The kids were to meet the camp bus at the Freemont park across from the school. The bus was there, parked, when they pulled up in the old station wagon. Brad got out in his usual way, a back flip through the window. Petes opened the car door and got out feet first.

Brad's mom unlatched Trista from her car seat and handed her to Brad. "Here you go," she said. "Watch your sister."

Brad sighed, what was a big brother to do? He showed Trista how to somersault across the lawn while his mom pulled two large backpacks from the back of the car.

They rolled past the picnic tables where two men were talking. One man had long gray hair pulled back in a pony tail. The other had bright purple pants, which was all Brad could see of him. 

“It’s the history of the world,” the pony-tail man was saying. “It goes way before what we call civilization, more than a million years of people in Africa. We have a lot of history where being human worked. Somehow people have lost the knack of knowing who they are.”

“Like we’ve forgotten something important,” said the purple pants. “Where did it go?”

“We’ve forgotton who we are,” Pony-tail started saying. “It’s still there, in our selves, though. Remember that Homo Erectus…” 

Boring, thought Brad. He rolled on until he couldn’t hear any more. They were near the bus again. He squatted back on his heels and waited for Trista to catch up. 

A group of kids was gathered nearby. Brad held out his arms for his little sister. Trista was giggling. She stood up and staggered back and forth; dizzy.

Maynard Griggs, a big jawed kid with hair shaved flat on top, stood in the middle of the group. He was talking loudly and waving his hands. "Escaped from the jail right here in Terrytown," he declared. "Wanted for at least fifty murders and robbing thousands of banks and really mean and bad and running loose around the country right now! Boy! If I find him I'll karate chop him!" Maynard sliced his hands through the air, making swishing sounds with his teeth. He kicked up one foot, barely keeping his balance.

Maynard was wearing ironed blue jeans and a checkered shirt. The clothes had been ironed by his mother. Brad could tell because there was a crease down the middle of the legs and up the arms. Maynard's mom was pretty weird. Maynard, himself, was strange. He was a short boy, with a flat face; like a bull dog. Acted like one too. Brad knew he could always rely on Maynard to be bull headed.

Maynard was the town bully, but Brad never blamed him for it. Anyone could see that his mother drove him to it. After all, anyone named Maynard - with a face like that - had to learn to fight. 

Brad didn't worry about Maynard. Petes didn't either. Maynard could never hurt either of them. He couldn't catch Brad. And Fatso Petes, big to start with, seemed to grow another inch each month. Little kids had to watch out, though, and that made Brad and his friend mad. One time Petes had sat on Maynard and wouldn't let him up until he called himself a pickle face; like all bullies the flat-faced boy was really a chicken.

"What are you babbling about Maynard?" grunted Fatso Petes. Brad turned and saw his buddy dragging an enormous pack across the grass. 

"A murderer has escaped from the jail," exclaimed Maynard, proud of his important news. "We heard it on the radio."

"Come on, Maynard," said Brad. "Thousands of banks? And fifty murders?"

"Maynard scratched his head. "Well, he's wanted for something, I know." he said. "Something BAD."

Brad looked across the yard and saw all the mothers huddled in a group. Maynard's mom was wiping her eyes with a handkerchief and talking excitedly. Her shrill voice carried across the lawn. "We'd better not let the children go to camp!" she sobbed. "No telling what will happen to the precious things."

Maynard scowled and stomped his foot. Brad knew he'd better keep a close watch, he pulled his little sister into his lap. Every time the bully's mom called him precious, or any sort of candy, or by the name of a baby animal, Maynard got mad. He usually got revenge by beating up some smaller kid. 

A police car pulled up to the curb. Sheriff Box got out. Brad could see him talking to a tall man by the bus. The tall man waved his big bony hands and called for attention in a wheezing voice like sandpaper, "Ladies! Ladies!" One mother looked up and shushed the rest. 

This man looked important! He had a nose pointed like a beak and little bird eyes. He was wearing a camp uniform, crisp and clean with razor sharp creases in the pants and sleeves. Kind of like Maynard, but in khaki. His bony wrists stuck out a few inches below his sleeves. Black socks and skinny ankles protruded from the sharp cuffs of his pants.

