Second Star to the Fright

by Vera Strange

  Mr. Bates blinked at him. His eyes looked odd suddenly. Unfocused. “Punish you?” he said as if confused.

  “Yeah, for not turning in my homework,” Barrie said.

  “Why would I punish you?” Mr. Bates said.

  “Last week, I had to miss recess, remember?” Barrie said. “That’s what happens when you don’t turn in your homework. You get punished.”

  Mr. Bates glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Right, other normal kids get punished. But you’re special. You don’t need to do your homework.”

  “Wait, what?” Barrie whispered back.

  “You’re excused from all future assignments,” the teacher said, still not quite looking Barrie in the eye. It was as if he was under a spell. “No more homework for you for the rest of the year.”

  “Wait, what do you mean?” Barrie said.

  “Heck, instead of doing those boring math problems,” Mr. Bates went on, “why don’t you draw or play a fun game? How does that sound, kiddo?”

  “You’re serious?” Barrie stammered, unable to believe his ears. It was a dream come true.

  No homework?

  “Of course, you don’t need to do schoolwork, either,” Mr. Bates said, tapping his hands on his desk. “Since you’re never going to grow up. You’re excused from that as well. Just don’t tell the other kids, okay? They might get jealous. It’ll be our little secret.”

  Barrie stood there in shock. Had Mr. Bates really just said that out loud?

  “Um…okay.”

  Barrie returned to his desk as his teacher blinked rapidly as if snapping out of his trance. Barrie’s heart raced in excitement. This wish was even more powerful than he could have ever imagined. He’d expected that staying a kid forever would be amazing. But he didn’t expect his teacher to excuse him from doing homework. Actually, not just homework—any and all schoolwork.

  When the school day ended, Barrie hadn’t done a single assignment. He had goofed off in the back of the room all day. He’d doodled cartoons in his notebook and played games on his phone while everyone else, including Michael and John, had worked hard on their lessons.

  Right before the final bell, when Mr. Bates passed out their homework, he’d whisked right by Barrie’s desk.

  “Hey, wanna hit the skate park?” Barrie suggested with a grin as he and his friends gathered their things.

  “Ugh, we’ve got so much homework,” Michael said glumly, stuffing his papers in his bag.

  “Fractions suck,” John added.

  “Come on, homework can wait—let’s have some fun,” Barrie said. “What do you say?”

  Michael and John looked torn. Finally, they both smiled. “Lost Boys forever!” they cheered.

  As they headed home to grab their skateboards and hit the park, Barrie could feel the hook’s weight in his backpack. As long as he had it, he wouldn’t have to grow up or do homework. Of course, ever since he’d taken it, some weird, creepy stuff had been happening to him. But there was probably a perfectly logical explanation for all of it, just like in his books.

  He felt a stab of guilt. He knew he should still return the hook. It was wrong to take something that didn’t belong to him. But then he thought about all the amazing things that were happening to him now that he didn’t have a birthday. No homework? For the rest of the school year? It’s not like he had to return it right away. It had been hidden for a long time, hadn’t it?

  As he skated with Michael and John down their street toward the park, he felt a rush of excitement. He loved being a kid more than anything. He loved playing with his friends.

  He was so glad he’d made that wish.

  * * *

  Barrie and his friends had so much fun at the skate park that they lost track of time. Barrie hurried home but still arrived after his curfew. His stomach twisted as he popped his skateboard into his hand and approached the front door, knowing his mom would not be happy.

  The door opened before he even got there. Gulp.

  “How’s it going, kiddo?” his mother greeted him with a smile. She handed him a plate of homemade cookies and a sugary soda. “Have fun with your friends at the park?”

  Barrie glanced at the clock, wondering if he’d gotten the time wrong. Nope. It was clearly after seven.

  “Uh, great,” Barrie said. “But won’t this ruin my dinner?” he added hesitantly. Usually, she would never let him have cookies or soda on a weeknight.

