Monkey Bars and Rubber Ducks (13 page)

I straightened up as soon as I could to see how Fifty and Copper Pie were getting on. They’d got past the wall, which was good – Copper Pie obviously hadn’t had to kick Fifty over. I waited for them to appear by the pole, ready to zip over the river. The Spiders got there first, then the pair from the Missiles.
Where were the Tribers?
I was pretty sure Copper Pie would make sure Fifty got through, but it didn’t stop me worrying. Team GB started climbing up the pole. We were last, wherever we were. I wondered how Max was going to judge it. Bee and Lily were equal first out of their race. Me and Jonno were first. If Copper Pie and Fifty were last, what would the overall position be?

By the time Fifty (all red-faced and sweaty, and still small of course) had reached the scramble nets there was no hope. They were too far behind. Although Copper Pie didn’t seem to know that – he was still doing his best to catch up. He lifted the netting by arching his back to let Fifty scuttle through in super-quick time. Then he sprinted towards the slope and his speed seemed to counteract the slipperiness, and somehow Fifty kept up with him, stride for stride, like a mini-shadow. They swung on the ropes and galloped across the beam. Only the monkey bars left. Team GB was already home but the Spiders and Missiles were only just starting the ladders.
Come on, Tribe!

I don’t want to think about what happened next. It was too awful.

Copper Pie threw himself at the ladders, grabbed a rung with one hand, then the next and the next and then he was on the bank with us. He’d overtaken the two other pairs . . . but Fifty was left behind on the other side. He hadn’t even tried to climb the ladder and get on to the bars.

‘Come on, Fifty!’shouted Bee, but he just stood there, looking down at the water. I knew he wasn’t going to do it. He didn’t want to fall in, and he didn’t want to wade because the water had been waist-high on Lily, so it would be armpit-high on Fifty. I wished Copper Pie had waited for him. I wished I’d been Fifty’s partner. I wouldn’t have gone off, I’d have helped him over . . . somehow.

Fifty looked across at us. I tried to make an encouraging face, but he shook his head.

‘Loser!’ shouted Callum.

‘None of that,’ said Max, in a voice that really meant it. Callum shut up.

‘Forget the monkey bars, go through the water,’ yelled Lily. She didn’t get how much he hates the thought of being out of his depth. When we went surfing he didn’t go in past his knees.

Max didn’t get it either.’ Fifty. If you don’t want to do the monkey bars, just wade across. It’s fine. But a bit wet . . .’ He laughed, as though getting wet was no big deal. Somehow that made it worse.

Fifty didn’t answer. He just stood there. I felt really uncomfortable, like maybe we should go and get him. That would be better than doing nothing. I was going to suggest it but . . .

Lily was getting impatient. ‘Fifty! Stop mucking about and get over here.’ She grinned at the rest of us, like we were lollipop ladies stopping the traffic and she was a mum waiting for a naughty toddler who wouldn’t come. You can tell she’s not a Triber, not one of us. We all knew he couldn’t do it. We all knew it was a crisis. What we didn’t know was how it was all going to end.

Jonno walked over to Max and said quietly, ‘I’m going to go and help him. He doesn’t really like the water.’

Max made a face – maybe he’d never heard of someone not liking water, or maybe he couldn’t work out how Fifty could do the raft challenge on the water but not this one.

‘Oh, OK. I’ll sort him out.’

Deadly embarrassing. In front of our half of the camp: Missiles, Team GB, Spiders and us, Max went to get Fifty, striding straight through the water as though it was a puddle. The minute Max was out of hearing Callum started up again.

‘Pride, I mean Tribe, comes before a fall.’ He looked around, enjoying being mean. ‘Not exactly a water baby, is he? Just a regular baby. D’you call him the Tribe weed? Little wee-eed.’

‘Say anything else and you’re in the water, Hog,’ said Copper Pie.

Callum stared straight back at him. ‘Weeee-eeed!’ he said.

Oh no! Here we go!
Copper Pie took two paces forward and shoved Callum really hard in the chest. There were a few seconds of cartoon-like wobbling while Callum tried to stop himself falling backwards and then a splash.

