The Werewolf of Fever Swamp

3

As I started to fall into the bubbling green stew, the same hands grabbed my waist and pulled me back.

Emily giggled. "Gotcha!" she cried, holding on to me, keeping me from turning around and slugging her.

"Hey — let go!" I cried angrily. "You almost pushed me into quicksand! That's not funny!"

She laughed some more, then let me go. "It isn't quicksand, dork," she muttered. "It's a bog."

"Huh?" I turned to stare into the gloppy green water.

"It's a bog. A peat bog," she repeated impatiently. "Don't you know anything?"

"What's a peat bog?" I asked, ignoring her insults. Emily the Know-It-All. She's always bragging about how she knows everything and I'm a stupid clod. But she gets B's in school, and I get A's. So who's the smart one?

"We learned about this last year when we studied the wetlands and rain forests," she replied smugly. "The pond is thick because it has peat moss growing in it. The moss grows and grows. It absorbs twenty-five times its own weight in water."

"It's gross-looking," I said.

"Why don't you drink some and see how it tastes," she urged.

She tried to push me again, but I ducked and skirted away. "I'm not thirsty," I muttered. I realize it wasn't too clever, but it was the best reply I could think of.

"Let's get going," she said, wiping sweat off her forehead with her hand. "I'm really hot."

"Yeah. Okay," I reluctantly agreed. "This was a pretty neat walk."

We turned away from the peat bog and started back down the hill. "Hey, look!" I cried, pointing to two black shadows floating high above us under a white cloud.

"Falcons," Emily said, shielding her eyes with one hand as she gazed up. "I think they're falcons. It's hard to see. They sure are big."

We watched them soar out of sight. Then we continued down the hill, making our way carefully on the damp, sandy ground.

At the bottom of the hill, back under the deep shade of the trees, we stopped to catch our breath.

I was really sweating now. The back of my neck felt hot and itchy. I rubbed it with one hand, but it didn't seem to help.

The breeze had stopped. The air felt heavy. Nothing moved.

Loud cawing sounds made me glance up. Two enormous blackbirds peered down at us from a low branch of a cypress tree. They cawed again, as if telling us to go away.

"This way," Emily said with a sigh.

I followed her, feeling prickly and itchy all over. "I wish we had a swimming pool at our new house," I said. "I'd jump right in with my clothes on!"

We walked for several minutes. The trees grew thicker. The light grew dimmer. The path ended. We had to push our way through tall, leafy ferns.

"I–I don't think we've been here before," I stammered. "I don't think this is the right way."

We stared at each other, watching each other's face fill with fright.

We both realized we were lost. Completely lost.