Second Star to the Fright

by Vera Strange

  “I was excited—past tense,” Rita said as her shoulders sagged. She looked…haggard. “Listen, I thought it would be great, but it’s not. It’s like the complete and total opposite. I have more chores and homework than ever. I never have any free time. I’m always stressed out.”

  Barrie took that to heart. “Is it…algebra?”

  Rita groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’ve got an exam tomorrow. Exponential equations are gonna kill me.”

  “But what about getting your driver’s license?” Barrie said. “Having a later curfew? Getting to go to parties? What about…Todd?” he added, unable to suppress a wicked grin.

  “Please. I barely have time for my friends anymore,” Rita complained.

  “But you’re always talking to them,” Barrie pointed out. “And texting them. Like nonstop.”

  Her phone vibrated with a new text message as if proving Barrie’s point. She pulled it out of her pocket and frowned at the screen.

  “Yeah, it’s relentless.” She met his eyes, turning more serious. “Listen, it’s school—but it’s more than that,” she confessed. “Like, I miss my old friends from when I was a kid. Remember Hannah and Jessie?”

  “Yeah, what happened to them?” Barrie said. He’d noticed Rita didn’t spend much time with them anymore, but he figured that she had a new group of cooler friends now that she was in high school. Not to mention her obsessive crush on Todd.

  “Really, I don’t know,” Rita said with a sigh. “We used to be inseparable. We did everything together, remember? But when we got older, it’s like we grew apart. We don’t have the same interests anymore. We’re not in the same classes. We’re on different tracks.”

  “But what about Brooke?” Barrie said. “And well…Todd. You’ve got all these cool new friends.”

  Rita shook her head. “Yeah, but it’s not the same. There’s like all this crazy pressure to fit in and say the right thing,” she confessed. “Look, you wouldn’t understand. You’re too young. I didn’t get it either until it happened to me. I never felt that way around my old friends. I could just be myself with them.”

  It was true, Barrie knew. She did always seem stressed out or worried about something. She was always doing her hair and makeup, or agonizing over the perfect outfit to wear to school, or talking to Brooke about what to say to impress Todd the next day.

  “All I wanted was to grow up and become an adult, but I didn’t realize how hard it would be,” she went on, backing out of his room. She met his eyes one last time from the doorway. “Just trust me, stay a kid for as long as you can.”

  With that, she shut his door. He counted to ten slowly, waiting until she was safely ensconced in her bedroom with her door closed; then he pulled the hook out from under his pillow and stared at it. His sister’s words echoed through his head. Just trust me—stay a kid for as long as you can. He glanced back at the letter, rereading the message for the hundredth time. Maybe he should give the hook a chance to work first. Maybe it just needed more time.

  “I want to stay a kid forever,” he whispered to the hook for a second time. Then he tucked it under his pillow, patting the pillow down to make sure the hook was hidden. “That’s my wish.”

  Suddenly, his eyelids felt heavy. After everything that had happened earlier, he was beyond exhausted. He laid his head on the pillow and quickly fell into a deep slumber.

  * * *

  Thump. Thump.

  Barrie woke up and instantly froze. It was the same sound from the boat. A ripple of fear rushed through him. He cracked his eyes open, but his bedroom was still dark. It was the middle of the night. Pale moonlight drifted through the sheer curtains. He sat up, scanning his room.

  It was dark and shadowy. He strained to listen closer. The noise grew louder.

  Thump. Thump.

  The heavy footsteps again.

  His heart stuttered in his chest. It sounded like they were coming from under his bed. How was that possible? Nothing big enough to make those sounds could fit under there. He was probably just hearing things again, he thought, annoyed at himself for being so jumpy. He was about to drift off back to sleep when, suddenly, he felt warm breath tickle the back of his neck.

  He jolted upright, rigid with fear.

  He scanned his room, but it was empty. Nobody was there. But it started to feel cold—unnaturally cold. His breath came out like fog, as if it was winter. And then he heard it again—

  Thump. Thump.

