Read 18th Emergency for Free Online

beneath him like a rope. He looked at the wall and he remembered another dangerous thing that had happened to him, a second crisis survived, like the tonsils.
    In September he had got the idea that he would like to climb up the cliff behind the new shopping center at Hunter’s Square. There was a large rock on top with a button-like rock in the center, and Mouse wanted to climb up, write PRESS FOR SERVICE and draw an arrow to the button. The idea, once it had entered his mind, would not leave; and finally he had persuaded Ezzie to go over to the shopping center with him.
    Ezzie had not been enthusiastic. As Mouse was purchasing a can of spray paint in the dime store, Ezzie had stood there saying, “What do you want to do this for, Mouse? That’s forty-nine good cents you’re wasting!” Ezzie never had any money. His father pretended to be deaf when the word allowance was mentioned.
    “It’s not a waste.”
    “We could buy pretzels with that money. You get three pretzels for thirty-nine cents which would leave a dime for—”
    “Ez, I’m going to do it.”
    There was a deep sigh from Ezzie at this persistence. He followed Mouse out of the store and spoke only when they were facing the solid wall of the cliff. “Where is it you’re going to write this, Mouse?” he asked scornfully. He already knew because Mouse had told him a dozen times.
    “There.”
    They looked up together. Mouse was squinting into the sun, but Ezzie’s face had a flat look. He said, “Why can’t you just write your name over there under the peace sign like any normal person. That’s what I’d do.”
    “No.”
    “Sometimes you’re stupid, Mouse.” Ezzie sat down on the ground. “Well, go on, get it over with.”
    Mouse hated for Ezzie to be disgusted with him. He was the only good friend Mouse had ever had. He looked at Ezzie who was staring at his feet. “All right, Ezzie, I’m going to start now if you want to watch.”
    “I’ve seen disasters before,” Ezzie said in a bored voice.
    “Here I go anyway.” Climbing up the cliff was easy at first. A lot of boys had climbed and left footholds, but Mouse went slowly anyway. The can of spray paint was tucked in his belt pressing against his stomach.
    The higher he climbed, the harder it got. By the time he reached the halfway mark he was winded, and his arms and legs had started to ache. Every minute began to seem like ten.
    “I’m still going,” he called to Ezzie, but Ezzie did not answer. Mouse wanted to look down, but he had had to stop doing that a long time ago because of dizziness. “I’m still going, Ez.”
    He had to find little ways to climb now because there did not seem to be any footholds at all. He used roots and crevices and toeholds, and finally he was there. Gasping from exertion and nervousness he panted out, “I made it, Ez.” Ezzie did not answer.
    Holding onto a root with one hand, Mouse took out the spray can. He shook it and began to write. P. “How does that look, Ez? Can you read it?” He made an R and an E. He leaned to the side to continue with the two S’s and suddenly his foot slipped. It was a terrible sickening sensation.
    One minute he was painting an S, the next he was hanging by a root with one knee balanced on a sharp rock. His whole life, it seemed, depended on whether this root was going to hold or not.
    “Hey, watch it!” Ezzie called.
    Mouse couldn’t speak. His leg was digging against the cliff, running as if it were in a race by itself. For a moment, Mouse thought it was all over. His leg started going slower. The root began to pull out of the earth. And then miraculously his other hand found a little ledge and his foot found a rock. The root held; his other foot found a toehold.
    Ezzie called, “Hey, don’t do that, will you? It makes me nervous.”
    Mouse inched his way back to the ledge. “You!” he managed to gasp.
    “Yeah, me.”
    Mouse clung for a moment. He was so weak he thought he might slip down the cliff like a