Bite the Bagel by Joel Ross

Author:Joel Ross
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Published: 2022-09-27T00:00:00+00:00

The only problem is, he makes his own, and he’s bad at popping.

“A sneaky plan to achieve which objective?” Rex asks me once the trade is complete.

“My object,” I tell him, “is to save the breakfa—”

“-ive,” he says.

“Mm?” I say.

“Objective,” he says.

“Overruled!” I say quick as a flash.

He tilts his head in confusion, and a few kids say “Hey” as they wander past from the drop-off spot in the driveway.

I say “Hey” back, then can’t remember what we were talking about.

“You’re telling me about plan H,” Rex says.

“Oh, right! Well, first I need to sneak into the front office.”

“Why?” he asks.

“To grab some of the principal’s… what’s that called? The stationery with her name on it? Like ‘From the Desk of Principal O. Kugelmeyer, Empress of Alphabets, Lady of the Three Rs, Blueberry Hill School.’ ”

“I believe the word for which you are groping is ‘letterhead.’ ”

I squint at him. “Like blockhead or egghead?”

“Not entirely,” he says, and tosses a candy corn into the bunny hole. “I fail to understand your need for letterhead.”

“To save the breakfast cart! That’s step one. Well, I guess the real step one is waiting for the perfect moment to speed-run the office and…”

I trail off because that very moment turns perfect: both office secretaries walk past us, heading for—well, I don’t know where. Away from the school. Every step takes them farther, or possibly further, from the office.

I clutch Rex’s arm. “Keep your rabbit eyes peeled and your bunny ears perked!”

“Beg pardon?” he squeaks.

“Flash your cottontail if you see a secretary!”

Then I stroll into the school, dart to one side, and slink into the front office. Other kids might pause, awed by the grandeur: the fluorescent lights, the FUNDRAISER TOMORROW! poster, the humble dignity of the lost-and-found box.

Not I. Not me. Not Alley Katz, in any grammatical form.

I dive behind the counter, then roll and freeze. I am stealth. I am silence. I am celery scented, because there are still bagel-doughnuts in my backpack.

I strain my eardrums but hear only the gurgle of a coffeemaker. I belly-crawl toward the principal’s lair and—

Well, I know she isn’t here, because her car’s not in the lot.

I am completely certain she’s not in.

I don’t worry for a second that she’s crouched on her desk, tail lashing, waiting to spring.

And here’s the thing.

Brace yourself.

Are you fully braced?

Then turn the page.

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