“What was it like?” I asked.
“It was all right,” he said, spraying me with muffin. “There was an assault course that would have made you wet yourself if you had had to go on it, but I was the best. Mom, can we have pizza tonight, please, Momsy-womsy?”
“As a special treat, yes,” said Mom, “but no Coke.” She gave him a big hug. “It’s good to see you, Wills.”
“Good to see you too, Mom. Have you missed me?”
“We’ve all missed you, Wills.”
“I bet Chrissy-wissy hasn’t.”
“It’s been great,” I said. “Best time of my life.”
Wills leapt on top of me. “Take that back,” he growled, “or I’ll tickle you to death.”
“I take it back, I take it back,” I screamed as he began to tickle me mercilessly.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Dad said then. “Sit still and I’ll show you.”
We sat still while he delved into his pocket. He pulled out three tickets and waved them in the air.
“Car racing, tomorrow. Are you coming?”
“You bet!” we cried.
“Well done, Wills,” he said. “The first report from your school was really good, so you deserve a reward.”
I ignored the fact that, even though my reports were always good, I had never had a reward. I was pleased for Wills and I was pleased that for once Dad had kept a promise. Wills began to run around the room, making racing car noises. Mom put her fingers in her ears, and Dad said it was time for him to go. “NYEEEEAHHH, NYEEEAHHH,
NYEEEAHHH,” went Wills, until Mom yelled at the top of her voice, “STOP IT, WILLIAM, NOW!”
Wills stopped in his tracks, sat down on the couch, and grinned sheepishly at Mom. “Sorry, Mom,” he said.
I went upstairs, saying I wanted an early night. I sat down at my desk and pulled out a sheet of paper.
HURRICANE WILLS, I wrote, BY CHRIS JENNINGS.
What a great title, I thought. I would use the same beginning as before, if I could remember it. I would write a lot of the same things as before. But the story wouldn’t really be about Wills. NO WAY JOSE. It would be about ME.
I put the sheet under some other papers and got ready for bed. I would write my story, no matter how long it took, no matter how old I was by the time I finished it. I would write my story.
YEAH!
