The Pirate Who's More Terrified than Ever

by Annabeth Bondor-Stone

  Map

  Dedication

  For Bear

  Contents

  Cover

  Map

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  About the Authors

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Shivers the Pirate secured the goggles to his head. The downpour had already begun. He zipped up his wet suit so his entire body was covered. Then he put on a pair of bright-yellow dish-washing gloves and wrapped rubber bands around his wrists so not a single water droplet would seep in.

  “In an emergency like this, it’s always good to have extra protection on hand . . . and on foot!” he declared. He swapped out his usual bunny slippers for a pair of bunny flippers. As he took a squeaky step forward, fear rattled him like a tambourine. He knew what he had to do, but he really wished he had to don’t.

  Shivers’s first mate, Albee, was supervising in his fishbowl just a few feet away. Albee knew this could only end in disaster, but as a fish, there’s only so much you can do. His only hope was that Shivers didn’t try to use him as a flotation device.

  Shivers turned to Albee and grimaced. “If I don’t make it, just remember this: your fish flakes are in the cabinet. Don’t eat too many at once. And never leave the stove on. In fact, don’t even go near the stove.” He stared straight into Albee’s big, fishy eyeballs. “Use the microwave instead!”

  Shivers grabbed his snorkel, crammed it into his mouth, and leaped across the great divide. Sheets of rain pelted his goggles, blurring his sight. His sopping-wet hair matted to his face. The rush of water was so strong it even seeped through his bunny flippers and tickled his toes. This was going worse than expected.

  The water slapped violently against the ground. He stuck his fingers in his ears to protect against the sound, but also to make sure the water didn’t wiggle its way into his head—Shivers had always been deathly afraid of getting brainwashed.

  Heavy droplets battered his scrawny legs, making him weak in the knees. Pressure swelled inside him like a balloon, until the only thing he could do was burst. He spat out the snorkel and screamed.

  But as soon as the scream started, it was snuffed out by a wave of water that funneled through Shivers’s wide-open mouth. He coughed and stumbled, his flippers slipping underneath him. Shivers came crashing down with a splash as the rain pelted him harder than ever before.

  “I’m drowning!” he wailed, thrashing left and splashing right.

  “Pull yourself together!” Albee said, shaking his head—but because he’s a fish, he was really shaking his whole body.

  Then, through the misty rain, Shivers spotted his only hope for survival. He flipped onto his belly and stretched out his arm until his fingers touched a cold, metal lever. With his last ounce of strength, he gripped it as tightly as he could and pulled.

  The water stopped.

  Shivers hoisted himself out of the bathtub and bellowed, “I HATE TAKING SHOWERS!”

  He threw on a fresh pair of pantaloons, his velvet pirate coat, and his feathered pirate cap. He stuffed his feet into his bunny slippers and picked up Albee’s fishbowl. He stumbled down the hallway and collapsed on the kitchen floor in a heap.

  “That was worse than I could ever have imagined,” he cried.

  “Well, you sure smell a whole lot better!” Standing above Shivers was his best friend, Margo Clomps’n’Stomps. She stared down at him with her big green eyes, her hands on her hips. As usual, she had a backpack on her back, a ponytail on her head, and a smile as wide as a mile.

  “Why did you make me do that?” Shivers groaned.

  “Shivers, yesterday for your birthday, you ate six gallons of ice cream and a whole ham! You were covered in so much sugar and ham juice you smelled like a pig dipped in Pixy Stix!”

  Shivers sighed. Margo had a point. Sleeping in ham juice had been unpleasant. He dragged himself up from the floor and narrowed his eyes at her. “Fine. But I’m never taking a shower again!”

  Margo laughed and shook her head.

  Shivers opened his refrigerator. Now that the worst part of the day was surely over, he could eat some breakfast in peace. He mixed a banana and some pudding together in a big bowl. Banana pudding was his favorite new food. It was so soft, he almost wanted to lay his head down in it and fall asleep—but then he’d have to take another shower. So instead, he plunged in his spoon and took a bite.

