ONE
It was five days before Christmas break.
Eric Hagel shoved his feet into his snow boots. He peeked out his bedroom window. A full moon made the snow twinkle. He shivered thinking about his paper route.
Downstairs, Eric stuffed newspapers into his canvas bag. He wrapped his scarf around his neck and zipped up his fleece jacket. Pushing his earmuffs on, Eric stepped out into the cold morning.
Then he saw itâa moving van parked in front of the empty house next door. Snow was stuck to its huge tires.
Eric peeked around the porch. What agiant moving van , he thought. There must be a bunch of kids moving in!
Ducking behind the tree in his yard, Eric watched. A man with a long nose and a pointy chin shouted orders to the movers. He waved his cane in the cold air, like someone directing traffic.
Eric dashed through the snow. He slid behind a hedge close to the garage. Now he could see better.
He watched as the manâs long coat billowed out like a cape.
âPut the boxes in the living room,â the man said. His voice sounded gruff. And a little scary.
Eric glanced at his watch . . . 6:30. Plenty of time before school started.
The movers carried in a sofa and chair. And beds and lamps and boxes. Eric kept waiting for some kids to show up. Surely the new neighbor didnât live by himself. Surely he had a family . . . or someone.
A gust of wind blew Ericâs green scarf across his eyes. He pushed it back quickly.
The old man paced back and forth. Then he stopped. He was staring at the hedge. Could he see Eric hiding behind it?
Quickly, Eric stuffed his scarf inside his coat. He pushed his newspaper bag down. He could feel his heart thumping.
The old man shuffled to the edge of the sidewalk.
Eric shivered.
Then the old man mumbled something, but Eric couldnât understand it.
Maybe he was having a bad day. Moving was like that sometimes.
Eric remembered the day he moved to Blossom Hill Lane. It was no fun. Not till he met the Cul-de-sac Kids. Now, there was no better place on earth!
We stick together, no matter what , Abby Hunter had always said. And it was true from the first time he met them. The Cul-de-sac Kids were true friends.
Eric decided he would be the one to welcome the new kids. The ones he hoped were moving into the house at the end of Blossom Hill Lane. He would do itâeven if he had to spy a little first.
TWO
Eric watched the old man go inside. He wanted to ask where his family was. But it was time to deliver papers.
Eric got up and brushed the snow off his knees. He crossed the street to Stacy Henryâs house. A light was on in the kitchen. Stacyâs mother was probably getting her crockpot ready. She worked long hours.
Eric opened the storm door. He tried not to shake the Christmas wreath. Then he put the newspaper inside.
Abby Hunterâs house, next door, was dark except for Christmas lights. Around eachwindow, red, white and green lights flashed on and off. On and off.
Next came Dunkumâs house. His real name was Edward Mifflin, but nobody called him that. He was Dunkum, the hottest third grade basketball player around.
Eric opened the storm door. He placed the newspaper inside.
Eric did the same thing at each house. He wanted to keep the papers dry for the customers.
Someone was up early at Dee Dee Winterâs house. Probably her dad. Mr. Winters had a long drive to work in the mountains.
Eric turned left at the end of the cul-de-sac. He had a bunch more houses to go.
The sky was turning grayish pink. It would be dawn soon.
At last, Eric headed home. His motherâs hot blueberry oatmeal was waiting.
In the corner of the kitchen, his grandpaâs birds chirped their morning song. Three canaries and a pair of parakeets.
Soon, Eric heard Abby Hunterâs whistle. The Cul-de-sac Kids were heading for Blossom Hill School.
Ericâs mother hugged him. Then he pulled on his boots, jacket and scarf. Again.
He dashed out the front door,
It was five days before Christmas break.
Eric Hagel shoved his feet into his snow boots. He peeked out his bedroom window. A full moon made the snow twinkle. He shivered thinking about his paper route.
Downstairs, Eric stuffed newspapers into his canvas bag. He wrapped his scarf around his neck and zipped up his fleece jacket. Pushing his earmuffs on, Eric stepped out into the cold morning.
Then he saw itâa moving van parked in front of the empty house next door. Snow was stuck to its huge tires.
Eric peeked around the porch. What agiant moving van , he thought. There must be a bunch of kids moving in!
Ducking behind the tree in his yard, Eric watched. A man with a long nose and a pointy chin shouted orders to the movers. He waved his cane in the cold air, like someone directing traffic.
Eric dashed through the snow. He slid behind a hedge close to the garage. Now he could see better.
He watched as the manâs long coat billowed out like a cape.
âPut the boxes in the living room,â the man said. His voice sounded gruff. And a little scary.
Eric glanced at his watch . . . 6:30. Plenty of time before school started.
The movers carried in a sofa and chair. And beds and lamps and boxes. Eric kept waiting for some kids to show up. Surely the new neighbor didnât live by himself. Surely he had a family . . . or someone.
A gust of wind blew Ericâs green scarf across his eyes. He pushed it back quickly.
The old man paced back and forth. Then he stopped. He was staring at the hedge. Could he see Eric hiding behind it?
Quickly, Eric stuffed his scarf inside his coat. He pushed his newspaper bag down. He could feel his heart thumping.
The old man shuffled to the edge of the sidewalk.
Eric shivered.
Then the old man mumbled something, but Eric couldnât understand it.
Maybe he was having a bad day. Moving was like that sometimes.
Eric remembered the day he moved to Blossom Hill Lane. It was no fun. Not till he met the Cul-de-sac Kids. Now, there was no better place on earth!
We stick together, no matter what , Abby Hunter had always said. And it was true from the first time he met them. The Cul-de-sac Kids were true friends.
Eric decided he would be the one to welcome the new kids. The ones he hoped were moving into the house at the end of Blossom Hill Lane. He would do itâeven if he had to spy a little first.
TWO
Eric watched the old man go inside. He wanted to ask where his family was. But it was time to deliver papers.
Eric got up and brushed the snow off his knees. He crossed the street to Stacy Henryâs house. A light was on in the kitchen. Stacyâs mother was probably getting her crockpot ready. She worked long hours.
Eric opened the storm door. He tried not to shake the Christmas wreath. Then he put the newspaper inside.
Abby Hunterâs house, next door, was dark except for Christmas lights. Around eachwindow, red, white and green lights flashed on and off. On and off.
Next came Dunkumâs house. His real name was Edward Mifflin, but nobody called him that. He was Dunkum, the hottest third grade basketball player around.
Eric opened the storm door. He placed the newspaper inside.
Eric did the same thing at each house. He wanted to keep the papers dry for the customers.
Someone was up early at Dee Dee Winterâs house. Probably her dad. Mr. Winters had a long drive to work in the mountains.
Eric turned left at the end of the cul-de-sac. He had a bunch more houses to go.
The sky was turning grayish pink. It would be dawn soon.
At last, Eric headed home. His motherâs hot blueberry oatmeal was waiting.
In the corner of the kitchen, his grandpaâs birds chirped their morning song. Three canaries and a pair of parakeets.
Soon, Eric heard Abby Hunterâs whistle. The Cul-de-sac Kids were heading for Blossom Hill School.
Ericâs mother hugged him. Then he pulled on his boots, jacket and scarf. Again.
He dashed out the front door,
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