I Survived the Shark Attacks of 1916

by Lauren Tarshis

  “So?” Sid said. “You like it here okay?”

  “The creek’s nice,” said Chet with a mouth full of cookie.

  “No, Elm Hills,” Monty said.

  “You think you’ll be staying a while?” said Dewey.

  Chet swallowed hard. Just the day before, he’d gotten a letter from Mama. “We have a nice apartment with a room just for you,” she wrote. “I think Papa is going to have some good luck this time.”

  “I hope,” he said.

  The guys all nodded.

  “Minnie Marston’s sweet on you,” Dewey said.

  “Really?” Chet squeaked.

  “Sure,” Monty said, sounding a little jealous. “She told my sister.”

  They sat there a while, talking about Minnie, and Uncle Jerry’s no-hitter in the high school finals of 1908. Then Sid stood up and dove back into the water. They all followed him.

  Sid went swimming down the creek, and Chet played ball with Dewey and Monty. He and Monty tossed the ball back and forth a few times.

  “Dewey!” Chet called, ready to throw the ball.

  But Dewey didn’t look at him. He was looking at something downstream. He had a strange look on his face.

  And then Chet saw it too: a gray triangle sticking up through the water, heading right for Dewey.

  What was that?

  It looked like the fin of a giant fish. Was it …

  He shook his head. His eyes were playing tricks on him.

  A shark in the creek was impossible.

  He even tried to laugh. His mind must be messed up because of the Captain’s story.

  But the fin was getting closer to Dewey. Faster, faster, closer, closer.

  “Dewey!” Chet shouted.

  But it was too late.

  There was a huge splash. And then Dewey disappeared.

  CHAPTER 5

  Chet ran screaming out of the water. “Dewey! Dewey!”

  He made it to the bank and searched the water for Monty and Sid, but they were gone too.

  They’d been eaten! Chet was the only one left! He was about to run up to Main Street for help, but then Dewey came up sputtering.

  “You idiot,” Dewey said, looking around. “You kept me under too long! That wasn’t the plan!”

  Who was Dewey talking to? And what did he mean about a plan?

  Sid came up out of the water, gasping for breath. Where was the shark? And why was Sid laughing?

  “We got you!” Sid shouted at Chet. He held something up.

  A chipped gray tile.

  The fin.

  Chet’s head started to spin. He felt like he might throw up. They’d tricked him!

  Monty was standing on the bank on the other side of the creek. “I can’t believe you fell for that!” he laughed.

  Chet couldn’t talk. His heart seemed to be stuck in his throat. Why would they do that?

  “You should have heard yourself!” Monty shouted. “You screamed so loud! Your mama probably heard you all the way in California.”

  Chet’s cheeks were bright red. His hands were shaking. How could he have thought these guys wanted to be his friends? They just wanted someone to pick on. That was the only reason they’d invited him to the creek.

  Chet grabbed his clothes and got dressed.

  “Hey!” Sid yelled. “Don’t be sore!”

  They all scrambled out of the water and ran over to him.

  “We were just joking around with you!”

  “We didn’t mean to scare you so bad.”

  “We always do pranks!”

  But Chet wasn’t listening. His heart was pounding and his cheeks burned. He laced up his boots, stood up, and stormed away.

  CHAPTER 6

  The next day the guys came by the diner, smiling like everything was normal. Chet didn’t wave back. He slipped into the kitchen before they sat down at the counter and didn’t come out until they were gone.

  After the breakfast rush was over, Uncle Jerry handed Chet a mug of root beer and told him to have a seat.

  “What’s wrong, kiddo?” he asked, sitting on the stool next to Chet’s. “I see you’ve been avoiding your buddies.”

  “They’re not my buddies,” Chet said. “I hardly know them.”

  Uncle Jerry peered at Chet. “Is this because of that stunt at the creek?”

  “You heard about that?” Chet said.

  Uncle Jerry chuckled, but not in a nasty way. “They didn’t mean any harm,” he said. “You should be flattered.”

  “How’s that?” Chet said. “They made me feel like an idiot.”