  “Mmm . . . mushy.” He grinned.

  Margo sat down at the table across from him. That’s when he saw the crackling flame of adventure flare in her eyes. “Oh no.” Shivers waggled his finger. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s got my stomach sinking. I’m going to tell you the same thing I told my family: I’m not going on any adventures today!”

  Margo looked out the porthole and noticed that Shivers’s parents’ ship, the Plunderer, wasn’t bobbing out at sea as usual. “Where did your family go?”

  “Beats me! They left on a pirate mission early this morning. They said it was guaranteed to make me seasick, so I politely declined. Actually, I screamed and hid under my covers. I’m sure they’ll be back by sunset as usual, and until then, I’m staying right here.”

  “Come on, Shivers!” Margo slapped her palms on the table. “You can’t just sit there eating pudding all day!”

  “Wanna bet?” Shivers said, cramming another spoonful in his mouth.

  Margo pointed out the porthole at the open ocean. “But there’s a whole world of excitement out there just waiting for us!”

  “Maybe it’s waiting for someone else,” Shivers tried. “Hey, I’ve got an idea—let’s play hide-and-seek! You go seek out adventure, and I’ll hide here under this table. Just make sure to be back by sunset. I need someone to help me turn on my night-lights.”

  “But we’re on a pirate ship! Let’s set sail! Hit the high seas!” Margo was always itching for an exciting quest.

  Shivers held up his hand. “First of all, I never hit anything. What if it hits back? Secondly, this pirate ship is designed specifically to not go on adventures. It’s supposed to be safe, secure, and most importantly, extremely cozy. It’s called the Groundhog, remember? And that’s where it’s going to stay: on the ground. Right here in the middle of New Jersey Beach, the safest place in the entire—AAAAAGGHHHH!!!”

  At that moment, a heavy metal hook smashed through the porthole and landed on Shivers’s kitchen floor. It was attached to a thick mossy rope.

  “MARGO!” Shivers screamed, leaping under the table. “What’s going on?!”

  “Only one way to find out,” she said, grabbing his hand.

  They ran outside to the deck and saw something so terrifying that even the pudding in Shivers’s belly panicked.

  SHIVERS AND MARGO STOOD wide-eyed at the edge of the Groundhog. The mossy rope connected to the hook was tied to the most terrifying ship Shivers had ever seen. It floated in the Eastern Seas just a few yards from the sandy beach. It was so big that it cast a shadow over the entire Groundhog. It was coated in rotting seaweed and smelled like a fish graveyard. It rocked back and forth with an eerie creak. High on the mast was a flag with an iron lock painted on it.

  Standing on the deck was a hideous man. H
e had a thick, mossy beard, an eye patch over one eye, and an ear patch over one ear. He wore a bloodred pirate coat so long that it brushed the floor. He had a chain of rusty keys around his neck.

  “Ahoy, scoundrels!” the man shouted. “I’m Captain Crook!”

  “Because you’re a crook?” Shivers squeaked, hopping back and forth in terror.

  “No!” Captain Crook held up his hand and wiggled his twisted, knotty fingers. “Because I have crooked fingers. That I use for stealing things. Because I’m a crook!” He laughed.

  Margo stepped forward. “I’m Margo! And this is Shivers the Pirate!”

  “Well, well, well . . .” Captain Crook tightrope-walked across the rope and leaped onto the Groundhog’s deck. He strolled over to Shivers, then leaned in so close that Shivers could smell his stale squid breath. “I’ve got one thing to say to you . . .”

  Shivers was frozen in fear. For a moment, no one said anything.

  Then Captain Crook bellowed, “You’re welcome!” He clapped Shivers on the back and grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth that looked like broken glass.

  “Huh?” Shivers, Margo, and Albee all said at the exact same time.

  “We saw you were stuck on land, so now we’re going to tow you out to sea. It was my first mate’s idea.” He turned back and shouted, “Spitball!”

