ready, we’ll pull back on this string.”
“I’ll pull the string,” Chip announced.
Uncle Ron stopped and looked at Chip. “If things go okay, we’ll do it a couple of times. But since we’re guests at Charlie’s house, we’ll let him pull it first.”
“But I said it first,” Chip protested.
“We’ll let Charlie pull first,” Uncle Ron said.
“That’s not fair,” Chip said.
I looked at Matt, then at the Squid. We all said it together: “Life’s not fair!”
Uncle Ron laughed. Chip frowned and made a face.
Finally, Chip wasn’t going to get his way!
“We’ll all pump,” Uncle Ron instructed us. “Everybody gets ten pumps. You want a turn, Matt?”
“I’m good.” Matt folded his arms across his chest and watched us work with a smirk on his face.
I heard the front door open. Pops stepped out and held the door for Mr. Gritzbach. Mrs. Walcott was standing just inside with her walker. The two old men stood on the porch, leaning back against the open storm door so she could see. Mom and Aunt Sarah and Gams and Mrs. Gritzbach and Dad were all still inside. I guess they didn’t care about the Thanksgiving rocket.
“Almost ready, Pops?” I yelled. He nodded, grinned, and gave me a thumbs up. Even Mr. Gritzbach had a sort of smile on his face.
We pumped ten times each, which made forty. “Wait a sec,” Uncle Ron said. “It’s leaning a little.
Let me make sure it’s pointing straight up in the air.” He started toward the launcher.
But Chip got there first. “This is the string you pull, right?” he said.
“No!” Uncle Ron said.
Chip pulled the string.
The rocket shot off the launcher. It spewed water out, spraying all of us.
But it did not go straight up in the air.
Instead, the rocket took a turn to the left and zoomed across the yard, staying about six feet above the ground. It seemed like it was flying about two hundred miles an hour.
Right toward our front door.
12
Steam Coming Out of Her Ears
It happened so quickly, I barely had time to think. For a split second I thought the rocket was going to slam into Pops and Mr. Gritzbach.
But it zipped right by them.
Right through the open front door.
Right over Mrs. Walcott, who ducked down over her walker just in time.
Then we heard a crash and a scream.
Uh-oh.
We all looked at each other.
“Oh man!” Uncle Ron moaned and ran toward the door. He leapt up the steps and sprinted throughthe front door. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” Uncle Ron said as he ran past Pops and Mr. Gritzbach.
I was right behind him.
Pops and Mr. Gritzbach had weird looks on their faces, which I guess is the kind of look you get when you’re almost hit by a rocket.
Mrs. Walcott had her hands folded together and a little grin on her face.
Gams and Mrs. Gritzbach were sitting on the sofa in the living room, gripping their punch glasses with both hands. Aunt Sarah was holding Tilly. Their eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their heads.
Mom was standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips. There were three or four plates of food scattered on the floor. The coffee table was lying on its side and cheese straws and carrot sticks were scattered all around.
The rocket was lying in the corner with a big dent in the nose cone.
Dad was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with both hands over his face.
Aunt Sarah took Tilly out of the room.
“My goodness,” Gams said.
“What happened?” Mrs. Gritzbach asked.
“Whoops,” Uncle Ron said. “Everybody okay?”
“Do it again, nuh?” Mrs. Walcott asked.
I looked at Mom. If we’d been in a cartoon, there would’ve been little puffs of steam coming out of her ears.
I picked up the crumpled rocket. Uncle Ron motioned that I should take it outside, then he got down on his knees and started to clean up the plates and food. By this time, everybody had come in from the front yard and was standing by the door—Mr. Gritzbach, Pops, the Squid, and Matt. I didn’t see
“I’ll pull the string,” Chip announced.
Uncle Ron stopped and looked at Chip. “If things go okay, we’ll do it a couple of times. But since we’re guests at Charlie’s house, we’ll let him pull it first.”
“But I said it first,” Chip protested.
“We’ll let Charlie pull first,” Uncle Ron said.
“That’s not fair,” Chip said.
I looked at Matt, then at the Squid. We all said it together: “Life’s not fair!”
Uncle Ron laughed. Chip frowned and made a face.
Finally, Chip wasn’t going to get his way!
“We’ll all pump,” Uncle Ron instructed us. “Everybody gets ten pumps. You want a turn, Matt?”
“I’m good.” Matt folded his arms across his chest and watched us work with a smirk on his face.
I heard the front door open. Pops stepped out and held the door for Mr. Gritzbach. Mrs. Walcott was standing just inside with her walker. The two old men stood on the porch, leaning back against the open storm door so she could see. Mom and Aunt Sarah and Gams and Mrs. Gritzbach and Dad were all still inside. I guess they didn’t care about the Thanksgiving rocket.
“Almost ready, Pops?” I yelled. He nodded, grinned, and gave me a thumbs up. Even Mr. Gritzbach had a sort of smile on his face.
We pumped ten times each, which made forty. “Wait a sec,” Uncle Ron said. “It’s leaning a little.
Let me make sure it’s pointing straight up in the air.” He started toward the launcher.
But Chip got there first. “This is the string you pull, right?” he said.
“No!” Uncle Ron said.
Chip pulled the string.
The rocket shot off the launcher. It spewed water out, spraying all of us.
But it did not go straight up in the air.
Instead, the rocket took a turn to the left and zoomed across the yard, staying about six feet above the ground. It seemed like it was flying about two hundred miles an hour.
Right toward our front door.
12
Steam Coming Out of Her Ears
It happened so quickly, I barely had time to think. For a split second I thought the rocket was going to slam into Pops and Mr. Gritzbach.
But it zipped right by them.
Right through the open front door.
Right over Mrs. Walcott, who ducked down over her walker just in time.
Then we heard a crash and a scream.
Uh-oh.
We all looked at each other.
“Oh man!” Uncle Ron moaned and ran toward the door. He leapt up the steps and sprinted throughthe front door. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” Uncle Ron said as he ran past Pops and Mr. Gritzbach.
I was right behind him.
Pops and Mr. Gritzbach had weird looks on their faces, which I guess is the kind of look you get when you’re almost hit by a rocket.
Mrs. Walcott had her hands folded together and a little grin on her face.
Gams and Mrs. Gritzbach were sitting on the sofa in the living room, gripping their punch glasses with both hands. Aunt Sarah was holding Tilly. Their eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their heads.
Mom was standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips. There were three or four plates of food scattered on the floor. The coffee table was lying on its side and cheese straws and carrot sticks were scattered all around.
The rocket was lying in the corner with a big dent in the nose cone.
Dad was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with both hands over his face.
Aunt Sarah took Tilly out of the room.
“My goodness,” Gams said.
“What happened?” Mrs. Gritzbach asked.
“Whoops,” Uncle Ron said. “Everybody okay?”
“Do it again, nuh?” Mrs. Walcott asked.
I looked at Mom. If we’d been in a cartoon, there would’ve been little puffs of steam coming out of her ears.
I picked up the crumpled rocket. Uncle Ron motioned that I should take it outside, then he got down on his knees and started to clean up the plates and food. By this time, everybody had come in from the front yard and was standing by the door—Mr. Gritzbach, Pops, the Squid, and Matt. I didn’t see
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