Thunder and Lightning: Julian's Private Scrapbook Book 4

By Eldot and Leland Hall

Thunder and Lightning is the fourth in the five book Scrapbook series.  It explores the world from the eyes of a young gay boy.  His needs and desires are looked at honestly, with a sense of humor and without the baggage of present day prejudice.

Julian has established himself as a leader and is ga

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diphra Enterprises
• Release date: Mar 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781732541283

Eldot

cover design already provided

Book preview

Julian’s Private Scrapbook

Book 4

Thunder and Lightning

a summer frolic

by

Eldot

Title Page End

To JFH

—Eldot

Library of Congress Control Number:      2018963771

ISBN:

Softcover      978-0-9966325-8-4

Hardcover      978-1-7325412-3-8

ePub      978-1-7325412-8-3

Kindle      978-1-7328805-3-5

Novels in the Julian’s Private Scrapbook series:

Barr’s Meadow

The Poker Club

The Shooting Gallery

Thunder and Lightning

The Champions

Also by Eldot:

You’re in high school now: Julian’s Sophomore Year, Part 1

eBook only: Inside the World of Eldot

The Little J and Roger series

Publisher’s Note:

This book is written for a mature audience. It is not written to serve or encourage prurient interests; it contains no pornography or graphic language, but there are several intimate male/male passages. Readers who are offended by that should not read this book. All the characters in the story were 62 years of age or older at the time the story was written in 2010.

Copyright 2019 by Diphra Enterprises LLC

All rights reserved.

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TL QRS Review 1TL QRS Review 2TL Blue Ink Review

Author’s note: Thunder and Lightning, the fourth in a five book series, is a sequel. It begins at midnight, precisely where Book 3, The Shooting Gallery concluded. Repetition of previous material is avoided as a rule, though references to events in books 1, 2 and 3 occur occasionally. Introductory passages are provided for new characters only; the main characters and situations are in medias res. Much has happened, and many characters are busily continuing various enterprises. Readers new to the series could be at some disadvantage.

To offset this, help is provided: a synopsis of the previous three books follows the final chapter, and each character has an index entry that summarizes important events previous to this book. Descriptions of Camp Walker and Barr’s Meadow from book 1 are included as well. These should answer most questions.

The custom of prefacing each day at camp with a brief preview is continued; maps and floor plans are inserted in places where they could enhance the Book 4 episodes, or are included in the supplementary material.

The glossary provides explanatory information about the 1960s that may not be familiar to contemporary readers; some were utilized in one or more of the previous novels [Barr’s Meadow, The Poker Club, and The Shooting Gallery], and are repeated because their relevance continues in this book.

The placement of this story in a scout camp has not been made with permission. The story is not about any organization or its activities, goals, or personnel. It is about specific fictional characters and what is happening in their lives outside of the scouting domain. Presumably much of what the characters do would not be approved or condoned by any scout organization, and nowhere is such a thing suggested or inferred. But the scouting enterprise was so universal and ubiquitous that scout camp was nearly generic in those years. It is a logical setting in which to focus on these characters’ lives. The scout organization in this story, entirely fictional as well, is depicted with respect and admiration whenever and wherever it is mentioned.

Julian’s Private Scrapbook is a work of fiction, though its origin is in true life experience. Similarities to actual persons and places have been systematically modified to eliminate any basis for recognition. Some of the places exist, but are used fictitiously.

