Free Signal by Cynthia DeFelice

interested. He asked Mr. Powers where the house is. Mr. Powers didn’t tell him, but—”
    “But he could find out from somebody else,” Cam finishes, her green eyes wide with apprehension.
    “So if you won’t come home with me—”
    She shakes her head quickly, sending drops of water flying from her soaking hair.
    “Then we’ve got to hide the tent really well,” I say. I point to a huge sycamore on the edge of the woods, where the trees meet the corn. It’s about as far away as the length of a soccer field. “It’ll be drier under that tree. I’m thinking that with rain this hard, Ray would have to be crazy to come way out here.”
    Cam looks worried, and I try to reassure her. “We’ll move to a more hidden spot tomorrow. It’s going to be dark before we know it, and you’ve got to get under cover and get warm.”
    She nods. I head for the tree and she follows. I was right: it is drier under the canopy. From there we can see only the very top of the farmhouse chimney, so there’s no way someone at the house could see us. This is as safe as we’re going to get tonight. I spread out the ground cloth, then take the tent out of the trash bag and unfold it, trying to remember how to set it up.
    There are a lot of short metal pieces we have to fit together to make poles. Then we have to figure out how the poles fit through the nylon loops and tunnels. We fumble around, getting it wrong. Finally, when everything falls into place, the tent pops up like magic.
    “Piece of cake,” I mutter with relief. To Cam I say, “Okay, get in there and change into some dry clothes. And wrap yourself in the sleeping bags. I’m going to make a fire.”
    “Are you sure?” Cam asks. “It seems risky.”
    Her teeth are chattering and Josie is drenched to the skin again. “There’s more risk of you and Josie getting hypothermia than of a small fire being seen,” I tell her. I try to get Josie to go into the tent with Cam, but she seems determined to stay with me.
    My friend Kevin and his dad were in scouting together since Kevin was a little kid, and I went camping with them once. Even though it was raining, Kevin’s dad insisted that we needed a campfire. He knew all about building fires, even without matches, and even in the rain. He taught us that the branches of spruce trees shed water like an umbrella, leaving the ground almost completely dry underneath.
    So I head for the spruce on the hillside and find some dry cones and twigs underneath. Then I break off a couple slightly larger dead branches, and some a bit larger than those. A few feet away from the tent, I carefully crumple the sheets of newspaper I’ve brought, and place the small, dry twigs and spruce cones on top. Then I light the paper. After several tries, the small twigs catch, and I slowly add bigger and bigger sticks.
    To my relief, the rain has begun to let up, turning from a downpour into a slow, steady drizzle. I think I might actually be able to keep this fire going. The wind has died down, too, so I don’t have to worry too much about setting the tent ablaze.
    Cam has changed and wrapped herself in one of the sleeping bags, and is peering out the tent flap at the firewith a look of amazement. “How did you do that?” she asks.
    I shrug modestly. “Shove over. Josie’s cold.”
    “Come on in here, Josie,” Cam urges, patting the sleeping bag beside her.
    Josie whines and looks from me to Cam and back at me. I laugh.
    “Looks like she’s not coming without me,” I say.
    “There’s plenty of room,” says Cam, wiggling sideways.
    I take off my slicker, crawl in, and wrap myself in the other sleeping bag. Josie jumps in right behind me and shakes herself all over. Cam and I both groan, then start to laugh as Josie circles a few times and plops down between us and happily starts licking herself dry.
    From my bundle, I take out the cheese, beef jerky, and crackers. Cam holds up the bag of Tootsie Rolls she brought from the farmhouse and