The Worst Class Trip Ever (8 page)

W
e finally got to bed around two a.m., but I don’t think anybody got much sleep. I definitely didn’t. I kept thinking about Matt. When
he was around, he was unbelievably annoying, but now that he wasn’t around, I was really wishing that he was.

I also wished that I’d been braver when the weird guys were in our room. At least Suzana tried to stand up to them. I didn’t do anything. I just stood there and watched them shove
him out the door.

I kept seeing his face, looking back at me.

The other thing I was thinking about was our plan for getting him back. It was really mostly Suzana’s plan. Her idea was that we should get Matt back—that was the most important
thing—but also try to get video of the weird guys, so we could give it to the police. We all agreed that we would definitely tell the police everything after we got Matt back, even if it
meant getting in trouble and getting sent home. Whatever those guys were planning to do, we knew it couldn’t be good.

I guess I did finally fall asleep, because suddenly I woke up and it was light outside and Cameron was yelling at me to wake up or I was going to miss breakfast. He and Victor were already
heading out the door. I got dressed and ran downstairs to the dining room and got on the end of the line for the buffet, which featured scrambled eggs from like 1950.

I wasn’t hungry anyway. I sat at table with Victor and Cameron and pretended to eat, but mainly I snuck peeks over at Suzana in the Hot/Popular area. She was wearing the Miami Heat
parachute sack. I caught her eye once, and she winked at me. Then she went back to being hot and popular. She looked totally amazing, not tired or stressed at all, like ho-hum, just another normal
day on the class trip instead of a day when we had to try to get our friend back from two weird kidnapper guys who for all we know were trying to blow up the White House.

Our first problem was getting through the head count. They counted us whenever we got on the bus to make sure we were all there. If they noticed that Matt was gone, they’d want to know
where he was, and we’d have a big problem, because if we told them what happened, they’d call the police, which was exactly what we wanted to avoid.

The good news was, the head count was usually done by Mr. Barto, who is not the world’s most organized person, which is why we thought our plan (which was really Suzana’s plan) might
work. What we did was, when we got on the bus, Cameron and I sat together in the fifth seat on the left side, and Suzana sat in the fifth seat on the right, across from us. Victor sat alone a few
rows back. So Mr. Barto came down the aisle counting heads. He counted me and Cameron, then turned and counted Suzana. Which was when she went into action.

“Mr. Barto,” she said, making her eyes all big and helpless, “can you help me? I can’t get the window open.”

“Sure,” he said, all manly. She got up and he got into the seat and opened the window, which of course Suzana could have done. While Mr. Barto’s back was turned Cameron slipped
out of our seat and went back to sit with Victor. Mr. Barto stood back up and Suzana thanked him and flashed him a big Suzana smile. He said you’re welcome, then went back to counting heads,
which meant that he counted Cameron’s head twice.

So far, so good.

Our bus parked in a long line of buses near the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History, which is a giant stone building near a bunch of other giant stone buildings, which seems to be the
main kind of buildings they have in Washington. It was a longish walk to the front entrance, and the weather was already hot, so we were pretty sweaty by the time we got inside. It was a little
after nine a.m., which meant we had less than an hour to escape from the class trip and get to the Boy Scout statue.

The museum was pretty cool, I guess. It was huge inside, and there were life-size models of big animals, like an elephant and a whale, and some dinosaur skeletons. But I was too nervous to pay
attention to the exhibits. I was keeping an eye on Suzana, who was slowly drifting back farther and farther from the front of the group, pretending to be fascinated by museum stuff we were passing.
I drifted back with her, followed by Victor and Cameron, until we formed a little group in the back, falling farther and farther behind until we were the tail end of the class.

I looked at my phone: It was nine twenty-one. We had thirty-nine minutes to get to the statue. Up ahead, the front of the group was going around a corner into a hallway.

“Get ready,” said Suzana.

We slowed down, then stopped just before the corner. When the group was out of sight, we turned around and started walking fast toward the exit. In two minutes we were walking out the entrance
back into the heat.

“Which way?” said Cameron.

Victor had his phone out, looking at a map. “This way,” he said, pointing right. We all started running. I glanced at my phone: it said
9:24
. We weren’t going to have
much time.

Of course Suzana was the fastest runner. She plays club soccer, and she’s really good, like she is at everything. Victor, Cameron, and I had a hard time keeping up with her. Also the
temperature was like sixteen thousand degrees. We ran past some more giant stone buildings and turned a couple of corners, and then Victor said, “We’re almost there. It’s across
the street and up that way, where those trees are.” He pointed to the right.

I looked at my phone.

“It’s nine forty-two,” I said. “We have eighteen minutes.”

“Okay,” said Suzana. She looked at me and said, “You’re sure you don’t want me to do it?”

I shook my head. “We talked about this last night. They said the message was for me. If they see you, they might freak out.”

She nodded, but she wasn’t happy. She actually
wanted
to be the one to go meet the weird guys. I definitely did not, but I didn’t see how I could get out of it.

Suzana took off the parachute bag and handed it to me. She looked at Victor and Cameron and held up her phone. “You guys ready?”

