Calls it Trapper Nelsonâs Jungle Cruise. I dress up like Tarzan, wrap a black snake around my neck, feed them a bowl of chowder, sell them some trinkets, and send them on their way.â
âWhat kind of trinkets?â
âOh, a rattlesnake rattle or a conch shell, almost anything carved from a cypress knee. Amazing what city people will buy.â
âLike maybe a box turtle?â
âHmmm.â Trapper scratched his chin. âMaybe.â
âAnd about how much would a city person pay for a box turtle?â asked Cassidy.
There was the big laugh again. Willie flapped his wings and screeched.
âWhatever the market will bear, Youngblood! Whatever the market will bear!â said Trapper Nelson.
CHAPTER 10
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CHIP NEWSPICKLE
C hip Newspickle was famous for having a hilarious name. He shared this distinction with a sad little girl named Amarylis Character and the irrepressible Richard âDickâ Hertz, the designated class clown since kindergarten.
But Chip Newspickle, in addition to his compelling moniker, was famous for being a fast runner. Astoundingly fast.
By the time he got to junior high school, Cassidy had gradually relinquished his illusions about being truly fleet of foot. Even Demski now found himself surrounded by kids who could leave him behind with ease. Cassidy turned his attention to basketball, at which he had shown some meager neighborhood-level ability, and Demski, lacking any kind of coordination whatsoever, was now much taken with model airplanes.
But everyone in school knew about the phenomenon that was Chip Newspickle. He was very low-key about it, but then again he could afford to be; he had newspaper clippings.
Despite being only an eighth grader, Chip held the school and county records for the fifty- and hundred-yard dashes. He was such a star on the track team people had forgotten how funny his name was; it now just seemed cool.
Quenton Cassidy had taken his share of grief over his own name and was envious of anyone who had done something noteworthy enough to make the transition from funny name to cool name. But he had a hard time believing Chip Newspickle had actually run that fast. Cassidy had seen him ambling along the sandy hallways of Glenridge Junior High, and while he seemed maybe a little cockyâwho wouldnât be?âhe looked altogether mortal.
All of Cassidyâs friends knew their times for the fifty-yard dash. Cassidyâs was exactly 7.2 seconds, which had been one of the best in his gym class, though two of the ninth graders had gone under seven. To Cassidy, a time of 6.9 or 6.8 was comprehensible, but just barely. He had run enough time trials in phys ed to become familiar with what a tenth of a second meant on a running track, and he knew just how flat out he had had to run to get that 7.2. Moreover, when he ran it again at the end of the semester, he ran exactly the same time again, despite trying so hard he almost lost his Pop-Tarts on the infield.
Huffing and puffing, he walked back to where Coach Bickerstaff was studying the stopwatch.
âSeven point two. Good job, son,â said Bickerstaff, who had no idea why Cassidy walked away so unhappy.
For the first time in his life he was coming up against the cold, hard judgment of the stopwatch, and he now knew that his 7.2 represented the outer limits of his ability. It was disconcerting to think that some other mortal, some kid more or less his own age, could finish the same distance in âsix something,â could simply fly on up ahead of him so many yards in such a short distance. But then he heard about Chip Newspickle and had to get his mind around the idea that there were human beings who not only ran in the sixes, but in the fives!
Chip Newspickle ran the fifty-yard dash in 5.8 seconds!
And now, this morning, in second-period gym class, there was Chip Newspickle in the flesh, sitting there doing butterfly stretches as Coach Bickerstaff took roll. He was