Series 2000- Are You Terrified Yet? Read online

  “What’s up?” I repeated. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Why did Amy look so upset? What was so urgent?

  Across the street, I spotted a girl of about six or seven standing under a tall tree. I saw a lunch box and a red jacket on the ground beside her. She stared up into the tree, pointing furiously and shaking her head.

  “Hurry,” Amy repeated, tugging me across the street.

  As we came nearer, I could hear the girl crying.

  “Which-what’s the problem?” I asked breathlessly.

  Sobbing hard, the girl pointed up to a high branch. “My brother—” she choked out between sobs.

  “He’s up there,” Amy told me.

  “Excuse me?” I started to back away. But Amy blocked my path.

  “Her little brother climbed the tree, and now he can’t get down,” Amy explained.

  “Too bad,” I murmured. I gazed up into the leafy branches. I could see legs and two sneakers dangling from a high limb.

  “What are we going to do?” the girl wailed.

  “Get me down!” a high voice called from up in the tree.

  Amy placed a comforting hand on the girl’s trembling shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We have a superhero right here.”

  Huh? Me? I thought.

  That sinking feeling in my stomach became a tight, hard knot. I suddenly felt really sick.

  “No problem,” Amy told the girl. “Craig will climb up and bring your brother down in seconds. Craig is so brave. He does this kind of thing all the time.”

  “Oh, wow,” I murmured. I gazed up at the dangling sneakers. How did the kid climb so high?

  My stomach churned. I’m totally afraid of heights.

  I mean, I get nauseous on escalators!

  Amy gave me a shove toward the tree. “Go ahead, Craig. Hurry! Bring the poor kid down,” she urged.

  I could feel cold sweat rolling down my forehead. I wiped my clammy hands on the legs of my khakis.

  “Stop crying,” Amy told the girl softly. “Craig will take care of everything. Right, Craig? Tell her.”

  “Right,” I choked out. My voice cracked on the word.

  I stared up at the dangling sneakers.

  “Get me down! Get me down!” the little boy wailed.

  Amy and the girl were both watching me.

  I wiped off my cold, sweaty hands again. And stared up at the high tree limb.

  I can’t do this, I realized.

  I’ve never climbed a tree in my life.

  No way I can get up there. And if I do get up there, no way I can bring the kid down.

  I’ll fall and break every bone in my skinny, cowardly body.

  What can I do?

  What?

  I glanced back and saw kids running from all directions. A crowd gathered around the tree.

  “Is the boy okay?”

  “How did he get up there?”

  “Is he stuck up there?”

  Alarmed voices all around.

  “It’s okay. No problem,” Amy assured everyone loudly. “Craig is going to bring him down.”

  I swallowed hard. Everyone turned to stare at me.

  Craig, you have no choice now, I told myself. You have to go up and rescue that kid.

  If you don’t, you’ll be Can-Can-Can-Craig at Middle Valley Middle School for the rest of your days.

  I swallowed again. My legs were shaking so hard, I thought my pants would fall down! I hoped Amy couldn’t see the terrified expression on my face.

  I wrapped my arms around the tree trunk.

  Ow. The jagged bark scraped my hands.

  I can’t do this, I realized.

  “Help me! I’m sooooo scared!” The little boy called down. “Please—help me! The branch—it’s breaking! It’s breaking!”

  Behind me, kids gasped and screamed.

  Over the sound of their screams, I heard a loud CRAAAAAACK.

  My whole body shuddered.

  “Hurry!” Amy cried.

  “The tree is breaking!” the little boy wailed.

  Another CRAAAACK made everyone gasp and cry out again.

  I wiped my sweaty hands. “Hold on tight up there!” I boomed, trying to sound brave. “I’m coming up!”

  “Hurry! Hurry!” Kids were shrieking.

  Another CRAAAACK, like Velcro tearing.

  I grabbed the trunk again. And lifted my feet off the ground. Slowly, carefully, I hoisted myself onto the lowest limb, only a few feet off the ground.

  Whew. So far, so good.

  Why didn’t the kid stop here? I wondered.

