Middle School: My Brother Is a Big, Fat Liar by James Patterson

garage sale. Then she’ll put everything out, and we’ll sort through it and keep what we really want before we sell anything.”
    “Grandma Dotty goes to garage sales every Sunday,” Rafe said. “She can’t resist them.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, Georgia,” he said finally, “you can count on me.”

“We Stink” Up the Garage Sale
    I don’t think I’ve
ever
worn this coat,” Grandma Dotty said as she put a $3.00 sticker on a purple quilted jacket. “No wonder we have a closet full of clutter!”
    “Actually, Grandma, that’s my coat,” I said, plucking the sticker from the sleeve.
    “No wonder it’s so small!” Dotty grinned and moved on to a blue-and-gray-striped winter hat. “Oh, this has
got
to go.”
    I was being Super Sister, so I rescued the hat, which was Rafe’s. So far, he’d been pretty helpful with the garage sale. The good news: Most of our belongings had reappeared over the weekend. The bad news: Dotty kept getting confused and puttingprice tags on them. We had to act fast, or our friends and neighbors would be wearing our clothes and snuggling our stuffed animals. But Dotty was having a ball with the tags—she’d even stuck one on the straw hat she was wearing. So I was trying to rescue only things we really needed, like winter clothes and moldy science projects.
    I was—as Dotty says—making orange juice from lemons.
    No,
literally
. I was making orangeade. I’d read on a website that giving away drinks and snacks at a garage sale puts people in a good mood and makes them want to buy stuff.

    “Where does this go?” Rafe asked as he lugged a telephone table out onto the lawn.
    “Let’s put it toward the front,” I told him. “We can display my old ceramic-cat collection on it.”
    “You’re getting rid of that?” Rafe looked surprised. “I always kind of liked it.”
    “You did?” Wow, that was a shock. Rafe used to tease me about it constantly.

    “Yeah, it made it easy to buy you Christmas presents.” Rafe shrugged. “Oh, well.” I was touched as he hauled the table away.
    Is it possible
, I thought,
that my brother isn’t so bad after all?
    “HEY, GEORGIA! I’M HERE TO HELP WITH THE GARAGE SALE!” Beaming, Rhonda grabbed a glass of orangeade. “WOW! THIS IS SO REFRESHING!”
    “Um, hey, Rhonda.” I had no idea how she’d even found out about the garage sale.
Is she psychic? Or psycho? Or maybe she just reads the newspaper.
“Actually, I kind of have to leave in a few minutes.”
    Rhonda looked horrified. “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”
    “Just to the garage. The band is coming over,” I explained. “We need to rehearse.” Emphasis on
need
.
    Rhonda’s eyes bugged out behind her glasses. “BUT THAT’S PERFECT! YOU SHOULD PERFORM!”
    I laughed, but Rhonda just kept gazing at me with that happy, hopeful expression.
    The band chose that moment to appear.
    “Hey, Georgia, what’s up?” Nanci’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, cookies!” She took three.
    “They’re homemade,” I said, which made Nanci take two more.
    “Look what I found!” Patti said, holding up a ceramic calico cat. “Isn’t it adorable? I need this. I love animals.” She plunked a dollar on the table.
    “Are you ready for rehearsal?” Mari asked.
    “I WAS JUST TELLING GEORGIA THAT YOU GUYS SHOULD PERFORM RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW!” Rhonda screeched. “IT’LL BE LIKE A DRESS REHEARSAL!”
    From across the lawn, I heard a noise like ananimal dying, and saw Rafe fall to his knees with his hands over his ears. “DON’T DO IT!” he wailed. “YOU
STINK
!”
    Remember a few paragraphs ago? When I thought my brother wasn’t so bad? I was over that now.
    “Sure, Rhonda,” I said. “I think that’s a great idea.”
    Mari shrugged. “Why not?” she said. There were only three other people at the garage sale, anyway: our nosy neighbor Mr. Stanley, ancient Mrs. Bloomgarden, and her Yorkshire terrier, Wilson. They looked like they could stand to rock out.
    We set up our stuff in