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Table of Contents

Before you begin…

A word about the style

Second Monday

1 Sunup, Whispering Oaks

2 Big Ben

3 Geoff’s quest

4 Mark and Geoff 1

5 Monday afternoon

6 Kurt and Tom

7 Mark and Geoff 2

8 Monday supper

9 Drawing clouds

Second Tuesday

10 Morning dreams

11 Sub hunting

12 Clearing the trail

13 Julian comforts Sid

14 Kurt and Nick

15 Danny on guard 1

16 Afternoon potpourri

17 Justin and Leonard

18 Low camp

19 Mark’s second pose

Second Wednesday

20 Weather surprise

21 Water polo plans

22 Panther inspection

23 Geoff finishes the trail

24 The tree

25 Lifeguard duty

26 Close call

27 Drawing board

28 Danny’s big break

29 Lakeside

30 Back at HQ

31 Taxi service

32 The big sheet version

33 Insomnia

Visual Material

Camp Walker Map

Scoutmaster’s Cabin

Waterfront Map

Headquarters: Floorplan Detail

Hawk Camp/Barr’s Meadow

Barr’s Meadow Map

Geoff’s Trail Map

Headquarters Building

Supplementary Material

Preview

Synopsis of Books 1-3

Site descriptions

Camp Walker Staff

Glossary

Index of Names

Troop 9 Roster

A word about the author

Other Books in the series

Reviews

Key to symbols

before you begin… a word from Eldot

If you are new or just arrived in Julian’s world, a few words to the wise might be a good idea—it’s a very different world. Thunder and Lightning takes its title from a major event in the story, which is no surprise. But as this is the fourth in a series of five books, the reader could be in for more than a just a surprise.

This is not the place to discuss the arcane subject of plot structure, but it’s only fair to let the reader in on at least one secret ahead of time: the purpose of book 4 [or Act 4, as Shakespeare proved so well] is to show how the best effort of the antagonist (or villain) gets foiled or defeated after coming close to winning. Technically, that’s what makes the series a comedy, not the number of laughs along the way. That struggle has been ongoing under the surface for the entire series, and it comes out into the open at last.

Though the story is set in an all-boy summer camp, its not really a story about camp—its about growing up and coming of age. Discovering where to fit in can be the source of comedy and fun. Julian’s Private Scrapbook is about what could go right and should, as opposed to what could go wrong instead and sometimes does. And it’s the story that the TV news never tells or allows to be told. It’s honest, so brace yourself or be ready to skip a page or two if it gets a bit too naughty for you.

It’s set in the 1960s on purpose: no electronic gadgets for the characters (or reader) to hide behind. Things happen at a natural pace, not an electronic pace. And it’s a good way to have fun—which is one of the main goals.

If you are new to the series, you would benefit from reading the note about the presentation style before jumping in. That said, welcome to Camp Walker.

Eldot Signature

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a word from Eldot about the style…

For readers new to the Julian series, here’s a heads up about an unusual device employed in the revised version. The goal is to maximize the reader’s ability to get inside the characters while retaining the advantage of being an observer outside.

Standard narrative practice is to place the reader either inside or out, not both: inside means using the first person, seeing only what the character sees—usually a single character. Outside means using the third person point of view, seeing the character and the world of the story from outside, similar to watching a movie.

The original version employed an experimental style that intermingled first and third person usage; the goal was to enable the reader to get an inside-the-character perspective while retaining the advantages of seeing the character from other perspectives. The device was not a complete success—it achieved the goal, but at a cost—it was awkward in places and to some readers, somewhat annoying.

The revision has dealt with that problem directly by employing visual clues. All first person point of view elements are in italics. No other use of italics is permitted. If italics would usually be employed to express emphasis or stress, boldface is used instead.

Additionally, a completely different font is employed to show dream activity, and another for sound effects.

Here’s a sample quoted from chapter 1:

he was very pleased with himself… he’d snuck Robin into the Indian Legends group so that he could meet some of the guys and hear some of his scoutmaster’s yarns. hiding together under this tarp and goofing around while the stories are being acted out in the group is so daring. it’s supposed to be a hogan or some kind of lodge. we’re s’posed to hop out on cue and give the bird cry… what’s that cue again? it’s cozy and dark in here… smells like Robin. what could be better than that?

> > snuffle snuffle. rustle… snuffle < <

what story is he telling now? he must be miming something. the sounds are so clear… just as if he’s right behind. what’s he doing? rummaging? I hear sloshing… clanking... flopping canvas?

