It was when Brian in the next bed changed into an eel and slithered across the floor towards him that Jack realised he was in the wrong dorm, having enrolled in the wrong summer camp, because he got on the wrong bus at the station.


His parents were irritatingly right yet again. They’d always nagged him to get his nose out of that book and pay more attention to what was going on around him. Now he was going to be eaten alive because he liked a bit of Jules Verne on holiday.

Jack had barely glanced at the signposts, flicked an eye at his ticket and only half listened to the instructors at the induction session. Now Rupert had the body of a spider scuttling down the aisle. Kids in the other beds were also metamorphosising around him.

Brian had oozed himself to Jack’s bed, and plopped his head onto the pillow.

“You’re not changing then?” the eel asked.

“Uh no, I guess it’s just not happening yet,” Jack replied, mind racing as feverishly as his heart.

“You’re probably a late bloomer,” said Rupert, shooting a web up to the ceiling to lift himself up to bed height. “Don’t worry, it’ll happen eventually.”

Phew! They weren’t going to eat him just yet, not while they thought he was a late bloomer. Jack just had to find his way home before they realised he was normal, and boring, and very, very moreish. Pity he hadn’t read the signs.


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