Without the treasure map I was in trouble. One day the week before, we were so bored that we exchanged treasures. Mike gave me his favorite fishing hook, two dollars in dimes, a one-dollar bill, and the baseball card that Steve Garvey's cousin from Three Rivers had signed for a quarter. I gave him a mystery book I was dying to read, four new comic books, and my allowance for the next month. The idea was to bury the other person's treasure and later give him a map to find it.

My Cadet cap was buried too. Cadets is the name of my boys church group, and the cap is part of our uniform. My brother, Joel, was always stealing the cap and using it as a bed for his teddy bear. With summer camp for us Cadets coming up soon, I didn't dare lose the hat, and I figured the cap was more safe buried than not.

Good luck, Ricky Kidd, I told myself. If you haven't found it by now, you don't have much hope.

Over the last week, I had nearly been killed by the Bradleys' dogs, the meanest pair of German shepherds to ever get squirted by a water pistol. I thought for sure Mike would have buried it near them. I also had been yelled at by Old Man Jacobsen every time I went near his flower patch. He knew that a shovel in my hand did not mean weeding.

During the week, I had also been scared out of my shoes by Joel three times as he followed and spied on me. I was going crazy from nothing to do, and going crazy thinking about how dumb I was to let someone bury the mystery book I couldn't read and the allowance I couldn't spend. It was so bad, in the morning I almost volunteered to cut our lawn a day early, and barely stopped my mouth in time.

All I had to keep myself from going completely crazy was the thought of Cadet Camp. In three days, the day after Mike got back from the farm, all of us Cadets in the Jamesvile area were going into the deep woods way north of Three Rivers for the week-long camp.

To keep myself from doing anything else silly, like visiting Old Man Jacobsen and listening to his army stories, I lay back in the grass of our yard and thought of all the things I would do during that week. I had read everything I could about survival in the deep woods, and I had saved a month's worth of paper route money to buy a hatchet and knapsack.

It was named Camp Blackeagle after a tribe of Indians that used to live along the lake there for centuries. I knew that because Mrs. Hall, our librarian, had found a book on the area for me, and I had read it through three times, especially the part about Indian legends.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself saving the camp counselors from a snarling bear, or being the one to lead everyone back to camp after being lost for days. What an adventure camp would be.

Oh, yes, one week in the woods, and one week without Joel popping out of nowhere to scare me into a heart attack.

As a brother he's OK, I guess. He's only six, and I'm twelve years old and stronger and bigger and everything, but he has his ways of terrifying me. He's like having a personal ghost who shows up at all the worst times.

Joel never says much when you do manage to spot him. He just stares and watches. It seems he can get through locked doors and closed windows. He disappears as soon as you turn your head, and appears again when you least expect it. Which is usually when you're doing something you shouldn't. Those are the times I faint or have heart attacks. Or fall into disaster.

It figured that just as I thought of Joel, his shadow would cross my face. I hadn't heard him approach -- he's quieter than growing grass -- but I knew all I had to do was open my eyes, and there he'd be, staring mournfully at me.

The shadow passed, which meant he wasn't staying, which meant something was up.

I bolted upright, and managed to grab the back of his pants before he reached the shed. Once he's out of sight for half a second, he's gone like smoke on a windy day.

Sure enough, in his arms he had his teddy bear wrapped in my Cadet cap. I took the cap from him and slapped it back into straightness against my leg. Joel smiled and walked away.

The smile hit me. My Cadet cap! He knew where my treasure was buried!

I ran, but didn't bother shouting because he never listened anyway. By the time I rounded the corner of the shed, it was too late. He was gone.

It was time to go to a bigger power.

I marched into the kitchen to tell Mom exactly what her second-born son had managed to do. She was listening to the telephone with a worried look on her face. She waved me quiet and listened carefully.

"OK," she said, "We'll be there in three days. I'm glad it wasn't worse."

When she hung up, she took a deep breath to talk to me. That wasn't a good sign. She put her hands on my shoulders. A worse sign.

"Ricky, that was your Aunt Trudy. She broke a leg falling down her porch steps. It looks like your father and I are going to have to go there for a week or so until things settle down for her."

That wasn't so bad. Sometimes a serious talk means I'm in big trouble. I started to tell her about Joel and the buried treasure.

"Just a second," she said. "I have to make another call."

When the other person answered, she said, "Hello, Mr. Vanderhoek, I'm calling because my sister who lives out of town broke her leg and needs help."

There was a pause. "No, Mr. Vanderhoek, she didn't ask for your help."

I grinned because I could picture his face scrunched with thought as he considered why Aunt Trudy might ask him for help. He is the head of the boys church group, and nothing ruffles him. Mr. Vanderhoek thinks everything through and always speaks carefully and slowly, and he doesn't think of you as a kid. He is the kind of Christian I would like to be. He also smiles a lot when he's not thinking.

"I'm calling about the summer camp," my mom said.

Hold on, I thought, Aunt Trudy doesn't need me, even if I do have my first aid badge.

"Yes, Ricky's still going to camp," she said after pausing to hear Mr. Vanderhoek's question.

Whew.

She continued. "Unfortunately, Ricky's father needs to go with me. Since my sister has three kids and barely any extra room in her house, I'm calling to see if you can make an exception to let an under-age camper go to camp."

When my mom uses that tone, it's impossible to say no. I wasn't surprised to hear her say thank-you before hanging up. I wondered which of my cousins they were sending to camp to meet me.

"I'm glad that worked out," she said. "Now your father and I can go help Aunt Trudy while you look after Joel and enjoy summer camp together." She paused. "What was that you came busting in the kitchen to tell me?"

I nearly fainted. Joel nearby in the deep woods? I barely survived him here in Jamesville. She couldn't be serious about sending him to camp.

She snapped me out of my daze by repeating her question. "What did you rush in to say, Ricky?"

"Nothing," I said with resignation. "Nothing important anymore."

I had to begin emergency preparations right away.