> > snuffle… sniffle: rii—ip! < <

Jack’s eyes popped open.

Robin awoke suddenly. Something had brushed the top of his hair. He thought he heard…

> > sss-sss----t! rip! crunch! < <

Unmistakable sound: a candy bar wrapper was being shredded right above his head. Jack heard it too—Jack’s wide-eyed face verified it. something is out there! it found the candy bars!

Jack drew his hand between their faces and held up three fingers. He mimed instructions: one… two… three…

They raised their heads simultaneously. The backside of a raccoon was wagging back and forth as the front side was working away at a candy bar wrapper. Its tail had brushed Robin’s head.

Incredible speed: the animal turned on a dime and stood on its hind legs, teeth bared. It did not make any sound—it didn’t know what it was facing.

Shoo! Scat! Get outta here! Jack shouted.

"Yaaaow!" Robin screamed.

The raccoon paused for a second. It sniffed the air. It seemed undecided, considering what to do. It did not appear to be afraid in the least.

The third person-first person mix is obvious; the reader’s engagement with a character is enhanced by seeing what he sees directly—as if a temporary window had opened; suddenly, the reader has two vantage points—almost like a split screen.

This technique has been utilized in varying degrees. In many places it is not used at all, in others it is extensive. Generally, the goal has been to get the reader into the character’s perception while keeping the ability to see things the character doesn’t. So when you run across this phenomenon, you’ll know what’s going on—I hope it makes the experience of Julian’s Private Scrapbook even more fun.

eBook note:

The print versions of this book utilize several fonts and font sizes that some eBook formats and readers can not accommodate. Those are described in the note below. In this version, all text will be presented in Times New Roman.

Fonts:

Times New Roman: all narrative and character content, all third person point of view in standard Times, sentences are capitalized; all first person in italics, sentences are not capitalized.

Optima: sound effects, noise, anything heard that isn’t or can’t be identified by quotation marks; these are placed between arrow brackets >> <<.

Lucida Handwriting: is used to indicate a dream stream-of-consciousness; this is always first person point of view.

American Typewriter indicates quoting a handwritten word, phrase or sentence.

Chalkboard is used for informational material within the novel: division contents, location descriptions such as the camp, features of buildings, and sites where the story takes place.

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Camp Walker

Camp Walker Map

Second Monday

Ninth Day

The story begins just after midnight on the dock at Camp Walker. Sunday night, Robin and Jack snuck out of their respective camps to meet for an overnight tryst. They plan to greet the sunrise and slip back into their tents before anyone else is awake.

The second week at the scout camp has begun; everyone will be back on task working on merit badges and advancing to the next rank. The mid morning activity break includes intramural water polo, where Mark Schaeffer, scoutmaster of Troop 9, is one of the coaches.

Mark has been targeted by Geoff Staples, the sophisticated scout from California. Geoff was on duty at the special service yesterday. He was totally entranced by Mark when he led Troop 9 up to the building. On the spot he decided to add Mark to his considerable list of sexual conquests. He pursues his quest with vigor.

Mark does not suspect Geoff’s motives, and has a few extremely awkward experiences.

Mark’s skill and purpose as a scoutmaster gets some attention; he deals with the problem of camp politics and relations with the other scoutmasters.

Nick Harrison and Tom Dawson are the top officers in Troop 9. With Julian’s assistance, they have created a special sleeping arrangement in the troop supply tent, and disguised it to avoid detection by the scoutmaster. Their romance has brought purpose and happiness to Tom, who is determined to make amends for his years of bad behavior whenever he can; he follows through on his promise to Kurt, who he had forced to have sex a year and a half ago. This is accomplished, but it gives Kurt a new problem to solve.

Julian, meanwhile, is hard at work perfecting his drawing skills, and swimming. He is unaware that Geoff plans to achieve the goal he has been working toward for more than a year. Julian’s strategy has been to prepare carefully; his goal is long term—the rest of his life. Wisely, he has revised his game plan—he intends to achieve his goal in small increments. He no longer expects to win Mark’s commitment before they return home.

