A/N: I know the Animorphs aren't really close, but this is more my idea of how they would act if they all chilled out a little and really enjoyed themselves. I do not own anything pertaining to the Animorphs. Those all belong to K. A. Applegate. Travis and Dave are my own characters.
Chapter 1: Starting Out
Hi. My name is Travis. Rachel and Jake are my cousins. We go to the same school and we've had some pretty good times. The best time, though, was when I found out about the Animorphs and we helped rescue our fellow campers when there was a freak tidal wave on a river rafting trip. It started out as a pretty normal day…
"All aboard!" Mr. Dixon yelled.
A couple of late freshmen scrambled for a seat on the bus as the doors closed with a soft whoosh. The engines started with a rasping cough and the axles groaned as the bus moved slowly forward, marking the beginning of a long bus ride to the river.
Cassie, Marco, Jake and Rachel and I were seated near the back of the bus, watching the hustle and bustle of the inexperienced freshmen as they loaded numberless bags and accessories for the two day overnighter. Cassie, Marco, Jake and Rachel had been friends since – well, since nobody could remember. Now, as high school juniors on the last field trip of the year, they were looking forward to another adventure and a respite from constant peril fighting the Yeerks. Little did they know that danger would not be coming from the Yeerks this time, but from a different venue. Rachel kept looking out the window, well, staring really, at the red-tailed hawk (Tobias) and the northern harrier (Ax) sitting in the trees 20 feet from the bus. Most other kids were too excited to notice, but I love animals of all kinds and gazed with rapt attention at the predators.
"Here we go on another fun-filled adventure with the magic school bus," Marco said. He turned around to lean up against the side of the bus and tease Rachel about her "bird-boy." The resulting scathing look, enough to make the senior football players want to curl up in their half-empty helmets. Marco just continued on, blithely ignoring Rachel's facial expressions.
"Nah; this is the one field trip a year I look forward to. Last year's trip to the river was pretty cool," Cassie said with a grin, "Remember Ms. Pearce's third grade class trip to the post office? This trip is definitely better than that."
"Oh, man! Do I ever; that was the time Marco was lost in the mail sorting room and we found him crying in a corner," Jake laughed. Marco glared at him and opened his mouth to retaliate when Mr. Dixon, the principal, got on the loud speaker.
"Students and staff," he began, "as we embark on this epic journey into the wilderness, let's get a few things straight: I'm going to see no evil, hear no evil, smell no evil, got it?"
There were a few titters from the middle of the bus, where the freshmen were sitting, and Mr. Dixon glared at a particularly smug freshman, Jerry Harris.
"That's right, Mr. Harris: no stink bombs, fish lures or…flatulence in the chaperone tent," he said with a twinkle in his eye. Mr. Dixon settled his glasses on the bridge of his nose and began a long oration of the rules and regulations of student conduct on this last field trip of the year.
Cassie turned around to discuss particulars of the trip with us and, after a heated debate about Marco's idea to prank a group of freshman girls (ultimately ending in an abandonment of the idea), we took a nap to conserve energy and constructively pass the bus ride.
Several hours later, with crunching gravel and screaming brakes, the old yellow bus finally pulled to a stop in front of a moldy hardwood cabin where our guide lived.
I leapt off the bus and pulled out my belongings. My dad is an Air Force PJ (Para Jumper) for the Special Forces and he taught me to pack resourcefully (and light), so I only had the one standard sized backpack, a camelbak full of water, a rolled up sleeping bag and the tent-in-a-bag. There were a few of my favorite MREs (Meals Ready to Eat) thrown on the top of my pack. I economized the situation by swiftly securing the tent to the bottom of the backpack and the sleeping bag to the top with Bungee cords. A nearby freshman rolled her eyes and tugged on a large, overstuffed purple bag stuck under her seat. Jake discreetly gave it a kick and the bag popped loose. The freshman stood and triumphantly swung the bag over her shoulder, making Rachel duck to avoid a faceful of purple mesh. Her eyes blazed as she retaliated: "Hey, watch it!" The freshman ignored her, picked up her matching purple sleeping bag and pillow, sauntered down the aisle to the door of the bus and joined the growing queue of students outside.
By this time, Mr. Dixon had marshaled everyone together and was introducing Dave, the tour guide.
Dave was a California beach bum throwback to the 60s with long, tangled brown hair, a slightly wrinkled Hawaiian shirt and knee-length shorts with worn brown sandals. He had a ball cap with a psychedelic peace sign on it and a pair of sunglasses resting on the visor. His habit of calling everyone "dudes and dudettes" was more annoying the more it was said; and Dave said it a lot. The experienced had learned not to stand too close to Tour Guide Dave on previous trips and this time was no exception. We could see some freshmen standing near him starting to turn blue from discreetly trying to hold their breaths. As a wilderness guru, Dave believed in bathing only when he fell into the river. As he was a river guide, this didn't happen too often; though several students had attempted to push him in. The results were often hilarious for everyone else and Dave remained dry.
Cassie and I were particular favorites with Dave because of our enthusiasm for the outdoors. Unfortunately, this put us at the top of the list for potential raft-mates with Dave. Naturally, where Cassie goes, Jake and Rachel go, too, which also made them favorites for "following" Dave around. Marco just didn't want to be left alone, so this trip was no different: all five of us would probably end up in Dave's raft.
After Dave addressed the newbies, he made a bee-line for his favorites. "Hi dudes and dudettes," he drawled, "It's radical to see ya'll here again. Don't worry; ya still get your place of honor in my raft. Well, chop chop, we're shovin' off in a few. Laters," he said and moved to help some sophomores stow their stuff in the bottom of a raft.
After Dave had moved off, Marco let his breath out and took a cursory sniff.
"All clear," he said and everybody exhaled. "I really think we should all push him in this year; he's overdue for a good dousing," he added mischievously.
"Yeah, I agree. We've put this off for a long time," Jake grinned, "Maybe he'll stop calling us 'dudes and dudettes,' that's really been getting on my nerves for a while now."
"Sounds like a plan," Cassie added, pulling out a water-proof camera, "I'll take the picture."
"Yeah, and I'll trip him if you two push," I said with a shy laugh. I adored the four older teens and cherished my time with them; I just didn't know how to interact with them quite yet.
About an hour later, all the students' belongings had been properly stored, travel groups had been assigned (permanently by Mr. Dixon because some senior girls had made a fuss; the Animorphs and I had secured our group) and the entire fleet of 24 rafts, each carrying 6 bodies, began the "epic journey" down the river. In addition to Tour Guide Dave, five assistant guides rode in random rafts spaced evenly throughout the flotilla, which stretched about three-quarters of a mile down the river.