They both said yeah and held up their phones.

“We all take video,” she said. “But we
stay out of sight
. And if anything bad happens, we all call 911.”

They nodded. I tried not to throw up.

“Okay, Wyatt,” she said. “You go over first. Stand by the statue. We’ll go down the street and come to the statue from the other direction, so when they see you they
won’t see us. But we’ll be watching you. Good luck.”

I just nodded, because my mouth was too dry to talk. I went to the corner and waited for the light to change. I kind of hoped it never would. But it did.

I took a deep breath, let it out, and started across the street.

I
crossed the street and turned right, toward where Victor had pointed. I really didn’t like being alone. I felt like I had a nest of snakes
squirming around in my stomach.

It took me a couple of minutes to reach the Boy Scout statue, which was on a big stone pedestal next to a round water pool that didn’t have any water in it. The statue was pretty weird. It
was a Boy Scout wearing a uniform and hiking along with a walking stick in his hand. On either side of him, a little behind, are a man and a woman. What makes it weird is, the man isn’t
wearing any clothes, except for a tiny piece of cloth that barely covers him. He’s like, “Here we are, hiking along on a Boy Scout hike, and by the way I’m naked.”

Sometimes I do not get art.

There were a bunch of tourists in the area kind of milling around; also some homeless people. But I didn’t see the weird guys, and I didn’t see Matt. I stopped in front of the statue
and turned around slowly, trying to look casual. I didn’t see anybody I recognized. I was holding my phone in case the weird guys texted me.

I stood there for maybe a minute, which felt like an hour.

My phone burped.

I looked at it.

other side

I figured that meant I was supposed to go around to the back of the statue. l looked around. I still didn’t see the weird guys, but obviously they could see me, which was creepy. I started
walking around the statue. I hoped Suzana and the other guys were keeping me in sight. My legs felt like spaghetti.

There were a few people on the other side of the statue—some people sitting on the grass eating, a lady with a stroller, some kids on skateboards—but what I noticed right away was
the person on a bench maybe twenty yards behind the statue, facing away from it. I couldn’t see the person’s face, but I could see that, in the hot sunlight, the person was wearing a
black overcoat, just like the one the big weird guy had on the night before. And if that wasn’t enough of a giveaway, the person was wearing a blond wig, exactly like the one the little weird
guy had worn. There might as well have been a sign pointing at the bench saying suspicious
PERSON
.

At first I figured it had to be one of the weird guys, but then I had another idea:
Maybe it was Matt
. Maybe they told him to sit there until they got their box back. I stood there,
staring at the person, trying to decide what to do. My phone burped again.

put it by trsh

I looked around. There was a trash basket off to my right. I went over and set the parachute sack on the ground next to it. Then I stood still and waited. I had sweat dripping into my eyes. A
skateboarder went past me. The stroller lady was coming my way.

My phone burped again.

walk 2 seat DO NOT TRN AROND

I figured that meant walk toward the bench. I started walking toward the bench. When I got about ten feet from it my phone burped.

STOP

I stopped and stood there staring at the back of the blond wig. All around me I could hear people talking, yelling, laughing; they had no idea what was happening. Sweat was pouring down my face,
stinging my eyes, but I didn’t dare move. I stood there waiting, but I didn’t know what I was waiting for.

“Matt,” I whispered, to the back of the wig.

Nothing.

I tried again, louder.

“Matt, is that you?”

Nothing.

I looked down at my phone. Nothing.

I wondered where Suzana was. I really really wanted
somebody
to tell me
something
.

My phone burped. I looked down, and when I saw the message I suddenly felt cold.

u did not com alon

Oh no.

In front of me, the blond-wigged person was standing up. The person reached up and took off the wig, then took off the coat, then turned around.

It wasn’t Matt.

It wasn’t one of the weird guys, either.

It was a homeless guy, his hair all straggly, with a gray beard and raggedy clothes.

I said, “Who’re you?”

He said, “Who’re
you
?”

“Wyatt!” I turned around and saw Suzana running toward me, full speed. Behind her, a ways back, were Victor and Cameron.

Suzana reached me, breathing hard. “Who’s he?” she said, pointing at the homeless guy.

“Why’s everybody want to know who I am?” he said.

“Where’d you get that wig?” said Suzana.

“Why’s that your business?”

“Because I’ll pay you five dollars to tell me.” She said this without hesitating for a second, like it was a line from a movie she knew by heart.

The homeless guy said, “Okay, gimme the five.”

Suzana said, “Tell me first.”

He thought about that for a second, then said, “Okay. It was a big guy. Bald. He told me to put on the coat and wig and sit on this bench, don’t move, don’t turn around for a
half hour. Paid me twenty. Where’s my five?”

“Did he have anybody with him?”

“A boy. About his size.” He pointed at me.

“Did the boy say anything?”

“No.”

“Did he look scared?”

“How do I know? That’s enough questions.” He held out his hand.

Suzana reached into her pocket and pulled out a five, which she handed to the homeless guy, who took it and walked away.

Suzana looked at me and said, “So where are they?”