Trouble at Table 5 #2 Read online

  Dedication

  Dedicated to Elizabeth

  (IASPOY)

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1 Soggy-CRUNCH! Soggy-CRUNCH!

  Chapter 2 Mr. Willow’s Footsteps

  Chapter 3 Rosie Figures It Out

  Chapter 4 Simon’s Dad Gets Closer

  Chapter 5 That’s Not My Grandma

  Chapter 6 Myrtle—Rhymes with Turtle

  Chapter 7 Seven Total Cars

  Chapter 8 Flamingos, Comic Books, and Bungee Cords

  Chapter 9 How Much?

  Chapter 10 Counting the Cash

  Chapter 11 Fifty Pizzas and Twenty Milkshakes

  Chapter 12 Simon’s Dad Comes Home

  Fun and Games!

  About the Author and Illustrator

  Back Ad

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  THERE ARE TIMES when Simon just cannot be quiet. He has to talk. And there is no way he can stop until he’s done telling us everything.

  That’s what happened yesterday.

  In Mr. Willow’s class.

  At Table 5.

  Simon got to school later than us because Rosie and I rode bikes and he walked.

  Simon broke his bike. He rode it on the rock trail at Picasso Park, but it isn’t the kind of bike that’s made for that. It has thin tires for streets and sidewalks, not thick tires with bumps on them for trails and stuff.

  So the bike got all busted up. It has two flat tires and the wheel rims are bent.

  “Molly! Rosie!” Simon called to us when he hurried into the room. He was excited about something, I could tell. Rosie could tell too. He kicked his backpack under the table and sat down. “Do you guys know what Cocoa Puffs are?!”

  We nodded.

  “Well, I didn’t know what they were until today,” Simon began. “They’re little brown, ball-shaped, sugary dynamos of chocolaty goodness. The great thing about Cocoa Puffs is the whole eating process. It’s like three scrumptious chocolate discoveries in one.”

  We just stared at him. He was pretty excited. He couldn’t wait to tell us more. And the more he spoke, the faster his words came out.

  “The first several mouthfuls of Cocoa Puffs start out super crunchy,” he explained. “The first burst of chocolate flavor is like CRUNCH! BAM! WAKE UP! It’s chocolate time! That’s the first discovery. But then, about halfway through the bowl, all the Cocoa Puff balls have absorbed some milk and they’ve started to lose their crunchiness. And, you know, that’s kind of a bummer. Because who wants to eat soggy stuff?”

  Simon stopped to lick his lips and then continued.

  “And here’s what you think: Oh no! My delightful chocolate dream has turned into a terrible chocolate nightmare. Instead of crunchy Cocoa Puffs, I’ve got half a bowl of soggy, mushy Cocoa Puffs.”

  He was talking even faster now.

  “The disappointment starts to wash over you. Maybe it’s time to dump them into the sink. But that would be wasteful, so you take a few more bites and—WHAM!—you make the second chocolate discovery!”

  When Simon inhaled, Rosie cut in and asked, “What’s the second discovery?”

  “The chocolate balls look and feel soggy on the outside—but they’re still crunchy and sugary on the INSIDE!” Simon exclaimed. He was louder now. Some of our classmates stared back at our table.

  “I mean, WHAT?! Are you kidding me?! Can you even be serious?! My chocolate nightmare is a crunchy chocolate dream again?! That’s impossible. But it’s not!”

  His voice was really loud now. “You feel and taste the evidence each time you chew,” Simon almost yelled. “Soggy-CRUNCH! Soggy-CRUNCH! Soggy-soggy-CRUNCH-CRUNCH!”

  The bell rang.

  The school day started.

  But, umm, Simon wasn’t finished yet.

  YOU’VE ALREADY READ MORE THAN 50 SENTENCES. OFF TO A GREAT START!

  “IT’S SURPRISING! IT’S amazing! You finish the second half of that bowl even faster than the first,” Simon said as the rest of the class sat down and got quiet. He didn’t even notice.

  “And then—OH NO!—the nightmare is back! The chocolate balls are gone. You ate them too fast! There’s nothing left. You didn’t savor the flavor. All you have now is the fading memory of chocolaty scrumptiousness. Then you—”

  “Simon, the bell—” I tried to interrupt. But he didn’t pay any attention. He had to keep going.

