The Great Chicken Debacle by Naylor Phyllis Reynolds

Author:Naylor, Phyllis Reynolds [Naylor, Phyllis Reynolds]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: AmazonEncore
Published: 2013-01-07T16:00:00+00:00

9

Ransom

Charles stared at the note in his hand. It didn’t make one bit of sense. Who was Susan Slager, and why would she be walking around with their chicken inside her shirt?

He stuffed the note in his pocket and walked home with his sleeping bag under his arm.

“What are you doing home?” Mother asked, coming to the door in her pajamas. She looked at him closely. “Are you sick?”

“Yes,” said Charles. He was sick, all right. Sick to his stomach. “I thought I’d better come home in case I throw up.”

“Gracious!” said Mother. “I’ll bet you boys sat around eating junk food.”

“No, we didn’t,” said Charles. “I went right to bed.”

“Right to bed! You are sick!” Mother told him. “Go on upstairs and I’ll bring the Pepto-Bismol.”

“I’m not that sick!” Charles said, but before he knew it, Mother was walking behind him with the big pink bottle and a minute later one horrible mouthful was sliding down his throat.

When he was sure that Mother was in bed, Charles crept down the hall to Cornelia’s room and softly opened the door.

“Cornelia,” he whispered through the darkness.

No answer.

“Cor-ne-lia!” he whispered again.

The bedsprings squeaked.

“What is it?” Cornelia said. She didn’t sound very pleasant. Cornelia was never pleasant when you woke her up.

“Who’s Susan Slager?” asked Charles.

“How should I know?” snarled Cornelia. “What are you doing home? You’re supposed to be guarding No-Name.”

Charles swallowed. “The chicken’s gone, Cornelia. Susan Slager kidnapped it, and she’s got it in her shirt.”

Cornelia bolted upright and turned on her lamp. “Are you crazy?”

Charles miserably sat down on the edge of her bed and told her what had happened.

Cornelia’s eyes, which had grown wide at first with the story of the shed door flying open, grew narrower and narrower as she listened to the rest of the story.

“Somebody,” she said, tightening her jaw, “has been spying on us and knew that chicken was in the Delaneys’ shed. I’ll bet someone thought you were Deeter.”

Charles began to feel a little better. If somebody had a grudge against Deeter, then losing the chicken again wasn’t exactly his fault, was it?

“Go on to bed,” said Cornelia. “I’ll handle this.”

Those were the most wonderful words Charles had heard in a long, long time.

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