  The sound was definitely coming from under his bed. Something—or someone—was under there making that noise. Shivering, Barrie leaned over his bed to peer under it and squinted into the thick darkness. He couldn’t see anything.

  Blindly, he felt around under the bed, looking for the source of the noise. His fingers brushed dust bunnies, wrinkled comic books, a football, an old pizza crust….Ugh. He really had to clean his room.

  Then his fingers brushed metal.

  Cold metal.

  Terrified and barely breathing, Barrie moved his fingers over the object. It curved around into the shape of a hook. He grasped it and pulled it out from under the bed.

  It was Captain Hook’s hook.

  How did it get under the bed?

  Barrie scanned his memory. He clearly remembered stashing it under his pillow after he made his wish. Maybe he accidentally knocked it off the bed in his sleep?

  That was the only explanation.

  Still feeling unsettled, he straightened up, clutching the hook. He listened closer, but the thumping noise was gone. He was probably hearing things. He shook his head. Everything was still. Everything was fine. He started to drift off again, when suddenly—

  A shadowy hook slashed out at him from under the bed, whizzing by his ear.

  Zing!

  Barrie jumped back, holding the hook to his chest.

  “What the—”

  Another hook shot out. Then another. Then another. Barrie curled up against his headboard, trying to make himself smaller. The hooks slashed at him one by one, cutting through the air. Barrie dropped his hook and grabbed his pillow, holding it out in front of him for protection.

  “Stop! Don’t! Leave me alone!”

  The hooks dug into the pillow, shredded the casing. Feathers rained down around him like confetti in the dim moonlight.

  “It’s a dream,” Barrie whispered to himself, trembling. “It’s just a dream.”

  Then, a large shadow slithered out from under the bed. The shadow grew taller and taller, forming into the shape of a man. He loomed over the foot of the bed and raised his left arm—the outline caught the moonlight.

  It ended in a bloody stump.

  Barrie blinked at the shadow. “C-C-Captain Hook?”

  The shadow drew its sword. Barrie cowered back in fear.

  “No, please don’t hurt me!” Barrie pleaded. “I swear…I didn’t mean to take it!”

  But Hook raised his sword, aiming the tip right at Barrie’s neck. “You’re not the first scurvy brat to play a childish prank on me—but you will be the last,” he sneered.

  “I’m sorry, I’ll put it back!” Barrie begged, but Hook loomed over the bed.

  “I shall have my revenge!”

  His sword shot out at Barrie’s neck.

  Barrie woke with a start, clutching at his neck and gasping for breath. His heart hammered in his chest. Cold sweat slicked his skin. He felt as if he could still hear the thumping and feel the shadowy hooks slashing at him from under his bed.

  The last thing he remembered was the sword stabbing at his neck and Hook’s threats of revenge.

  “It was just a bad dream,” he whispered to himself. “It wasn’t real.”

  The trip to the museum must have stirred up his dreams, transforming them into terrible nightmares. He sat up, taking a deep breath of relief. But then his eyes fell on something that made his heart hammer even harder.

  His pillow was…shredded.

  Feathers and ragged strips of fabric littered the comforter and floo
r. His mouth went dry. He reached down to touch the feathers and make sure they were real—that he wasn’t imagining things—and something sharp dug into his palm.

  “Ouch!” he yelped, yanking his hand back. Pain shot up his arm.

  Barrie clutched his hand close to him as blood pooled in the palm. At first, he thought that Captain Hook was attacking him again. But then his eyes fell on the rusty hook hidden under the feathers. He’d pricked his hand on it.

  As blood trickled down his arm, he struggled to make sense of everything. He must have grabbed the hook and shredded the pillow in his sleep, thrashing around from his nightmare.

  He must have been haunted by his guilt over stealing the hook from the museum. That was the only way to explain the nightmares and his sleep-thrashing. He had to return the hook, and as soon as possible, even if it got him into trouble.

  Looking around at the mess he’d made, Barrie felt silly and embarrassed. He was just glad nobody was around to witness it. Especially Rita. “Goober, scared of a stupid pirate ship?” she’d tease him relentlessly.