[Reminder: the index entry for each character provides a thumbnail sketch of what happened in the previous three books.]

Moon Over Lake Walker

**

1 sunup at Whispering Oaks

The distant chorus of bullfrogs drifting in from the east caught Jack’s attention. what a good sound… It was so quiet out on the water tonight there was no way to tell how far the sound had traveled—but it was a fair distance. The water near the scout camp lakeshore was too deep for frogs—a sound he rarely got to hear… Eagle camp is too far from the creek for frogs. It was about the only sound right now. It lent a sense of comfort and harmony. He gave Robin’s hand a squeeze.

Robin glanced at Jack. He was staring off to the left—must be listening to the frogs. He squeezed back. The sound belonged. So did the occasional splash of a walleye feeding on water scooters. They had appeared magically when the breeze vanished. Fondly, Robin thought of his grandfather... Gramp preferred stream fishing. but he’d have a great time out there tonight—catch a smallmouth bass maybe.

The two scouts sitting on the end of the boat dock were not supposed to be there. It was after midnight; being out of their tents was a violation of their troop’s rules. And being here at the lake, a mile or more from their camps, was against Camp Walker regulations. Getting caught would be a very serious matter.

Jack and Robin planned this daring adventure yesterday. The Sunday afternoon free period was extra long, and they had taken full advantage. They didn’t want the day to end. They might have stayed too long but for a surprise visit by a family of turkeys running from something, clucking and scolding. Jack stood up first, then Robin. The birds scurried away to the west, more frightened than ever. The spell that had held them in place had been broken, fortunately: Jack checked his watch. They were able to get back to the dock just in time—but Robin’s flip comment about watching the moon rise over the lake started their minds working. The result was the after hours hike to the lake. Once here, they were only five minutes from Whispering Oaks, their secret place east of the Camp Walker waterfront. It was secure—perfect for their secret romance.

It was exciting to be AWOL, and unlike anything either had ever done. Their romantic fantasies had allowed them to think boldly, and put better judgment aside for a while. They were certain they could sneak back to their camps and no one would be the wiser. As trained and skilled scouts, they had a basis for feeling confident.

Jack’s legs sent a sudden message—a blanket of goose bumps had appeared suddenly—a puff of wind had found their perch at the end of the boat dock. Robin’s legs appeared to have received the same instructions.

Time to move, Robin nodded, as if reading Jack’s thoughts.

They stood and turned to their left. The rowboat was loaded and ready to go. Robin knelt on the edge and climbed over the bow. He took his place on the center bench and moved the oars into the locks.

Jack untied the tether and gave the bow a small push. He watched Robin slip the boat out, turn around and back up to the dock. He took his place on the stern bench. This had become their routine since magic Thursday, when they had taken their first ride together. Robin took such delight in demonstrating his rowing skill. Jack enjoyed this—he gave the dock a push.

Robin plied the oars with vigor. It was a more than a treat to be the driver—it offset the factor of his age. He was a year younger; he knew that Jack didn’t mind, but it always mattered to him—his own sense of being worthy of Jack needed this tangible outlet. Jack is so smart, creative, and capable—he’s an Eagle, after all. Robin didn’t need to be his equal, but he was intensely aware of how lucky he was to have Jack—he would never take that for granted.

Jack checked his watch. whoa… we spent almost an hour on the dock. it’s after midnight already! it’s different at night—so quiet. no swim center noises fading in the distance. The sound of rowing was reassuring in a way. The rhythmic pulse of their forward motion was soothing. The full moon was incredibly bright—only an hour or so until the meridian. makes Robin look wonderful. Off to the right the moon’s reflection hovered with a slight irregular shimmer, as if it was trying to refocus… no ripples fractured the image.

