The Puzzle Master Read Free Page A

wrong. Marshall just nodded at him instead. It didn’t help that he always felt his father blamed him for being there; that they’d left the coast of Washington all because of his condition. Summers there were paradise. Not anything like sticky Sacramento. And here he was, disappointing him again.
    His father frowned. “Is that true?” he asked.
    “Yes,” said Marshall, fiddling with the silverware. “But only by two minutes.” His dad took off his tie and Leila went back to her seat with a smile on her face.
    “Thanks a lot,” Marshall hissed at her. “You could’ve waited like ten minutes to tell him. He didn’t need to know right now.”
    “I’m just telling the truth,” she whined back. He wondered how long she’d been planning to tell their father.
    “You’re such a pain.”
    She lowered her eyes, but forgot all about it, when his father noticed the finger painting drawings from that morning. Leila beamed and explained her pictures. Mason came to the table with earphones on.
    Marshall scowled at him too.
    “What’s wrong with you?” Mason asked, nodding his head to an inaudible beat. Their mother motioned him to take of his earphones. He sighed, but snapped them out of his ears.
    Marshall kept quiet. But he should’ve said something, because Leila ended up explaining it again. “Marsh is busted for coming home late this morning.”
    “Shut up, Leila.” Marshall felt worse with every passing second. He slumped into his chair.
    “Why is this all such a big deal?” And why now? Marshall thought. Of all of summer, this was the worst time to have come home late. He had a surprise waiting for him this time.
    “Don’t say those words!” his mother said, dishing out mashed potatoes onto Leila’s plate. They came out of the spoon with a splat. No one got to say shut up and get away with it in the house. It was bad form. Instead, they were supposed to tell mom or dad if someone was saying something they shouldn’t.
    Yet, somehow, that was never quite as effective as actually spitting out those words into the aggravator’s face. Marshall was glad he’d said it. It was about time she stayed quiet.
    But it didn’t last for long. Dinner was loud, as usual. Leila was talking about everything. She could out-talk the whole family, and still be ready to talk again. Mason was trying to canoodle a car from dad. Marshall just wanted to evaporate into thin air.
    “All I’ll need it something to get to school and back with,” he explained for about the hundredth time. Marshall rolled his eyes. Leila jabbered to her food, and then to herself.
    Their father was thinking about what Mason said, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere, maybe still on work at the office. Mom was up and down getting the food, and grabbing a bite in between. Her apron was dirty with fingerprints; wiped away barbeque sauce, bits of jam, a mashed carrot.
    “Just something,” Mason pleaded. “Anything. I’ll pay you back. I’ll find odd jobs around the neighborhood.”
    “Like mowing the grass?” Marshall interjected, with a flick of his fork.
    Mason shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”
    “So he gets paid to mow our grass, but I have to do it for free?” Marshall’s eyes flashed. He thought he tasted blood.
    “ Ooooooh , Marsh mallow is mad again,” said Leila. “Better watch out.” She smiled at him through bites of mashed potatoes.
    “Shut up!” said Marshall. “Would you just stop talking! ”
    “Hey, cut it out … all of you,” their father said. That quieted them, but only for a moment. Marshall glared at his brother and sister. But Leila glared back, and Mason’s eyes were so angry he could’ve been darting arrows from them. He really wanted a car. But who cared? Marshall couldn’t stand being taken for granted. Mason got whatever he wanted; Leila was too smart for all of them. Yet, his parents punished him?
    “Marshall, you don’t get to be rude just because you can’t go out tonight,” said his mom, buttering a