  Especially not right before dinner.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Mom said, blinking. Just like his teacher earlier, she wasn’t quite looking at him. “These are your two favorite treats! I baked the cookies just for you. Don’t you want them?”

  Barrie studied his mother, unable to believe what he was hearing.

  This spell just keeps getting stronger, he realized.

  “Thanks, Mom!” Greedily, he accepted the treats from his mother. It was almost too good to be true.

  “What do you want for dinner?” Mom went on, setting her hands on her hips and smiling at him. “Mac and cheese? Chicken fingers? More cookies?”

  She was listing off his favorite kiddie foods, which she never made him anymore. When he was younger and a picky eater, she’d make him separate meals. He’d get chicken nuggets and fries while everyone else ate grilled chicken and rice. But for the last couple of years, he’d had to eat what everyone else was having, including “healthier” adult foods like green vegetables that tasted like dirt…or vomit.

  He couldn’t believe his luck. His mouth watered at the prospect.

  “All of the above?” he ventured.

  He still expected her to change her mind. Or make him pick one option.

  “Sure thing!” Mom said in a cheery voice without missing a beat. She walked briskly into the kitchen, pulling out the mac and cheese box—his favorite kind with the fluorescent orange powder. “Anything for my favorite little guy.”

  “What about ice cream, too?”

  He knew he was pushing his luck, but he had to try.

  “Of course!” Mom said looking up with a warm smile. “Chocolate? Better yet, I won’t make you wait until after dinner to eat it. Why don’t you have some right now?”

  Best day ever!

  Giddy, Barrie started to set the table—his usual chore before dinner.

  But his mother shot him a confused look.

  “You don’t need to do that,” she said, her eyes still unfocused. “It’s your sister’s job to set the table, remember? Why don’t you go watch cartoons until it’s dinnertime?”

  Barrie broke into an evil grin. That’s right—Rita could do his chores. She was all grown up, after all.

  He settled into the sofa and flipped on his favorite sci-fi cartoon with the baby alien and the space wizards. As the robots beeped and blipped across the screen, chasing the alien, he sipped his soda and munched on the cookies, feeling the grainy sugar coat his tongue. His mother dropped off a heaping bowl of chocolate ice cream, which he ate all the way to the last bite.

  Dinner went even better than expected. He got mac and cheese with cartoon-shaped noodles, crispy chicken fingers with ranch dressing and barbecue sauce, more cookies, and chocolate ice cream. Plus, soda to wash it all down. It was the single best meal of his life. Everyone else had to eat dry chicken breast, brown rice…and spinach.

  Barrie couldn’t fathom how leaves were considered an actual food. They were inedible. Rita seemed to share his sentiment, pushing the spinach around her plate unhappily. She kept shooting him jealous glances.

  “Rita, eat your veggies,” Mom said. “You’re sixteen now. Start acting like it. They have important nutrients.”

  She pouted. “Ugh, can’t I just take a vitamin? It’s like science. You love science.”

  “Your mother worked hard to make dinner,” Dad said. “And we both worked hard to pay for it. Stop complaining. You’re too old for that.”

  “Why doesn’t Barrie have to eat spinach?” she said, shooting him a spiteful look.


  “Your brother’s still just a kid,” Mom said. “You know that. You’re sixteen. Soon you’ll be in college. It’s time for you to grow up.”

  “That’s right,” Barrie said, shooting her an evil grin. “Eat your veggies.”

  Rita glared at him, taking a grudging bite of spinach and grimacing at the acrid taste.

  If looks could kill, he’d probably have dropped dead on the spot. But Barrie didn’t care. He just grinned at her and stuffed another cookie in his mouth. He ate until everything was gone. Mom even let him have another serving of chocolate ice cream. He wolfed it down, savoring the rich sweetness.