I checked to see what Max was about to do, but he’d disappeared, as had Fifty. At least that bought us some time. Jonno must have been thinking the same thing – he was already by the river stretching out an arm to try and help Callum up the bank. Callum didn’t take it though. He clambered up on his own, dripping.

‘You’ll be sent home,’ said Callum, staring at Copper Pie.

‘Yeah,’ said Jamie.

‘For pushing another kid into the river.’

‘Yeah,’ said Jamie.

And we’ve got . . .’ Callum looked around. ‘Twenty witnesses.’

‘Twenty witnesses who would be more than happy to repeat all the things you said about Fifty,’ said Jonno.’ I mean, I’m sure you were only joking, but it sounded a whole lot like bullying to me.’

Jonno does it again,
I thought. He should work for the United Nations, stopping wars before they happen.

Callum kind of snarled. But when Max whizzed back over the river on the zip, came up to us and said, ‘Looking a bit wet, there, Callum,’ Callum didn’t say a word. Max raised his eyebrows – I think he probably guessed there’d been a
situation
. I think he probably didn’t want to know anything about it though. Suited us.

‘Keener and Jonno, can you walk back down to the mess tent? We’ll follow in a bit.’

Everyone knew that must mean Fifty had gone back to base. Everyone knew Tribe’d failed to complete the assault course, and Fifty was chicken. It was not Tribe’s greatest moment. And it wasn’t Fifty’s. I couldn’t wait to see him – to tell him it was OK. There was more to being brave than crossing a bit of water. Fifty had spent every year since Reception being big even though he was the littlest. He’d never once given in, even though sometimes it was harder for him. I mean, half the time he couldn’t even see the film in the cinema without sitting on the arm. I wanted to see him. Being a Triber, or being a friend, isn’t about being a certain size or getting across a river or up a tree or catching a wave. It’s nothing to do with what you can do, it’s about who you are.

Jonno was better at it than me, even though I’ve been friends with Fifty for longer (for ever in fact). Jonno said it didn’t matter that we didn’t win, and it didn’t matter that Fifty didn’t do the monkey bars and it didn’t matter that Callum and Jamie would never let Tribe forget its complete and utter failure at the assault course. (He didn’t use those exact words.) ‘Nothing matters,’ Jonno said, ‘except that we’re Tribe, and Callum’s not.’

What Fifty said was, ‘It matters to me.’

I said nothing.

Eventually, all the other kids from the assault course came back. Bee and Copper Pie headed straight for us.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Bee. ‘Everyone’s frightened of something. And with me it’s birds. That’s more stupid than being afraid of monkey bars.’

‘It wasn’t the monkey bars,’ I said. ‘It was the water underneath he didn’t like.’

‘Whatever,’ said Bee. ‘It’s still better than being frightened of flapping wings.’ She shuddered. Copper Pie started flapping. She ran in circles and he flapped after her. It was lunatic but it did the trick. Jonno flapped and squawked too, so I joined in. It was better than staring at Fifty. When the chicken dance was over, the subject was over too. We talked about the campfire, and what we might be doing on our last day. I couldn’t believe we were already near the end. It had gone in a flash. Fifty was quiet. We all noticed, but didn’t know how to turn up his volume. Maybe it would turn itself up when he stopped going over and over that awful moment on the bank.

Fifty didn’t want to light the fire. Unheard of. He lent Max his firesteel and Max picked Zoe to light it. She had to crawl into the tunnel to reach the tinder and kindling in the centre. It was a good design. She had a few tries before she could get the spark, but once she’d worked it out the flames caught right away and in no time it was burning well. We’d had tea and were all ready with our marshmallows on sticks for pudding. The Tribers sat in a line with Fifty in the middle, like we were trying to protect him. Callum kept glancing over our way and smiling a sickly smile. He loved the fact that Fifty had failed.

We sang songs while we ate the sticky (and bit burnt) marshmallows. I’m not much of a singer but I joined in – it was hard not to. Max changed lots of the words so we had lines like:

They scraped Ed off the tarmac like a lump of strawberry jam

Then rolled him up in Bee’s kitbag and sent him home to mum

and

Oh you’ll never get to heaven, in a Missiles’ boat

Cos the gosh darn thing, won’t even float

And

Oh you’ll never get to heaven, on a Spiders’ bike

Cos you’ll get halfway, then you’ll have to hike.

