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.