  I swung myself up. My hands were so wet, they nearly slid off the branch.

  I grabbed for the next limb—and got a mouthful of leaves.

  Yuck.

  “Help me!” The boy’s cries were still high above me. “Help! I can’t hold on any longer! It’s breaking! It’s breaking!”

  “I’m … coming!” I choked out.

  I hoisted myself onto the next limb. Then I forced my legs to stop shaking and stood up.

  Hugging the trunk tight, I worked my way around to the back of the tree. I found a limb a few feet above my head. Grabbed it. Pulled myself up.

  Yes!

  “Hurry! Ohh … hurry!” The frightened boy sounded a little closer.

  “I’m … almost … there,” I called up to him.

  “I can’t hold on! I can’t!”

  Taking a deep breath, I pulled myself higher. I could see his sneakers clearly now, dangling, his legs kicking. Just a few branches above me.

  “I’m … coming! Hold on!” I gasped.

  I hoisted myself higher. Higher.

  Until I reached the limb where he sat.

  He turned to me, his round, little face red as a tomato, glistening with tears. His blond hair standing up in wild tufts. His T-shirt dirty and ripped at one shoulder.

  “Hold on,” I uttered. “I’m here. Just hold on.”

  Slowly … slowly … I worked my way out on the limb. Farther. Almost there … Almost …

  I reached out both hands to grab him.

  “I’ve got you—to was I whispered.

  My hands were inches from him—when he fell.

  I watched his hands fly up as he slipped off the branch.

  “Nooooooo!” a scream of horror burst from my throat.

  I cut it short when I realized the kid didn’t fall.

  He grabbed another limb. Grabbed it and dove to the trunk.

  Then as I gaped in shock, he slid easily down the trunk to the ground.

  He landed softly on his feet.

  Peering down through the leaves, I saw his sister wrap him in a hug.

  Loud cries and cheers rang out.

  Then, over the ringing cheers, I heard a terrifying sound.

  Another CRAAAAACK.

  So close now.

  Another CRAAAACK. Right under me!

  It took less than a second.

  I heard the CRAAAACK. Then I felt a rush of air as I started to fall.

  “Hey—to was I let out a cry. And shot up both hands. Grabbed for the limb above me.

  My hands wrapped around it.

  No. I missed the limb.

  My hands wrapped around—a bird’s nest!

  I glimpsed the nest.

  I heard myself scream. A high, long scream.

  And then I hit the ground. Hard.

  I think I landed on my stomach. I’m really not sure.

  I remember the THUD. The pain. And then, blackness.

  I guess I had my wind knocked out.

  When I opened my eyes, I found myself on my side, staring down at the grass. The ground appeared to tilt, first one way, then the other.

  I held on. Held on.

  What was I holding? I struggled to focus. I was still holding onto the empty bird’s nest.

  I blinked several times. The ground finally stopped tilting.

  I uttered a long sigh. Craig, you didn’t save the kid, I told myself. He saved himself.


  And now Amy knows what a total klutz you are. Amy and everyone else.

  Still on the ground, I glanced up. I saw the girl walking off with her brother. He was laughing. She held his hand tightly.

  I heard voices. Excited voices, all talking at once.

  And over them, I heard Amy. “Craig is unbelievable!”

  Did I hear right? What was she saying?

  I pulled myself up with a groan and tried to listen.

  “Isn’t Craig awesome?” Amy exclaimed. “First he showed that little boy how to slide down. Then, when the tree branch broke off, he rescued the bird’s nest!”

  “Huh?” I muttered, still groggy. “What did I do?”

  “Craig didn’t even think of his own safety,” Amy declared. “He only thought of rescuing the nest!”

  That’s not quite the way it happened, I thought.

  But before I could protest, kids were pulling me to my feet, slapping me on the back, congratulating me, clapping and cheering.

  “Bravest thing I ever saw,” a woman told a gray-uniformed mail carrier.

  He nodded. “Someone should tell the mayor. That boy ought to get an award.”

  “He risked his life to save a bird’s nest. Wow,” the woman said.

  More cheers. More slaps on the back. More high fives.

