Regular Guy by Sarah Weeks Page B

was a good friend. Together we walked up the front steps and into the Smiths’ quiet little house.
    â€œSo where are they?” Buzz asked.
    â€œThey’re probably reading magazines somewhere,” I said.
    â€œWell, they’re gonna have plenty of time to read about this in tomorrow’s headlines, so we better find them now and get this thing taken care of.”
    â€œMrs. Smith!” I called.
    â€œCall louder,” said Buzz.
    â€œMr. and Mrs. Smith!” I called a little louder this time.
    â€œLemme do it. HEY, SMITHS!” Buzz shouted at the top of his lungs.
    â€œWhat in the world is all the racket about?” Mrs. Smith looked all bent out of shape as she came down the stairs with a gardening magazine in her hand. Mr. Smith came in from the living room with his finger stuck in a copy of Reader’s Digest . They both looked at us like we were crazy.
    â€œListen,” said Buzz. “I don’t know where to start, but I think we better call the police because—”
    The phone rang and Mr. Smith went to answer it.
    â€œHello?…Yes, yes they’re both here…. Uh huh…yes I will…they’ll be here…all right, William, we’ll be waiting.”
    â€œWilliam? Was that my dad?” I asked nervously.
    â€œYes, it was and he did not sound happy at all. He and your mother are coming over here right now—”
    â€œYou can’t let them do that!” cried Buzz. “She’s got a knife!”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” said Mrs. Smith. “ Who has a knife?”
    â€œMy mother has a big knife,” I said. “Or anyway, she had a big knife until Buzz knocked it out of her hands and saved my life, but Bob-o, well, Bob-o wasn’t so lucky, he, he—” I started to bawl again.
    â€œI don’t know what is going on here, and I’m not sure I want to, so I’m going back in the living room to read in peace until the Strangs arrive. In the meantime, I would verymuch appreciate it if you two boys would go outside and occupy yourselves with something quiet . I, for one, am not in the mood for drama.”
    â€œDrama?” said Buzz incredulously as Mr. Smith retreated to the living room. “Try murder.”
    â€œOh, for heaven’s sake,” said Mrs. Smith. “I’m going to make coffee.”
    Buzz just stood there with his eyes bugging out.
    â€œI told you they were strange,” I said.
    â€œThat’s putting it mildly. Her wacko so-called son has just been murdered, and she’s making coffee,” said Buzz.
    I heard tires screech as a car rounded the corner at high speed. I knew it was them—and I was right.
    My mother came rushing in the front door without even knocking. Her hair was positively wild, and she had dirt all over her face from having been knocked on the ground by Buzz. My dad was right behind herlooking more serious than I’d ever seen him look before.
    â€œI am beside myself,” said my mother. “Absolutely beside myself. What on earth is going on with you, Guy? Some Humanities project this has turned out to be. You’re acting like a lunatic, and you”—she pointed a finger at Buzz. “Boy, do you have some explaining to do, mister.”
    â€œMe? What about you ? I saw what you did to Bob-o. I saw it with my own eyes and so did Guy. You offed your long-lost geeky little weirdo son because you couldn’t stand the shock, but you’re not going to get away with it, Mrs. Strang. Not by a long shot!”
    Buzz was riled. My parents just stood there with their mouths hanging open. Mr. and Mrs. Smith, holding their respective magazines, were standing side by side watching the show. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any more bizarre, who should walk in but…Bob-o. Alive and kicking. Well, to be more accurate, picking . There he stood in the doorway with his finger up his nose and a bored look on his