Fort by Cynthia DeFelice Page A

trying to make up a cool acronym, so I forced myself to think about J.R. and Morrie and the lousy things they’d done. That got me mad all over again. Then, when we got back to the fort and I imagined J.R. and Morrie being there, fooling around with our stuff, I was seriously ticked off.
    We built a new fire and sat staring at it.
    â€œYou can always think better by a fire,” I said.
    â€œDefinitely,” Augie agreed.
    After a minute, I asked, “So, did you think of anything?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    â€œMe neither.”
    A couple more minutes went by.
    â€œAnything?” I asked.
    â€œNope.”
    Finally, I offered, “We need something diabolical. Fiendishly clever.”
    â€œFor sure,” Augie agreed.
    â€œSomething that’ll really teach those jerks a lesson.”
    â€œYeah,” said Augie.
    â€œSo they’ll never mess with us—or Gerard—again.”
    â€œYeah!” said Augie, turning to me for a high five.
    After a few more minutes, I said, “Right here: this is where it’s got to happen. They’re definitely going to come back here.”
    Augie nodded.
    â€œSo we need to be ready for them.”
    â€œUm-hmm.”
    â€œThey’re older than us,” I went on. “And bigger and meaner.” I grinned. “But we have the advantage of superior brain power.”
    Augie grinned back. “Goes without saying.”
    â€œEvery good military tactic uses the element of surprise,” I said. “I read that somewhere, anyway.”
    â€œMakes sense,” said Augie. “That’s a good start.”
    â€œAnd”—an idea hit me—“Gerard should be here to watch it happen.”
    â€œTotally,” agreed Augie.
    We high-fived.
    â€œI’m getting hungry,” said Augie.
    â€œMe, too.”
    â€œWant to do some squirrel hunting? While we think more, I mean?”
    â€œMight as well,” I said.
    Augie handed me the Squirrel-Slayer.
    â€œYou sure?” I asked. “I mean, we could starve to death before I hit one.”
    Augie handed me a few marbles. “These are easier to aim than stones. You’ll see. Take a few practice shots.”
    I did. I guess I got a better feel for the slingshot, but I didn’t actually hit anything I was aiming at. I didn’t want to waste Augie’s valuable ammo, so I gathered up the marbles and handed them back.
    â€œYou shoot, and I’ll chuck the rocks,” I said. “I need way more practice, and I want to eat sometime today .”
    Augie shrugged, and I returned the slingshot. We found another pine tree full of cones and set up underneath it, the way we had before.
    As we sat very still waiting, half of my brain concentrated on listening for squirrels, but I let the other half work on the J.R.-Morrie problem.
    When we’d finished, Augie had shot two squirrels, and I still hadn’t thought of anything close to a plan.
    As we cooked the squirrel meat, we racked our brains.
    â€œI keep coming up against the same problem,” I complained.
    â€œWhat’s that?” asked Augie.
    â€œWe don’t know when J.R. and Morrie will come back. Like if they came right now, what would we do? Pelt them with hunks of squirrel?”
    â€œWaste of good meat,” Augie muttered.
    â€œTrue,” I said. “But we can’t let them have the element of surprise.”
    â€œI don’t think we have to worry about that,” said Augie, looking pleased with himself.
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause,” he replied, wiggling his eyebrows, “I happen to know they have JV football practice every weekday starting today.”
    â€œReally?” I said, unable to believe this piece of good luck. “You sure?”
    â€œYep,” said Augie. “They all complain about how hard Coach works them. They only have off on the weekends. I figure they’re dying to get back here and cause more