Heidi Heckelbeck Might Be Afraid of the Dark
Heidi switched on three lights: The bedroom light, the bathroom light, and the hall light. Then she kicked off her slippers and hopped into bed.
“I’m ready!” she called.
She listened to her mother’s footsteps as they came down the hall and into her room.
Her mom sighed. “It looks like daytime when you go to bed. Let me turn off one of these lights.”
Heidi shook her head firmly.
She always slept with three lights on. She also had two flashlights stashed in her nightstand—just in case the power went out.
“Nighttime is FRIGHT time!” she
declared. Then she hid under the covers.
Her mother frowned and shook her head. “Someday you’ll think being afraid of the dark is silly,” she said.
Heidi pulled the covers back down and put a finger on her lips. “Shhhh!” she shushed. “I don’t want Henry to hear!”
“HEAR WHAT?” shouted Henry from across the hall. “That you’re SCARED of the DARK?”
“AM NOT!” Heidi shouted back. “I just like to sleep with the lights on—that’s all.”
Heidi heard Dad shut Henry’s door. Then Dad came into Heidi’s room and sat down on the bed beside Mom.
“I was afraid of the dark when I was your age too,” her father said. “It means you have a very good imagination.”
Heidi sat up in bed. “It does?”
“Well, that’s a relief!” Heidi said, falling back on her pillow. She was happy to know there was something good about being afraid of the dark.
Her parents looked at each other.
“But you still have to get your imagination under control,” her father added.
“Oh,” said Heidi. “Merg.”