“I’m not tired,” I told him.
“Too bad,” he replied. Then he lay down on his bed and fell asleep.
Rest hour is boring. There was nothing to do. Michael was playing solitaire. Ryan was eating my candy. Neil was reading a book. Candyman found a little hole in the floorboard under his bed, and he was trying to dig a tunnel with a spoon.
I started writing a letter . . .
Dear Mom and Dad,
This place is horrible. I have 39 mosquito bites. I mean 40. I just got another one. Ryan played connect the dots on my back, and it made a picture that looks like the Big Dipper. I had to drink a horrible drink with ketchup and mustard in it. Then I had to kiss a dead moose. And that’s just the first day! I want to come home! Can you pick me up ASAP? If I have to spend another hour here, I’m—
I didn’t have the chance to finish my letter because the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened.
“EEEEEEEEEKKKKKK!”
It was Neil, screaming.
“What’s the matter?” Ryan asked.
“There’s a daddy longlegs on my bed!” Neil shouted.
Gross! Spiders are yucky. I’m glad it wasn’t on my bed.
Uncle Ray jumped up off his bed when he heard Neil scream.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“There’s a daddy longlegs on my bed,” said Neil. “I’m afraid.”
Uncle Ray just laughed.
“Spiders are nothing to be afraid of,” he told Neil. “They’re part of nature. Tell you what. Let’s give the spider a name. If we name any spiders we find in our bunk, it will make them less scary.”
Hmmmm. I had to admit it. That was pretty smart. I wouldn’t give Uncle Ray the Nobel Prize or anything, but he did have a good idea.
“Let’s call this one Henry,” said Uncle Ray, flicking the spider off Neil’s bed. “See, now he’s not so scary.”
Neil calmed down. I went back to writing my letter home. I was almost finished when I felt a funny feeling on the back of my neck. I thought it was another mosquito bite.
“Dude,” said Ryan, “I think Henry is on you.”
“He’s crawling up your head!” Michael shouted.
“EEEEEEEEEK!” I screamed.
“Kill him!” everybody was shouting. “Kill him!”
So I whacked Henry with a sneaker. And that was the end of Henry.
Torture hour, I mean rest hour, was over. I felt bad for Henry the spider, after we had given him a name and all. Everybody felt bad. So we held a little funeral. Candyman dug a hole with a spoon, and we buried him next to the bunk.
We buried Henry, that is. Of course we didn’t bury Candyman.
Our bunk was scheduled to play pickleball in the afternoon, but it was raining, so all outdoor activities were canceled. Instead, we had arts and crafts. Or as everybody calls it, arts and farts.
You should always call arts and crafts arts and farts. That’s the first rule of being a kid.
“Welcome to the arts and crafts room,” said the arts and farts counselor. “I’m Aunt Nancy. Today, we’re going to use rubber bands to make friendship bracelets for each other. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
“No!” we all shouted.
“I’m not making a friendship bracelet,” I announced.
“Me neither,” said Ryan.
“No way,” said Michael.
“Friendship bracelets are for girls,” said Neil.
“Yeah!” we all shouted.
We crossed our arms in front of our chests. That’s what you do to let grown-ups know you’re not going to do something.
“Oh, did I say friendship bracelets?” asked Aunt Nancy. “I’m sorry. I meant to say we’re going to make man bands.”