  As he slipped into bed after playing video games for hours, he was certain that this had been the single best day of his life—even if he hadn’t gotten to have his birthday party and his triple fudge cake. Staying a kid was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  * * *

  Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

  Barrie woke with a start. It was dark outside. He sat up in bed, his mouth clammy from all the sugar he’d had earlier. He felt exhausted, and his brain felt foggy. He had stayed up much later than normal for a school night.

  Barrie rubbed his eyes, letting them adjust—then he gasped at what he saw above his bed.

  Slash marks were gouged into the ceiling in a jagged X pattern.

  Barrie stared at them in shock. Feeling his heart pounding, he stood up on his bed and reached his hand out. He ran his fingers over the slash marks. They were deep.

  And they were very real.

  Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

  There was that sound again—coming from under the bed, like something was scratching at the floorboards. It’s just another nightmare, he thought groggily. None of this is real. His head was thick with sleep. He had a serious sugar hangover. Hadn’t he read somewhere that too much sugar could act almost like a drug? It could probably make you hallucinate if you had too much of it. Maybe the third helping of ice cream wasn’t the wisest choice.

  I’ll just have two next time, he promised himself.

  As if hearing his thoughts, the noise stopped abruptly. Slowly, Barrie leaned over to peer under the bed. He gazed into the thick darkness but saw nothing. Just blackness.

  “Hello…is someone there?” he whispered.

  He held his breath and stared, squinting in the dark.

  The last thing he saw was a flash of silver aimed right at his face.

  Barrie jumped back and flipped on the lights.

  There was nothing. No sword. Nothing.

  He gasped for breath, scanning his room for any sign of something out of place. For someone who could have been wielding the sword that he’d been sure was there just seconds ago. But he was alone. Relief washed over him; it was just a nightmare. He slumped back on his bed, trying to slow his racing heart.

  And that’s when he saw it—the slash marks in the ceiling.

  His heart jumped into his throat. The gouges were still there. So…not a dream, then. He stood up and reached for the slash marks again, hoping that he was seeing things.

  But the gouges were rough beneath his fingertips. They really were real.

  Cautiously, Barrie checked under his bed once more. Deep slashes had been gouged into the wooden floorboards there, too. Splinters and specks of wood stuck out of the gashes. He studied them, unable to believe his eyes.

  “This can’t be happening,” he whispered.

  The slashes looked exactly like the ones he’d discovered on the pirate ship in the captain’s cabin. Those marks had led him to the secret compartment where he had discovered the hook and the letter.

  Oh no, the hook!

  Barrie scrambled over to his backpack: a gash had been slashed into its side. The rough fabric—which he had thought of as indestructible—gaped open.

  It was almost like someone—or something—had been searching his room for the hook. He reached inside, certain that the hook had been taken. But it was still nestled in there, along with the parchment letter. His heart rate slowed, but only slightly.

  Why didn’t they take it?

  Barrie must have woken up and surprised them. That was the only explanation. That’s why they hid under his bed. He pulled the hook out and stroked it, remembering how amazing yesterday had been. He never wanted it to end. He never wanted to grow up.

  He had to keep this hook at all costs.

  He studied the slashes over his bed and the gash in his backpack. Had someone really been in his room, looking for the hook? He could think of only one person who would want it back—one person who could make those marks on the ceiling and floor.

  Captain Hook.

  Barrie felt the cold metal of the rusty hook, running his finger to the sharp tip.

  “But I need this,” he whispered. “You can’t have it back. I can’t grow up.”

  * * *

  “No, you’re not allowed to go to the concert tonight,” Mom said, downing her usual supersized mug of morning coffee.

  “Wait, what? What do you mean?” Barrie demanded.

  Mr. Bates had excused him from homework for the rest of the school year. He wasn’t in trouble—at least any that he knew about. He wasn’t currently grounded, which was basically a minor miracle since he tended to get grounded a lot. There was zero reason that he shouldn’t be allowed to go to the concert. They’d already given permission and bought the ticket for him.

  “Exactly what I said,” Mom repeated in a tired voice. “You can’t go tonight.”