Robin turned around to check on their location… nearly there. The moonlight was just as good as the sun for showing the shoreline. He’d wondered about that. Not a problem after all. He pushed forward on the oars to slow the momentum. The turn was just ahead.

Jack made a show of checking his watch. Excellent time tonight, Captain.

Thankee, sir, Robin quipped.

Puts you in line for a bonus. Jack licked his chops.

All right! Robin watched the bank on the port side. They eased into the opening… the mouth of the inlet was only a foot and a half wider than the boat.

Now. Jack cued Robin when to brake. The boat touched the bank softly. Jack always marveled at Robin’s skill. He readied himself to step onto the bank when Robin swung the boat alongside.

The clearing was less than a hundred feet into the trees. Coming here the last four days had enabled them to establish a working trail. Jack’s flashlight made finding it simple. He led the way in—the landside segment of these outings was his domain. He had pre-determined the spot. He put his pack to the side. We should be able to scoop a bunch of leaves over here easy enough. Enough moonlight made it into the area to make the task easy.

They spent a few minutes gathering dried oak leaves. Amazing how these held up over time. They plucked out a stray twig or two as they built the mound of leaves. Jack discovered a branch that made a tolerable rake. Soon they had a pile five or six inches deep. Robin unrolled his sleeping bag and gave one end to Jack. They placed it in the center.

They stood briefly, hands on hips, inspecting. Anything else needed? Nope. They hadn’t planned what to do next. Who was going to be on the inside? They looked at each other. They had become accustomed to doing things without a lot of talk. Usually they were thinking the same thing. It was spooky sometimes.

oh... Jack stepped over to his pack and pulled out the pillow. He handed it to Robin. Your bag, your choice. That made it possible to proceed.

Robin didn’t want to choose, but he had to. He tossed the pillow at the head. I’ll go in first. Later on we can trade places. That seemed reasonable and fair. wait. should I take off all my clothes? He’d never been nude in bed before—never spent the night with anyone in a sleeping bag, either. He watched Jack undress… if he takes off his skivvies… yep. okay: all the way. Made perfect sense, anyway. He flipped open the bag and tossed his socks and skivvies into the foot.

You think there’ll be a lot of dew in the morning? Jack recalled their campout procedures. The clothes were always laid inside the sleeping bag so they wouldn’t be cold and damp when they got up the next day. He tossed in his socks and undies.

Robin thought about that. In the meadow, some mornings were very wet… likely the same in the forest. What’s a few wrinkles? Better that than starting the day in a damp shirt, for sure. He folded his shirt and placed it into the bag, near the head. He took Jack’s and placed it on top his. He put the shorts lower down along the inside fold. He reached for Jack’s. plenty of room. He sat down and brushed off his feet. He swung around and cozied in. nice… getting chilly out.

Jack looked forward to this. He stooped down and started the zipper. it’s easy to slide it the rest of the way after I’m in. He sat next to Robin and brushed off his feet. here goes: dream come true! He scooted in. rats—he had to turn his back to finish the zipper… there. He turned to face Robin. now it’s dream come true.

They looked into each other’s eyes. Plenty of light… not like on the lake, but enough. They kissed lightly for starters.

Bonus? Robin teased.

I’ll have to spring that as a surprise, Jack smirked. It’s too crowded in here for what I had in mind. That was a dodge; he hadn’t figured out what to do for a bonus. It was just a phrase, actually… now I have a good excuse to plan something.

Yeah, it is cozy in here all right. This was thrilling—even if it was a bit cramped. He glanced at Jack again—a wave of emotion swept through him. He hugged Jack and giggled. Everything was perfect right now. He pecked Jack on the lips. Actually, I’m your prisoner in my own sleeping bag. How’s that for a surprise? He felt a pulse against his abdomen. He reached down and grasped Jack’s butt and pulled him close. His erection pressed against Jack.

Jack didn’t think he’d be horny after this afternoon—or yesterday afternoon, now… but Robin always did this to him. He reached around and pulled Robin even tighter. Why waste time with small talk? Plenty enough time for that afterwards.