  A dingy-looking woman popped up from Captain Crook’s deck. She had hair so wild and wiry it looked like she had stuck her finger in an electrical socket. She scurried across the rope and onto the Groundhog. “I’ve got one thing to say—”

  “I already said ‘you’re welcome,’” said Captain Crook.

  “Oh! In that case, pleasure to meet ye.” Spitball grinned, and Shivers could see that she was missing her two front teeth. “Ye must be looking forward to being rescued from this awful beach.”

  Shivers pointed to the shore. “Actually, the beach is—”

  “A horrible place!” Captain Crook interrupted. “We know. We hate it, too.” Before Shivers could begin to explain all the wonders of the beach—the soft sand, the ice-cream shop, the sunbathing, which was the only kind of bathing that didn’t involve water—Captain Crook continued, “I come to you with an offer. As I said, I’m a crook. I takes what I wants and I wants a whole lot. But I can’t do it alone. I’m assembling a pirate crew. A fearsome pirate crew. A deadly pirate crew.”

  “A particularly smelly pirate crew!” Spitball added, scratching her armpit.

  Shivers looked over at Captain Crook’s ship. Sure enough, he saw dozens of fearsome figures lurking on the deck.

  “This crew is going to break all the rules! I’ve got big, big plans!” Captain Crook raised his eyebrow. “And I’m looking for new members.”

  “Me? Join a terrifying pirate crew?” Shivers squeaked.

  “Why not?” Captain Crook strode across the deck and into the kitchen. Shivers and Margo followed behind him. He stomped his black boot on the floor. “You’ve got a sturdy ship.” He pointed at Margo. “You’ve got a first mate.” He gestured to the kitchen table. “Why, you’ve even got a giant bowl of guts right here!”

  “Guts?!” Shivers gagged. “That’s pudding!”

  Slowly, Captain Crook turned to Shivers, squinting his eye. “Pudding?” he asked.

  “Banana pudding,” said Shivers. “Want some?”

  “Pirates don’t eat pudding,” Captain Crook sputtered.

  “We eat cod cake and dead coral!” Spitball added.

  “Gross!” said Shivers. “Just thinking about that is making me queasy. He gripped his stomach. “I think I’m getting C-sick.”

  “A pirate who gets seasick?” Captain Crook curled up his lip like a caterpillar doing crunches.

  “Seasick, C-sick, see-sick . . . It’s all awful to me,” Shivers explained. “That’s why I live on land.”

  “Live on land?!” Captain Crook shouted. He paced furiously around the kitchen. “You live on land?”

  “Well, sure!” said Shivers.

  Captain Crook threw his hands in the air. “I can’t believe my ear!” He glared at Shivers with his one bloodshot eye. “You’re not a real pirate at all. You’re just a landlubber in funny pants!” He nodded at Spitball and commanded, “Spit ’em up!”

  With a gleeful look in her eye, Spitball stood at attention, leaned her head back, then hocked a barrage of slimy spit-shots through the gap in her front teeth. Shivers and Margo covered their heads and hit the deck as the glistening wads of saliva whizzed past them. They shattered Shivers’s teacups, pinged off his pie tins, and even mashed the Potato button on his microwave.

  Then, Spitball did something that took everyone by surprise, even Captain Crook. She grabbed Albee’s fishbowl and ran down the hall, cackling like a crazy person.

  “Albee!” Shivers screamed, his eyes popping with panic.

  He and Margo leaped up and ran after Spitball. They caught up to her just in time to see her pour Albee from his fishbowl into the toilet bowl.

  “NO!” Shivers and Margo shouted.

  But it was too late. Spitball grabbed the handle and flushed.

  SHIVERS WAS O-FISH-IALLY PANICKED. After flushing Albee, Spitball and Captain Crook ran back to their ship, laughing and high-fiving each other. But Shivers found nothing funny about this potty humor.

  “Hold on, Albee!” Shivers shouted. Then he turned to Margo. “What am I saying?! He can’t hold on to anything with those fins!” There was only one thing to do. “I’m coming for you, buddy!” Shivers cried. He kicked off his bunny slippers and jumped into the toilet. But as soon as his toes touched the water he shrieked, “I’m drowning! Help!” and Margo had to pull him back out. He collapsed on the bathroom floor . . . for the second time that day. “I failed my first mate!” he cried. Then he had an idea. “Margo, you know how to swim! Get in there!”

