Double-Dare O’Toole by Constance C. Greene Read Free Book Online Page A

and you’d know that.
    If I could pick my family, Fex thought, I’d keep my mother and father, and I’d trade in Pete. Maybe for Audrey. And keep Jerry, of course. Even with his practicing, I’d hang on to Jerry.
    These were the things he sometimes thought about. Along with lots of other things. But when he was about to dip into sleep, thoughts swirled through his head that he couldn’t always remember the next day. It infuriated him, especially when he knew they’d been exciting or original ideas or mind pictures which, if he could only bring them back into focus, might be worth keeping. Once, for instance, he’d slipped over the edge of sleep just as he saw himself, perfectly clearly, dressed in a red uniform with brass buttons and a steel helmet that glinted in the sun. People were lined up on either side as he rode his magnificent black stallion into town. Girls threw rose petals in his path, and shouts of “O’Toole! O’Toole!” rang in his ears. That had definitely been worth pursuing.
    Suddenly, unbidden, lines from one of his father’s favorite poems, one he sometimes recited, came to Fex’s mind.
    â€œI am the master of my fate,” the poem went, “I am the captain of my soul.” He thought about that. The captain of my soul. That would be nice—to be the captain of your own soul. He wondered how a person managed that. For one thing, if he wanted to achieve it, he’d have to give up on the double-dare stuff.
    When had it started? Why? He thought back to the first time. He’d been five. They’d been in the five-and-ten shopping for stuff the day before Easter. The store was crowded with people buying candy and baskets and straw hats. Out of the blue, Pete had dared him to walk down the center aisle of the store on his hands. He’d just learned how to walk on his hands and was very proud of himself. He’d done pretty well, falling down only when he got to the notions counter. He remembered the look on his mother’s face as she turned to see what all the noise, the applause, the commotion was about. Even the manager of the store had joined in on the applause. It was a wonderful moment.
    â€œLittle showoff,” Pete had muttered. That had been the beginning. Fex couldn’t let go. He liked to make people laugh. He felt important. From then on, Fex was hooked. Kids found out and double-dared him to do crazy things, dangerous things. Once he’d jumped off the jungle gym at school when a kid dared him, and he’d broken his collarbone. Another time when he was about eight, a gang of kids had been down by the river. It was March, and the ice that had formed during the cold winter was thin. They had thought they could see fish swimming underneath. A kid had said, “Double-dare you, Fex, to walk on that ice,” and, not even thinking, he’d started across to the other side. The ice was green and gray, and it creaked under his feet. He’d almost made it. Then the ice had given way with a kind of creaking sigh, throwing him into water so cold he couldn’t even cry out. The kids standing there on the shore, watching him, were scared. A couple of them ran away. But luck was with him. A man in a truck heard the others hollering for help, and he stopped and ran down to the riverbank carrying a large, stout rope from his truck. Fex caught the rope on the first try, and the man hauled him to safety.
    That should’ve cured him. But no. He let his father think he’d fallen in by accident. From his mother’s face, he was sure she knew the truth. She tried to talk to him, asked him why he let himself be used by other kids.
    â€œPlease, Fex,” she begged, sitting on the edge of his bunk. “Promise me you won’t do any of that daredevil stuff. Promise me. I worry about you.” But, no matter how hard she begged, he never really promised her because he knew he’d break that promise.