28 - The Cuckoo Clock of Doom Read Online Free PDF

Maybe this has
nothing to do with my wish.
    But, then—why is this happening to me?
    I racked my brains.
    The clock. Dad’s cuckoo clock.
    I twisted the cuckoo’s head backwards… went to bed… and when I woke
up, time had gone backwards.
    Could that be it? Did I do this?
    Is Dad’s clock really magic?
    Maybe I shouldn’t have turned that stupid bird backwards, I decided. It
figures—I try to get Tara in trouble, and end up getting myself into a
horrible mess.
    Well, if that is what happened, it’s easy enough to fix.
    I’ll just go downstairs and turn the cuckoo’s head back around.
    I tiptoed out of my room and down the stairs. My parents had probably fallen
back to sleep already, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
    I definitely didn’t want Dad to catch me fooling around with his precious
clock.
    My feet hit the cold, bare floor of the foyer. I crept into the den. I
switched on a lamp. I glanced around the room. The cuckoo clock was gone!

 
 
10
     
     
    “No!” I cried.
    Had the clock been stolen?
    Without the clock, how could I fix everything? How could I turn the bird’s
head around and make my life go forward again?
    I raced upstairs. I didn’t care who I woke up now.
    “Mom! Dad!” I yelled. I burst into their room and shook Mom awake again.
    “Michael, what is it?” She sounded furious. “It’s the middle of the night.
We’re trying to get some sleep!”
    Let them be angry, I thought. This was way more important.
    “The cuckoo clock! It’s gone!”
    Dad rolled over. “What? Huh?”
    “Michael, you’ve had another nightmare,” Mom assured me.
    “It’s not a nightmare, Mom—it’s true! Go downstairs and see for yourself! There’s no cuckoo clock in the den!”
    “Michael—listen to me. It was a dream.” Mom’s voice was firm. “We don’t own
a cuckoo clock. We never did.”
    I staggered backwards.
    “It’s just a dream. A bad dream,” she said.
    “But Dad bought it….”
    I stopped.
    I understood now.
    The date was February third. Two days before my birthday.
    And five days before Dad bought the cuckoo clock.
    We were traveling back in time. Dad hadn’t bought the clock yet.
    I felt sick.
    Mom said, “Michael, are you all right?” She climbed out of bed and pressed
the back of her hand against my forehead.
    “You feel a little warm,” she said, nicer now that she thought I might be
sick. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. I’ll bet you have a fever—and that’s why
you’re having all these nightmares.”
    Dad grunted again. “What? Sick?”
    “I’ll take care of it, Herman,” Mom whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
    She guided me back to bed. She thought I was sick.
    But I knew the truth.
    I had made time move backwards. And the clock was gone. How would I fix
things now?
     
    By the time I got to the kitchen the next morning, Mom, Dad, and Tara had
already eaten.
    “Hurry up, Michael,” Dad said. “You’ll be late.”
    Being late for school didn’t seem to matter much at the moment.
    “Dad, please sit down for a second,” I pleaded. “Just for a minute. It’s
important.”
    Dad sat, impatiently, on the edge of a kitchen chair. “Michael, what is it?”
    “Mom, are you listening?” I asked.
    “Sure, honey,” Mom said. She put the milk in the refrigerator and busily
wiped off the counter.
    “This is going to sound weird,” I began. “But I’m not kidding.”
    I paused. Dad waited. I could tell by the tension in his face he expected me
to say something totally dopey.
    I didn’t disappoint him.
    “Dad, time is going backwards. Every day I wake up—and it’s an earlier day
than the last!”
    Dad’s face drooped. “Michael, you have a wonderful imagination, but I’m
really running late. Can we talk about it when I get home from work tonight? Or why don’t you write it down? You know I love reading science
fiction stories.”
    “But, Dad—”
    Mom said, “Did somebody remember to feed the cat?”
    “ I did it,” Tara said.