  “Shivers, neither of us is going to fit down the toilet,” Margo insisted.

  Shivers lifted himself to his knees and looked at Margo with tears in his eyes. “You can at least try!”

  “I’ve got a better idea. Follow me!”

  Margo ran out of the ship and onto the beach. She headed toward town as fast as she could. Shivers struggled to keep up, sweating like a soda can left out in the sun. They sprinted past the soft serve at the ice-cream shop and the hard serves at the volleyball nets. They leaped over lines of sand-caked sunbathers until they finally reached the sidewalks of New Jersey.

  Margo scanned the street until she spotted what she was looking for. Just up the road, next to a construction site, was an entrance to the sewer.

  “Come on! We’ve got to get into that manhole!” Margo shouted, sensing adventure on the horizon—or rather, deep inside the sewer.

  “Manhole?” Shivers said nervously. “Isn’t there a pirate hole somewhere?”

  But Margo was already busy trying to pry the heavy metal cover off the hole. “Shivers, help!” she groaned.

  “This must have been for one large, circular man,” said Shivers, getting on his knees to lift with her.

  They yanked; they pried; they pulled; but even with all of Margo’s might and all of Shivers’s fright, they couldn’t get the cover to budge.

  Shivers banged on the top of the manhole as hard as he could in sheer desperation. “Hello?! Albee?! If you’re down there, let us in! We’re trying to save you!” His face crumpled in agony. “Why doesn’t this thing have a doorbell?”

  “Don’t worry, Shivers. We’ll get in that sewer somehow,” she said, searching frantically for a solution. Then she pointed to a section of the block that was surrounded by orange cones. “Look! The construction site!”

  “How is that going to help?” Shivers whined.

  Margo suggested, “Maybe we could borrow a hammer—”

  “For what?! I already ate all the ham!”

  Margo sighed. “Well, there’s a forklift—”

  “Margo! Get your head in the game! Do you see any forks around here?” Shivers pulled at his hair, deep in
thought. “What we really need is a car with a giant arm and a long dangling hook that can lift this manhole cover right out of the ground. Preferably painted yellow. If only such a thing existed!”

  Margo tapped Shivers on the shoulder. “You mean like that?” she gestured toward a giant yellow crane in the middle of the construction site.

  “Well, I’d prefer if it were more yellow. . . .” said Shivers.

  They dashed off toward the construction site, and suddenly Shivers was seized with fear. He saw a sign that, like most signs, he took as a bad sign.

  “That says ‘Hard Hats Only’! And I have the softest hat of all,” he said, touching his velvet pirate hat.

  Margo grabbed Shivers’s arm and pulled him behind a big orange barrel. “Forget about the hats! We’ve got bigger fish to fry!”

  “You’re lucky Albee didn’t hear you say that,” Shivers said.

  Margo peeked out from behind the barrel and saw three construction workers sitting on the curb eating their lunch. “Okay,” she whispered, “I’m going to go borrow that crane. And you . . . are on distraction duty!” she shoved Shivers toward the workers. By the time he turned around to argue, she had already scampered away, her big green backpack bouncing behind her.

  Shivers approached the workers, who all wore bright-orange vests and yellow hats. One guy had on mirrored sunglasses. The one sitting in the middle had a tattoo on her arm that said EAT MY SAWDUST. And the third was wearing a tool belt that was not doing a good job of keeping his pants up.

  The guy in the sunglasses was about to take a bite of his sandwich when he spotted Shivers and shouted, “Hey, kid! You can’t be in here. Construction workers only.”

  “I . . .” Shivers thought fast. “I am a construction worker! Lunch construction,” he said, taking another step toward them. “And I’m sorry to inform you that these lunches are not up to code.”

  The workers looked at him suspiciously.

  “What have you got there?” Shivers asked, pointing at the lunch boxes.