math on the day of an operation? Between periods, he’d rushed to the library to check the online boating forecast. It was always the same:
SE winds 10–15 knots, seas 1–2 ft, light swells
. Griffin didn’t even know what a knot was, but he assumed Darren would.
At last, the coast was clear. He threw his backpack over his shoulder and tiptoed down the stairs, wincing at the clinking sound made by the three flashlights and heavy-duty wire cutters inside. As silently as he could, he slipped out the back door, got on his bike, and rode to the small park where he was meeting Ben.
As he approached the rendezvous point, a blinding beam assaulted his eyes.
“What kept you?” Ben demanded, his face white behind his flashlight.
“I’ll explain on the way!” Griffin promised.
Eleven jet-propelled minutes later, they pedaled up to the Cedarville Marina at the north end of town. There they found Savannah, Melissa, Logan, and Pitch, waiting not very patiently on the narrow, rocky beach.
“You’re late!” Savannah seethed.
“Trouble sneaking out,” Griffin explained briskly, taking stock of their faces. “Where’s Darren?”
“He’s not here yet,” Pitch said. She surveyed the line of bobbing watercraft in the nearby slips. “I wonder which boat is the Vaders’.”
“Look for the S.S.
Bigmouth
,” Ben suggested.
“Don’t knock Darren,” Savannah said sharply. “Without him, we’d have no way to get to Rutherford Point. If he takes us to Cleo, he can be Sir Bigmouth of the Round Table.”
“Okay,” said Griffin. “Equipment check.”
They ran through the list of gear, piling it up on the sand between them. Everything was ready.
Melissa consulted the clock on her BlackBerry, which was monitoring the three surviving webcams. “It’s twelve-twenty-five,” she ventured timidly.
“Isn’t that just like Darren,” Pitch spat. “He helps us, but first he has to make us sweat.”
Logan spoke up. “I know some good breathing exercises for stage fright.”
Savannah was too wired to be patient. “Let’s not and say we did.”
Griffin had the last word on the subject. “Calm down, you guys. All we can do is wait.”
The zoobreak team paced nervously, the task ahead weighing heavily on their young shoulders. A chill wind came off the water, making them glad they were all in warm sweaters and fleeces. Time ticked away. No Darren.
The BlackBerry told the tale. “One a.m.,” Melissa reported blandly.
They all knew, but it took Pitch’s plain talk to put it into words: “That backstabbing rat-creep! He stood us up!”
Savannah was devastated. “But what about Cleo?”
“He stood her up, too,” Griffin said grimly. “Especially her.”
“You mean that’s it?” she persisted. “We just go home?”
Griffin tried to make her understand. “Every good plan has built-in options for what you can do when something goes wrong. But there’s always a spot where there’s no plan B — where it has to happen exactly right or not at all. Getting to Rutherford Point is the linchpin of everything. There’s nothing we can do.”
Shy Melissa spoke up. “There’s one thing we can do.” Everyone stared at her. “We can wait longer. Darren probably isn’t coming, but maybe he is. It’s better than giving up.”
The team digested this. There was a strange simplicity to Melissa’s thinking that had the ring of the wisdom of the ages.
“You’re dreaming,” said Pitch. “He’s a no-show.”
“We’ll take a vote,” The Man With The Plan decided. “All in favor of going home …” Pitch, Logan, and Griffin. “And of staying …” Savannah and Melissa. “Home wins, three to two.” He froze. “Wait a minute — where’s Ben?”
They looked around. Ben was nowhere to be seen.
Out came their flashlights, and they searched the marina. No Ben.
And then Griffin heard a telltale snort — one he had heard many times before. Snoring!
He followed the sound along the beach until his
SE winds 10–15 knots, seas 1–2 ft, light swells
. Griffin didn’t even know what a knot was, but he assumed Darren would.
At last, the coast was clear. He threw his backpack over his shoulder and tiptoed down the stairs, wincing at the clinking sound made by the three flashlights and heavy-duty wire cutters inside. As silently as he could, he slipped out the back door, got on his bike, and rode to the small park where he was meeting Ben.
As he approached the rendezvous point, a blinding beam assaulted his eyes.
“What kept you?” Ben demanded, his face white behind his flashlight.
“I’ll explain on the way!” Griffin promised.
Eleven jet-propelled minutes later, they pedaled up to the Cedarville Marina at the north end of town. There they found Savannah, Melissa, Logan, and Pitch, waiting not very patiently on the narrow, rocky beach.
“You’re late!” Savannah seethed.
“Trouble sneaking out,” Griffin explained briskly, taking stock of their faces. “Where’s Darren?”
“He’s not here yet,” Pitch said. She surveyed the line of bobbing watercraft in the nearby slips. “I wonder which boat is the Vaders’.”
“Look for the S.S.
Bigmouth
,” Ben suggested.
“Don’t knock Darren,” Savannah said sharply. “Without him, we’d have no way to get to Rutherford Point. If he takes us to Cleo, he can be Sir Bigmouth of the Round Table.”
“Okay,” said Griffin. “Equipment check.”
They ran through the list of gear, piling it up on the sand between them. Everything was ready.
Melissa consulted the clock on her BlackBerry, which was monitoring the three surviving webcams. “It’s twelve-twenty-five,” she ventured timidly.
“Isn’t that just like Darren,” Pitch spat. “He helps us, but first he has to make us sweat.”
Logan spoke up. “I know some good breathing exercises for stage fright.”
Savannah was too wired to be patient. “Let’s not and say we did.”
Griffin had the last word on the subject. “Calm down, you guys. All we can do is wait.”
The zoobreak team paced nervously, the task ahead weighing heavily on their young shoulders. A chill wind came off the water, making them glad they were all in warm sweaters and fleeces. Time ticked away. No Darren.
The BlackBerry told the tale. “One a.m.,” Melissa reported blandly.
They all knew, but it took Pitch’s plain talk to put it into words: “That backstabbing rat-creep! He stood us up!”
Savannah was devastated. “But what about Cleo?”
“He stood her up, too,” Griffin said grimly. “Especially her.”
“You mean that’s it?” she persisted. “We just go home?”
Griffin tried to make her understand. “Every good plan has built-in options for what you can do when something goes wrong. But there’s always a spot where there’s no plan B — where it has to happen exactly right or not at all. Getting to Rutherford Point is the linchpin of everything. There’s nothing we can do.”
Shy Melissa spoke up. “There’s one thing we can do.” Everyone stared at her. “We can wait longer. Darren probably isn’t coming, but maybe he is. It’s better than giving up.”
The team digested this. There was a strange simplicity to Melissa’s thinking that had the ring of the wisdom of the ages.
“You’re dreaming,” said Pitch. “He’s a no-show.”
“We’ll take a vote,” The Man With The Plan decided. “All in favor of going home …” Pitch, Logan, and Griffin. “And of staying …” Savannah and Melissa. “Home wins, three to two.” He froze. “Wait a minute — where’s Ben?”
They looked around. Ben was nowhere to be seen.
Out came their flashlights, and they searched the marina. No Ben.
And then Griffin heard a telltale snort — one he had heard many times before. Snoring!
He followed the sound along the beach until his
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