Superheroes Don't Eat Veggie Burgers by Gretchen Kelley Page B

be taking it a bit too far.
    I walk over to my bed and climb back in, pulling the covers up over my head.
    There’s a lot of things I have to figure out still, but I know one thing for sure.
    Dude Explodius is no murderer.

 
    CHAPTER
    19
    I wake up to barking.
    â€œWroof!”
    I throw the blankets off and jump up. I don’t even bother to tiptoe across the squeaky floorboards. I don’t care if she hears me coming.
    As soon as I get to her door, I see her on all fours in the middle of her bed. Something hangs out the side of her mouth. I squint and realize it’s a slobber-soaked bill with the face of Alexander Hamilton plastered across it.
    Ten bucks. The tooth fairy brought my kid sister ten bucks, and she’s munching on it like it’s a dog biscuit.
    I walk into her room.
    â€œLucy,” I say through gritted teeth. “Give me that.” She wags her behind at me and drops the bill onto her quilt. I pick it up. One whole corner’s gone.
    My voice is not my own. “This isn’t a joke, Lucy. I don’t know if you’re looking for more attention or to get me in trouble, but you need to knock it off. Now.”
    She jumps up and clamps her teeth down on the bill, then bolts for the bathroom.
    â€œLucy!” I try to grab her foot, but she’s too fast. “That’s real money!”
    â€œBurgers!” My mom’s voice booms up the staircase. “You’ve got ten minutes to be down, dressed, and ready for school. Or else!”
    I don’t know what or else means, but I prefer not to find out. I run into the hall and jump onto the banister. I practically slide right into my mom.
    â€œSorry,” I say.
    â€œBack it up,” she says, pointing to the stairs.
    â€œLook, Mom, I was just trying to help. Lucy was about to destroy—”
    She points again, this time at my feet.
    â€œThose are the worst toenails I’ve seen in a long time,” she says, her face scrunched up like she just smelled the inside of my soccer bag. “I mean, really, Charlie. When’s the last time you … Oh, never mind. Just go. Toenail clippers. March.”
    I jump off the banister and slump back up the stairs. Lucy watches me as I pass by her door, and I stick my tongue out at her. She lunges, and I sprint to my room, making a mental note to myself: Always put socks on before breakfast.
    *   *   *
    When I get home that afternoon, my mom is sitting at the kitchen table, reading the Cape Ann Anchor . It comes out every Friday. She likes to read it cover to cover, starting with the police report. She makes sure every word is spelled right and no detail is missing. Then she moves on to the obituaries.
    â€œIt’s important to know who’s died each week,” she likes to explain. “Criminals like to target the homes of bereaved families. Can you imagine?” She will shake her head like she definitely can’t. “I mean, what kind of sicko would take advantage of a family during such a time?”
    Today, she looks up as soon as I come in.
    â€œYou’re already home?” I ask.
    â€œI’m doing a split shift,” she says. “Gargotti’s got the flu, so I’m going back out tonight.”
    I open the fridge and peer inside.
    â€œCharlie, come sit down for a minute.”
    Uh-oh. I think back to this morning. Now she probably wants to inspect my fingernails.
    Instead, she pats the chair next to her and smiles. “How’s school going?” she asks.
    â€œIt’s fine.”
    â€œDo you like your classes?”
    â€œThey’re okay.”
    She takes off her glasses and lays them on top of the paper. “I’m sorry, Charlie.”
    I blink, not expecting this. “For what?”
    â€œFor this morning,” she says. “It’s important that you start taking more responsibility for your personal hygiene, but I didn’t have to be so hard on you.”
    I