  Amy gazed down at me with that glowing, admiring look in her eyes. “Awesome,” she murmured. “Awesome.”

  And then a boy’s voice rang out. “Hey, wait!”

  I turned and saw Travis and Brad pushing through the surprised crowd.

  “What is your problem? Craig isn’t brave!” Travis declared.

  Brad sneered. “He’s a total phony!”

  Amy and the other kids gasped.

  I’m caught, I realized. They found me out.

  I’m Can-Can-Can-Craig again.

  My life is ruined.

  I took a step back. I suddenly wanted to be back up in the tree, far, far away.

  “What are you saying?” Amy demanded angrily, pressing her hands to her waist.

  “He wasn’t being brave,” Travis repeated. “I think he fell out of that tree.”

  “For sure,” Brad agreed. “I saw the whole thing.”

  “But—but—” Amy sputtered.

  “If he was being brave, why did he scream like that?” Brad demanded.

  “Yeah,” Travis agreed. “He screamed all the way down. He fell out of a tree—and you act as if he’s some kind of hero!”

  All three of them turned to me. As if they expected me to settle the argument for them.

  Craig, are you brave or not?

  N.

  I just shrugged. “Whatever,” I murmured. “What I did up there, it was no big deal.”

  “Right—it was no big deal!” Travis accused. “You fell out of a tree. That’s all you did!”

  “You’re just jealous.” Amy sneered at Travis and Brad. “Both of you. You two got all the attention before Craig arrived.”

  Travis and Brad pushed her out of the way and stepped up to me. They narrowed their eyes menacingly.

  A staring contest.

  I never win staring contests. I always blink.

  “You really think you’re so brave?” Travis challenged.

  “Me?” I choked out. “No. No way.”

  I wasn’t going to get into a fight over this. For one thing, I’d lose. I can’t fight.

  Also, I knew the truth about myself. After all, a person doesn’t get called Can-Can-Can-Craig his whole life without earning it!

  But Amy stepped back up to Travis and Brad. “Craig is braver than the two of you put together!” she declared, her dark eyes flashing angrily. “And Craig can prove it!”

  Huh? I can?

  “Go ahead,” Amy cried. “Think of a challenge. Try to scare him!”

  “No, wait—” I started.

  But no one seemed to hear me.

  “Craig will do anything you want him to!” Amy declared.

  I grabbed for her shoulder. I tried to stop her. Too late.

  “Go ahead,” she insisted. “Think of any challenge. Craig will prove that he isn’t afraid of anything!”

  A thin smile spread over Travis’s lips. His freckles appeared to twinkle. “Want to put some money on that?” he asked slyly.

  “No—please,” I begged.

  “We’ll bet you,” Amy answered without giving me a chance to say no. “We’ll bet any amount of money that you can’t frighten Craig—no matter what you try!”

  Travis and Brad exchanged glances. Both of them were smiling now.

  “Okay,” Travis said. “It’s a bet. We’ll be back.”

  They hurried away, laughing and talking excitedly.

  Amy turned to me. “Easy money—right? Right?”

  “There’s nothing good on TV, and I’m bored with these computer games,” Amy groaned. She tossed back her black curly hair. “What do you want to do?”

  I shrugged.

  It was a gray Saturday afternoon. Raindrops drummed against the window of Amy’s den. Out in the backyard, dead leaves rained down from the shivering trees.

  “Want to explore the attic?” Amy suggested. “It’s dark and creepy up there. My parents have all these boxes filled with old clothes and magazines and stuff.”

  “I don’t think so,” I sighed.

  I’m secretly scared of attics. I don’t like attics or basements. I like to keep to the ground floor, if possible.

  “Oh, wait!” Amy jumped up from the carpet. She opened a cabinet against the wall.

  Thunder boomed outside. I shivered. I used to be terrified of thunderstorms. Now I’m only a little afraid.

  Craig, Amy thinks you’re really brave, I reminded myself. Don’t start whimpering the way you usually do every time you hear a roar of thunder.

  If people think you’re brave, you are brave.

  That’s what I told myself all week.

