The Ps Brothers by Maribeth Boelts

Author:Maribeth Boelts
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

Chapter Seven

On the way to Nick’s, we stopped and bought two corn dogs at the DX. The lady behind the counter let us have ice water for free. We gulped down our supper and made it to Nick’s in record time.

Shawn knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Princess barked from the basement. “Maybe he’s down there with her and can’t hear us.”

I elbowed my way through a bush and crouched down to look in the basement window, wiping the grime and cobwebs away with the bottom of my T-shirt. No Nick, but Princess heard me and jumped at the wall where the window was.

“I’ll bet he’s out back,” Shawn said. “His car is here, so he’s got to be around.”

There were three kennels in the backyard, attached to each other under a rusty tin roof. Each kennel had its own gate. One kennel had a brindle-colored pit bull in it, but the other two were empty. I usually pet every dog I meet, if they act like they want me to, but this one was growling and barking, so I held back. Shawn tossed it a cheez-whirlz, but he wasn’t crazy enough to pet it, either.

Next to the kennels was a gray garage, which definitely leaned to one side. If someone like Uncle Cory gave it a shove, it would probably fall right over. All the garage windows were boarded over, but the side entrance door was brand-new, with the price sticker still on it. Heavy steel, with a peephole that someone could look out of from the inside, but the outside guy couldn’t look in. I heard hammering, and there was a trail of hay leading up to the door. Maybe Nick had a horse?

We pounded on the door. The hammering stopped.

“Nick! It’s us—Russell and Shawn!”

After a while Nick opened the door, and then shut it behind him fast, like he didn’t want us to see the Christmas presents he bought for us.

I pulled the ten dollars from my pocket. “Here it is . . . that money you wanted before we could pick out a puppy.”

Nick grabbed the money and looked around. He stamped out his half-smoked cigarette, and pulled the pack from his shirt pocket. He lit another one and took a fast draw.

“I’ll take Princess outside so you can go down in the basement. Give me a minute, will ya?”

Nick stamped out his new cigarette, and we followed him to the back door of the house. Shawn hopped up and down, his arms wrapped around his chest, while Nick went inside. In a minute Nick came back out, with one hand gripped around Princess’s thick collar, steering her toward the kennel. In his other hand he had a flashlight.

“Here, take this,” he said, shoving the flashlight at me before Princess pulled him away.

“Let’s go in,” Shawn said, holding open the back door to the stair landing. I walked onto the landing and went up the three steps to open the kitchen door for more light.

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