Second Star to the Fright

by Vera Strange

  “Wow, I’m such a scaredy-cat,” he muttered under his breath, thankful his friends weren’t here to witness it. What would the twin detectives in his books think? But then—

  Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

  Barrie felt a rush of fear surge through him. He’d had enough. He had to get out of there. His heart hammering, he turned and bolted toward the door, fleeing from the strange noise.

  Barrie bolted from the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

  Okay. You’re okay, he told himself.

  And then another warm breath hit his neck. Barrie backed slowly away from the door. What if it was Captain Hook? What if he was mad Barrie had taken his hook? But that was impossible. The pirate captain had to be long dead. Plus, Barrie was sure that the cabin had been empty when he entered it, and no one had come in.

  Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

  It was coming from inside the cabin.

  Barrie’s pulse thrummed in his ears. The ship felt even colder now.

  Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

  In a panic, Barrie turned and sprinted down the dark hallway, looking for the stairs. He was sure they’d been down this way, but he hit a dead end. He turned around and tried another hallway, but there was nothing down there except three more locked doors. He was trapped. Lightning flashed, lighting up the hall. He looked up—then jumped back in fear.

  Out of the shadows, Captain Hook slashed at him with his sword.

  “No, don’t hurt me,” Barrie yelped, jumping back. “I’ll give the hook back!”

  He cowered, expecting a hook to impale him. But nothing happened. Barrie cracked one eye open. It wasn’t actually Captain Hook. Barrie was hovering under the oil painting from the tour. He let out a relieved breath, feeling foolish. In his panic, he’d thought the real pirate captain was here.

  Captain Hook’s beady eyes bored into him from his portrait. His lips curved back into a vicious snarl. Give my hook back, ye scurvy brat! he seemed to be thinking.

  Barrie stared at the painting. Maybe he should put the hook back, after all. He could feel the weight of it in his backpack and a sour feeling pooled in his stomach, making him feel slightly sick. Of course, the queasiness could have also been caused by the ship rocking on the ocean. The storm was churning up the waves, making it worse.

  “Sorry, Captain—” he started to say to the painting. “I’ll—”

  But then, he heard the creaking of the door to the captain’s cabin behind him, like it was swinging open of its own accord. The squeal cut through the hall.

  Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

  Barrie’s heart seized up. The footsteps were coming for him.

  Blindly, he pivoted and found himself tripping up the stairs. The stairs! Once he got his bearings, he took them two at a time, climbing to the upper deck. The wood was slick, and he slid forward, almost face-planting. He caught himself only at the last second, barely avoiding a calamitous plunge overboard. His eyes cut to the plank that jutted out over the ocean. How many poor souls had lost their lives walking off it?

  As he scanned the deck looking for the tour, the frigid wind cut through him. The storm had intensified overhead. Raindrops pelted his face. But it was something more than that. It felt like someone—or something—was chasing him.

  Something unnatural.

  He remembered the warm breath on his neck in the captain’s cabin. How every time he turned around, nothing was there. The strange shadows behind the tarps. The way the temperature seemed to drop suddenly. And where did that storm come from? That’s when his mind jolted to his mystery books. They often featured haunted houses or haunted islands.

  What if the pirate ship is haunted?

  And if it was haunted, then it was probably…Captain Hook’s ghost.

  Barrie ran down the deck, passing close to the railing. Below, the ocean churned and frothed with great fury, splashing up against the hull and drenching the deck with salt water. Barrie could taste it on his tongue as he sprinted down the length of the ship.

  He was looking for the tour or anyone to help him, but the ship appeared completely deserted. It was eerily silent, too, aside from the waves and the soft creaking of the wood.

  Where is everyone? Where’s my family? Where’s the tour?

  And that’s when he heard it again—

  Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

  The footsteps were right behind him. He fled down the deck in a panic. Suddenly, the waves sloshed up, violently rocking the boat. He thought about jumping into the ocean just to escape. He glanced down at the waves, whipped into a frenzy by the storm’s high winds. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. He leaned over the railing to jump. But then his ears pricked up.

  Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

  This new sound was coming from the ocean. The strange ticking echoed up from the dark water. Under the surface, a shadowy creature darted back and forth.

  The ticking grew louder. If whatever was on the ship with him didn’t get him, whatever was down there in the water would.

  But then the strangest thing happened. Barrie started to feel warmer. The panic that had gripped him receded. Even the stormy skies seemed to quiet a little. Slowly, he turned around, staring at the empty deck. It was almost as if whatever had been chasing him had stopped.

  Like it had evaporated into thin air.

  Feeling uneasy, Barrie turned back to look at the water. How was that possible? Something had been chasing him. He’d been convinced. But now, standing alone as drizzle drifted down from the cloudy skies, he wasn’t so sure. It was pretty dark out. Maybe hearing all those creepy pirate stories and finding the hook had sent his imagination into overdrive. Maybe his brain was messing with him. Even in his books, whenever a house was supposed to be haunted, the kid detectives always solved the mystery by the end, revealing that there was a real-life villain behind the “fake” ghost.

  “None of this is real,” Barrie whispered to the waves. “It can’t be real. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

  He unzipped his backpack, half expecting the hook to be gone, too. But there it was, staring back at him, along with the parchment letter. He wasn’t completely losing his mind. These things, at least, were real. But what about the rest of it?

  He chewed his lower lip uncertainly. He didn’t know what to believe anymore. But staring at the rusty, old hook caused a fresh surge of guilt to wash through him. Maybe he should put it back, just to be safe? Whatever had just happened or not happened back there, it was wrong to steal the hook. That much was clear now. He had made a terrible mistake. He had to fix it.

  Still feeling jittery, Barrie crept back toward the stairs that led down to the captain’s cabin. His feet hit the wooden floor with a dull thud. The ship swayed uneasily under him. He glanced down into the thick darkness of the interior deck and listened closely for any sign of a presence, but there was only the soft creaking of the boat rocking gently on the water.

  It wasn’t real, Barrie thought. It was just my imagination.

  Still, he needed to put the hook back where he found it. He needed to do the right thing. He started down the stairs, but then an angry voice growled through the ship.

  “Where have you been, young man?”

  A dark shadow fell over Barrie from the top of the stairs.

  “I’m sorry…I swear I was going to put it back!” Barrie raised his hands in fear, waiting for the slice of Captain Hook’s sword.

  “Barrie?”

  He lowered his arms slowly. What he saw wasn’t Captain Hook, but it might have been worse. His father stared at him from the upper deck. And he did not look happy.

  “Put what back?” Dad said. His brows knit together, and his lips curved down into his signature disapproving-father expression. “Where have you been? We’ve been searching the ship everywhere for you.”

  “Uh…nothing. I mean, nowhere. I mean…” Barrie couldn’t tell his dad that he had stolen something from the museum. “I guess I wanted to explore the ship on my own. And I got a little lost do
wn here.”

  His father shook his head. “Barrie, you need to grow up and stop acting like a little kid already. I know how much you enjoy sleuthing, but you can’t just wander off like that without telling anyone.”

  “Right, I’m really sorry,” Barrie said, looking down in shame. “I just got really interested in Captain Hook. And I wanted to find out more about him.”

  It wasn’t exactly the truth—but it wasn’t a lie, either. He did sneak off to learn more about the pirate captain.

  “Well, I can understand getting captivated by a piece of real history,” Dad said. His angry expression evaporated. “Even so, your birthday is tomorrow. You’re almost twelve years old now. You need to start taking responsibility for your actions.”

  “I will, I promise,” Barrie said, relieved that his dad was softening. “I know you’re right.”

  “Come on,” Dad said. “Everyone’s waiting for us by the gangplank. Let’s inform them that you didn’t fall overboard.”

  He chuckled at his own bad dad joke. Even though Barrie still felt jittery, he forced out a laugh. As they headed through the ship, Barrie could feel the hook weighing down his backpack.

