Chapter 1 - Death Dare

The worst and best day of Chip Cooley’s life started with a dare. It spewed out of Rolo McGregor’s mouth along with a few bits of leftover cookies from lunch.

“I dare ya to go to Mud Falls, fig boy!”

Rolo stood on a mound of dirt in the center of the schoolyard, arms folded across his stout chest. He was a warrior, and it wasn’t eighth grade math he wanted to tackle.

“Look! Cooley’s so scared he’s shaking in his shoes!”

“They’re boots bonehead,” Chip muttered under his breath. For a solid week the bully had called him out. Monday, he demanded his hacky sack. Tuesday his lunch. Yesterday, it was something seriously snarky—20 push-ups in front of the girls gym class. Now it had escalated to something with DANGER written all over it –Mud Falls. There was no way he was walking into that death trap. Rumor had it that if you fell into Mud Falls, you never came back out. Chip gritted his teeth, turned away and ignored the boy’s taunts just like he had all the other times, but the sound of “Sissy!” followed him like a heat-seeking missile. Summer vacation was just days away, but he knew he’d never make it.

As if to confirm his thoughts, Rolo began cracking his knuckles, one by one. Chip could already see the headline in the newspaper: “Local Boy Gets Squished Between Bully’s Gynormous Mitts.” A bead of sweat slid down his neck. The time had come for a peace offering. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a well-worn hacky sack. It was his favorite in the whole wide world. He tossed it a few last times, letting it bounce off his thigh onto his foot. He’d won quite a few contests with this one. With a sigh, he kicked his boot and rainbow colors went flying, landing with a soft plop right into Rolo’s meaty palm. Chip sunk his hands deep in his jean pockets, already missing his trusty orb.

“It’s used to being played at least 4-5 times a day,” he mumbled.

Rolo stared down at the newly acquired gift and then back up at Chip.

“Rainbow colors? Geez, Cooley what’s next, unicorns?” He tossed it over the fence.

Chip looked longingly into the no man’s land of razor sharp bougainvillea thorns. His hacky sack deserved better. With shaking fingers, he reached into his backpack, slowly pulling out the only thing left to bargain with. His empty stomach growled in protest, unhappy that it would now have to wait until supper. He placed a brown paper bag on the ground, stepped back a few paces and jerked his head toward it.

“My lunch.”

The bully snorted from his mound, like a bull preparing to charge. Tense silence filled the schoolyard.

Chip’s throat tightened, fear and anger grabbing him hard. Someone needed to teach beastie boy a lesson. A jab to the middle. A boot in the bum. Someday, someone would have the guts.

“All yours,” Chip choked out and turned to go.

“Plant it fig leaf!” Rolo’s voice boomed like a sonic blast. Striding over to the bag, he picked it up and held it away from his nose. “First of all, why would I want your stinking lunch Cooley?” he spat out. “What’s in there anyway? Wait. Let me guess,” he said tapping a finger against his mouth. “Fig sandwich? Fig chips? Maybe fig cookies and fig juice?”

Girls giggled from a nearby lunch table, and Chip tossed them a scowl from beneath his mop of blonde hair. The Cooleys had farmed figs for generations in Mariposa Grove and were known for their plump, sweet figs. The fact that they made anything and everything out of the brown blobs didn’t go unnoticed either.

“This,” Rolo said dangling the lunch bag, “ain’t gonna cut it. You’re going to Mud Falls Cooley.” He spat a wad of spit on the ground. “If you don’t,” he warned loudly so all could hear, “You’re a sissy. You gonna prove me right, sissy boy?” Snickers filtered through the growing crowd, and out of the corner of his eye, Chip saw a dark figure lean against the old hickory tree.

Goth Girl. She wasn’t what you’d call a normal girl. She had a pet python named Ike, wore jewelry made of duct tape and always wore black. Talk in school had it that she could start a fire just by staring at something hard enough. Right now, she was staring hard at Chip. Her nose twitched, and Chip jerked his attention back to Rolo. At least the bully wouldn’t set him ablaze.

“What’s wrong Cooley?” Rolo taunted. “Got figitis? Did that sissy blood of yours freeze your tongue?” More giggles. He glanced over at the hickory tree and smirked. “Or could it be you’re crushing on Goth Girl?!”