  “But why not?” Barrie gasped. “You bought that ticket for my birthday, and I…”

  The words dried up in his throat.

  The birthday that never happened because of his wish.

  “For starters, you’re too young for concerts,” Mom said, pouring a fresh cup of coffee and sipping it black. “I spoke to your father last night. We both agreed. You would need adult supervision, and neither of us can go. Also, it will end way past your curfew. We never should’ve bought you the ticket.”

  “But everyone else is going,” Barrie said. “Michael’s and John’s parents gave them permission. It’s our favorite band. We’ve been looking forward to it for months.”

  Mom let out a weary sigh and set her empty mug in the sink.

  “That’s their parents,” she said, spouting one of her favorite parenting lines. “We’re your parents. We have different rules in this house. We’ve decided to give your ticket to Rita.”

  “No way!” Barrie gasped. “Why does she get to go?”

  Rita shot him a snarky look from the kitchen table, where she was furiously finishing her homework. “Yeah, Goober,” she said, stabbing her pen in the air to emphasize her words. “Different rules means I get to go to the concert tonight.”

  Barrie couldn’t believe the unfairness. His mouth dropped open in outrage.

  “But why does Rita get to go?” he asked again in a whiny voice. He hated sounding like a little kid, but he couldn’t help it. “That’s totally unfair! It’s my ticket! She can’t have it—”

  “Because she’s all grown up,” Mom replied, rubbing her tired eyes. “She’s sixteen. She can drive, and she gets a later curfew. Plus, it’s not your ticket. Your father and I paid for it—”

  “But she can give me a ride,” Barrie said, thinking fast. “We’ll get another ticket so we can both go. And she can supervise me. She’s babysat me before—”

  “No way, Goober,” Rita said. “I need a night off from you and your lame friends. Plus, the concert is totally sold out. Brooke told me. No way can we score another ticket.”

  Dad walked into the kitchen with his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He was ready for work. He met Barrie’s eyes. “Son, I’m sorry, but you’re just too young for concerts,” he said, patting Barrie’s shoulder. “Don’t argue with your mother. You know better than that.”

  “But I really wanted to go,” Barrie said, blinking back angry tears. He couldn’t stand how unfair it all was. “I can’t believe you’re letting Rit
a go instead of me! They’re my favorite band. She doesn’t even like them that much. All my friends are going—and half my class.”

  Dad gave him a sympathetic look. “If your friends all jumped off a cliff, would you jump, too? Just because everyone else is doing it doesn’t mean you should, too.”

  He chuckled at his own lame dad joke. Barrie just scowled back, feeling even worse. This was yet another lame parenting line that he’d heard a gazillion times before. Going to a fun concert was not the same thing as jumping off a cliff. It made zero sense.

  “But I’m gonna miss out,” Barrie said, imagining Michael and John at the concert without him, jumping around and singing along. Then his father perked up.

  “Oh, I know!” Dad said. “How about I take you to the children’s museum instead? That’s more age appropriate.”

  “Yes, that’s a fantastic idea,” Mom said with a nod. “It’s also…educational.”

  Barrie cringed at that word. He stared at them both in horror. They were just making it worse. Why did his father think that museums were the answer to every single life problem?

  And not just any museum.

  The children’s museum.

  That was like the most boring place in existence. Not to mention it was for snotty little kids who were still in diapers. At least the maritime museum had a pirate ship and other semi-cool stuff.

  He felt his heart sinking. The Lost Boys were his absolute favorite band. He knew every song by heart. The chorus from his favorite song, “Never Land,” ran through his head. It played on the radio constantly.

  The sky’s the limit,

  Never grow up, never get older!

  Second star to the right,

  And straight on till morning.

  He’d been looking forward to going to the show with his friends for so long. He couldn’t believe he was going to miss it.

  He studied his parents’ faces for any glimmer of hope that their resolve was weakening and he could convince them, but they looked firm. He could tell from experience. They weren’t going to change their minds, not once they’d made them up like this.