1
When I was a really little girl, my mom would tuck me into bed at night. She
would whisper, “Good night, Ginger. Good night. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
I didn’t know what bedbugs were. I pictured fat red bugs with big eyes and
spidery legs, crawling under the sheet. Just thinking about them made me itchy
all over.
After Mom kissed me on the forehead and left, Dad would step into my room and
sing to me. Very softly. The same song every night. “The Teddy Bears’ Picnic.”
I don’t know why he thought that song made a good lullaby. It was about going
into the woods and finding hundreds and hundreds of bears.
The song gave me the shivers. What were the bears eating at their picnic?
Children?
After Dad kissed me on the forehead and left the room, I’d be itching and
shaking for hours.
Then I’d have nightmares about bedbugs and bears.
Until a few years ago, I was afraid to go into the woods.
I’m twelve now, and I’m not scared any longer.
At least, I wasn’t scared until our family camping trip this summer. That’s
when I discovered that there are a lot scarier creatures than bears in the
woods!
But I guess I’d better begin at the beginning.
The first thing I remember about our camping trip is Dad yelling at my
brothers. I have two ten-year-old brothers—Pat and Nat. You guessed it.
They’re twins.
Lucky me—huh?
Pat and Nat aren’t just twins. They’re identical twins. They look so much
alike, they confuse each other !
They are both short and skinny. They both have round faces and big brown
eyes. They both wear their brown hair parted in the middle and straight down the
sides. They both wear baggy, faded jeans and black-and-red skater T-shirts with
slogans no one can understand.
There is only one way to tell Pat from Nat or Nat from Pat. You have to ask
them who they are!
I remember that our camping trip began on a beautiful, sunny day. The air
smelled piney and fresh. Twigs and dead leaves crackled under our shoes as we followed a twisting path through the woods.
Dad led the way. He carried the tent over his shoulder, and he had a bulging
backpack on his back. Mom followed him. She was also loaded down with stuff we
needed.
The path led through a grassy clearing. The sun felt hot on my face. My
backpack began to feel heavy. I wondered how much deeper into the woods Mom and
Dad wanted to go.
Pat and Nat followed behind us. Dad kept turning around to yell at them. We
all had to yell at Pat and Nat. Otherwise, they never seemed to hear us. They
only heard each other.
Why was Dad yelling?
Well, for one thing, Nat kept disappearing. Nat likes to climb trees. If he
sees a good tree, he climbs it. I think he’s part chimpanzee.
I tell him that as often as I can. Then he scratches his chest and makes
chimp noises. He thinks he’s really funny.
So there we were, hiking through the woods. And every time we turned around,
Nat would be up a tree somewhere. It was slowing us down. So Dad had to yell at
him.
Then Dad had to yell at Pat because of his Game Boy. “I told you not to bring
that thing!” Dad shouted. Dad is big and broad, kind of like a bear. And he has
a booming voice.
It doesn’t do him much good. Pat and Nat never listen to him.
Pat walked along, eyes on his Game Boy, his fingers hammering the controls.
“Why are we hiking in the woods?” Dad asked him. “You could be home in your
room doing that. Put it away, Pat, and check out the scenery.”
“I can’t, Dad,” Pat protested. “I can’t quit now. I’m on Level Six! I’ve
never made it to Level Six before!”
“There goes a chipmunk,” Mom chimed in, pointing. Mom is the wildlife guide.
She points out everything that moves.
Pat didn’t raise his eyes from his Game Boy.
“Where’s Nat?” Dad demanded, his eyes searching the clearing.
“Up here, Dad,” Nat called. I shielded my eyes with one hand and saw him on a
high branch of a tall oak tree.
“Get down
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