we heard Officer Crompton going down the stairs.
“Glenn Philips was right,” I said, turning on my desk lamp. “Officer Crompton doesn’t know every kid in town by sight. He knew who we were today because he’s been to our houses before. I guess I just never noticed who my dad’s pals—”
“Whatever,” Georgie said. “And come on, why’d you blab all that about the envelope?”
I did not have a good answer. “I dunno. I guess I just talk stupid when the police are around.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter because tomorrow we’re going to sell that penny and get ninety-five dollars. Our summer may not be completely ruined. That’senough to go to Six Flags. There’s some cool new rides that’re absolutely guaranteed to make you barf!”
“I don’t know. I think Officer Crompton will be watching—”
“Forget Crompton!”
We sat there in the semidark for a while. Finally I said, “It would be fun to go on the new rides.”
Then Georgie reminded me about the last time we went to the amusement park. We talked for a long time, and then, with Deeb dog-snoring at the foot of my bed, we fell asleep laughing about our sno-cone fight and our backward dizzy walk challenge.
(I don’t think I need to describe these. You can probably guess.)
Entering The Haunted Toad
I woke up early and just lay there thinking about roller coasters. Georgie was asleep on his back, one arm flopped completely out of the covers. I was in such a good mood that I decided to play a practical joke on him, one that my dad once told me he’d done to his cousin when they were kids.
I got a can of shaving cream from Granpa’s bathroom and squirted a huge glob onto the palm of Georgie’s outstretched hand. Then I took the feather out of a Robin Hood hat I’ve had for a million years and gently, very gently,tickled Georgie’s nose. He twitched. I tickled it again. He squirmed. I tickled it once more, and his hand swung up to shoo away the fly that he was probably dreaming about. Sploosh! A face full of shaving cream!
If you decide to try this practical joke on someone bigger than you—like Georgie is to me—be prepared to run.
Georgie woke up, realized what had happened, and attacked. But I was ready. I ran to the bathroom and locked the door. Georgie pounded, and our noise woke up the rest of the house and gave Goon a reason to be crabby all morning.
After I fed Deeb (on my hands and knees, remember?), Georgie and I celebrated our secret plan to sellthe penny and go to Six Flags by eating a gargantuan number of gobbler wraps. Everyone else calls them pigs in a blanket—breakfast sausages rolled up in pancakes—but Dad likes turkey sausage instead of pork, so he came up with a new name. Goon ate only pancakes. Because she is a vegetarian, she calls sausages “flesh tubes.” It doesn’t bother me one bit.
We were in such a good mood that we forgot about the time. Suddenly I jumped up and grabbed my backpack. “Come on, Georgie! We’re late.”
“Where’re you going?” Mom asked.
“Out.” When she gave me another raised eyebrow, I added, “Georgie and I volunteered to help some lady.”
I shouldn’t have offered so much information. Mom pressed. “Who is she? And where does she live?”
“We don’t know her name. She’s really old. We found an envelope she lost, and we’re returning it, and she lives about halfway to school. We’ll be back before lunch.” I was out the door before Mom could ask any more questions.
“You lied to your mother,” Georgie said as we got on our bikes.
“Did not.”
“You said you didn’t know the old lady’s name.”
“I don’t.
Someone
signed the note ‘G. J. Prott.’ But maybe it wasn’t the lady in the window. Could’ve been her second husband’s sister’s stepson. Who knows?” I stood up on my pedals and yelled, “Beat you to The Toad!” The race was on!
We had only gone two blocks, with me ahead as usual, when Georgie yelled, “The coin
“Glenn Philips was right,” I said, turning on my desk lamp. “Officer Crompton doesn’t know every kid in town by sight. He knew who we were today because he’s been to our houses before. I guess I just never noticed who my dad’s pals—”
“Whatever,” Georgie said. “And come on, why’d you blab all that about the envelope?”
I did not have a good answer. “I dunno. I guess I just talk stupid when the police are around.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter because tomorrow we’re going to sell that penny and get ninety-five dollars. Our summer may not be completely ruined. That’senough to go to Six Flags. There’s some cool new rides that’re absolutely guaranteed to make you barf!”
“I don’t know. I think Officer Crompton will be watching—”
“Forget Crompton!”
We sat there in the semidark for a while. Finally I said, “It would be fun to go on the new rides.”
Then Georgie reminded me about the last time we went to the amusement park. We talked for a long time, and then, with Deeb dog-snoring at the foot of my bed, we fell asleep laughing about our sno-cone fight and our backward dizzy walk challenge.
(I don’t think I need to describe these. You can probably guess.)
Entering The Haunted Toad
I woke up early and just lay there thinking about roller coasters. Georgie was asleep on his back, one arm flopped completely out of the covers. I was in such a good mood that I decided to play a practical joke on him, one that my dad once told me he’d done to his cousin when they were kids.
I got a can of shaving cream from Granpa’s bathroom and squirted a huge glob onto the palm of Georgie’s outstretched hand. Then I took the feather out of a Robin Hood hat I’ve had for a million years and gently, very gently,tickled Georgie’s nose. He twitched. I tickled it again. He squirmed. I tickled it once more, and his hand swung up to shoo away the fly that he was probably dreaming about. Sploosh! A face full of shaving cream!
If you decide to try this practical joke on someone bigger than you—like Georgie is to me—be prepared to run.
Georgie woke up, realized what had happened, and attacked. But I was ready. I ran to the bathroom and locked the door. Georgie pounded, and our noise woke up the rest of the house and gave Goon a reason to be crabby all morning.
After I fed Deeb (on my hands and knees, remember?), Georgie and I celebrated our secret plan to sellthe penny and go to Six Flags by eating a gargantuan number of gobbler wraps. Everyone else calls them pigs in a blanket—breakfast sausages rolled up in pancakes—but Dad likes turkey sausage instead of pork, so he came up with a new name. Goon ate only pancakes. Because she is a vegetarian, she calls sausages “flesh tubes.” It doesn’t bother me one bit.
We were in such a good mood that we forgot about the time. Suddenly I jumped up and grabbed my backpack. “Come on, Georgie! We’re late.”
“Where’re you going?” Mom asked.
“Out.” When she gave me another raised eyebrow, I added, “Georgie and I volunteered to help some lady.”
I shouldn’t have offered so much information. Mom pressed. “Who is she? And where does she live?”
“We don’t know her name. She’s really old. We found an envelope she lost, and we’re returning it, and she lives about halfway to school. We’ll be back before lunch.” I was out the door before Mom could ask any more questions.
“You lied to your mother,” Georgie said as we got on our bikes.
“Did not.”
“You said you didn’t know the old lady’s name.”
“I don’t.
Someone
signed the note ‘G. J. Prott.’ But maybe it wasn’t the lady in the window. Could’ve been her second husband’s sister’s stepson. Who knows?” I stood up on my pedals and yelled, “Beat you to The Toad!” The race was on!
We had only gone two blocks, with me ahead as usual, when Georgie yelled, “The coin
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