Big Bad Beans Read Free Page B

I’m trying for,” Dunkum said. “I’m tired of riding my bikes anyway. Playing ball is my thing. But blading . . . I could practice basketball on them.”
    Jason stopped bouncing the ball. “Did you say bikes? You got more than one?”
    â€œSure. You remember my old road bike. Plus, my dad bought me a brandnew BMX. I hardly ever ride them anymore,” Dunkum said.
    â€œHow come?” Jason couldn’t believe his ears.
    â€œBasketball is my life.” Dunkum fired one up. The ball swished right through. Nothing but net!
    At that moment, Jason had a new idea. He took a deep breath. “Wanna sell one of your bikes?”
    Dunkum stopped. He wiped his face on his sleeve. “Hey, good idea. The road bike needs some paint. That’s all.”
    â€œYa-hoo!” shouted Jason. “How much?”
    â€œWhatever you got,” Dunkum said. He dribbled the ball behind his back.
    â€œDon’t go away!” Jason hurried home to get the money. He could trust Dunkum any day. He was not a double-crosser.

SEVEN
    Jason flew to his room.
    The place was a mess. Pajamas and towels were crumpled in a heap in the corner. The bed was lumpy. His dresser drawers yawned open, and jeans played peekaboo over the top.
    He kicked away pieces of gum wrapper with his foot.
    Gum wrappers?
    What were they doing out?
    He scrambled to his knees and pushed the comic books aside. The junk drawer was junkier than ever!
    Searching, he found his bike money in the back of the drawer. The baseball cards divided his money on the right from Abby’s on the . . .
    â€œWha-at’s this?” he wailed.
    Abby’s money was all ripped up! Bits of garbanzo beans were mixed in with shredded dollar bills.
    â€œWhat happened?” Jason cried. “Who did this?”
    A trail of the scrappy mess led to the bathroom. He found his puppy whining in the corner of the shower.
    â€œBad, bad Muffie!” He wanted to shake her. No, that was too kind. He wanted to hang Muffle up by her doggie ears.
    â€œHow could you do this?” he shouted.
    Muffle yipped and backed into the shower stall.
    Jason slammed the bathroom door and looked in the mirror. He yelled at his own face. “Can’t you do anything right?”
    He slapped himself on the forehead.“It was those big, bad beans!” Jason exclaimed. “I should’ve known . . . I should’ve . . .”
    His mother knocked on the door. “Jason, are you all right?”
    â€œI’m doomed. Abby’s money is all gone! Muffle ate it!” he said over and over.
    â€œI can’t understand you,” his mother said.
    â€œEverything’s wrong,” he muttered. “Abby counted on me and now . . .”
    He picked Muffle out of the shower. Her breath smelled like beans. “You little sneak,” he hollered in the pooch’s face. “I oughta call the dog pound this minute!”
    Poor little Muffle shook in his arms. He carried her to the back door and put her out. Then he slammed the kitchen door and headed for his room.
    The junk drawer was sagging open. Half a garbanzo bean and some lettuce were scattered in the front—the reason for Muffle’s mischief.
    But deep inside, Jason knew it was his own fault.
    He groaned. Those good-for-nothing beans! If only I’d cleaned my plate.
    Just then the doorbell rang.
    â€œJason,” called his mother. “Your friend Abby’s here to see you.”
    His heart sank. Abby had come for her Mother’s Day money early. He was almost positive!
    Jason breathed fast and hard. How much money had she given him? How many dollar bills?
    On the floor behind the door he spied the sandwich baggie. The amount was written on a round pink sticker.
    Twenty-two dollars!
    Jason gasped. What could he do?
    Quickly, he counted his own money. It was all there.
    He thought about Dunkum’s terrific road bike down the