her hand to reveal a crumpled piece of paper.
Puzzled, Charlotte looked up at the bank of numbered lockers.
Suddenly, a realization hit her.
“Can I take a look at that slip of paper?” she asked. “I bet I know what the
problem is!”
What was Alex doing wrong? (TAP HERE for answer.)
When the Cat’s
Away
“Whoa! It looks like a snack bomb exploded in here!”
Brooklyn gazed around the Patricks’ living room. Pretzels, popcorn,
and gum wrappers were strewn over the coffee table, along with Frankie
and Riley’s homework. Her cat, Adonis, was batting around dried leaves that
someone had tracked across the carpet. And was that a bag of chocolate chip
cookies wedged in the couch cushions? Brooklyn went to investigate and
almost tripped over a pair of soccer cleats in the middle of the floor.
“Mom is not going to be happy about this,” she said. “We need to do some
major cleanup.”
“We’ve got all day tomorrow to clean,” Dad called from the dining room,
where he was helping the twins with a particularly messy science project.
They were all wearing big, dorky safety goggles and pouring something into
a beaker that was bubbling like a witch’s cauldron. Brooklyn winced. Mom
would freak out if she saw that stuff foaming all over the table.
Dale’s class was on a three-day class trip to Whispering Pines Camp
with the rest of the eighth grade, and since Mom was chaperoning, Dad was
in charge at home. That meant delicious gourmet dinners every night. (Mr.
Patrick had spent a year at cooking school before deciding to become a chem-
istry professor instead of a chef, and he still enjoyed using the kitchen as a
laboratory for culinary experiments whenever he got a chance.) It meant later
bedtimes, too, which was fun. But to say they had let things go in the house-
keeping department was an understatement. The house was a disaster.
Brooklyn glanced at the to-do list Mom had left, wondering if any of the
jobs had been done.
“Dad, did you get groceries?”
“Roger that,” said Dad. (“Roger”
meant yes in Dad-speak.)
“Did you make an appointment
for Adonis at the vet? He’s got
hairballs again.”
“Sure did,” Dad said.
“It’s next week.”
Brooklyn glanced down the list.
“And did you remember to pick
up Dale’s suit at the dry cleaner?”
“Suit?” said Dad vaguely, adding more powder to the beaker. Frankie and
Riley applauded when it foamed over.
“Dale needs his suit for the school dance tomorrow night,” said Brooklyn,
sounding more like her mom than herself.
“Yeah, he’s got a date,” Riley snickered.
“I still can’t believe someone actually agreed to go out with him,” Frankie
added. They rolled their eyes at each other and burst into laughter. Teasing
Dale about the dance had become their favorite pastime.
“That’s what people said when your mom first asked me out,” said Dad,
adjusting his safety glasses. “Everyone was surprised I said yes. I was quite
a catch, you know.”
“Ew!” Riley exclaimed.
“Dad, did you know that Mom took Dale’s suit to the
dry cleaner before she left because it had spaghetti
sauce all over it from Aunt Margot’s wedding?”
“That was epic!” said Frankie.
“And did you know the dry cleaner closes for the
weekend at six tonight?”
Brooklyn saw panic flash across her dad’s
face. He glanced at his watch.
“Kids, Brooklyn’s right. Time to
clean up! Why don’t you three start
upstairs while I tackle the first floor?
Frankie, Riley, straighten up your room.
Brooklyn, you can vacuum the sec-
ond floor. Let’s meet back here in
exactly one hour to decide
what’s for dinner.”
Grumbling, the twins trudged up to the attic room they shared.
Brooklyn followed them. Fifty-nine minutes later, with the upper floors
almost spotless, she headed back down, lugging a bag of trash to the
garage. Dad was in the kitchen, taking the last of the clean dishes out of the
dishwasher. “How does spaghetti carbonara sound?” he asked.
“Awesome!” said Brooklyn, slipping her feet into fuzzy monster slippers
and shivering as she opened the door to the garage. On her way to the gar-
bage cans, she stopped to pet Adonis, who was asleep on the hood of the car.
“When did you sneak out?” she murmured, patting his silky, warm
tummy. Adonis yawned lazily, stretched, then hopped down and trotted
to the kitchen door.
Brooklyn held the door open, then
followed the cat into the kitchen, grinning.
“Nice save, Dad. You must have gotten to
the dry cleaner just before they closed.”
How did Brooklyn
know her dad had just
returned from the
dry cleaner?
Pick Your Own
Problem
“Mom! Turn here!” Alex cried, pointing at the hand-painted “Pick Your
Own” sign.