The schoolyard erupted. Chip swiveled back to the girl who no longer looked like the walking dead. Her pale face was a bright shade of pink and getting rosier by the second. Normally, she hid herself inside a long black coat, but this spring day she was wearing a black jumper with matching tights that looked as if moths had spent the winter snacking on them. A rock rolled under her foot making her slip and everyone roared with laughter. She grabbed the tree to steady herself and glared at the howling crowd through her long hair.

“What’s wrong Goth Girl?” Rolo taunted. “Sissy Man not good enough?” He considered Chip from head to foot. “I know what you mean. What a pinhead. Not a real man… like me!” Rolo flexed his bodacious biceps and laughed. The gaggle of girls laughed. The whole school laughed. The sound swirled around Chip like an F5 tornado, closing in tighter and tighter, screaming like a freight train in his ears.

Then it happened. His cool snapped, zinging off into space somewhere between the Milky Way and the Big Dipper. Maybe it was the jab about his fig farming family that did it. Or the mountain of insults he’d swallowed all week. Or maybe, just maybe it was Goth Girl’s butterscotch eyes blinking hard as she fiercely held her own by the hickory tree. Whatever it was, it was like the ocean rushing through a blowhole.

“Fine!” Chip spewed out. “I’ll do the dare you burp breath, steaming pile of putrefying puke!" Chip sucked in his breath with a surprised hiss. The stinging words had blown out of his mouth like BBs from a smoking gun. Except for a belch that came from the back of the crowd, it was dead silent. But Chip’s lips weren’t finished. As if being pulled by a mystery puppeteer, they kicked back into full gear.

“You’re nothing but a bellyaching, megaphone mouth, grape gorger, howling hot air heckler!” He clapped his mouth shut, but it was too late. History was taking place at Hammond Middle School, and everyone knew it. Rolo the bully king stood dumbstruck, mouth hanging open like an unhinged door. It was a beautiful sight.

“What’s the big deal with Mud Falls anyway?” Chip challenged with clenched fists, his cool obviously still cartwheeling through outer space. “It’s just a lick of water running over a tumble of rocks. That’s not a dare for Chip Cooley!” He flicked his bangs out of his face defiantly.

“Yeah!” a lone voice shouted from the crowd. “Go Cooley, Go Cooley!” the kids started chanting. No one had ever called out Rolo McGregor before, and his face was ripening to juicy tomato-red. It was like taunting a steamroller. You just knew you were gonna get flattened like a pancake. But Chip was on a roll. He stood up straighter, his jeans clinging to his toothpick legs like cellophane.

“Can’t you make this a little more interesting Rolo?” He tossed back his bangs, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops. “Heck, even a girl could do this dare!”

Goth Girl’s head jerked up. She strode down the hill toward Chip, stopping within inches of his barn coat, her feet planted wide apart and eyes narrowed to cat slits. It was clear to anyone watching that something had touched a nerve. Only, no one was watching. Everyone was focused on a mountain of a boy who looked ready to blow.

“I forgot to mention one little thing Cooley,” Rolo sneered. With fists curled tight, he stepped up to Chip until they were nose to nose. All the kids strained to hear what he would say next. Rolo looked up at the blue sky, which was quickly being overtaken by black thunderheads. He smiled and it was anything but friendly. “I dare ya to go to Mud Falls at night. During a storm.”

A collective gasp filled the yard. Everyone knew you didn’t go to Mud Falls in a storm. Unless you wanted to die.

“Tonight’s the night Cooley. I feel it brewing, don’t you?”

Everyone watched the blackening sky and knew Rolo had handed Chip a death dare. Mud Falls was strictly OFF LIMITS. The waterfall was a terrifying 100-foot drop of roaring mud and rocks that swallowed anything unlucky enough to be in its path. A hush settled on the crowd as they waited for his next move. Electricity snapped in the air, and a stiff wind nearly pushed the words right back into Chip’s mouth.

“Who wants to see Mud Falls in a jar?” he cried raising his fist. Cheers rained down around him as the first drops fell. “Here’s the deal. Rolo drinks whatever I bring back in the jar. Every drop. Deal?” he asked extending his hand.

“Whatever,” Rolo scoffed. “Like you’ll actually go through with it, sissy boy.”

 “Deal?” Chip repeated stubbornly.

The two boys stared at each other for a long moment.

“Fine,” Rolo growled breaking the silence and closed his huge sweaty palm around Chip’s. “Deal.”

Chip’s shoulders sagged as if a great weight had been lifted off of him. He might live to see summer after all.

Copyright © 2000 by Nina Martin.  All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission. For information, address: info@cooleyscurse.com