Hunter Moran Saves the Universe (11 page)

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Authors: Patricia Reilly Giff

BOOK: Hunter Moran Saves the Universe
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Zack comes up to me as Mom clears her throat. “Not a bad sonata,” he says. “Thought it up as I went along.” He slaps my shoulder. “Too bad I missed the balloon ride. But I saw two fighter jets streak after Old Lady Campbell. I wonder if they'll catch her.”

And there's Mom talking now; her voice is squeaky. “The winner is …”

I move forward to hear her better. The note from Old Lady Campbell crackles in my pocket.

There's a drumroll from one of the Seven Guys Over Seventy. And Mom calls, “Vincent Moochmore!”

Who is that? Then it comes to me. Vinny's Vegetables and Much More.

Vinny bounds up the steps. “Thank you!” he yells. “I always wanted to win.”

Wait a minute. I remember spying on Diglio's office, the familiar voice I heard. Yes, it was Vinny, and he was talking about cutting up small bodies. Sardines?

Zack leans over. “From the top of Vinny's garbage pile, you can see right into the library window.”

I nodded. “He must have seen Mrs. Wu putting the original recipe into Lester's book in the S-T-U section.”

Zack's eyes widen. “He stole the original recipe.”

“Sneaky!” Steadman yells at the top of his lungs. “Vinny's a thief.”

“I should have figured it out myself,” Diglio says.

And Mom and Mrs. Wu look at Vinny with suspicion. “Well?” Mom asks him.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a yellowed paper. “I've never won anything in my life. I've never been to the Ozarks.” He sighs. “And I found this original recipe stuck in a book.”

“I thought your soup was too good to be true.” Mom stands up straight. “Vincent Moochmore, you're disqualified.”

“Disgraceful,” Mrs. Wu says as she snatches the original away from him.

Head down, Vinny sneaks out of the town round, and I sink down against the grandstand. My back sticks to the paint. I pull out Old Lady Campbell's note.

But Mom is down the steps and holds out her hand. “I'll take that,” she says, and begins to read. I look over her shoulder.

Diglio appears. He looks over her shoulder, too.

 

Dear Zack and Hunter,

You'll be thrilled to know I'm leaving Fred for you as a gift. I've taken the old Bom/Twin plane. It's my revenge.

I was the first one to fly this plane years ago, and I was the one who drew up the Bom/Twin plans with Leon Bomson.

I will contact Sturgis Air Force Base at some point. If they want it back, they'll have to pay. (Plenty.)

In the meantime, I'm off to see the world.

Love,

Constance Campbell

 

P.S. I waited to take off so I could hear Zack play his music. Maybe he should take up another instrument next year.

 

“Well, Six,” Diglio says, “Tinwitty Day is over for another year. Tomorrow, Olyushka and I will take a little vacation. I'm not going to think about kids in a balloon and dead fish hanging in trees for at least a week.”

“You deserve it,” Mom says.

William is right behind us. “I thought you and Steadman were goners in that balloon,” he says. “It was the worst moment of my life.”

Zack and I look at each other. Sometimes William surprises us.

“I guess I shouldn't have put Lester Tinwitty's soup cover over you,” William goes on.

“You did that?” I'd like to bash him, but he looks really sorry. Instead we wend our way to the hot dog stand. The hot dogs are rock hard, but we don't need to starve to death. Fred follows, high-stepping along with Steadman, looking like
Best Friend Buddy
, Tuesdays, three-thirty.

We eat three hot dogs each, and get one for Pop, who is still working on the popcorn machine. Good thing he didn't see what went on with the balloon.

I cross my fingers. With Pop you never know.

There's another drumroll. The new winner is Old Lady Campbell. She didn't even need to win. She's probably heading for the Ozarks anyway.

IT'S ANOTHER DAY, AND NOT A MYSTERY IN SIGHT.

Instead …

Chapter 20

I feel the sun against my closed eyes. I think of the beach, I think of …

What's that noise outside? Banging. Hammering. Yelling.

“Ignore it,” Zack mutters. “Go back to sleep. It's summer. Even Pop is on vacation. And now that Old Lady Campbell will probably end up in prison, I don't have to take music lessons anymore. She can teach Bach to the rest of the inmates instead.”

There's more banging. “Yeow!” Pop yells.

“He's hit his thumb with the hammer,” Zack says as we climb out of our beds.

“Hunter! Zack!” Pop shouts.

“I knew we'd be involved somehow,” Zack says.

From the hall window, I peer into the yard. It's a nightmare out there. Boards all over the place. Pop's rusty tools. A keg of nails.

Zack leans over my shoulder. At the same time, Pop looks up and sees us. “Time's a-wasting,” he calls, cradling his thumb.

It comes to me in one horrible flash. It comes to Zack, too.

“You're building my playhouse today,” Steadman says from the stairs. “Pop says it was your idea. Thanks, Hunter.”

“Yeah, thanks a lot, Hunter,” Zack says.

We clump down the stairs, take a fistful of granola and a slug of orange juice.

“There's no help for it,” Zack says through a mouthful of granola. “We'll have to spend the day out there, sun pouring down, dying of thirst, like
Doom in the Desert
, Tuesday mornings, seven-thirty.”

“You're right,” I say. “We'll be holding boards while Pop hammers his fingers to pieces.”

Outside, Pop acts like we're building the Taj Mahal. Zack has to measure every piece of wood. I have to sort through the nails to find non-rusty ones.

Zack is right. It's about two hundred degrees, and by noon, only one wall is finished.

“What do you say, men?” Pop says. “We don't need lunch, right?”

After a while, the rest of the walls go up, and the roof. Pop cuts in a door, and Zack gets the idea to add a window.

It's looking good.

And now there's a little shade. Mom makes a quick trip outside with lemonade and sandwiches, and Linny's baked sugar cookies. All you have to do is saw the burned parts off with your teeth.

It's late afternoon by the time we're finished. Steadman hops around, just missing our feet. “I'm going to move right in when I'm ten,” he says.

At last we step back. Pop's arm goes around the two of us. “It's great to spend a day working with your sons,” he says. “And there's no one I'd rather work with than you two. I'm a lucky guy.”

Actually it's been a great day.

I look up at Pop and move closer. “We're lucky too,” I say, and Zack nods.

We really are.

Pop grins at us. “Look who's coming.”

I don't want to look. I hear the voice. It's Sarah Yulefski.

I turn. She's wearing a tan bathing suit, the color of her teeth. “Want to swim in my pool?” she asks Zack and me.

Pop gives my shoulder a squeeze.

We're steaming hot.

Why not?

“Wait till I get my bathing suit,” I say.

Yee-ha!
It's summer.

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