Dead Fred, Flying Lunchboxes and the Good Luck Circle by Frank McKinney

Author:Frank McKinney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Health Communications, Inc.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

INFECTION SETS IN

Ppeekk, Quatro, and Mini Romey limped home in a silence broken only by Mini Romey’s whimpering. At the entrance to Ppeekk’s driveway, Quatro, grim faced, uttered a quick “’Bye” and then Ppeekk trudged on by herself, not even trying to avoid the strangler fig. When one of its branches swung near, she flicked swamp mud on it and it drew away from her.

She stopped once to try to wipe some of the mud off her arms, but that only made it worse. She looked as if she’d been in some kind of slime-wrestling contest, and in a way, she had. She felt weak in the knees and light-headed.

The Yugo was gone; that meant Mom was delivering desserts. Maybe Ppeekk could sneak in without Dad noticing. She stopped outside the garage at the water spigot and rinsed some of the dirt and glop off her hands, arms, and face. She even got most of it off her bare and swollen feet and around the sores that were forming where the suckers had latched on. But her jeans and shirt were torn and dirty and probably ruined.

She tiptoed up to the house. The sun had set, and soft blue shadows slanted from the trees, the house, and the deck. The area around the house showed no signs of the storm that had raged in the swamp just a short while ago. Ppeekk glanced over at her tree house where Dead Fred was stashed. It too was completely unscathed. Dead Fred would just have to stay there for the night. She didn’t have the strength to climb the ladder and fetch him. He’d be fine until tomorrow. All Ppeekk wanted was to go upstairs and soak in a tub with lots of hot water, soap, and shampoo.

Strains of music from one of Dad’s big band CDs drifted outside. She hoped it would mask any sounds she might make while sneaking into the house. She got the back door open and was slowly limping upstairs on the balls of her bare feet when her father strode into the hall. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the state of her clothes in the dim light.

“Ppeekk?” Then getting a full view of her, his face contorted with anger. “What have you been doing? What happened to your clothes? Where are your shoes?”

“Dad, I—”

“Look at the mud you’re tracking into the house.”

“But—”

“You’re too old to be playing in the mud. You’ve ruined those jeans and your shoes, too, no doubt. Well, it’s all coming out of your allowance. Now go on upstairs and take a bath.” He turned and stormed away.

Fine. That’s what I wanted to do anyway. He wouldn’t have cared if she’d been hurt. She could have had a broken bone or something, and all he would have cared about was the house and her clothes and money and other stupid things. He wouldn’t even listen to her.

The effort of climbing the stairs exhausted her. It took all her strength to bathe. After cleaning up, she inspected her legs, twisting around to see the backs.

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