‘You can simply call me Lao Jin or Old Gold,’ the old man went on. ‘You aren’t required to speak Mandarin outside your language classes. But I’ll explain all that when we get to camp. Now come with me,’ he said. ‘Our adventure is about to begin.’
Billy followed Old Gold and the others into the parking lot where a faded yellow-and-green van waited. Billy thought the car looked at least twice as old as him. Old Gold flung the door open, revealing two rows of six seats, like a miniature bus.
Billy clambered in and sat at the back. A boy with short brown hair, glasses and more freckles than Billy had ever seen on anyone flopped into the seat next to him, breathing heavily.
‘It is hot here,’ he said, wiping his brow. His green eyes were wide behind his glasses. ‘I’m Dylan O’Donnell, by the way.’ He stuck out his hand. Billy stared. He’d never seen someone his age introduce themselves with a handshake.
Billy blinked at the boy, trying to place his accent. It wasn’t American, and it wasn’t British, but it seemed strangely familiar.
‘Um, hi. I’m Billy Chan,’ said Billy, awkwardly shaking Dylan’s hand.
‘Nice to meet you! I’ve got a cousin named Billy,’ said Dylan, grinning as if this was a very interesting fact.
‘Cool,’ said Billy. ‘Er, I don’t know anyone named Dylan.’
‘Pleasure to be the first!’
The van revved to life and, with a start, hurtled forward.
‘Seat belts, everyone!’ shouted Old Gold from the front.
‘So, where are you from?’ asked Billy, still trying to place Dylan’s accent.
‘The Emerald Isle! Land of saints and scholars! Home of poets! And yes, a lot of sheep.’ He said this last bit with a wry grin, as if he was making a joke.
Billy stared at him, still confused. Dylan sighed.
‘Ireland. I’m from Ireland.’
Billy wracked his brain and tried to remember if he knew anything about Ireland. ‘Dublin?’ he attempted.
‘I’m from the west coast, actually. Galway. It’s by the sea.’ Dylan’s voice went up an octave as the van flew round a corner.
Billy’s stomach churned as the van swayed, but he took a deep breath and tried to keep his cool. ‘Are you a surfer?’ he asked Dylan, glad that his own voice stayed steady as the van took another wild turn.
Dylan laughed. He had a musical laugh, the kind you’d want to keep listening to long after it stopped.
‘Me?’ he said. ‘Oh, no. Too many jellyfish. And I burn easily, even in Ireland.’
Billy tried to keep from visibly wilting. His suspicions about not having anything in common with the other kids at camp were right so far.
‘Do you surf?’ asked Dylan.
Billy nodded.
‘Cowabunga, dude!’ said Dylan in an atrocious American accent, making the hang-loose sign with his left hand. He grinned, showing a gap between his two front teeth, and Billy found himself grinning back despite himself.
As they zoomed along narrow, winding roads, Old Gold rolled down the window and howled with glee.
Billy looked out of the window, watching the world hurtle by. Amidst flashes of green foliage and pockets of blue sky were glimpses of jagged yellow cliffs and stony peaks. Every time they swerved, he tensed, certain the van was going to tumble down into the ravines below.
He imagined the headline in the local news at home: Local Surf Champion Plummets to Death in China. He bet his parents would be sorry then for sending him here all summer.
Dylan was clearly feeling the same way. ‘Going a bit fast, aren’t we?’ he said, looking panicked.
‘My older brother likes to race cars,’ said a girl with long blonde hair, the one who had known what laoshi meant. ‘So this is totally normal to me.’ Her pale face said otherwise. ‘I might even be a race-car driver one day.’
‘If we survive this journey, you mean,’ said Dylan, looking a little green.
Even though Billy had been thinking the exact same thing, he put on what he hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘I’m sure we’re fine,’ he said.
Right then, there was a thump and a scratch as a large branch hit the side of the van.
‘Just a tree!’ Old Gold hollered. ‘Nothing to worry about!’
The van whizzed on higher and higher and the landscape changed. Every bump in the road – and there were a lot – sent the van flying, giving Billy that same weightless feeling he got on roller coasters. They wound up and up until they were level with the clouds, and then…
‘Whoa,’ breathed Billy. They were inside a cloud. All around them was a grey fog.
‘I can’t see anything!’ screeched Dylan. ‘‘How can Old Gold see where he’s going?’
‘Don’t worry,’ called Old Gold. ‘I can do this drive with my eyes closed!’
‘Please don’t!’ Dylan cried back.
Old Gold just laughed.
They rumbled on, and with a sudden burst of sunshine they were through the cloud cover and above it.
Billy was certain that if they went any higher they’d be able to touch the sky. In the distance he could see even higher mountain peaks, their jagged points covered in snow.
‘Is the camp on top of a cliff?’ asked the blonde girl.
‘It’s over this mountain,’ said JJ. ‘We’re almost there.’
The van zoomed down a steep incline, plunging them back into the cloud cover, and then out again, but instead of jagged cliff faces they were now surrounded by trees in every direction. Billy thought he glimpsed a waterfall, but they were going too fast for him to tell.
As the trees opened up into a clearing, with a collection of small cabins scattered around, the van screeched to a stop, flinging them all forward against their seat belts.
The van door slid open, showering them in sunlight.
‘Welcome to Camp Dragon,’ said Old Gold.
Some