  “Then you make the third amazing discovery!”

  The whole room was quiet.

  Except for Simon.

  And Mr. Willow’s footsteps.

  “Simon, here comes—” Rosie said, trying to stop him.

  It didn’t work.

  “You didn’t even notice!” Simon continued, even louder. “It’s the milk!”

  Mr. Willow stood behind Simon.

  Simon didn’t know he was there.

  “It’s brown!” Simon yelled.

  He sort of stood up halfway and leaned toward Rosie and me with his hands on the table. “Beautiful chocolaty brown! You sip and slurp and swallow every last drop of that liquid chocolate treasure!”

  Simon sat down. He exhaled.

  He whispered, “And that—that—is the Cocoa Puffs breakfast experience.”

  Some of the kids in class applauded.

  Mr. Willow did not.

  He put a hand on Simon’s shoulder.

  “Come see me at my desk after I take attendance,” he said.

  That happened Friday.

  On Saturday, Rosie and I headed to Simon’s house.

  TWO CHAPTERS DOWN. YOU MUST BE FOCUSED!

  WHEN WE GOT to Simon’s house, he was sitting in his garage. Simon was criss-cross applesauce on the hood of his mom’s blue Toyota Camry.

  He did not look happy.

  “So?” Rosie asked. “What happened?”

  “Principal Shelton called my parents,” Simon said. “She said my mouth gets me into too much trouble at school.”

  “It does,” Rosie said and laughed a little. “I mean, when you get talking like that, there’s no stopping you.”

  “I know, right?” Simon admitted. “I wish I could stop. It’s just once my mouth gets going, then my brain starts going too. And it’s like they both work together super fast. And I can’t stop until I get everything out.”

  “I get that,” I said. And I really did. I know what it’s like to be totally concentrated on something. It was like that time I had to—I just had to—know how many Skittles were in that jar on Principal Shelton’s desk. “What did your parents say?”

  “She only talked to my mom,” Simon explained as he slid off the hood of the car. He brushed off his pants. The car was dirty. “Dad’s out of town. He had to go to Cincinnati for work.”

  “What did your mom say?” Rosie asked.

  “She wasn’t too upset. But she said I have to tell Dad right when he gets home,” Simon answered. “Like the moment he gets out of the car.”

  “When does he get home?” Rosie asked.

  “Today.”

  “Today?” I asked.

  “Today,” Simon confirmed, shaking his head.

  I could tell he thought he would get punished—like super punished. He kicked a deflated soccer ball into the garage. The garage was full of stuff and totally messy.

  “I think he’s going to be pretty mad,” Simon said.

  “It will be okay,” I said. I wanted to make him feel better.

  “I don’t think so,” Simon said. “Dad had to work on the weekend. He has to drive all the way here from Cincinnati—on a Saturday. He’s going to be tired and grumpy when he gets out of the car. And I’ll be right there to tell him I
got into trouble at school.”

  It was bad. All three of us knew it.

  But then Rosie started to twirl her hair around her left index finger. She was thinking.

  Simon noticed too.

  “You have to tell your dad as soon as he gets out of the car, right?” Rosie asked Simon. She wasn’t looking at him. She was looking in the garage as she twirled her hair.

  “Yeah,” Simon answered slowly.

  “And he’s going to be in a bad mood?”

  “Probably.”

  “So,” Rosie said, turning away from the garage and toward us. “What if when he gets out of the car, the garage is totally clean? And your mom’s car is washed and shiny? Would that change his mood?”

  Simon opened his eyes wide. He liked the idea immediately.

  “He would be totally surprised!” Simon said and smiled. “And totally happy. He’s always talking about what a mess this is, but there’s never time to clean it up.”

  Simon hesitated for a few seconds. He stared into the garage, turning his head from left to right.

  “But Mom said he’s going to be home around dinnertime. There’s no way I can get this done by then.”

  Rosie looked at me.

  I looked at Rosie.

  And we looked at Simon.

  Then Rosie and I said the same thing at the same time.

  “You’re not going to do it by yourself!”

  WE NEEDED TO get to work.

  “We should wash the car first,” Rosie said quickly. “Can you get your mom to pull it into the driveway? That will also empty the garage and give us more room to work.”

  “And more room to see what we have to do,” I said.

