The Double Dare

The Dare

Thea loved the old oak tree at the edge of Millbrook Park more than almost anything in the world. It had a trunk so wide that three kids holding hands couldn't wrap all the way around it, and its branches reached out like giant arms trying to hug the sky. Every Saturday, Thea climbed to the second branch — the one that was shaped like a bench — and sat there reading her book while the leaves whispered secrets above her.

But today was not a reading day. Today was a new kid day.

A girl named Camille had just moved into the yellow house on Birch Street, and she had already gathered a little crowd around her at the park. Camille had bright red sneakers, a loud laugh, and a way of talking that made you feel like everything she said was the most important thing anyone had ever said in the history of the world.

"I once rode my bike down a hill with no hands AND no feet on the pedals," Camille announced.

"Whoa," said Marcus.

"No way," said Deepa.

"Way," said Camille.

Thea stood at the edge of the group, holding her book against her chest. She wanted to say something interesting too, but Camille kept talking and talking, and there never seemed to be a gap big enough to squeeze a word into.

Then Camille looked up at the old oak tree. Her eyes got wide.

"Has anyone ever climbed to the top of that thing?"

"I climb it," Thea said quickly, happy to finally have something to add. "I go up to the second branch all the time."

Camille tilted her head. "The second branch? That's not even high. I mean the TOP top. Like, the really thin branches way up there."

Everyone looked up. The top of the old oak was so high that the branches swayed even when there was barely any wind. Thea's stomach did a little flip just looking at it.

"My dad says those branches are too thin to hold anybody," Thea said. "They could snap."

"Your dad says?" Camille repeated, and something about the way she said it made a few kids smile.

Thea's cheeks felt warm. "Well — yeah. And the park ranger said so too. There's even a sign."

There was, in fact, a sign. It was small and wooden and nailed to the trunk. It said: PLEASE DO NOT CLIMB ABOVE THE LOWER BRANCHES.

Camille walked right up to the sign and looked at it like it was written in a language she didn't understand. Then she turned around and grinned.

"I dare someone to climb to the top."

Nobody moved.

Camille's eyes swept over the group like a searchlight. They landed right on Thea.

"What about you, Tree Girl? You said you climb this thing all the time. I dare you to go to the top."

Thea's heart started beating so hard she could feel it in her ears. She looked up at the oak tree — her favorite tree, her reading tree, her Saturday tree. She knew every bump and groove of the lower trunk. She knew which branch had the little knot that looked like a sleeping owl. She knew this tree.

And she knew the top branches were not safe.

She had seen them sway in storms from her bedroom window. She had watched a heavy squirrel scramble onto one last fall, and it had bent so far down that the squirrel panicked and leaped to another tree entirely. A squirrel. And a squirrel weighed about as much as a loaf of bread.

"No thanks," Thea said.

The words came out quieter than she wanted. She tried again.

"No. I'm not doing that."

Camille raised her eyebrows. "Seriously?"

"The branches are too thin up there. Someone could get really hurt."

"Oh my gosh." Camille put her hand on her chest like she was shocked. "Are you scared?"

The word landed like a water balloon — cold and sudden.

Thea looked around. Marcus was staring at his shoes. Deepa was chewing her lip. Nobody was saying, Yeah, Camille, she's right, it's dangerous. Nobody was saying anything at all.

"You're scared!" Camille said it louder this time, laughing. "Tree Girl is scared of her own tree!"

Thea's whole body felt hot and tight, like she was wearing a sweater three sizes too small. Her brain started racing. Maybe I could just climb a little higher than usual. Not to the top. Just high enough that Camille stops talking. Just high enough that nobody thinks I'm —

She looked up at the tree one more time.

The thin branches swayed, even though the air was still.

And something in Thea's chest got very, very quiet. It was like a small, calm voice that lived right behind her ribs, and it said: You already know.

Thea hugged her book a little tighter.

"Yeah," she said. "I guess I am scared."

Camille blinked. She clearly hadn't expected that.

"I'm scared because it's dangerous," Thea continued. "And being scared of something dangerous is just — being smart. So... yeah."

Camille opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. "Well — that's — I mean—"

"I'm going home," Thea said.

And she turned around and walked across the park.

Her legs felt wobbly, like they might fold up underneath her. Her eyes stung a little. She could hear Camille saying something behind her, and somebody laughed — she couldn't tell who — and that laugh felt like a tiny pin poking her right between the shoulder blades.

She walked faster.

By the time she reached her front porch, the sting in her eyes had turned into two hot tears rolling down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and sat down on the porch steps.

The thing about doing the right thing, Thea thought, is that sometimes it doesn't feel like a victory. It doesn't feel like a superhero moment with a big crowd cheering. Sometimes it just feels like walking home on a Saturday with a tight throat and wet eyes.

She opened her book, but the words blurred together, so she closed it again and just sat.

A few minutes later, she heard footsteps on the sidewalk.

It was Deepa, walking fast, a little out of breath.

"Hey," Deepa said.

"Hey," Thea said.

Deepa sat down on the step next to her. For a moment, neither of them talked. A ladybug crawled across the porch railing between them.

"I should have said something," Deepa said quietly. "Back there. When she called you scared. I should have said you were right."

Thea looked at her. "Why didn't you?"

Deepa pulled at a thread on her shorts. "I don't know. I just... froze. Like my mouth forgot how to work." She paused. "I'm sorry."

Thea nodded slowly. "It's okay."

"It's really not," Deepa said. "But next time, I'll be braver. I promise."

They sat together in the warm afternoon sun. The ladybug reached the end of the railing, opened its tiny wings, and floated away.

"Hey, Thea?" Deepa said.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to go get ice cream? My mom gave me money for two scoops, but I can't eat two scoops, so really I have money for one scoop for me and one scoop for you."

Thea almost smiled. "What flavors do they have?"

"Every flavor. Even that weird green one with the chunks in it."

"Pistachio."

"Yeah, that one. It looks like frozen guacamole."

Now Thea actually did smile. A real one. The tight feeling in her chest loosened, just a little, like a knot coming undone.

"Okay," she said. "Let's go."

She stood up, tucked her book under her arm, and walked down the steps with Deepa beside her. The sun was warm on her face, and the sidewalk stretched out ahead of them, and somewhere behind them the old oak tree stood exactly where it always stood — strong and patient and not going anywhere.

Thea would be back next Saturday.

Second branch.

Same as always.