Homesick by Kate Klise

Author:Kate Klise [Klise, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781250008435
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2012-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

LOOK WHO’S TALKING (WITH TINA TURNIPSON)

BY TUESDAY, WORD HAD GOTTEN around town.

“It’s so exciting,” Stormy whispered to me before Social Studies. “Makes me wish I lived in Dennis Acres ’stead of on Highway V.”

“You should move,” I whispered back. “Get somebody to pull your trailer down the highway and park it in Dennis Acres.”

She laughed. “I’ll ask my mom.”

“Has she found a job yet?”

Stormy shook her head. “Still looking.”

Her service project was going no better than mine.

“I’ll help you think of more job ideas,” I said. “After school?”

It was my cowardly way of inviting her to sit next to me on the bus after school. But as usual, Stormy sat in the front of the bus and I sat in the back by myself. That is, until Miss Tina Turnipson slid in beside me.

“Do you think Myron has the phones working yet?” she asked nervously.

I was trying to catch Stormy’s eye, but she didn’t see me. Chance and Rance were sitting in the seat behind her, tapping her on the shoulder and then laughing and looking innocent when she turned around. It was the oldest trick in the book, but I couldn’t tell if Stormy thought it was dumb or funny. Man, I hated those Ants brothers.

“Well, does he?” Miss Turnipson pressed.

“Huh?” I replied. “I mean, yeah. My dad helped him run the phone lines. If people want to call in during your show, Myron can put them on the air. He’s got three phones that’ll take calls simultaneously.”

“Oh,” Miss Turnipson said darkly.

Now Lance was getting in on the fun. He was trying to impress Stormy by showing her his golden tooth. Big whoop. If I’d broken a molar chewing rocks, I don’t think I’d be so quick about showing it off. I was glad Mrs. Rosso had rejected his idea of updating the sidewalk crack count for his service project.

When Stormy got off the bus, the Ants brothers moved to the back so they could make smoochy noises at me and Miss Turnipson. I ignored them.

Twenty-five minutes later we arrived at the radio station. Myron was scribbling questions on a pad of paper.

“Hey,” he said, looking up. “I don’t usually prepare for interviews, but I figure we’ve got a lot of ground to cover today. So, have a seat, Tina. Make yourself comfortable. Benny, get some water for Miss Turnipson, will you? And get ready to transcribe this show.”

At four o’clock on the dot, Myron played the “Turn It Up with Tina Turnipson” theme song. I always wondered if Miss Turnipson realized it was a jazzy rendition of “Here Comes Peter Cottontail Hoppin’ Down the Bunny Trail.” There was something undeniably rabbity about her.

“Good afternoon, Dennis Acres,” Myron said as he faded out the music. “Welcome to another edition of ‘Turn It Up with Tina Turnipson.’ And have we got some news for you today. Why don’t you tell us about it, Tina?”

Miss Turnipson cleared her throat importantly. “Well, it’s hard to believe, but our little town of

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