They always made love in this fashion; it was not especially awkward, surprisingly. It was novel to a degree in this bag, but the occasion itself was a huge turn on. They followed their standard routine—kisses and hand manipulation. They preferred that—and, this arrangement accommodated very nicely. No complaints; the leaves were doing their job as well; the rustle and crunch was soft, approving.

Jump Forward

Afterward, Jack held his hand in place; the lovemaking tonight was more graceful than usual—almost like a slow dance. too bad it’s over.

Cripes. Robin complained.

You left your towel in the pack. I left my Kleenex, too. I didn’t think about that until this minute, either. He chuckled. Your bag, your choice!

Robin was stuck—his socks and skivvies might have served, but they were out of reach down at the foot of the bag. palms are full… not so good. Can you get to the zipper without…

Smearing all over the bag? Jack finished the question. He turned onto his back for openers. That freed his right hand. He fished over his shoulder for the zipper. lucky this zipper has a two-sided pull—I can do this from the inside… He got it halfway down and flopped the bag open. He emptied his cupped hand onto the leaves.

Man! outside air is cold! Robin turned onto his back and scooted upwards. He stood clear now—covered with goose bumps. He looked around—there. The pack was six feet away. He stepped over and grabbed it. The towel was the only item remaining inside. He wiped his hand clean and passed the towel to Jack. He placed the pack at the head of the sleeping bag.

Hey, bring mine over here while you’re at it; I brought goodies.

Robin fetched the other pack. Brr! He rubbed his arms. He wanted to get back into warm cozy land.

Ready in a jiff… Jack pulled out the canteen and a couple of candy bars …save the others for later. He swung the pack behind his head; it tipped over while he slid back down into the bag. He scooted to the right… it was Robin’s turn to be on the zipper side.

Good choice. Robin preferred candy bars with nuts inside; hit the spot right now, too. Eating a candy bar lying on the stomach was no problem—lousy for sipping from the canteen though. Nothing but sitting seemed any good for that. How long to sunrise? Robin didn’t have a watch.

Jack checked the time. Almost two o’clock. A while yet… about four hours. a while is right; how can we stay awake? at least the moon is still high.

I want to see it from the dock. Robin had been imagining that ever since they hatched this plot.

Me too. It will be a non event here—trees are in the way. we’ll go back over there around six… we need to be on the trail no later than six fifteen... if we hustle, we can make it to camp by wakeup time.

Turning over, Robin warned. His back didn’t like it when he was on his tummy for too long.

Jack turned onto his left side. The back of the sleeping bag felt good against his butt. He propped his left arm up and made a cradle for his head. The view of Robin’s face was perfect.

I still don’t believe we’re doing this. Robin chuckled.

Yeah... Jack reached over with his right hand and found Robin’s. I never expected to pull off anything like this, ever. Jack was used to being the one who stood for the rules—he was the JA of his troop, after all. why am I so willing to risk everything? The answer was right there, looking at him through Robin’s eyes. what am I going to do? in six days camp will be over. should I find a way to talk about it? Thoughts about the future kept nagging. maybe in a minute. He squeezed Robin’s hand… why spoil this moment with heavy talk? He wanted Robin’s time to be the best it could be.

Robin turned his head toward at Jack. He didn’t want to be corny. Instead of saying anything he puckered. Jack’s kiss was nice, as always. He thought about their first trip here… right after Rowing class. He remembered perfectly—Calvin was in a hurry to buy targets at the Trading Post. He was a nervous wreck until he’d spotted Jack coming down the trail. They’d come to this place, desperate and horny. The happiest time of his life up to now. tonight is better in some ways, maybe. toss up.

