Free Nerd Camp by Elissa Brent Weissman Page B

“That’s what I’d do.” He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed it slowly and carefully.
    â€œYou could say you get to pick the two pebbles you use,” tried Gabe.
    â€œBut he already picked them.” Wesley pointed to that sentence with his knife. “Now you just have to pick a hand.”
    Nikhil put his finger up while he chewed. He never spoke with food in his mouth, to avoid choking. “You could pick the left hand,” he said after he swallowed. “And then, when it’s black …” He trailed off.
    â€œBut that’s not using the pebbles on the ground,” said Gabe, picking up his cookie. “We have to try to use the pebbles on the ground, like Wesley said.”
    Nikhil opened his mouth to say something, but then he looked at Wesley and changed his mind.
    â€œThe ground is covered in black and white pebbles,” said Wesley, onto something. “You could pick up your own white pebble … and then ask him to shake hands before you start?”
    The counselors called for them to start cleaning up. Absorbed in thought, the boys finished their last bites and walked one behind the other to throw out their trash and deposit their trays.
    â€œUse the pebbles on the ground,” Gabe muttered. Hestopped for a second to think, and—
bonk
—Nikhil came crashing into him from behind. Gabe’s grilled cheese crusts and watery ice flew into Wesley’s back. Plates and cups and utensils clattered to the floor. There were a few seconds of silence as everyone in the cafeteria stopped and looked at them. But then, seeing nothing more exciting than a minor traffic accident, the noise returned.
    â€œSorry,” said Nikhil. He rushed to the floor to start picking everything up. “I should have kept a safer following distance.”
    â€œIt was my fault,” said Gabe. “I stopped to think. Sorry, Wesley.” He got down on his knees and began picking up utensils and used napkins.
    â€œIs this your fork?” asked Nikhil.
    â€œNo, I already have a fork,” said Gabe. “I’m missing a spoon. But we need to pick up everything anyway, so it doesn’t really matter whose—”
    He froze.
Use the pebbles on the ground. Opposites.
“I’ve got it!” Gabe shouted. “You
are
a genius, Wesley! And you’re a genius, too, Nikhil, for bumping into me!”
    Nikhil didn’t seem pleased with his credited role in the solution. Wesley looked at Gabe with a wrinkled nose, raisedeyebrows, and arched shoulders to avoid contact with his wet T-shirt.
    â€œHe picked up two black pebbles,” Gabe explained. “So you pick a hand and hit it really hard to make the pebble fall out. Then you say, ‘Well, we can’t tell what color it was because it’s
on the ground
with all of these black and white pebbles. So open your other hand, and whichever color it’s
not
is what I picked!’”
    Wesley nodded slowly, his face lighting up. “It’ll be black still in his hand, so he’ll have to admit to cheating or say you picked white.”
    Nikhil dropped everything from his hands onto his tray and stood up. “That’s good,” he said, admiring the solution, if not his present situation. “But let’s talk about this when we’re not in a place that could trip people.”
    They started giving Wesley problems to solve every night while he slept. They tried math problems and historical trivia and, of course, they asked him when Color War would break. If Gabe was sure both his bunkmates were asleep, he sometimes whispered personal questions, like “What can I do to make sure Zack likes me?” and “Even though I’m getting Zack, will Iever get a baby brother or sister, one who’s more like me?”
    But Nikhil and Gabe had a hard time staying awake to listen for the answers. He could say them at any time—midnight, 4:00 a.m., 6:15, or not