Nighty-Nightmare by James Howe Page A

don’t you, ol’ buddy?” In all the years I’d known him he’d never called me ol’ buddy. I mean, he’s a college professor. This was serious. “You know what we need? We need an adventure, Harold. We need to do something we’ve never done before. Something we always wanted to do in our youth but never did.” I never chewed a chair leg, I thought. That would be fun. “Listen, boy, we’re only here for a few days, but we still have time to do something new and adventurous and fun. Let’s go on an overnight camping trip! We’ll sleep out in the open, under the stars. What do you think, Harold?”
    Mosquitoes, I thought. Ticks, I thought. Cockleburs. I wasn’t sure I liked the idea at all. But thensomething else occurred to me.



S’mores.
    My tongue fell out of my mouth, and the next thing I knew I was looking into Mr. Monroe’s eyes and drooling.
    â€œThat’s the spirit, Harold,” he said. “Let’s go tell the others.”
    The paddle hit the water with a sharp smack. Mr. Monroe’s eyes glinted with determination as he carried us quickly to shore. He wasn’t simply homeward bound, however; he was bound for adventure, bound for recapturing his youth.
    I had no idea then that he had set his course as well on what would prove to be the most terrifying night of my life.
    TEN MINUTES LATER, we were at the door of “Lake Expectations,” the Monroes’ cabin retreat, named after Mr. Monroe’s favorite book. The boys, who seemed to be the only ones around, came running when they heard their father call out his news. I couldn’t help noticing that despitetheir enthusiasm, they managed to keep their tongues in their mouths.
    â€œThat is
so
cool,” Pete shouted. “Can we go tonight?”
    â€œYeah, Dad, can we?” Toby echoed.
    â€œI don’t know,” Mr. Monroe said as we all went inside. “I’ve never done this sort of thing before. There’s a lot of preparation involved.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” said Pete. “I’ll take charge.”
    â€œWell,” his father said.
    â€œNo, its okay. Really,” Pete said, in a tone I’d heard him using a lot lately. “I’ve been reading up on camping. For my badge, see. I know all about this stuff.”
    Mrs. Monroe came in from the back porch then, carrying a chipped pitcher full of buggy flowers. “Is this the secret project you’ve been working on?” she asked Pete.
    Pete shook his head. “That’s a different merit badge.”
    â€œWhy can’t you tell us about it?” Toby said.
    â€œBecause it’s none of your business, squirt.”
    â€œPete,” said Mrs. Monroe, wiping the bottom ofthe pitcher with her hand and placing it on the table.
    â€œWell, it isn’t fair,” Pete said. “Toby thinks he has to do everything I do.”
    â€œI’m a scout, too,” Toby said.
    Pete looked at his younger brother and laughed.
    â€œYou’re a Bobcat,” he said. “Anybody can be a Bobcat.”
    â€œYeah, I guess so,” Toby mumbled.
“You
were one once.”
    â€œBoys,” said Mrs. Monroe. “Robert.”
    â€œRight,” Mr. Monroe said. “If we’re going to go on an overnight, let’s have some fun doing it. I don’t know what your other project is, Pete, but I see no reason why Toby can’t help you out on this one. Why don’t you get those camping books of yours, and we’ll all pitch in? The sooner we’re ready, the sooner we can leave.”
    â€œYippee!” Toby shouted. “Can the animals come with us?”
    â€œOh, I don’t know about
that,”
Mrs. Monroe said. “They’ll be fine here for one night.”
    â€œBut they’ll miss all the fun,” Toby said. Heran over and gave me a hug. “Harold wants to go, don’t you, boy?” I licked his ear.