28 - The Cuckoo Clock of Doom (3 page)

Bubba tried to bite her. He missed.

“Tara,” I said, “let him go. And get out of here. My friends are coming
over.”

“No.” Now Tara tried to make Bubba walk on his front paws. He fell and bumped
his nose.

“Tara, stop it!” I cried. As I tried to take Bubba away from her, she let the
cat go. Bubba meowed and scratched me across the arm.

“Ow!” I dropped Bubba. He ran away.

“Michael, what were you doing to that cat?” Mom stood in the doorway. Bubba
slipped past her into the hall.

“Nothing! He scratched me!”

“Stop teasing him, and he won’t scratch you,” Mom scolded. She left, calling
over her shoulder, “I’m going upstairs to lie down for a while. I have a
headache.”

The doorbell rang. “We’ll get it, Mom!” I called.

I knew it must be the girls at the door. I wanted to surprise them in my frog
costume, but I wasn’t ready yet.

“Answer the door, Tara,” I told the brat. “Tell Mona and the others to wait
for me in the den. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Tara said. She trotted off to the front door. I hurried upstairs to
change into my costume.

I pulled the costume out of my closet. I took off my pants and shirt. I
picked up the frog suit, trying to open the zipper. It was stuck.

I stood there in my underwear, tugging at the zipper. Then my bedroom door
clicked open.

“Here he is, girls,” I heard Tara say. “He told me to bring you upstairs.”

No! I thought.
Please
don’t let it be true!

I was afraid to look up. I knew what I’d see.

The door wide open. Mona, Ceecee, Rosie, and Tara, staring at me in my
underwear!

I forced myself to look. It was worse than I’d thought.

There they all stood—staring and laughing!

Tara laughed hardest of all. She laughed like a rotten little hyena.

You think that’s bad? Wait. There’s more.

* * *

Two days before the underwear disaster, I was hanging around after school,
playing basketball in the gym with Josh, Henry, and some other guys, including
Kevin Flowers.

Kevin is a good player, big and tough. He is twice as tall as me! He loves
basketball. The Duke Blue Devils are his favorite college team. He wears a Blue
Devils cap to school every day.

While we were shooting baskets, I spied Tara hanging around the sidelines,
where we’d all tossed our jackets and backpacks against the wall.

I got a bad feeling. I always do when Tara’s around.

What’s she doing there? I wondered.

Maybe her teacher kept her after school, and she’s waiting for me to walk her
home.

She’s just trying to distract me, I told myself. Don’t let her. Don’t think
about her. Just concentrate on the game.

I felt good. I actually sank a few baskets before the game ended. My side
won. We had Kevin Flowers on our team, that’s why.

We all jogged to the wall to get our packs. Tara was gone.

Funny, I thought. I guess she went home without me.

I hoisted my pack over my shoulder and said, “See you tomorrow, guys.”

But Kevin’s voice boomed through the gym. “Nobody move!”

We all froze.

“Where’s my cap?” he demanded. “My Blue Devils cap is missing!”

I shrugged.
I
didn’t know where his stupid cap was.

“Somebody took my cap,” Kevin insisted. “Nobody leaves until we find it.”

He grabbed Henry’s backpack and started pawing through it. Everyone knows how
much Kevin loves that cap.

But Josh pointed at me. “Hey—what’s that hanging out of Webster’s pack?” he
asked.

“My pack?” I cried. I glanced over my shoulder.

I saw a patch of blue sticking out of the zippered pocket.

My stomach lurched.

Kevin strode over to me and ripped the cap out of my pack.

“I don’t know how it got there, Kevin,” I insisted. “I swear—”

Kevin didn’t wait to hear my excuses. He never was much of a listener.

I’ll spare you the blood and gore. Let’s just say my clothes didn’t fit too
well when Kevin got through taking me apart!

Josh and Henry helped me home. My mom didn’t recognize me. My eyes and nose had traded places with my chin.

While I was in the bathroom cleaning myself up, I caught a glimpse of Tara in
the mirror. The bratty grin on her face told me all I needed to know.