We finished off with hot chocolate and camp cake, made by Flower Power (looked terrible, tasted delicious). I tried to get Fifty talking but he wasn’t interested. I knew what he was doing, because it was what I’d have done. He was going through it all in his mind again and again, wishing he’d had a go. Wishing he wasn’t the only kid that didn’t even try to cross the river. A few girls fell in, but at least they tried.

By the time we put out the fire (and made sure there was no possibility of loose sparks by dousing it with river water) we were all desperate to get in our sleeping bags.

There was no chatting in the tent. I don’t know why the others were quiet but I know why I was. I was worried that if we started talking we’d end up discussing the failed river crossing, and as we’d already tried to convince Fifty that it didn’t matter, and hadn’t succeeded, I didn’t relish the idea of having another go. I mean, as soon as we got back home it would be forgotten by everyone
(except
Callum – but Tribe’d find a way to silence him).

I don’t remember thinking anything else. I didn’t dream. I didn’t hear anyone snore or feel anyone’s knee or elbow as they wriggled in their cocoons. I slept like I was dead. And woke up suddenly when I heard Jonno’s voice.

‘Where’s Fifty? Where’s Fifty?’

The camp horn sounded before I had a chance to find out what was going on. It gave three eardrum-shattering blasts, two more than normal.

‘What’s going on?’ I said, eyes open but not working. I sat up, pulled down my ’jama top which was wedged under my armpits and focussed on Jonno, who was looking in Fifty’s sleeping bag.

‘Fifty’s missing,’ he said.

‘Let me see,’ said Copper Pie. He didn’t seem to think Jonno had looked properly. Fifty might be small but he’s not so small you wouldn’t spot him in the bottom of a sleeping bag. Copper Pie shook his head. I could hear other kids moving about and talking outside. The camp horn wasn’t the sort of thing you could sleep through.

‘Better get dressed,’ I said. Jonno was ahead of me. Joggers on, hoodie pulled over his T-shirt. No shoes.

‘I’m going to see what’s happening.’

I rushed to catch up. I wasn’t sure whether I was meant to be worried about Fifty or assume he’d gone to the washrooms, worried about why the camp horn had gone so early or excited . . .
it might mean early morning bodyboarding!
Copper Pie and I stuck our heads out of the flap at the same time, and a nanosecond later there was Bee’s. She said Lily was still asleep – amazing.

‘What’s going on?’ said Bee.

‘No idea,’ I said.

‘Fifty’s missing,’ said Copper Pie.

‘Is that why the horn sounded?’ she said.

‘No. No one knows yet,’ I said.

‘Do you think he ran away?’ said Bee.

I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe he disappeared in the night and tried to hitch home and got mown down by an articulated lorry.

‘No way,’ said Copper Pie. ‘Too chicken.’

‘Who are you calling chicken?’ said Jonno, running towards us. ‘Come and see.’ He about-turned as soon as he had our attention, and ran back where he’d come from. We followed. And the rest of camp wasn’t far behind us. It was like we were rats and Jonno was the Pied Piper, but without the music.

We chased after him to the bank of the river and then he stopped so suddenly we nearly crashed into the back of him.

‘What?’ I said. Bee nudged me and pointed.

‘That,’ she said.

Across the other side, there was a boy in a bright red T-shirt. A boy with black curly hair. The boy was grinning.

‘Fifty, what you doing?’ shouted Copper Pie.

‘Waiting for an audience,’ he said. ‘No point being brave without witnesses. That’s why I sounded the horn. Worked, didn’t it?’

I think Max caught up with us at exactly the moment Fifty let go of the top rung of the ladder and began the armpit-stretching journey across the water.

Mr Morris appeared when Fifty was on the third rung. He was wearing a fluffy blue dressing gown. The nurse person with the glasses was right behind him. Miss Walsh, who I hadn’t seen all week, was next.