  “It means they like you, that you’re one of them,” Uncle Jerry said. “Now they’re expecting you to get them back. Didn’t you know that’s how it works?”

  How could Chet know? He’d never had any real friends before. He wanted to know more. But before he could ask, Mr. Colton and Dr. Jay came through the door. They were Uncle Jerry’s oldest friends. Mr. Colton owned the hardware store. Dr. Jay took care of practically everyone in town. They came in every day for coffee and to chat about baseball with Uncle Jerry.

  But today the men didn’t want to talk about Babe Ruth’s pitching record. Mr. Colton held up the morning paper so Uncle Jerry and Chet could read the front-page headline.

  SHARK KILLS SECOND BATHER

  IN NEW JERSEY

  JULY 7, 1916

  SPRING LAKE, NEW JERSEY

  A shark attacked Charles Bruder, 28, while he was swimming alone in the ocean yesterday afternoon. Lifeguards rushed to his rescue, but the young man’s wounds were so severe that he bled to death before they reached shore.

  Bruder, a well-liked bell captain at the Essex and Sussex Hotel, was known to be a strong swimmer. But he was no match for the beast, which attacked without mercy. Before he perished, Bruder was able to tell a remarkable story to his rescuers.

  “He was a big gray fellow, and as rough as sandpaper,” Bruder said. “I didn’t see him until after he struck me the first time…. That was when I yelled…. I thought he had gone on, but he only turned and shot back at me [and] … snipped my left leg off…. He yanked me clear under before he let go…. He came back at me … and he shook me like a terrier shakes a rat.”

  Bruder tried to say more, but he became too weak. He died of massive blood loss and shock before lifeguards could get him back to the shore.

  Officials are warning people not to swim alone.

  “I still don’t believe it,” said Uncle Jerry. “Someone is cooking up these stories to sell newspapers.”

  “Could be,” Mr. Colton said. “Folks are terrified, though. My wife’s cousin lives out there, and she says nobody will go near the ocean. They have fishermen out with rifles shooting at anything that moves.”

  “You know what this reminds me of?” Dr. Jay said. “The Creek Devil.”

  “What’s that?” Chet asked.

  Mr. Colton and Dr. Jay chuckled. Then Mr. Colton shifted his hefty body forward on the stool. He leaned closer to Chet.

  “Old-timers say there’s a monster that lives down near the creek. He’s covered with mud. Eats snakes and bats and makes a terrible hissing sound. Moans, too. Legend is that he comes out every decade and drags a kid back into the mud with him.”

  “People believe that?” Chet said.

  “Everyone in town knows the legend,” Uncle Jerry said, “but nobody really believes it.”

  “Except for Jerry here,” Dr. Jay said, slapping Uncle Jerry on the shoulder. “When we were little, he wouldn’t go near that creek!”

  “Bah,” Uncle Jerry said, waving his hand at Dr. Jay. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Doesn’t someone need a wart removed or something?”

  Was Uncle Jerry blushing?

  Imagine Uncle Jerry being afraid of a made-up monster! Chet smiled to himself. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

  Suddenly Chet had an idea for the greatest prank ever. Folks would be talking about it for years. And then he’d be part of the gang for sure.

&nb
sp; Dewey, Monty, and Sid were going to come face-to-face with the Creek Devil.

  CHAPTER 7

  At church on Sunday, Chet went out of his way to say hi to the guys. They seemed relieved that he wasn’t mad anymore. And the truth was, he really wasn’t, now that he understood how it was with pranks — and now that he had a genius plan for getting them back.

  “Come swimming with us today,” Sid called as he helped his mother into their buggy. “We’ll be there right after lunch.”

  “Sure!” Chet called back. “I’ll meet you!”

  Uncle Jerry patted him on the back.

  “That’s the way, kiddo,” he said. “There’s no room in a small town for grudges.”

  Chet was dying to tell Uncle Jerry about his idea. But Chet kept his mouth shut, worried that his uncle might tell someone and spoil the plan.

