He wasn’t . . . he couldn’t be . . .
I dropped down beside him, my fingers squeezing around his arm, and saw a faint cloud rise from his mouth before the wind whipped it away. I gasped with relief. He was alive, at least, but he was out cold and seriously hurt, and . . .
Oh. My. Cantaloupe.
He’d been like this the whole time. While I’d been moping around the cabin, fussing with the fridge, and chatting with Carolina and Caitlin, Uncle Joe had been out here in the freezing rain, desperately needing my help.
Forget being left behind from summer camp. Forget fighting with my best friend.
I’d never felt worse in my life.
But what now? There was no way I could carry him back to the cabin by myself, and I couldn’t risk dragging him over the rocks and making his injuries worse. I hugged my arms around my jacket and scanned the icy hills and sky and bay, fighting off a rising panic.
I couldn’t save him on my own. I needed help. But my go-to help was busy cleaning a dirty alleyway back in Seattle and might not be speaking to me.
I sighed. This was going to be rough, and I was definitely going to have to apologize first, but there was no way around it. I covered Uncle Joe with my sweater and rain jacket and ran shivering back to the cabin. It was time to rally the troops.
Nineteen
The afternoon sun was already sliding down the far side of the sky, and all the heat of the day seemed to have crammed itself into the narrow alley behind the dump. It was swelteringly hot. It was also incredibly filthy, packed with overstuffed garbage bags, old paint cans, rotting food, ten million flies, and Abby, looking tired and grumpy as she pushed at a pile of plastic bottles and cardboard with a broom.
“Oh, look who decided to turn up,” she said as I struggled out of the disgusting sofa. “What an honor.”
I bit back a retort, thinking of Uncle Joe lying on the cold ground up in Alaska. I couldn’t rescue him alone.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m not here to help, I—”
“Oh, peachy,” Abby said, dropping her broom and picking up a shovel. Her fancy braid was fraying at the end. “You’re not here to help. Well, thank you very much for the visit, Ms. Vice Director.” She kicked a tin can at the Dumpster against the wall. It struck with a clang, and a huge hairy something came streaking out from under it and disappeared behind the sofa.
“That’s the rat, by the way,” said Abby. “There is one. I named it Mr. Chompers. If you screw your eyes up really tight he almost looks like a moose.”
“Great. Abby—”
“I keep thinking about what I would do if he actually turned into one and rescued me back to Camp Cantaloupe.” She stabbed the shovel into the pile at her feet.
“Abby—”
“It could happen, you know? I never saw it at camp, so I think the moose owes me, and—”
“Oh, will you shut up about that moose and just let me apologize?!”
It wasn’t how I meant to say it, but there it was. Abby whirled to face me, looking furious, but I charged ahead. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said before, and for trying to control everything, and for treating you like a sidekick and all the rest of it. You were right. I get it, and I’m sorry.” I realized I was almost shouting. “I’m here because I need your help. Uncle Joe is hurt. He fell down on the beach and I’m pretty sure he has a broken leg.”
The anger slid from Abby’s face. She peered at me. “Is this another one of your games?”
I shook my head.
“He’s really hurt?”
“Yes! He’s collapsed on the rocks in the rain, unconscious.”
“Unconscious?!” Abby’s shovel clattered to the ground. “We have to rescue him!”
“Why do you think I’m here?” I said, but she was already racing for the sofa.
Okay. That went better than I’d expected.
“So, what’s your plan?” asked Abby as I crowded after her into Fort McForterson.
“Well, first we need to get him inside,” I said. “And then we’ll just have to—”
“Wait, wait-wait-wait-wait,” said Abby. “Are you serious? If Joe’s really hurt, there’s no way we can do this on our own. We need to get my dad or someone. We need an adult.”
“You know we can’t bring grown-ups in,” I said. “It’s against NAFAFA rules. They’ll shut us down and then Uncle Joe will be trapped up there without any help at all.”
“But this is a real emergency,” said Abby. “And— Hey! Didn’t Noriko say—” She cleared her throat and looked up at the blanket ceiling. “Okay, so we, the members of Camp Pillow Fort, are hereby declaring a genuine, actual, medical emergency. Yes.”
“What are you doing?”
“Telling the Council. Noriko said we could only break the rules for life-or-death emergencies, and this should definitely count.”
“Brilliant,” I said, wishing I’d thought of it. “That changes things. So where can we find—”
We both jumped as the pillow to Fort Comfy flopped open.
“Oh, honestly, Samson,” said Abby as the cat ambled in. “You always have to make an entrance, don’t you?”
Samson danced around happily, dodging Abby’s hands and getting caught on everything until he came to the link to the alley fort. He stopped dead, sniffing furiously, and dropped into a crouch.
“Huh,” said Abby. “Maybe he smells Mr. Chompers.”
“He definitely smells something,” I said as Samson began pawing at the pillow.
Abby grabbed him around the middle. “All right, time to go home, Mr. Director. No rat fights allowed in other people’s forts.”
But Samson wasn’t in the mood to be grabbed.
“Stop squirming,” said Abby. “We’ve got an emergency here, buddy. Ow! Hey!”
“Can I help?” I asked.
“No, I got this. He’s just stuck on— Ow!”
“Abby? You okay?” said a new voice.
We froze. Abby’s head snapped up.
It was one of her brothers.
“I’m fine!” she yelled, throwing herself into the open link, Samson twisting in her arms. “Don’t come in—”
But there