Jack turned onto his back. He looked up through the canopy of oak branches. Stars twinkled happily in the spaces between the leaves. what about next week? we’ll be over two hundred miles apart. we have to talk about that sometime… is there an answer to the problem? all we can do is make use of every minute we have. six days left, starting now… something will come to me. no point in worrying Robin about it... I’m the oldest. it’s my place to do the worrying.

Jump Forward

Mmm…

Jack’s contented hum was barely audible—a lovely sound, enough to stir Robin back to a waking state. He focused on Jack’s face… must be having a nice dream.

They had both fallen asleep, evidently. They weren’t going to do that. The original idea was to stay up all night and watch the sun rise over the lake. it’s okay. Jack is forgiven. but going to sleep isn’t a good idea… we have to leave in time… we don’t dare be late. if either one of us is discovered missing? hard to imagine what would happen. not fun, for sure.

let him sleep… I can do the stay awake duty for a while. we’ll be okay… it’s only fair, really—I have the shortest distance back to camp. I’ll have time for a nap when I get back. I’ll wake him in a minute or two. Savoring the memory of the last couple of hours was the perfect way to spend some time.

sneaking out of camp was way easier than I ever thought it would be. craziest thing I’ve ever done— And the most rewarding. Jack and he had come up with the idea yesterday afternoon—the free swim period was extra long after the banquet. Neither could find a convincing argument against doing this. Jack was a little bolder about it. well, he’s a year older. he’s an Eagle and a Junior Assistant, so what else could I do? I’m in good hands. arms, actually. Jack’s embrace is enough to protect me against the elements.

Robin took a deep breath. The night air had cooled considerably—but it smelled wonderful. He inhaled again… so did Jack. strange—sometimes they were so hot and horny that they were like beasts. Other times, they were mellow and soft and gentle. It wasn’t like this with anyone else. Sometimes they didn’t need any sex at all. Just being together was enough. Jack is who I need for the rest of my life. why does he have to live so far away? what will we do when camp’s over?

stop it, Robin! that kind of thinking will ruin the best night of your life. put that one away. you have to deal with that in daylight with Jack. he’ll have all kinds of brilliant ideas. your job is to make this time as best as it can be. we have all week to figure things out.

Fresh air was nice, but too cold. Robin ducked back under the edge of the bag and nuzzled his way to the crook of Jack’s neck. mmm. smells so wonderful here. let’s get hard again. in a minute I’ll wake Jack up for a second helping. only having one pillow is brilliant.

Jump Forward

he was very pleased with himself… he’d snuck Robin into the Indian Legends group so that he could meet some of the guys and hear some of his scoutmaster’s yarns. hiding together under this tarp and goofing around while the stories are being acted out in the group is so daring. it’s supposed to be a hogan or some kind of lodge. we’re s’posed to hop out on cue and give the bird cry… what’s that cue again? it’s cozy and dark in here… smells like Robin. what could be better than that?

>> snuffle snuffle. rustle… snuffle <<

what story is he telling now? he must be miming something. the sounds are so clear… just as if he’s right behind. what’s he doing? rummaging? I hear sloshing… clanking... flopping canvas?

>> snuffle… sniffle: rii—ip! <<

Jack’s eyes popped open.

Robin awoke suddenly. Something had brushed the top of his hair. He thought he heard…

>> sss-sss----t! rip! crunch! <<

Unmistakable sound: a candy bar wrapper was being shredded right above his head. Jack heard it too—Jack’s wide-eyed face verified it. something is out there! it found the candy bars!

Jack drew his hand between their faces and held up three fingers. He mimed instructions: one… two… three…

They raised their heads simultaneously. The backside of a raccoon was wagging back and forth as the front side was working away at a candy bar wrapper. Its tail had brushed Robin’s head.

Incredible speed: the animal turned on a dime and stood on its hind legs, teeth bared. It did not make any sound—it didn’t know what it was facing.

Shoo! Scat! Get outta here! Jack shouted.

"Yaaaow!" Robin screamed.

The raccoon paused for a second. It sniffed the air. It seemed undecided, considering what to do. It did not appear