  But every time I ran into Travis or Brad at school, I wanted to turn and run away.

  They know the truth about me, I decided. And they are hatching a plan, a horrible plan to embarrass me and show everyone what a wimp I am.

  And why are they hatching a plan to terrify me?

  Because my new friend Amy challenged them to do it.

  I liked Amy. She was a lot of fun to talk to and hang out with.

  I wondered if she’d still like me if she found out that I’m not a superhero. That I’m actually a skinny little guy who’s afraid of snakes and spiders and thunder and the dark—and a lot of other things.

  “Let’s watch one of these.” Amy spun away from the cabinet with an armful of videos. “My dad rented these last night. I forgot all about them.”

  “What did he rent?” I asked.

  She dropped down beside me on the green leather couch and dumped the videos in my lap. “Check them out. This is perfect,” she said. “I’ll nuke some popcorn in the microwave, and we’ll watch a good, scary movie.”

  I gulped. “Scary?”

  She pulled a box out of the stack. “This one,” she said.

  I gazed down at the box. It showed two teenage boys and two teenage girls screaming in horror. Killer Daycamp. That was the name of the movie.

  I remembered the commercials for it on TV. I had to hide my eyes because the commercials were too gory.

  “Uh … I think I’ve seen this one,” I lied.

  “Well, don’t give away the creepy parts,” Amy replied. She pulled the tape from the box. “You probably love scary movies, don’t you? How many times have you seen Killer Daycamp?”

  “Uh … only once,” I said, swallowing hard.

  “I’ll make the popcorn, then we’ll start it,” she said. She jumped up from the couch.

  “Maybe one of these other movies is better,” I said. I shuffled through the boxes: Killer Daycamp II … Killer Daycamp III: The Revenge …

  “I can’t believe my parents are into this stuff,” Amy said. “They love anything with blood and gore.”
r />   “Uh … me too.” Another lie from Craig the superhero.

  The truth is, scary movies make me shake like a baby. And sometimes I start to scream.

  I took a deep breath. Be brave, Craig, I ordered myself. This is the new you—remember?

  You’re a hero.

  You’re fearless.

  A few minutes later, the two of us sat on the couch with bowls of popcorn in our laps, staring at the TV screen.

  I did okay for about ten minutes or so. But then the crazed killer jumped out of the woods, swinging his hatchet.

  I grabbed the arm of the couch—and opened my mouth in a shrill, bloodcurdling scream.

  My heart leaping in my chest, I turned to Amy and found her staring at me, studying me.

  She knows, I realized sadly.

  Now she knows the truth about me.

  Amy stared hard at me. I waited for her to call me a Fraidy Cat and tell me how disappointed she felt.

  But instead, her dark eyes flashed and a smile spread over her face. “You’re right, Craig,” she said.

  “Huh? Right?” I choked out.

  She nodded. “These movies are more fun if you scream along with them!”

  My head spun. I don’t believe this, I thought. She thinks my scream was cool.

  We turned back to the movie. The crazed killer stood in the middle of the daycampers’ campfire, swinging his hatchet, slicing and dicing.

  I let out another terrified scream.

  Amy screamed too.

  Not a very powerful scream. I guessed she didn’t have as much practice as me.

  She tilted back her head and screamed again. Much better this time.

  We watched the movie and screamed our heads off. It was kind of fun—except that my screams were real.

  About halfway through the movie, there were very few daycampers left. The crazed hatchet guy burst into the arts-and-crafts cabin. Campers looked up in horror from the beaded key chains they were making.

  I opened my mouth to scream.

  But a knock on the door cut me off after a tiny squeak.

  Amy paused the movie. We both made our way to the front door. “Who’s there?” Amy called out.

  “Open up!” a boy demanded. “We know you’re in there, Can-Can-Can-Craig!”

  I recognized Travis’s voice. He called me Can-Can-Can-Craig.

  How did he find out?

  Amy flashed me a puzzled glance. Then she pulled open the door.

  Travis, Brad, and three other guys stampeded in, shaking off rain. Amy made them wipe their shoes on the floor mat.