Chapter 25

I glance around at my band of Triple-H fighters. Trent has a baseball bat. Billy’s wearing his Little League catcher’s gear. Glasses—I mean, Contacts—is gripping a hockey stick. Jenny carries a flyswatter. (She obviously didn’t get my message about how big this creature is.) I have my slingshot. Richie has a monogrammed golf club with a gold handle. Zander wields a fishing net.

We look like a confused sports team. If we’re lucky, our appearance alone will confuse HHH enough to make him run away.

Sarah and Everley lead the way. They’re not carrying anything. I wanted to give them water balloons because their aim is so good, but they refused. They’re concerned that we might hurt the animal . . . or ourselves.

Our pace slows as we near the big tree. Billy and I bravely stay in back to prevent an ambush from behind. The forest is quiet. Too quiet. I half expect Billy to start shooting me with a water gun.

“I know you said this thing is huge,” Jenny says much too loudly for someone holding a flyswatter. “But what, exactly, are we looking for?”

“You’ll know it when you see it,” I whisper. “It has gnarly gray fur and—”

That’s all I get out. HHH interrupts me by letting out a giant hiss from the upper branches of the big tree. The giant fur-beast scans the ground and locks eyes with Jenny. He’s clearly spotted our weakest link. He lets out another death-rattling hiss, leaps into the air, and spreads out all four of its legs—temporarily blocking out the sun.

The beast falls out of the sky and right on top of Jenny! Jenny drops her flyswatter and grabs the bear-raccoon with both arms as they fall to the ground and start wrestling.

We all leap into action. I fire my slingshot, hitting Billy in the shin. Fortunately his catcher’s pads protect him, but he loses his balance and falls into Contacts. Contacts wildly swings his hockey stick, which hooks Zander’s fishing net.

Trent hops around Jenny and HHH looking for a clean swing, just as Richie runs into the mix yelling, “Fore!”

Jenny seems to be holding her own against the furry beast, but I’m not sure how much longer she’ll last. She’s rolling around on the ground and . . . laughing hysterically!?!

“Petunia!” Jenny finally shouts as the raucous raccoon licks her face.

“Wait . . . what?” I say. “You know this thing?”

Trent and Richie put down their weapons—er, their sporting goods.

Jenny stops laughing long enough to explain, “She’s my pet raccoon. She disappeared the week before school let out. Oh, my little Petunia! I thought you were gone forever.”

Triple-H—or, I guess, Petunia—can’t seem to stop wiggling and licking Jenny’s face. We all stand there in silence watching this happy reunion until Zander breaks the silence.

“Um, can I have my net back? My dad and I are going fishing this weekend.”

Petunia is definitely Jenny’s pet. The beast won’t stop licking her and wiggling with excitement. Jenny tells us that her mom works in a veterinarian’s office. Someone brought in a raccoon that was hit by a car, and Jenny’s family volunteered to take it home and nurse it back to health.

“You must be the best nurses in the world,” Billy says, “because that thing is way past healthy!”

“Well, we thought she would go back to the woods once she was healthy,” Jenny says. “But she keeps finding her way back to our house. We’re waiting for a spot to open up for her at the wild animal park. Oh, and I taught her a trick.”

Jenny pulls a granola bar out of her pocket. “Are you hungry?” she asks the raccoon, who has clearly never turned down a meal.

Petunia immediately sits on her back two legs and lets out a giant, “Hiisssssssssss.”

“Good girl,” Jenny says, petting Petunia and handing her the granola bar.

Petunia shows off her strength by easily ripping open the cellophane and popping the granola bar in her mouth.

“So the raccoon wasn’t hissing at us to get us to leave the tree,” I say. “She just wanted us to feed her.”

Thus our mission to reclaim the tree house turns out better than I expected. Not only will HHH no longer be a problem, but I look at my friends and realize what a great opportunity this is.

“Wait here!” I tell everybody. “I’m going to run back to my house to get my tools. If everyone helps, we can probably get the door to our tree house built before the sun goes down.”

Running home takes longer than I expected. I guess my adrenaline is used up and my legs aren’t running as fast as normal. Sarah actually runs back twice to check on me.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” I assure her. “We actually don’t need to be done before the sun goes down, now that the woods aren’t haunted by a fearsome forest fiend!”

“I’m not worried about that,” Sarah says. “I was worried the tools would be too heavy for you to carry.”

With her help I make it back to the tree house with the tools, only to find my friends splashing around in the creek. I’m fortunate to have such good friends.

My mom says it’s important to choose your friends wisely. God wants us to pick friends who encourage us and will be there for us during the hard tim—

“Hey!” I shout. “Who threw moss at my head?”

“You were so slow getting the tools that I wanted to see if moss would have time to grow on you,” Zander jokes.

I open up my toolbox and pull out the saw. We need to cut an opening in the wall and attach some hinges to it to make a door.

I have to admit that it feels strange working this close to Triple-H. I decide to keep calling her that because she doesn’t look like a Petunia. HHH sits in Jenny’s lap eating another granola bar.

“Okay,” I announce. “Billy and Trent, you guys grab the wall and drag it over here. Richie, you’ve taken art lessons in France, so you draw the line for the door. I’ll do the cutting once the lines are drawn.”

“And I’ll call the ambulance after you cut yourself,” Sarah jokes.

“Haha. I’m not that accident-prone. I’m very good when it comes to—”

I stop mid-sentence when the toolbox slams down on my thumb. It doesn’t hurt . . . much—but I decide to take a break and hop around wildly for sixty seconds before soaking my thumb in the cold river water.

“Hey, AB?” Billy says. “I have a question.”

I look up from the creek and don’t even have to ask what his question is. He’s staring at the tree house wall—a wall with a working door already attached.