stolen information, trying to narrow down the houses on Washington Street where an old lady might live.
Four sleeping bags were spread out on the floor. Earl Unger sat on the red sleeping bag, eating a container of microwave soup with a plastic spoon. Jernigan sat on a folding chair, sharpening a knife with a whetstone.
"What's your best guess on how long we're gonna be at this slumber party?" Unger griped.
"No longer than necessary," Peter Beaupre replied.
"That was helpful," Unger scoffed.
Peter Beaupre was getting tired of Unger's complaining. He pointed at the door. "There's a door. You can use it any time you want, Mr. Unger."
Unger backed off a bit, changing the subject to his less-than-satisfying meal. "I'm eating reconstituted alphabet soup for Pete's sake," he moaned.
"Don't spill any on my bed," Burton Jernigan warned.
"This isn't a bed," Unger snapped. "This is a bag . And it's mine."
"No." Jernigan shook his head. "I picked the red one. You picked the green. Alice got blue. Mr. Beaupre took black."
Earl Unger couldn't believe it. "Does it really matter to you what color your sleeping bag is?"
Burton Jernigan nodded. "Yes. I like red."
Peter Beaupre was getting really exasperated, "Please," he grumbled. "Can I have some quiet? I have work to do."
"Mr. Jernigan, you're an infant," Unger stated with a sigh, as he relocated to the green sleeping bag.
While Jernigan and Unger sulked, Beaupre continued his work. One wall of the ranch house was already covered with his research on the families in Alex's neighborhood. Next to an aerial photo of each family's house hung a list of family
members, their ages and occupations, motor vehicle descriptions and license numbers, household pets, and other similar information.
Alice was on the floor of the ranch house, happily gluing Monopoly houses to a 3-D representation of the neighborhood. The gang was just about ready for action.
9
Alex stood at the top of the stairs, arguing with his mother. He had tired of tormenting Mrs. Hess, and now he was bored again. He wanted to join his mom in the living room. However, Mrs. Pruitt was not cooperating.
"But I feel a lot better now," Alex told her.
"I don't care," said his mom. "You're not coming downstairs. You're sick and you have to stay in bed."
"Will you come up and talk to me?" Alex asked.
"I've been up and down the stairs twenty times today, Alex," his mom said. "We talked and talked and talked. I have to finish my work. I have to make dinner."
"Did you know that Mrs. Hess puts booze in her iced tea?" Alex asked.
"Were you using your telescope to spy on Mrs. Hess?" his mom asked.
"Obviously," Alex replied. "I'm not telepathic."
"Knock it off," his mother said sternly. "It's rude. You wouldn't like somebody doing it to you. If you feel so much better, maybe you should start your schoolwork."
Alex thought it over. "I don't feel that good," he decided.
As if it wasn't bad enough to have the chicken pox, Alex also had to deal with his jerkface brother and dweebazoid sister. He was sitting at his desk that night when he heard them in the hall outside his room.
"School really rocked today," Molly was saying. "It's so cool that we got money."
"Yeah," said Stan. "Ten bucks just for showing up."
At his desk in his room, Alex straightened up. They got ten bucks just for showing up at school?
"It was enough to just meet the Chicago Bulls," Stan went on, "but to get ten bucks from them was just too cool."
Alex felt his eyes go wide.
"How come they did that?" he heard Molly ask Stan.
"The government arranged it," Stan explained. "It's a one-time only reward for kids showing up at school."
The Chicago Bulls! Alex jumped out of his seat and dashed into the hall.
Both Molly and Stan looked surprised to see him.
"You met the Bulls?" Alex asked, astounded.
Stan nodded. "Guess it pays to stay healthy, huh?"
"I can't believe it!" Alex cried in agony.
"You didn't tell him about the slam-dunk contest, did you?"
Four sleeping bags were spread out on the floor. Earl Unger sat on the red sleeping bag, eating a container of microwave soup with a plastic spoon. Jernigan sat on a folding chair, sharpening a knife with a whetstone.
"What's your best guess on how long we're gonna be at this slumber party?" Unger griped.
"No longer than necessary," Peter Beaupre replied.
"That was helpful," Unger scoffed.
Peter Beaupre was getting tired of Unger's complaining. He pointed at the door. "There's a door. You can use it any time you want, Mr. Unger."
Unger backed off a bit, changing the subject to his less-than-satisfying meal. "I'm eating reconstituted alphabet soup for Pete's sake," he moaned.
"Don't spill any on my bed," Burton Jernigan warned.
"This isn't a bed," Unger snapped. "This is a bag . And it's mine."
"No." Jernigan shook his head. "I picked the red one. You picked the green. Alice got blue. Mr. Beaupre took black."
Earl Unger couldn't believe it. "Does it really matter to you what color your sleeping bag is?"
Burton Jernigan nodded. "Yes. I like red."
Peter Beaupre was getting really exasperated, "Please," he grumbled. "Can I have some quiet? I have work to do."
"Mr. Jernigan, you're an infant," Unger stated with a sigh, as he relocated to the green sleeping bag.
While Jernigan and Unger sulked, Beaupre continued his work. One wall of the ranch house was already covered with his research on the families in Alex's neighborhood. Next to an aerial photo of each family's house hung a list of family
members, their ages and occupations, motor vehicle descriptions and license numbers, household pets, and other similar information.
Alice was on the floor of the ranch house, happily gluing Monopoly houses to a 3-D representation of the neighborhood. The gang was just about ready for action.
9
Alex stood at the top of the stairs, arguing with his mother. He had tired of tormenting Mrs. Hess, and now he was bored again. He wanted to join his mom in the living room. However, Mrs. Pruitt was not cooperating.
"But I feel a lot better now," Alex told her.
"I don't care," said his mom. "You're not coming downstairs. You're sick and you have to stay in bed."
"Will you come up and talk to me?" Alex asked.
"I've been up and down the stairs twenty times today, Alex," his mom said. "We talked and talked and talked. I have to finish my work. I have to make dinner."
"Did you know that Mrs. Hess puts booze in her iced tea?" Alex asked.
"Were you using your telescope to spy on Mrs. Hess?" his mom asked.
"Obviously," Alex replied. "I'm not telepathic."
"Knock it off," his mother said sternly. "It's rude. You wouldn't like somebody doing it to you. If you feel so much better, maybe you should start your schoolwork."
Alex thought it over. "I don't feel that good," he decided.
As if it wasn't bad enough to have the chicken pox, Alex also had to deal with his jerkface brother and dweebazoid sister. He was sitting at his desk that night when he heard them in the hall outside his room.
"School really rocked today," Molly was saying. "It's so cool that we got money."
"Yeah," said Stan. "Ten bucks just for showing up."
At his desk in his room, Alex straightened up. They got ten bucks just for showing up at school?
"It was enough to just meet the Chicago Bulls," Stan went on, "but to get ten bucks from them was just too cool."
Alex felt his eyes go wide.
"How come they did that?" he heard Molly ask Stan.
"The government arranged it," Stan explained. "It's a one-time only reward for kids showing up at school."
The Chicago Bulls! Alex jumped out of his seat and dashed into the hall.
Both Molly and Stan looked surprised to see him.
"You met the Bulls?" Alex asked, astounded.
Stan nodded. "Guess it pays to stay healthy, huh?"
"I can't believe it!" Alex cried in agony.
"You didn't tell him about the slam-dunk contest, did you?"
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