  He saw Minnie Marston as he was leaving the churchyard. She waved to him and smiled, like she wanted him to go up and talk to her. For months last spring Chet had prayed that Minnie would look in his direction. But now? He didn’t have time for girls, not even Minnie. He had to get to the creek before the guys. He waved to Minnie and headed home.

  Uncle Jerry was going to the diner to take care of some bookkeeping, and Chet headed home to change. He grabbed the bag he’d packed that morning. Inside was a bottle of ketchup, one of his old work boots, and the white cap he always wore at work — everything he needed. He hurried to the creek, which was completely quiet, and went straight to work.

  His plan had two parts. First, he wanted to make the guys think he’d been attacked and dragged, bloody and screaming, into the creek. He dribbled some ketchup along the dock — a trail of blood. He put his boot in the middle of the dock and covered it with ketchup. He did the same to his cap.

  Chet stood back and admired his work.

  So far, so good.

  Now Chet took off his undershirt and trousers and kicked off his boots. He hid them in the tall grass. Then he went to the wettest part of the bank. He scooped up handfuls of the slimiest mud he could find and smeared it onto his face, his arms, and his chest. He used extra mud to cover his head so that no hairs poked through. He had no idea what the Creek Devil was supposed to look like, but he was pretty sure it didn’t have orange hair.

  Chet was just finishing when he heard voices.

  The guys!

  Chet closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  Then he let out the biggest, loudest scream he could muster. He screamed like he was terrified, like he was in agony. And then he splashed loudly into the creek, careful not to wash off the mud. He screamed some more, and then waded into the reeds and hid.

  “Chet?” Sid called. “That you?”

  Chet didn’t answer. He couldn’t see the guys, but he heard their heavy breathing and their panicky voices.

  “Where is he?”

  “Is that his boot?”

  “What the …”

  “Oh, my God,” Sid whispered. “Is that blood?”

  Chet held his breath. Would they really fall for it? Could this actually work?

  “Chet?” Sid called. “Chet, you there?”

  Chet had to puff up his cheeks to keep from bursting out laughing.

  “Isn’t that Chet’s cap?” Dewey whispered.

  A few seconds went by.

  “What’s happening?” Monty said quietly.

  They were falling for it! Now it was time for part two.

  Chet gave a low hiss, remembering what Mr. Colton had said about the sound the Creek Devil made before an attack.

  “What the heck was that?” Dewey said, his voice shaking.

  “Quiet!” Sid said.

  “Should we go get someone?” Dewey said.

  “HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.”

  Chet was impressed by how spooky he sounded. Next he started to moan, low at first, and then louder.

  “OOOOOOMMMMMMMOOOOOO.”

  He poked his head through the reeds, not all the way through, just enough for the guys to catch a glimpse of a hideous head covered with black slime.

  The guys stared with bugged-out eyes and wide-open mouths.

  “Ahhhhhhhh!” they screamed.

  Dewey went tearing away.

  “OOOOOOMMMMMMMOOOOOO!”

  “AHHHHHHHHH!” screamed Sid and Monty.

  They turned to run, and that’s when Chet leaped out of the water.

  “Got you!” Chet shouted.

  Sid and Monty stopped short. Their faces were dead white.

  “I got you good!”

  He waited for their terrified faces to melt into smiles, for them to laugh their heads off and tell Chet he was a genius.

  But they didn’t.

  Sid stomped onto the dock. He leaned close to Chet, his face all twisted up and furious. His fists were clenched.

  Chet jumped back. Was Sid going to deck him?

  Monty pulled him away. “He’s not worth it,” he said.

  “You’re an idiot!” Sid growled. “We really thought something bad happened to you!”

  “How could you think that would be funny?” Monty said.

  The words came at him hard and cold.

  Sid glared at him a few more seconds. And then they turned and walked away.

  Chet stood there in shock.

  His prank had worked better than he could have imagined.

  But it was all wrong.

  And here he was, covered with stinking mud, all alone.

  CHAPTER 8

  Chet scrubbed himself off in the creek and went back to Uncle Jerry’s cottage.