  He’d never ever live it down.

  He had to hide the evidence. After running to the bathroom for a bandage for his hand, he went back to his room and quickly swept the feathers up, tossing them in the trash. Then he stashed the hook along with the parchment letter into his backpack and zipped it closed. He was determined to do the right thing.

  “I’ll fix it,” he promised himself, feeling better already. “I’ll find a way to put the hook back.” For the first time since touring the pirate ship, he almost felt back to normal.

  That’s when he remembered: It’s my birthday. In the aftermath of the nightmare, he had almost forgotten. He glanced at the mirror, peering at his reflection. He was twelve years old now. He pressed at his chubby cheeks, then stuck out his tongue.

  Well, he didn’t look any different, and he certainly didn’t feel any different. But he was definitely a year older. On Friday, he’d be graduating from elementary school. Kindergarten felt like only yesterday, and now he was almost in junior high.

  Time passed, no matter if you were ready for it or not. And it passed fast. Barrie’s father was right. He wanted to hit the pause button—or better yet rewind—but that was impossible.

  There’s nothing to do except grow up, he thought, whether I want to or not.

  Mournfully, Barrie glanced at his backpack. It had been ridiculous to believe that a rusty old hook had any power at all—let alone the power to stop him from growing up.

  At least he’d get chocolate cake after school and time with his best friends doing what they loved most—hanging out at the skate park. And then tomorrow night, they were going to the Lost Boys concert. They’d been looking forward to it for months. That was a bright spot in all of this.

  Despite his reservations, Barrie felt excitement swirl inside his chest. There would be a stack of presents waiting for him downstairs in the kitchen. And his mom always cooked his special birthday breakfast—chocolate chip pancakes. They were his childhood favorite. When he was a kid, he used to get to eat them all the time. Now they were reserved for special occasions.

  Maybe growing up wasn’t so bad after all. At least he’d get a party to celebrate it.

  And chocolate. Lots of chocolate.

  * * *

  Barrie crinkled his nose up when he walked into the kitchen. His mother stood by the coffee maker, watching it percolate like her life depended on it. She looked even more tired than normal. Dad sat at the kitchen table with his tablet and a big stack of bills, while Rita was still struggling over the last problem in her algebra homework.

  That was all perfectly normal. But there were no pancakes cooking on the stove. That was weird. There were also no presents piled on the kitchen table. Weirder yet, nobody greeted him with wishes of happy birthday.

  Nobody even looked at him.

  They were probably too distracted by work and homework and coffee making. His mother needed to down at least two cups to be functional. He just needed to remind them.

  “I’m excited for my birthday party after school today,” Barrie said in an enthusiastic voice. That should get their attention—he was never this cheerful so early. He reached over to pour himself some cereal. “I can’t wait for my triple fudge cake after school—”

  “What do you mean, honey?” Mom looked up from the coffeemaker and frowned.

  “Yeah, what birthday party?” Dad said, looking over. He set his tablet down. “Oh, does one of your friends have a birthday today?”

  “Uh…it’s my birthday,” Barrie said slowly. He stared at his parents, wondering if aliens had possessed them. “I’m turning twelve today. Don’t you remember?”

  He let out a chuckle, sure they were playing a trick on him. It was probably Rita’s idea. But nobody else laughed.

  “You know…’cause that’s what happens on your birthday,” Barrie said, starting to get a weird feeling. “You turn a year older.”

  Now even Rita looked up with a concerned expression.

  “Goober, it’s not your birthday. You’re still only eleven.”

  “Yeah, silly, it’s not your birthday.” His mother reached over to ruffle his hair.

  Barrie stared at them in disbelief. It had to be a prank. They were good, too. They weren’t breaking the act. He hurried over to the wall calendar, determined to prove them wrong.

  He tapped on the square for today.

  “Look…over here…on the calendar,” Barrie said. “It says it’s my birthday….”

