eyebrow. “We can’t say that for certain.”
Itchy turned to Boney in disbelief. “Are you hearing this? Help me out here.”
“She was interested in adopting a kitten,” Boney said. “You should have thought about that before kicking her out.”
Itchy tore at his bramble-bush hair. “Am I the only one who isn’t crazy around here? Let me spell it out for you: she’s a G-I-R-L —
GIRL!”
Boney and Squeak didn’t answer.
“Fine!” Itchy growled, grabbing the box of crackers and the jars of peanut butter and honey. “Suit yourselves! But don’t come crying to me when things go all weird!”
He marched to Escape Hatch #2 and attempted to grab the fire pole, fumbling the cracker box and dropping the jar of peanut butter down the hole. He snarled with frustration and eventually threw the crackers down the hole, then scowled and slid down the pole, hittingthe ground with a yelp, the box of crackers exploding in a shower of crumbs.
Boney and Squeak peered down the escape hatch as Itchy grappled with the food and hobbled off. In a second he was back, climbing the rope ladder like an angry red-headed ape. “I forgot the kitten basket.”
Squeak handed the basket to Itchy.
Itchy snatched the basket, wrapped his skinny legs around the fire pole, sniffed with disdain, and slid out of sight.
“What’s he so angry about?” Squeak said. “I’m the one who got my invention destroyed.”
Boney shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he’s upset about the newspaper article.” He took the opportunity to remove the pink kitten T-shirt and place it on a hook by the reference library. “Do you want to hang out after supper?”
Squeak removed his pink shirt as well and placed it on the hook. “I don’t know if I can. My dad has some kind of surprise for me.”
“Oh, okay. What do you think it is?”
“I have no idea.”
Boney picked up the deck of cards from the table. “Want to play a few hands?”
“Sure.”
The boys sat in the clubhouse, playing cards for the rest of the afternoon, Squeak keeping score with hispencil and notebook. He peered at Boney with his best poker face. “Got any kings?”
Boney groaned, tossing his kings at Squeak. “You win. Again.” He rubbed his stomach. “I’m getting kind of hungry. What time is it?”
“It’s almost supper.” Squeak pushed a button on his watch. The face lit up and small black-on-white analogue numbers flipped in succession, counting down to zero. “Your aunt should be calling you in three … two … one …”
“Boneeey!” his aunt hollered from the kitchen window. “Supper!”
Boney saluted. “Gotta go.”
C HAPTER E IGHT
F ROZEN M EATBALLS
B oney poked his head into his aunt’s kitchen, afraid of what he might smell there. But his heart lifted when he saw the yellow cookbook open on the counter and whiffed the delicious aroma of refried beans on the stove. “Smells great!” he called out, kicking off his sneakers. “What’s for supper?”
“It’s a surprise,” his aunt said.
Boney gulped. “Oh.” Whenever his aunt cooked up a surprise it was almost always a miserable disaster. He shuffled over to the stove and attempted to open the oven, but his aunt brushed his hand away.
“Go wash your face and hands and run a comb through your hair, young man, you look like you lost a fight with a thousand dust bunnies.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Boney disappeared obediently into the washroom to tidy up. When he reappeared, he presented himself to his aunt for inspection. She examinedhis neck and behind his ears, then his fingernails, and even looked between his fingers before deeming him fit for dinner. Boney walked to the table and was just about to yank out a chair when his aunt yipped.
“Don’t scrape the legs across the floor!”
Boney gently glided the chair from the table and sat politely down. His uncle was already seated, reading the newspaper. He flapped it importantly, folding it several times before smacking it down with
Itchy turned to Boney in disbelief. “Are you hearing this? Help me out here.”
“She was interested in adopting a kitten,” Boney said. “You should have thought about that before kicking her out.”
Itchy tore at his bramble-bush hair. “Am I the only one who isn’t crazy around here? Let me spell it out for you: she’s a G-I-R-L —
GIRL!”
Boney and Squeak didn’t answer.
“Fine!” Itchy growled, grabbing the box of crackers and the jars of peanut butter and honey. “Suit yourselves! But don’t come crying to me when things go all weird!”
He marched to Escape Hatch #2 and attempted to grab the fire pole, fumbling the cracker box and dropping the jar of peanut butter down the hole. He snarled with frustration and eventually threw the crackers down the hole, then scowled and slid down the pole, hittingthe ground with a yelp, the box of crackers exploding in a shower of crumbs.
Boney and Squeak peered down the escape hatch as Itchy grappled with the food and hobbled off. In a second he was back, climbing the rope ladder like an angry red-headed ape. “I forgot the kitten basket.”
Squeak handed the basket to Itchy.
Itchy snatched the basket, wrapped his skinny legs around the fire pole, sniffed with disdain, and slid out of sight.
“What’s he so angry about?” Squeak said. “I’m the one who got my invention destroyed.”
Boney shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he’s upset about the newspaper article.” He took the opportunity to remove the pink kitten T-shirt and place it on a hook by the reference library. “Do you want to hang out after supper?”
Squeak removed his pink shirt as well and placed it on the hook. “I don’t know if I can. My dad has some kind of surprise for me.”
“Oh, okay. What do you think it is?”
“I have no idea.”
Boney picked up the deck of cards from the table. “Want to play a few hands?”
“Sure.”
The boys sat in the clubhouse, playing cards for the rest of the afternoon, Squeak keeping score with hispencil and notebook. He peered at Boney with his best poker face. “Got any kings?”
Boney groaned, tossing his kings at Squeak. “You win. Again.” He rubbed his stomach. “I’m getting kind of hungry. What time is it?”
“It’s almost supper.” Squeak pushed a button on his watch. The face lit up and small black-on-white analogue numbers flipped in succession, counting down to zero. “Your aunt should be calling you in three … two … one …”
“Boneeey!” his aunt hollered from the kitchen window. “Supper!”
Boney saluted. “Gotta go.”
C HAPTER E IGHT
F ROZEN M EATBALLS
B oney poked his head into his aunt’s kitchen, afraid of what he might smell there. But his heart lifted when he saw the yellow cookbook open on the counter and whiffed the delicious aroma of refried beans on the stove. “Smells great!” he called out, kicking off his sneakers. “What’s for supper?”
“It’s a surprise,” his aunt said.
Boney gulped. “Oh.” Whenever his aunt cooked up a surprise it was almost always a miserable disaster. He shuffled over to the stove and attempted to open the oven, but his aunt brushed his hand away.
“Go wash your face and hands and run a comb through your hair, young man, you look like you lost a fight with a thousand dust bunnies.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Boney disappeared obediently into the washroom to tidy up. When he reappeared, he presented himself to his aunt for inspection. She examinedhis neck and behind his ears, then his fingernails, and even looked between his fingers before deeming him fit for dinner. Boney walked to the table and was just about to yank out a chair when his aunt yipped.
“Don’t scrape the legs across the floor!”
Boney gently glided the chair from the table and sat politely down. His uncle was already seated, reading the newspaper. He flapped it importantly, folding it several times before smacking it down with
Similar Books
