forget, Emerald,” exclaimed Mrs. Moon, raising her voice, “the shelves must be scrubbed first.”
“Right.” Emerald gasped, feeling the box begin to slip and taking a firmer hold.
Then Mr. Moon shouted through the screen door, “Oh, and Emerald, when you’re finished in the kitchen, please mow the backyard.”
Emerald leaned against the kitchen counter, set down the box, and took a deep breath, remembering an old story about a ragged girl, a stepmother, a couple of stepsisters, a fairy godmother, and a prince.
In her own case the stepsisters were missingand there was certainly no fairy godmother. And no prince either.
Back on the front porch, Annabelle Broom said crisply, “Mr. and Mrs. Moon, do I have your full attention?”
“Certainly,” said Mortimer Moon.
“Because there’s something else you should know about the house next door.”
“What?” said Margery and Mortimer together.
“It’s jam-packed with something truly horrible.” Annabelle looked at her watch, squealed, “Sorry, gotta go,” and scuttled down the porch steps.
“Wait a minute!” shrieked Margery Moon.
“Jam-packed with what?” bellowed Mortimer Moon.
Annabelle called something over her shoulder as she galloped to her car, but they didn’t hear. “What did you say?” screamed Margery.
Leaping in behind the wheel, Annabelle slammed the car door, leaned out the car window, and shouted her warning again as she zoomed away. This time they heard it clearly: “
Watch out for weirdness buildup
.”
2
THE STUCK-UP GIRL
A S SHE LUGGED the box of glassware into the house, Emerald heard the news about the scary boy, and then the warning about his dangerous house. Therefore, as she trundled the lawnmower out of the garage, she was careful not to glance at the alarming porches and threatening gables and bulging tower of the house next door.
But the scary boy who lived in the house was not afraid to look at his new neighbor. While Emerald leaned forward to push the lawnmower through the thick grass, then heaved it backwards and swerved it around bushes and trees, Eddy Halljust happened to be feeding Aunt Alex’s chickens.
Normally it was Georgie’s job, but today he had offered to help. “Well, okay,” said Georgie, handing him the pail.
But Eddy wasn’t paying attention to the chickens. After tossing a handful of cracked corn over the fence, he turned to wave at the girl with yellow hair and shout, “Hi there!”
But she only gave him a frightened glance, then turned her back and threw herself at the lawnmower, shoving it rapidly away and vanishing behind the far side of the house.
“She’s stuck-up, I guess,” murmured Eddy, crestfallen.
“She has green eyes,” whispered Georgie.
3
THE RABBLE
A NNABELLE B ROOM HAD CALLED them a rabble. But the family at No. 40 Walden Street was really just an ordinary mixture of human beings, chickens, and a cross-eyed cat—unless you also counted the statuary.
Professor Frederick Hall was the head of the household. Part of the time Uncle Fred was a Concord selectman, but most of the time he sat at his desk writing a book about that great genius Henry Thoreau, who had lived down the road at Walden Pond a long time ago and writtena masterpiece called
Walden
. Everybody expected Uncle Fred’s book to be another masterpiece—that is, if he could ever calm down enough to finish it.
Professor Alexandra Hall. Aunt Alex was another fan of Henry Thoreau, but instead of springing joyfully out of her chair to quote magnificent passages, she kept them in her heart.
Eleanor Hall was their niece. At the moment, Eleanor was studying abroad, but she wrote excited letters home:
“Paris is just so incredibly awesome!”
or
“Paris really sucks!”
Her brother, Edward Hall, wore a gold stud in one ear and his baggy pants hung from his hip bones, but, delinquent or not (probably not), he was a big man at high school. Eddy was cool, really cool, a noisy comedian who liked to talk about
“Right.” Emerald gasped, feeling the box begin to slip and taking a firmer hold.
Then Mr. Moon shouted through the screen door, “Oh, and Emerald, when you’re finished in the kitchen, please mow the backyard.”
Emerald leaned against the kitchen counter, set down the box, and took a deep breath, remembering an old story about a ragged girl, a stepmother, a couple of stepsisters, a fairy godmother, and a prince.
In her own case the stepsisters were missingand there was certainly no fairy godmother. And no prince either.
Back on the front porch, Annabelle Broom said crisply, “Mr. and Mrs. Moon, do I have your full attention?”
“Certainly,” said Mortimer Moon.
“Because there’s something else you should know about the house next door.”
“What?” said Margery and Mortimer together.
“It’s jam-packed with something truly horrible.” Annabelle looked at her watch, squealed, “Sorry, gotta go,” and scuttled down the porch steps.
“Wait a minute!” shrieked Margery Moon.
“Jam-packed with what?” bellowed Mortimer Moon.
Annabelle called something over her shoulder as she galloped to her car, but they didn’t hear. “What did you say?” screamed Margery.
Leaping in behind the wheel, Annabelle slammed the car door, leaned out the car window, and shouted her warning again as she zoomed away. This time they heard it clearly: “
Watch out for weirdness buildup
.”
2
THE STUCK-UP GIRL
A S SHE LUGGED the box of glassware into the house, Emerald heard the news about the scary boy, and then the warning about his dangerous house. Therefore, as she trundled the lawnmower out of the garage, she was careful not to glance at the alarming porches and threatening gables and bulging tower of the house next door.
But the scary boy who lived in the house was not afraid to look at his new neighbor. While Emerald leaned forward to push the lawnmower through the thick grass, then heaved it backwards and swerved it around bushes and trees, Eddy Halljust happened to be feeding Aunt Alex’s chickens.
Normally it was Georgie’s job, but today he had offered to help. “Well, okay,” said Georgie, handing him the pail.
But Eddy wasn’t paying attention to the chickens. After tossing a handful of cracked corn over the fence, he turned to wave at the girl with yellow hair and shout, “Hi there!”
But she only gave him a frightened glance, then turned her back and threw herself at the lawnmower, shoving it rapidly away and vanishing behind the far side of the house.
“She’s stuck-up, I guess,” murmured Eddy, crestfallen.
“She has green eyes,” whispered Georgie.
3
THE RABBLE
A NNABELLE B ROOM HAD CALLED them a rabble. But the family at No. 40 Walden Street was really just an ordinary mixture of human beings, chickens, and a cross-eyed cat—unless you also counted the statuary.
Professor Frederick Hall was the head of the household. Part of the time Uncle Fred was a Concord selectman, but most of the time he sat at his desk writing a book about that great genius Henry Thoreau, who had lived down the road at Walden Pond a long time ago and writtena masterpiece called
Walden
. Everybody expected Uncle Fred’s book to be another masterpiece—that is, if he could ever calm down enough to finish it.
Professor Alexandra Hall. Aunt Alex was another fan of Henry Thoreau, but instead of springing joyfully out of her chair to quote magnificent passages, she kept them in her heart.
Eleanor Hall was their niece. At the moment, Eleanor was studying abroad, but she wrote excited letters home:
“Paris is just so incredibly awesome!”
or
“Paris really sucks!”
Her brother, Edward Hall, wore a gold stud in one ear and his baggy pants hung from his hip bones, but, delinquent or not (probably not), he was a big man at high school. Eddy was cool, really cool, a noisy comedian who liked to talk about
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