  But then his voice dried up in his throat. The square for today was blank. Nothing was written there about his birthday. He was certain that it had been there only yesterday, complete with balloon drawings. He stared at the calendar in shock. It was like his birthday had been erased.

  No, not erased.

  That would leave some mark or sign behind.

  It was as if it had never been written there in the first place.

  “Uh, you can drop the act now,” Barrie said, his pulse beginning to race. He felt dizzy. “I get it. Nice prank. Very funny, Rita. Now, where did you hide my birthday presents?”

  He started searching the kitchen for them, looking in the cabinets and rifling through the drawers. Then he peered under the kitchen table. But there were no presents.

  His family watched him like he was going crazy.

  “Prank?” Rita said. “You’re clearly the one pranking us. Nice try trying to get extra presents out of the parental units. But I’m pretty sure it’s not going to work.”

  “But it’s not a trick,” Barrie said, straightening up. He felt dizzy suddenly, like he’d just gotten off the Tilt-A-Whirl. “I swear it’s true! It’s my birthday. I’m turning twelve today. I’m having a birthday party after school with Michael and John at the skate park. Mom is getting me a triple fudge cake.”

  Dad shot him a weird look. “Kiddo, I hate to break it to you. But it’s not your birthday. Are you feeling okay?”

  “Honey, I’m pretty sure I’d remember the day you were born,” Mom chimed in. “I am your mother, after all. I was there when you came into this world. It was one of the best days of my life.”

  “Yeah, and I’d remember the day they brought you home from the hospital,” Rita said in her best sarcastic voice. “And effectively ruined my life.”

  Barrie stared at them all in shock. Nothing in their expressions indicated that they were anything other than deadly serious. They really didn’t remember his birthday. But how…? Why…? Out of nowhere, his stomach clenched. His eyes darted to his backpack, which held the hook.

  It couldn’t be.

  Could it?

  Did my wish come true? A hundred other questions rushed through his head, one after the other. Does this mean I can stay a kid forever? And that I never have to grow up?

  “You’re gonna be late for school,” Mom said.

  “Come on,” Rita said with an eye roll. “Let’s get you to kiddie school.”

  “Seri
ously, nice try with that prank back there,” Rita said, tossing her heavy backpack into the passenger seat. “Very convincing. You should consider an acting career.”

  “Uh, right. Totally.” Barrie shivered as he climbed into the back, glancing at the cloudy sky. Even though it was almost summer, the weather was cold and drizzly, but that was typical in their New England coastal town. It didn’t mean it would stay that way. The weather had multiple personalities. The day could go from cold and dreary to warm and sunny in the blink of an eye, then back again before nightfall.

  Rita chuckled. “Trying to get presents, a cake, and a party out of Mom and Dad? I gotta give you credit, Goober. Too bad you didn’t pull it off.”

  “Yeah. It was a good one, huh?” He forced a laugh. His mind was still reeling, trying to process what was happening to him.

  Rita sat behind the wheel and slid the key into the ignition, but she didn’t start the engine. “You’re lucky it’s not your birthday,” she said with a weary sigh, catching his eye in the rearview mirror. “Much better to stay a goober with minimal responsibilities.”

  With that, she started the car, shifted it into gear, and sped out of the driveway, heading for the other side of the cul-de-sac to pick up Michael and John. Their two-story brick houses loomed in the distance, as familiar as his own. Barrie had spent countless days playing video games in their bedrooms, or running around Michael’s backyard inventing games of their own.

  He remembered what Rita had said the night before about her old friends Hannah and Jessie—how they’d grown apart as they’d gotten older. Barrie would hate it if he wasn’t best friends with Michael and John anymore. He couldn’t imagine his life without them. They were the Lost Boys—nothing could tear them apart.

  But hadn’t Rita felt the same way about her friends? And look what had happened to them.

  Okay, it was weird that his birthday had been erased. Disappointing and a little bit scary. But if his wish really was coming true…

  He slipped his hand into his backpack, feeling the outline of the rusty hook tucked inside. Sure, he had been excited about the cake and party. But not having a party was a small price to pay if he didn’t have to grow up after all.