beat his if ours doesn’t. I’d like anyone to win besides him.”

  After we put our stuff away, I grabbed two rockets, some engines, and our launch pad. Then we headed down a trail toward the large clearing Noah had spotted on the map. It wasn’t long before we stepped out of the woods and into a glade about ninety meters in diameter. We marched to the center of the open space and set up a launch pad.

  The pad consisted of a large metal base with two thin metal rods jutting up. It had placements for ten more rods, which we would use when we eventually launched all twelve rockets. As for now, we threaded two rockets onto the rods using the small sections of plastic straw glued to their sides.

  Noah attached the wires to the igniters poking out of the engines at the bottom of the rockets. Meanwhile, I unspooled the other ends of those wires to a safe distance.

  “All clear,” he said as he stepped back from the rockets.

  When he was a safe distance away, I attached the other ends to my battery-powered trigger. “Going hot,” I said.

  The rocket engine is like a bottle rocket without a fuse. Instead of a fuse, a tiny igniter is placed inside, which looks like two wires connected by a match head. When electricity from the trigger flows through those wires, the match head ignites and sets off the engine.

  “All set?” I asked Noah.

  “Let’s light these candles,” he replied.

  I held my thumb over the button. “Counting down. Three… two… one… liftoff!”

  I pressed the button and sparks shot out of the bottom of each rocket. In unison, they blasted off the launchpad and into the sky.

  WHOOSH!

  Now, in theory, they would shoot straight up. The first stage would ignite the second stage and they would continue to fly completely vertical. There was no wind, so this is what was supposed to happen.

  Guess what? That didn’t happen.

  Instead, when the second stage ignited, the rockets veered away from each other. By the time their parachutes deployed, they were high above the woods on either side of the clearing. Luckily, the booster stages fell into the clearing itself.