Thriller by Jon Scieszka

Author:Jon Scieszka
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

Pudding

by Jarrett J. Krosoczka

The Snake Mafia

by Gennifer Choldenko

In my dream, it was a tiny snake, green—the color of new leaves—no thicker around than a thumb and glowing iridescent like it was lit from within. Slithering so assuredly, it was almost as if it could walk on its coils. It slipped from chair to chair until it reached the door.

No one saw it but me.

It is hot and hot and hot in the blistering heat of the valley, where just walking across the pavement makes your feet burn like dough in frying fat, and the dust covers everything in a dull brown film.

I pour a quart bottle of water over my head, which makes me feel better for the three or four seconds it takes to empty, but by second five the sun sucks the water right off me like a giant drier in the big hot sky.

I’m headed for Homework Club to pick up my little brother, Niko, who is right this second standing on top of the play structure. Oh man, I hope he doesn’t jump again. I don’t feel like spending the rest of the day in the emergency room. Niko has broken his arm twice, fractured his tibia, sprained both ankles, and lost three teeth. Kind of amazing given the kid is only seven. I think the Red Cross has him on their danger-watch list. Ripley’s Believe It or Not! is probably interested too. He takes after my dad. My dad is an investigative journalist. He asks the questions people don’t want to answer. We see him on TV, when someone’s slamming the door in his face.

I’m cautious like my mom. She used to keep my dad and Niko in check. Now that’s my job. It’s not fun being the cautious one, that’s for sure.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays my dad teaches a journalism class at the university, so I pick up Niko. Only me, my dad, and our neighbor Harpreet are allowed to check him out. Harpreet lives next to us. He’s tall, wears a white turban, and has the kind of sweet brown face that makes you wish he was your uncle. He’s a graduate student and he drives a taxi, which he treats like a slightly irritating relative. When he’s driving, he keeps up a nonstop conversation with the car under his breath. In English when the taxi is behaving. In Hindi when it’s not.

But today Harpreet has a class so I’m picking up Niko.

Niko is very civilized until we’re out of sight of Homework Club, and then he pounces on me, pounding me with his fists, until I pin him to make him stop. Today he does this without his usual vigor since it’s one hundred and thirteen degrees in the shade. He pops open his water bottle and pours it over his head, puffing up his cheeks, jumping across the boiling-hot pavement.

We are both half Japanese, but Niko’s half is larger. People sometimes come up to him and start speaking in Japanese, which never happens to me.

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