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“Carl. This isn’t funny, Carl.”
Still nothing. I step quietly on to the first step. Waiting. Listening.
I’ve never liked going into our attic. It’s dark, creepy, and always cold due to the lack of insulation and the numerous slits and holes in the ceiling. Dad swears he’ll get around to fixing it up real nice someday. But he’s been saying that for years now and until he does, Mom, Carl Junior, and I prefer to stay clear of it.
I shiver as I climb to the second step. “Carl?”
He’s up to one of his scare tactics again. I know this because when I tried the light switch, the light didn’t come on; my brother’s calling card. For the past year, at least once a week, he’ll unscrew the light bulb in the basement or the office and hide, waiting for one of us to go in before jumping out and yelling “BOO!” It’s usually me or my dad because he knows mom will ground him if he scares her. Not having such parental privileges though, I’m forced to grin and bear it.
“Carl?”
I could just wait him out. Not go up. Yell, “Bye, Carl! See ya, Carl!”, slam the door and lock it behind me. But I promised Lacey my old aquarium and darn it if she and her mom weren’t waiting in their car outside I’d turn around right now. Instead I'm stuck peering up a dark, wooden stairway just waiting for my younger brother to jump out and scare the Dickens out of me.
“Carl?”
I move up to the third step. Just ten more to go. Lucky number thirteen.
“Carl. If you scare me, I’ll tell everyone at school you still sleep with your Mighty Mouse doll!”
Still nothing.
Darn it, Carl.
I climb to the fourth step. Maybe it would be better to just get it over with real quick. Like pulling a Band-Aid.
I count silently to three then dart up the stairs.
“AHHH!”
It’s Carl and he’s wearing his Halloween mask and I’m hearing myself scream and then I’m running back downstairs and he’s chasing me all the way to the bottom.
“Carl!”
He’s rolling on the floor laughing.
“You should have seen your face!”
“Carl Lipton Junior! You're going to pay for that!”
He’s not even listening now he’s laughing so hard and I step over him and climb the stairs into the attic to fetch the aquarium, all the while thinking how sweet it would be to scare him so bad he would never pull a stunt like that again.
My dad, Carl Lipton III, happens to be somewhat famous in Texas. Well, let me re-phrase that because it depends on how you define ‘famous’. He’s an author, see. And he writes a lot of books and papers and he lectures at the university and lots of people seem to want to talk to him. Though I can’t imagine why because he writes about...promise you won’t laugh? Okay. He writes about...lighthouses. The lighthouses of the South to be exact. Louisiana, Alabama, South Carolina. He can't get enough of them.
So I wasn’t surprised when, at breakfast the following morning, he announced that we would all be going to spend the following weekend exploring the Aransas Pass Lighthouse near Aransas Pass, a small town outside Corpus Christi.
“That’s a long drive, dad,” I say, reaching for a fresh slice of warm toast.
“It is a long drive, Sarah. About eight hours. But it’s a nice opportunity to spend some time together as a family.”
“And boy do we need it,” my mom interjects, setting the jam and peanut butter on the table. “Your father’s been so busy lately, what with his new book and all.”
Carl Junior groans as he bites into his third slice of toast.
“Don’t you start, young man,” my mom warns, returning to the stove to stir the grits. “And by the way, I’ve decided that you’re grounded this week for scaring your sister yesterday.”
“But, mom! It’s summer!”
I can’t help but smile as I pour myself a glass of orange juice.
“I’ll let you go in the yard.”
“Argh, this isn’t fair! Tommy’s dad's putting their pool up today and he invited me over.”
“Too bad, mister. You should have thought of that before you scared your sister.”
My brother glares at me and I know he’s already plotting his revenge.