A wheelbarrow tilted against the wall. I hadn’t noticed them before.
“Guess he isn’t here,” I said to myself out loud.
I walked past the wheelbarrow. I saw something else I hadn’t noticed before — a pile of old coats on the barn floor. Empty burlap bags were stacked beside them.
I picked one up. It had a frowning face painted on it in black paint. I dropped the bag back onto the pile.
These must be Stanley’s scarecrow supplies, I realized.
How many more scarecrows did he plan to build?
Then something in the corner caught my eye. I walked quickly over the straw. Then I bent down to examine what I saw.
Torches. At least a dozen torches stacked in thecorner, hidden by the darkness. Next to them I spotted a large bottle of kerosene.
What on earth are
these
doing here?
I asked myself.
Suddenly, I heard a scraping sound. I saw shadows slide against shadows.
And I realized that once again I was no longer alone.
I jumped to my feet. “Sticks!” I cried. “You scared me.”
His face was half hidden in darkness. His black hair fell over his forehead. He didn’t smile. “I warned you,” he said menacingly.
19
Feeling the fear rise to my throat, I stepped out of the corner and moved past him, into the light from the doorway. “I — I was looking for you,” I stammered. “Sticks, why are you trying to scare Mark and me?”
“I told you things were different here,” he said, lowering his voice to whisper. “I warned you to get away from here, to go back home.”
“But why?” I demanded. “What’s your problem, Sticks? What did we do to you? Why are you trying to scare us?”
“I’m not,” Sticks replied. He glanced back nervously to the barn doors.
“Huh?” I gaped at him.
“I’m not trying to scare you. Really,” he insisted.
“Liar,” I muttered angrily. “You must really think I’m a moron. I
know
you threw that scarecrow onto our path this morning. It had to be you, Sticks.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted coldly. “But I’m warning you —”
A sound at the doorway made him stop.
We both saw Stanley step into the barn. He shielded his eyes with one hand as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “Sticks — are you in here?” he called.
Stick’s features tightened in sudden fear. He let out a low gasp.
“I — I’ve got to go,” Sticks whispered tensely to me. He turned and started jogging toward Stanley. “Here I am, Dad,” he called. “Is the tractor ready?”
I watched the two of them hurry from the barn. Sticks didn’t look back.
I stood in the darkness, my eyes on the empty doorway, thinking hard.
I
know
Sticks was lying to me,
I thought.
I
know
he made the scarecrows move at night. I know he dressed as a scarecrow to scare me in the woods and at the barn. And I know he tossed that scarecrow in front of the horses this morning.
I know he’s trying to frighten Mark and me. But enough is enough, I decided. Now it’s payback time.
Now it’s time for
Sticks
to be frightened. Really frightened.
20
“I can’t do this!” Mark protested.
“Of course you can,” I assured him. “This is going to be really cool.”
“But my wrist hurts again,” my brother whined. “It just started hurting. I can’t use it.”
“No problem,” I told him. “You won’t have to use it.”
He started to protest some more. But then a smile spread across his face, and his eyes lit up gleefully. “It’s kind of a cool idea,” he said, laughing.
“Of
course
it’s an awesome idea,” I agreed.
“I
thought of it!”
We were standing in the doorway to the barn. The white light from a full moon shone down on us. Owls hooted somewhere nearby.
It was a cool, clear night. The grass shimmered from a heavy dew. A soft wind made the trees whisper. The moonlight was so bright, I could see every blade of grass.
After Grandpa Kurt and Grandma Miriam had gone to bed, I dragged Mark from the house. I pulled him across the yard to
“Guess he isn’t here,” I said to myself out loud.
I walked past the wheelbarrow. I saw something else I hadn’t noticed before — a pile of old coats on the barn floor. Empty burlap bags were stacked beside them.
I picked one up. It had a frowning face painted on it in black paint. I dropped the bag back onto the pile.
These must be Stanley’s scarecrow supplies, I realized.
How many more scarecrows did he plan to build?
Then something in the corner caught my eye. I walked quickly over the straw. Then I bent down to examine what I saw.
Torches. At least a dozen torches stacked in thecorner, hidden by the darkness. Next to them I spotted a large bottle of kerosene.
What on earth are
these
doing here?
I asked myself.
Suddenly, I heard a scraping sound. I saw shadows slide against shadows.
And I realized that once again I was no longer alone.
I jumped to my feet. “Sticks!” I cried. “You scared me.”
His face was half hidden in darkness. His black hair fell over his forehead. He didn’t smile. “I warned you,” he said menacingly.
19
Feeling the fear rise to my throat, I stepped out of the corner and moved past him, into the light from the doorway. “I — I was looking for you,” I stammered. “Sticks, why are you trying to scare Mark and me?”
“I told you things were different here,” he said, lowering his voice to whisper. “I warned you to get away from here, to go back home.”
“But why?” I demanded. “What’s your problem, Sticks? What did we do to you? Why are you trying to scare us?”
“I’m not,” Sticks replied. He glanced back nervously to the barn doors.
“Huh?” I gaped at him.
“I’m not trying to scare you. Really,” he insisted.
“Liar,” I muttered angrily. “You must really think I’m a moron. I
know
you threw that scarecrow onto our path this morning. It had to be you, Sticks.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted coldly. “But I’m warning you —”
A sound at the doorway made him stop.
We both saw Stanley step into the barn. He shielded his eyes with one hand as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “Sticks — are you in here?” he called.
Stick’s features tightened in sudden fear. He let out a low gasp.
“I — I’ve got to go,” Sticks whispered tensely to me. He turned and started jogging toward Stanley. “Here I am, Dad,” he called. “Is the tractor ready?”
I watched the two of them hurry from the barn. Sticks didn’t look back.
I stood in the darkness, my eyes on the empty doorway, thinking hard.
I
know
Sticks was lying to me,
I thought.
I
know
he made the scarecrows move at night. I know he dressed as a scarecrow to scare me in the woods and at the barn. And I know he tossed that scarecrow in front of the horses this morning.
I know he’s trying to frighten Mark and me. But enough is enough, I decided. Now it’s payback time.
Now it’s time for
Sticks
to be frightened. Really frightened.
20
“I can’t do this!” Mark protested.
“Of course you can,” I assured him. “This is going to be really cool.”
“But my wrist hurts again,” my brother whined. “It just started hurting. I can’t use it.”
“No problem,” I told him. “You won’t have to use it.”
He started to protest some more. But then a smile spread across his face, and his eyes lit up gleefully. “It’s kind of a cool idea,” he said, laughing.
“Of
course
it’s an awesome idea,” I agreed.
“I
thought of it!”
We were standing in the doorway to the barn. The white light from a full moon shone down on us. Owls hooted somewhere nearby.
It was a cool, clear night. The grass shimmered from a heavy dew. A soft wind made the trees whisper. The moonlight was so bright, I could see every blade of grass.
After Grandpa Kurt and Grandma Miriam had gone to bed, I dragged Mark from the house. I pulled him across the yard to
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