“You!”
I cried. “You put Kevin’s cap in my pack! Didn’t you!”

Tara just grinned. Yeah. She did it, all right.

“Why?” I demanded. “Why did you do it, Tara?”

Tara shrugged and tried to look innocent. “Was that Kevin’s cap?” she said.
“I thought it was yours.”

“What a lie!” I cried. “I never wore a Duke cap, and you know it! You did
that on purpose!”

I was so furious, I couldn’t stand to look at her. I slammed the bathroom
door in her face.

And of course I got in trouble for slamming the door.

Now you understand what I had to live with.

Now you know why I did the terrible thing that I did.

Anyone in my place would have done the same.

I stayed in my room that night, thinking hard. Plotting a way to get Tara in
trouble.

But nothing came to me. At least, nothing good enough.

Then the clock arrived. A few days later, Tara did something that gave me an
idea.

Tara couldn’t stay away from the cuckoo clock. One afternoon, Dad caught Tara
playing with the clock hands. She didn’t get into any
real
trouble, of
course—not sweet little Tara. But Dad did say, “I’ve got my eye on you, young
lady. No more playing with the clock.”

At last! I thought. At last Dad realizes that Tara’s not a perfect angel. And
at last I’ve found a way to get her into big trouble.

If something went wrong with the clock, I knew Tara would be blamed for it.

So I decided to make sure something
did
go wrong.

Tara deserved to get into trouble for the hundreds of terrible things she did
to me.

So
what
if just once she gets blamed for something she didn’t do? I
thought. It’s only evening the score a little.

That night, after everybody was asleep, I sneaked downstairs to the den.

It was almost midnight. I crept up to the clock and waited.

One minute to go.

Thirty seconds.

Ten seconds.

Six, five, four, three, two, one…

The gong sounded.

Cuckoo! Cuckoo!

The yellow bird popped out. I grabbed it in mid-cuckoo. It made short,
strangling noises.

I twisted its head around, so it faced backwards. It looked really funny that
way.

It finished out its twelve cuckoos, facing the wrong way.

I laughed to myself. When Dad saw it, he’d go
ballistic
!

The cuckoo slid back into its little window, still facing backwards.

This is going to drive Dad insane! I thought wickedly.

He’ll be furious at Tara. He’ll explode like a volcano!

Finally, Tara will know what it feels like to be blamed for something you
didn’t do.

I crept back upstairs. Not a sound. No one saw me.

I fell asleep that night a happy guy. There’s nothing like revenge.

I slept late the next morning. I couldn’t wait to see Dad blow up at Tara. I
just hoped I hadn’t missed it already.

I hurried downstairs. I checked the den.

The door stood open.

No one there. No sign of trouble yet.

Good, I thought. I haven’t missed it.

I made my way into the kitchen, hungry. Mom, Dad, and Tara sat around the
table, piled with empty breakfast dishes.

As soon as they saw me, their faces lit up.

“Happy Birthday!” they cried all at once.

“Very funny,” I snapped. I opened a cabinet. “Is there any more cereal left?”

“Cereal!” Mom said. “Don’t you want something special, like pancakes?”

I scratched my head. “Well, sure. Pancakes would be great.”

This was a little strange. Usually if I woke up late, Mom said I had to fix
my own breakfast. And why should I want something special, anyway?

Mom mixed a fresh batch of pancake batter. “Don’t go in the garage, Michael!
Whatever you do, don’t go in the garage!” She hopped up and down, all excited.
Just as if it were my birthday again.

Weird.

“…there’s a huge mound of trash in there,” Mom was saying. “It really
stinks. It smells so bad, you could get sick from it!”

“Mom, what’s with the trash story?” I asked. “I didn’t believe it the first
time.”

“Just don’t go into the garage,” she repeated.

Why was she saying this to me? Why was she acting so weird?

Dad excused himself, saying, “I’ve got a few important chores to do,” in a
strange, jolly way.

I shrugged and tried to eat my breakfast in peace. But after breakfast I
passed through the dining room. Somebody had decorated it with crepe paper. One
strand had been torn down.

Weird. Totally weird.

