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the mask is on backwards, you can’t see a thing. You’re totally blind.”
    He nodded. “Oh, yeah. You’re right about that.”
    â€œAlso, it’s not scary at all,” I said. “It just looks stupid.”
    Brad kept nodding. “You’re right again.”
    â€œLet’s think some more,” I said.
    Brad didn’t answer. He was struggling with the mask. It was still facing backward. He tugged hard with both hands and swung it around. Then he gripped it at the top of its bald, bumpy head and pulled.
    â€œWhat’s your problem?” I asked.
    He let out a groan. “It … won’t … budge.”
    â€œHuh? Just pull harder.”
    He struggled and strained. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I could tell he was frightened. “Brad?”
    â€œIt’s stuck,” he choked out. “Help me. It’s … stuck to my skin. It’s closing in on me. Lu-Ann — help! The mask … It’s strangling me!”
    My heart skipped a beat. Brad sounded terrified. Like a guy in a horror movie.
    He jumped to his feet, tugging and grasping and pulling at the mask with both hands.
    â€œHelp! Ohh … help!”
    With a cry, I jumped up beside him and grabbed the top of the mask. I tugged with all my strength …
    â€¦ and the mask slid off Brad’s face easily.
    I stood there, gaping at it, holding the crumpled mask in both hands high above my head.
    Brad burst out laughing. He laughed till his face turned red. “Your family sure scares easily,” he said. “You’re a scaredy-cat like your brother.”
    â€œShut up,” I said. I swung the mask and slapped his face with it.
    That made him laugh even harder. “Maybe I’ll try that joke at Polly’s party.”
    â€œYou didn’t scare me at all,” I said. Total lie.
    â€œThat was just dumb. Who would believe it?” I said. “Go home, Brad. I’ll come up with something fun for the party.”
    He folded the mask in his hand. “We can scare Polly. I know we can,” he said.
    â€œI’ll keep thinking.” I walked him to the front door. I grabbed the handle and slid the door open.
    And we both opened our mouths in screams of horror.

I gaped at the enormous, ugly gorilla in the doorway. It had to be eight feet tall! Shaggy brown fur. Eyes glowing red, and its big belly heaving up and down noisily.
    It opened its mouth in a ferocious roar. And I ducked away as its massive arms shot out to grab me.
    It took only two or three seconds to realize it was someone in a gorilla costume. But those two or three seconds were pretty frightening.
    Laughing, Brad grabbed the gorilla’s head — and lifted it off its body. And there stood our friend Marcus Wright, sweat pouring down his face. “Hey, it’s a hundred degrees in this thing. Did I scare you?”
    â€œNot at all,” I said. “In this phony costume?”
    â€œThe costume is awesome,” Brad said, running his fingers through the arm fur. “Is that real fur?”
    â€œI think it was made from a real gorilla,” Marcus said.
    â€œYou’re joking,” I said.
    He nodded. “Yes. I’m joking.” He wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of a gorilla paw.
    â€œDid you really walk all the way over here in that?” Brad asked him.
    Marcus lumbered into the house. He tossed the gorilla head onto the den couch. “A few cars honked at me. But no one paid much attention.”
    â€œWho’s here?” Mom called. She stepped into the den and squinted at Marcus. “Marcus, think you should see the doctor? It isn’t normal for a twelve-year-old to grow that much hair.”
    Everyone in my family is a joker. Except Mitch, of course.
    Mom and Marcus teased each other about the costume for a few minutes. I went to the kitchen and got Marcus a cold drink. He looked like he was dying in there.
    When he isn’t a