  He glanced back at the stairs that led to the captain’s cabin. He still wanted to put the hook back, but he couldn’t risk letting his dad or anyone else find out that he stole an artifact from the museum. Especially when his father was already angry with him. Not to mention it was probably, like, a major crime. What had he been thinking?

  There was no way he could fix it right now without getting caught. He’d have to put the hook back another time. With a sigh, he pulled his eyes off the stairs and followed his dad.

  “Go apologize to your mother,” Dad suggested as they headed back toward the tour group. “You really scared her. Even Rita was worried about you.”

  They approached Mom and Rita, who pulled a fake concerned face.

  “Yeah, you shouldn’t scare us like that,” Rita said. “It’s very uncool.”

  Barrie scowled. He highly doubted that Rita was worried about him. She loved putting on an act for their parents like she cared and was the perfect daughter when really, she’d probably be thrilled if he disappeared at sea.

  Mom looked relieved. She hugged him fiercely, but then she went rigid. She stood up and crossed her arms, staring down at him. “You need to act more like your sister,” she said, shuffling her purse to the other shoulder. “She knows better than to disappear like that.”

  Rita flashed a smug grin. She loved anything that made her look better than Barrie.

  “Does that mean I get a later curfew?” Rita asked, trying to take advantage of the situation.

  “We’ll discuss it later,” Dad said. “Now, let’s hit the gift shop before they close. Barrie has taken a special liking to the pirate captain. Maybe I’ll get him a little something extra for his birthday.”

  The last thing Barrie wanted was anything to do with pirates after the whole escapade on the ship, but he couldn’t exactly say that, so he forced a smile. “Thanks, Dad. Sounds great.”

  Dad clapped his shoulder. “Bud, I knew you’d come around and like history, too. I’m so proud of you.”

  As they headed down the gangplank, Rita smirked and whispered, “Too bad you didn’t really fall overboard, Goober, so I could get out of driving carpool.”

  That confirmed it. Rita was evil.

  But before he could respond, the gangplank shuddered under his feet, jostled by a big wave. Barrie grasped at the rope railing, feeling his stomach flip. He glanced back at the ship. He could see the windows in the bow, and through them, the captain’s cabin.

  Suddenly, a shadow flashed past the window.

  “Hey, did you see that?” Barrie gasped, pointing.

  Rita rolled her eyes. “See what, Goober? The museum is closing. There’s nobody on the ship.”

  “Over there…in the cabin,” he said, pointing, but then he lowered his hand.

  Whatever he saw—if he really did see something—was gone.

  “I swear, there was something in the captain’s cabin.” Barrie squinted at the ship. But the sun had almost set, and it was growing darker. “Like a ghost…”

  He trailed off, realizing how lame that sounded.

  “Jeez, you really are a child!” Rita said with an exasperated sigh. “Stop making up stupid stories and trying to scare me. That might work on your lame friends, but it won’t work on me.”

  She tramped off, leaving him clinging to the railing with his heart thumping heavily in his chest.

  Though he hated to admit it, his sister was right. He was acting super lame right now. Everyone knew there were no such things as ghosts. His eyes were playing tricks on him again.

  What is wrong with me?

  He had to get it together. He straightened up and sidled down the gangplank, trying to ignore the strange noise that now seemed to be following him. It was faint but unmistakable during the lulls when the waves receded, sucked back out to sea.

  Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

  The waves churned and receded; then he heard it again.

  Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

  “It’s not real,” Barrie muttered, plugging his ears. “It’s not real.”

  He glanced down at the dark, turbulent water. The sun had fully set now, and the water was opaque, but he knew that things lived down there.

  Slimy things. Dangerous things. Hungry things.

  But nothing that could make that noise.

  I must be going crazy, he thought as he staggered off the gangplank and onto dry land. But even off the boat, the swaying of the ocean stayed with him, making him feel dizzy and nauseous the rest of the night.

  It haunted him like a ghost.