Dad came into the room, toolbox in hand. He picked up the torn piece of crepe
paper and started to tape it back up again.

“Why won’t this crepe paper stay up?” he asked.

“Dad,” I said. “Why are you covering the dining room with crepe paper?”

Dad smiled. “Because it’s your birthday, of course! Every birthday party
needs crepe paper. Now, I bet you can’t wait to see your present, right?”

I stared at him.

What’s going on here? I wondered.

Mom and Dad led me to the garage. Tara followed. They all acted as if they
were really going to give me a birthday present.

Dad opened the garage door.

There it was. The bike.

It was perfectly shiny and new-looking. No scratches anywhere.

That must be the surprise, I thought. They figured out a way to get rid of
the scratch somehow. Or maybe they got me another new bike!

“Do you like it?” Mom asked.

“It’s awesome!” I replied.

Tara said, “Cool bike, Mike. Mom, I want one of these for
my
birthday.”

Then she jumped up on the seat. The bike fell over on her. When we pulled it
up, it had a big scratch on it.

Mom cried, “Tara! Are you hurt?”

I couldn’t believe it. What a nightmare!

It was happening all over again. Exactly as it had happened on my birthday.

What’s going on?

“What’s wrong, Michael?” Dad asked. “Don’t you like the bike?”

What could I say? I felt sick. I felt so confused.

Then it dawned on me.

It must have been my wish, I thought.

My birthday wish.

After Tara tripped me and I fell on my cake, I wished I could go back in time
and start my birthday all over again.

Somehow my wish came true.

Wow! I thought. This is kind of cool.

“Let’s go inside,” Mom said. “The party guests will be here soon.”

The party?

Oh, no.

Please, no!

Do I have to live through that horrible party again?

Yes.

Yes, I had to live through the whole horrible nightmare again.

My friends all showed up, just like the first time.

I heard Tara say the awful words, “Hey, Mona. You know, Michael really likes
you.”

Mona said, “He does?”

You already knew that, Mona, I thought. Tara told you four days ago.

You were standing in that very same spot. Wearing those same pink overalls.

Mona, Ceecee, and Rosie cracked up.

I panicked. This can’t go on, I thought.

My mother came in, carrying a tray of soda. I grabbed her.

“Mom,” I begged. “Please take Tara away. Shut her up in her room or
something!”

“Michael, why? Your sister wants to have fun, too.”

“Mom—
please
!”

“Oh, Michael, you’re being silly. Be nice to Tara. She won’t bother you.
She’s just a little girl.”

Mom left the room, stranding me with Tara and my friends.

She couldn’t save me.

No one could.

I showed the guys my new bike. Henry said, “Hey, what’s this big scratch?”

When we got back to the living room, there were all my presents, opened by
Tara.

“Look what Mona gave you, Michael!” Tara shouted.

I know, I know, I thought. A CD. With great love songs on it.

“I’ve heard there are some great
love
songs on it,” Tara repeated.

Everybody laughed.

It was just as bad as before.

No. Worse. Because I could see it all coming. And I couldn’t stop it.

Could I?

“Michael,” Mom called. “Come into the kitchen, please. It’s time for the
birthday cake!”

Here’s the test, I thought, dragging myself into the kitchen.

I’ll carry in the cake—but this time I won’t trip.

I know Tara is going to try and trip me. I won’t let her.

I won’t make a fool of myself this time.

I don’t have to. I don’t have to repeat everything the same way.

Do I?

I stood in the kitchen, staring at the cake. I could hear my friends laughing
and talking in the dining room. Tara was in there, too.

I knew she was standing just beyond the dining room door, waiting. Waiting to
stick out her foot and trip me. Waiting to make me fall on my face and embarrass
myself all over again.

Not this time.

I carefully picked up the cake in both hands. I started toward the dining
room.

Mom followed, just as before.

I stopped in front of the entrance to the dining room. I glanced down.

No sign of Tara’s foot.

Carefully, watching closely, I stepped through the door. One step.

So far, so good.

Another step. I stood inside the dining room now.

I’d made it! All I had to do was get to the table, about five steps away, and
I’d be safe.