THE BOY COWERED IN THE boat. I didn’t need him to row back to the island, but I did need him to make the choice—to let go. I was about to tell him, when I heard three words:
“Don’t give up.”
The pain bloomed in the boy’s temple again, but it was lighter than before. He squinted against it—and stared into the glowing green eyes of the Big Bad Wolf. The beast sat hunched over on the other side of the small boat.
“You can do this, Ethan.” It was his father’s voice. Thicker, gruffer, but the boy still knew it was his father.
“The monsters are too big,” the boy said, glancing at the tentacles of water thrashing around his boat. “I can’t beat them all.”
“You can come back to us. I know you can.”
Muscled waves flexed under the boat, driving it up, then crashing it down.
“AAAAAAAHHHH!” the boy screamed, crouching lower and burying his head in his hands. “I can’t!”
“You can do anything you want to do.”
The boy didn’t move; he didn’t look up. His shoulders sagged with the weight of his worry. He broke into sobs, as the world thrashed around him.
“I’m sorry, Ethan.”
The boy stopped crying. He lifted his head and stared at the Wolf. The hair around its ears was graying, and its green eyes glowed with love and sorrow.
“Forgive me,” the Wolf said. “I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.”
“You wanted me to be brave,” the boy said, sniffling away his tears.
“I thought that by pushing you I could make you stronger, but I was wrong.”
The boy frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You’re already strong,” the Wolf said. “In your head and in your heart.” The beast tapped a curved claw against his head, then his chest.
The boy didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to respond.
The tentacles pummeled the surface. Waves crashed against the side of the boat as it tumbled in the rocky ocean.
“It wasn’t you who was afraid,” the Wolf continued. “It was me. I didn’t want you to become like me.”
The boy sat up, holding on to the sides of the boat.
“I was always afraid when I was a child,” the Wolf said. “And now, I’m still afraid. Afraid I’m not strong enough, I’m not providing enough . . . I’m not enough. I thought that if I pushed you harder, you’d be different. But I was wrong. You can do it on your own.”
“I’m not so sure,” the boy said.
Screeches and roars emanated from the water. Louder and louder as the tentacles flailed.
“You are more than enough, Ethan. All by yourself. The way you help your brother . . .” The beast smiled, sharp yellowed teeth glinting out of the side of its mouth. “You are much stronger than me.”
“Ollie.” The boy thought of his brother. Would he be all right if the boy didn’t make it home? Would the Wolf help him now?
“Ollie needs you, Ethan. He misses you. Your mother misses you. I miss you. We love you very much. We need you to come home.”
Tears sprang to the boy’s eyes again. “I want to come home, Dad. I love you, too.”
He stood but was knocked back down. The whirling tentacles were so close now, the boy could feel their wind whipping against his face. Water had collected in the bottom of the boat and swirled around his feet.
“We’re going to sink!”
The boat tipped wildly. Rocked back and forth.
“What do I do?”
“You know the way home, Ethan,” the Wolf said.
The boy frowned. “I do?”
The Wolf nodded. “You know the way home.”
Another giant wave crashed over the boat. It tilted dangerously. The boy held on.
“I know what to do. I know what to do,” he muttered, trying to think of what he should do.
Then he remembered the pink tiles. The pool. The water. If he jumped, he’d be able to float. He’d roll over the waves and maybe—hopefully—make it home. It was risky. The ocean was much bigger than the pool and the water much more rough. But the boat wouldn’t last long in this storm. He had no other choice.
He had to believe.
He had to try.
“On three, we’ll jump,” he told the Wolf.
“What? This is your worst idea yet. The absolute worst!”
“No, it’s not,” the boy said.
“You think you’re brave just because ol’ green eyes over there says you are? You’re not brave. You’re not strong. You’re nothing. Nothing. NOTHING!!!”
The boy stomped his foot. The boat swayed in protest, but the boy didn’t curl up. He didn’t hide. He widened his stance so the boat was more stable.
“You want to know what the worst idea I ever had was?” He punched the air as he shouted.
“What?”
“Listening to you. You’re the one who’s brainless. Not me!”
“ I’m brainless? You’re the one in this boat. In front of that monster. Don’t you get it yet? You’re going to get yourself killed! You’re going to get US KILLED!”
The boy’s breath caught. “You’re scared.”
“Huh?”
“That’s what it is. You’re scared of us failing and getting hurt, so you want me to give up.”
The bully stayed quiet.
“But if I don’t do anything, the monsters will never go away!” The boy pointed up at the swirling tentacles, each as wide as a house and closing in on the little boat.
The boy pulled back his shoulders. “Of course I’m scared. But it’s not about being scared. It’s what you do when you’re scared. I have to do this, and you’re just gonna have to trust me.”
“I . . .” But the bully fell silent. When it finally spoke, its voice was small. “All right. Let’s do this. But if you’re wrong, I reserve the right to say I told you so.”
The boy grimaced. “If I’m wrong, you won’t have to.”
A deafening cry came from the ocean. The tops of the tentacles had converged right over the boat. They were colliding—on top of him.
“You know the way home, Ethan,” the Wolf said.
“Yeah, you know.”
The boy nodded.
The bases of the tentacles swirled closer, closer, closer, then crashed over the boat. As the hull splintered into a million pieces, the boy screamed, “JUUUUUUUUUUMP!”
And he jumped.
A splash.
A gasp.
Then silence.
The boy held his breath.
Opened his eyes.
Darkness.
His heart tapped. Tapped. Tapped.
A small smile, then his arms pushed down. He kicked his feet.
He floated.
The boy bobbed on the surface of the ocean.
The giant tentacles were gone. The boat was gone. The beast was gone. The boy was alone, in the middle of the ocean.
“It’ll be all right,” he told himself. “Once upon a time, there was a boy . . .” He smiled slyly. “A boy who made his own courage.”
He heard voices in the distance, quiet and warm. And he saw the light coming for him.
The beam shone out from the lighthouse, stretching across the rugged sea until it touched the boy’s head.
He reached up his arm and disappeared.