  It was too hot to be inside, so he sat on the porch. He sat there a long time. He wondered what Mama and Papa were doing. He pictured Mama, with her soft smile and laughing eyes. And Papa, who always woke up with a happy face, even when they were out of money and had to pack up to start all over again.

  Why had they left him here?

  He was so deep in his gloomy thoughts that at first he didn’t see Uncle Jerry hurrying up the walk.

  “There you are!” he said, catching his breath. He sat down next to Chet.

  “I thought you were going to be at the diner all day,” Chet said.

  “I was,” Uncle Jerry said, fishing in his pocket for his pipe. He struck his match on the floor, lit the pipe, took a few puffs, and then settled back.

  They didn’t say anything for a few minutes.

  “So there was some excitement at the creek, I hear,” Uncle Jerry said.

  Chet’s heart sank into his boots.

  “Poor Dewey came running down Main Street in his drawers,” Uncle Jerry continued. “He was screaming about the Creek Devil. His mama called Dr. Jay.”

  Chet sighed. He didn’t look at Uncle Jerry. He’d probably already sent a telegram to Mama and Papa, and was getting ready to ship Chet directly to California. Chet couldn’t wait to start packing.

  “I went too far,” Chet said.

  “I guess you did,” Uncle Jerry said.

  Chet took a deep breath. A spider scurried across the floor and disappeared into one of the cracks. Lucky spider.

  There was a strange sound. Chet looked at Uncle Jerry, whose face was beet red. Was he choking on his pipe smoke?

  No. He was laughing! His laughter exploded through the air. He pounded his chest a few times. “Sorry,” he said through his guffaws. “But that look on Dewey’s face …” He leaned forward, slapping his leg, shaking his head. “It was a good one,” Uncle Jerry sputtered. “Maybe a little too gruesome. But darned good.”

  Chet wanted to laugh along with Uncle Jerry. But he kept thinking of that furious look on Sid’s face when Chet came out of the water.

  Monty was right. Chet wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t even worth a punch in the nose. He had ruined everything!

  Tears ran down his face. He turned away from Uncle Jerry, but it was too late.

  Uncle Jerry stopped laughing and put his hand on Chet’s shoulder. He waited for Chet to stop crying.

  What a fool he w
as, blubbering like this! Over a stupid prank.

  “It’s all right,” Uncle Jerry said.

  “No,” Chet said, standing up. “I need to leave.”

  “Where are you going?” Uncle Jerry said.

  “To California,” Chet said.

  Uncle Jerry stared at him.

  “I don’t belong here,” Chet said.

  “The heck you don’t!” Uncle Jerry said. “You belong here. Like I knew you would. Why do you think I begged your mama to let you stay with me?”

  “But I thought Mama asked you,” Chet said.

  “Are you kidding? I’ve been begging for years. I wrote about a hundred letters, a few telegrams too.”

  “Why?” Chet said.

  Uncle Jerry looked at Chet like he’d asked for the answer to two plus two.

  “I thought maybe you were tired of moving around so much,” Uncle Jerry said, pulling Chet back down to sit next to him on the porch step. “And there’s another reason. You and I are buddies, kiddo. Always were. I was lonely without you all these years.”

  Chet almost laughed. With all the people who loved Uncle Jerry, who crowded around him every day at the diner, who laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories, how could he be lonely?

  Yet Uncle Jerry’s eyes, usually all crinkled up and merry, were big and serious. He meant it.

  “Did I ever tell you what happened after I hurt my leg?” Uncle Jerry said. “I moved to New York City. I quit this town. I just wanted to get lost. I couldn’t stand the way people looked at me here, like they pitied me. Or like I’d let them down by not becoming a big baseball star.”

  “Mama never told me that,” Chet said.

  “Well it’s true. But you know what? I missed this place. And I’ll tell you what I learned: A person has to face up to things. You never solve anything by running away.”

  Chet knew Uncle Jerry was right. But how could Chet stay here with the guys hating him so much?

  Uncle Jerry seemed to read his thoughts. “You’ll find a way to make it up to those friends of yours,” he said. “I know you will.”