"Ladies! Ladies!" he rasped again. "Attention please." Brad's mouth was hanging opened. That voice had a strange pull on him. It couldn’t be ignored. He quickly popped his mouth shut and licked his teeth.

"I'm Mr. Spensor, head councilor at camp Wugga Mugga," the pointed man said. "Sheriff Box has assured me there is no danger from the escaped criminal. The sheriff's department is hot on his trail and expect to have him in custody within hours. He was last seen headed in the opposite direction of the camp."

"Maynard's mom gulped and shook her head, she was squeezing an umbrella in her hands. "But my precious lamby," she moaned.

Brad sighed. There goes another black eye for another little kid, he thought.

"Please!" Mr. Spensor's abrasive voice cut the air. "Sheriff Box has assured me there is no danger. We must load the bus and stick to our Sche-du-ell." He clipped the last word in three distinct syllables.

Brad's mom was the first to move, she picked up Brad's pack and headed for the bus. "If the sheriff says it's safe I believe him," she declared. "Besides, I trust Brad to handle himself in any situation. They are as safe at camp as here, I suppose."

Brad smiled with pride. What a mom! Soon all the parents were helping children load their bags. Brad walked across the lawn, still holding Trista by the hand. He noticed Chelsie Graham struggling with a large pack. He hurried pulling his sister’s arm. "Let me help," he offered.

Chelsie looked up at Brad. He felt a quick thrill at the sight of her big green eyes. She smiled. Brad swore he saw a glint of sunlight flash off her teeth and lighten her red hair which was tied at the nape of her neck with a large bow. "Thank you." she whispered.

"Here, you hold the baby." Brad transferred his sister's pudgy hand to the girl and felt a brief touch of Chelsie's skin. His face burnt red. He turned quickly to the pack, hoisted it on his back and staggered toward the bus; trying to look like the load wasn't heavy. A college kid with a blue shirt that said, "I Luvva Wugga Mugga" took the bag and hoisted it to the rack on top of the bus.

Kids started clamoring aboard. Brad's mom picked up Trista. She leaned down and gave Brad a quick, publicly-not-mushy hug. "Bye mom." He hurried forward and jumped all three steps into the bus.

Petes was already inside saving him a place. Chelsie took the seat in front of the boys.

Brad's mom waved as they drove away. "Be careful now," she called. Mrs. Griggs was dabbling at her eyes with a damp handkerchief. The bus started pulling out. Brad looked at the scowl on Maynard's face. He would have to keep an close eye on Maynard. As soon as the bully sensed weakness in any little camper he would strike.

Mr. Spensor was standing at the front of the bus swaying back and forth as the bus moved along. He tapped a little stick on the safety bar.

"Campers! Campers!" he rasped. The bus quieted a bit. "It is an hour's drive to our fair camp. We expect co-Oper-A-tion and spArk-ling behavior from you during the journey."

The kids howled. Maynard sent a spitball sailing towards the front of the bus. Mr. Spensor swayed ominously.

"Let me introduce you to our councilors," shouted the head counselor over the din. "A re-PRI-mand from any of them during the drive will cost one de-MER-it at camp." The bus quieted. Brad wondered what a "de-MER-it" might be. He guessed no one else knew either.

"First we have Lucy." called Mr. Spensor.

A girl at the back of the bus stood up. Her shirt was red, it said, "I Wuv Wugga Mugga."

"Tom."

He was the "I Luvva Wugga Mugga," boy that had taken Chelsie's bag and thrown it on top of the bus.

"Alice."

Another girl stood up. Like the first girl her shirt was red and said, "I Wuv Wugga Mugga."

And last but not least, Frank."

As Frank stood up in his blue shirt Brad poked Petes in the ribs. "See," he said. "Girls Wuv Wugga Mugga and boys Luvva Wugga Mugga."

"Sick." said Pete. He jabbed back. "Say that ten times real fast."

The bus bounced on, leaving town behind and heading for the mountains.