  * * *

  After a hasty take-out pizza dinner with his family, since his parents were busy scrambling to get ready for the week at work, Barrie pretended to be tired and excused himself for bed. But really, he just wanted to be alone. He could feel the hook in his backpack calling to him.

  “Good night, birthday boy,” Dad said with a smile. He was paying a big stack of bills on the kitchen table. “Get some rest for your big day tomorrow.”

  “Wow, I can’t believe my little boy is turning twelve,” Mom added from the kitchen, where she was pilfering another slice of pizza. “Where does the time go? You’re almost all grown-up.”

  “Yeah, next year the goober will be a teenager,” Rita snarked, looking up from her algebra textbook. “Freaky.”

  “Yeah, freaky,” Mom agreed, picking off the pepperoni. “I remember when you could fit in my arms. Now look at you.”

  “Time sure flies,” Dad agreed with a nostalgic chuckle.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll pick up your cake tomorrow morning,” Mom added, checking her lengthy to-do list on the whiteboard by the wall calendar. “So it’s all ready for the party after school.”

  “Uh, thanks,” Barrie said, backing away. “See you tomorrow.”

  The truth was, he wasn’t sure how to feel about any of it. Well, besides the chocolate cake. He felt pretty good about that life choice. But he didn’t want to grow up. His mom was right. It all happened so fast. He wasn’t ready.

  He left Rita at the kitchen table, agonizing over her algebra homework, and slipped into his bedroom. He shut the door, then set his backpack on his bed. His heart beat faster as he unzipped it and pulled out the hook, inspecting it more closely.

  It was rusty and tarnished, but underneath the gunk, he could see a shimmer of silver metal. He ran his hands over the curve, testing the heft. The tip was still as sharp as ever. He was careful not to prick his finger again.

  For fun, he slashed at the air with it, jumping on his bed.

  “Stay back, mateys!” he said in his best pirate impression. “Ye don’t want to mess with Captain Barrie!”

  Then, he set the hook down on his pillow and pulled out the parchment paper. Careful not to tear it, he unfolded the letter and reread the cursive script.

  That’s
what I want, Barrie thought with a thrill. I don’t want to turn twelve.

  He waited for something to happen—some indication that the hook could grant his wish. Maybe it would glow. Or float. Or sparkle. But nothing happened.

  The hook just sat there on his pillow.

  Barrie sighed. He was an idiot for thinking it had any special powers. From the kitchen, he could hear his parents telling Rita to take out the trash before bed, followed by her usual complaints about too many chores. Then he heard her tramping up the stairs to bed.

  Rap-rap.

  He jerked his head up. His heart caught in his throat. Quickly, he tucked the hook under the pillow to hide it. He couldn’t let anyone catch him with the stolen artifact. He grappled on the bookshelf by his bed for a book—any book—to pretend like he’d been reading. He found one, then flipped to a random page and propped the book up on his lap.

  “Come in,” he called out, trying to keep his voice steady.

  Slowly, the door creaked open.

  Rita poked her head in. She frowned at the book in his hands. It was…Little Women. He felt his cheeks burning. He’d never actually read it. The book was a hand-me-down from his sister, of course. And he pretty much never intended to read it.

  “Thought you only liked mysteries?” Rita said suspiciously.

  “Uh…it’s assigned reading…for school,” he stammered.

  “Well, I won’t keep you from your little women,” Rita said with a chuckle. “But I just wanted to say—happy almost birthday, Goober.”

  “Uh, thanks,” Barrie said with trepidation, waiting for her snarky comeback or her ulterior motive for being nice to reveal itself. But she just looked pensive. She bit her lower lip.

  “You’re lucky you’re only turning twelve,” she said with a weary sigh.

  “Wait…what do you mean?” Barrie said, surprised. “You love birthdays. You were so excited for your sweet sixteen party, you couldn’t stop talking about it.”

  And it was true. For practically a whole year, she’d turned into a psychotic birthday princess and annoyed him—and anyone else unlucky enough to be in earshot.