Who wouldn’t want to be fearless? After overcoming a fear-filled life, 13-year old Miguel Estes uncovers life’s most potent and debilitating fear while sprinting his way to freedom.
This is the second in the fear-eliminating series written for teens, in between FEAR AIN'T ALL THAT and MY WATCH DOESN'T TELL TIME.
Barnes & Noble.com
Clint Adams : no time for fear
13-year old Miguel Estes feels that being “scared to death,” and having “the life scared out of me,” are no longer just tired, old expressions …they’ve become part of a world-wide epidemic. Now rid of the fears that once paralyzed him, Miguel decides to help others eliminate theirs; he founds F.A.A.T. (Fear Ain’t All That), an after-school group with his eccentric but wise Aunt Shirley. In its first meeting Miguel befriends Samantha, a girl diagnosed as having an exotic variety of phobias, fears, and anxieties. With a fierce determination, Miguel helps Samantha rid her life of one debilitating fear after another.
Together, Miguel and Samantha learn much about life, fear, and death. Revelations from Aunt Shirley, and recurrent dreams of his brother Jorge (who already lives in heaven), also remind Miguel that “heaven is a far better place than here. It’s nothing to be afraid of; it’s the perfect place to be…everything about it is perfect.”
After undergoing a radical transformation, a stronger-than-ever-before Samantha, grows to be ill. As her condition worsens, Aunt Shirley informs Miguel that the greatest lesson he can possibly share with his dear friend is to help her be unafraid of going to heaven. Of course he’s uncertain about accepting this task. But, paradoxically, it ends up being Samantha who teaches Miguel. Prior to leaving, Samantha feels only joy, excitement, and relief about her upcoming journey; Miguel, due to Samantha’s experience, becomes unafraid of his own mortality. Samantha, now completely fearless, moves on; although left behind, Miguel celebrates Samantha’s life as well as her death.
chapter one: excerpt
Death still scares me. Especially since it almost happened to me again last week. If you count up all the times I was supposed to have died, maybe it’s sort of normal to feel this way. Even right before I fall asleep at bedtime, I keep telling myself a hundred times inside my head, “just get over it.” But it’s so hard.
The exact minute you change from being an alive person to a dead one is something I think about all the time. And wondering what happens next, after that minute is over, is the thing I think about even more times than that. For sure I’m not alone though. There’s tons of people all over the world who’re afraid of dying, and they don’t even have E.B. like I do.
That’s what my disease is, a skin-blistering one called recessive dystrophic Epidermolysis Bullosa. If my skin’s not wrapped up tight, it blisters and comes apart. My body doesn’t make the glue that keeps all the layers stuck together, so I’ve got to wear bandages like a mummy most of the time. I was born with it. And, most everybody including my mom, told me I’d probably never make it all the way to thirteen. But they were wrong.