  Simon went to get his mom.

  Simon’s mom came out and said it was really nice of me and Rosie to help him with the garage. She said to come get anything we wanted in the kitchen. And she said Simon wasn’t really in a lot of trouble with her. She used to talk too much in class too.

  She also said it was a smart idea to wash the car and clean the garage. She thought Simon’s dad would love it.

  “But it’s no guarantee that Simon won’t get punished,” she said.

  Then she pulled the blue Toyota Camry out of the garage.

  “How long will it take Dad to get home?” Simon asked his mom as she got out of the car.

  “From Cincinnati? About six hours,” she answered and then snapped her fingers.

  “I tell you what, I’ll track his car on my phone and let you know where he is.”

  “Is he taking I-74 to I-65?” I asked.

  Simon’s mom tilted her head to the left and said, “What?”

  I could tell she wasn’t saying What? because she didn’t hear me. She was saying What? because it was a weird question for me to ask.

  “This might sound strange,” I said. “But I—”

  Rosie interrupted. “Molly has a thing with maps.”

  “It’s just who she is,” Simon added. “It’s totally cool.”

  “When we take a long trip in the car, I need to know what towns we’re going to pass through,” I explained. “And in what order. Because if I don’t know what’s next, I mean, anything could happen.”

  Simon’s mom untilted her head and nodded. I think she was just being polite and trying to show that she understood. Even though I don’t think she did.

  “Anyway, we had to go to my aunt’s wedding a few years ago in Shelbyville, Indiana,” I continued. “So I know all the cities and towns on the main highways in Indiana.”

  “Isn’t that awesome?!” Simon exclaimed.

  His mom asked, “If Dad’s coming from Cincinnati, what towns will he pass through?”

  I looked up at the sky for a few seconds. The answer was stuck in a different part of my brain, so I had to find it. Aunt Kate’s wedding was, you know, three years ago.

  When I found it, I said, “Batesville, Greensburg, Shelbyville, Indianapolis, Lebanon, Lafayette, Remington, Crown Point, Hammond, Chicago. Then, here, Evanston.”

  Simon’s mom just stared at me. She didn’t say anything, but Simon did.

  “Like I said,” he exclaimed and pointed at me. “Awesome!”

  Simon’s mom got out her phone, opened an app, and tracked down the car.

  She said, “He’s between Batesville and Greensburg.”

  “We better get started,” Simon said. “Like, right now.”

  SIMON FOUND A bucket with sponges and soap on one of the garage shelves and we washed the car.

  I would like to tell you that something super interesting happened while we washed the car. You know, like it became a big water fight or something. But nothing like that happened. We just, you know, washed the car.

  We couldn’t reach the roof, but Rosie figured it out. Simon and I made cups out of our hands by interlocking our fingers. And Rosie put her left foot into my hands and her right foot into Simon’s hands. Then we gave her a boost. She washed the car roof that way.

  “I’m going to get a monster truck when I’m old enough to drive,” Simon said as we dried the car with a couple of old towels. “It will be bright orange. That’s my favorite color. I’ll drive it all over town.”

  “You can’t drive a monster truck on the streets,” Rosie said as she dried off a headlight. “You’ll get arrested.”

  “I’ll just drive it up mountains and stuff then,” Simon said. “You know, bash into things on purpose. Roll it over. That kind of thing.”

  “You’re crazy,” Rosie said and threw her towel at Simon. “That’s how you broke your bike!”

  “That’s true,” Simon admitted. “But you can’t break a monster truck. They’re totally unbreakable!”

  I threw my towel at him too. With the car washed, he dropped them both in the bucket. We were done with that part of the job.

  Wait.

  No, we weren’t.

  Just as Simon took the bucket, soap, sponges, and towels back toward the garage, a car pulled into the driveway.

  It was another Toyota Camry, but this one was older and it was dark red.

  The car stopped and the driver turned it off.

  It was an old woman. It took her a little while to get out of the car. She had to swing both her legs out the door and set her feet on the driveway before standing up.

  “Hey, Simon,” Rosie called. He was almost to the garage. “Your grandma’s here.”

  Simon turned around quickly with a huge smile on his face. You could tell he was really excited to see his grandma.

  And then the smile disappeared completely. Simon took a few steps back toward us.

  “That’s not my grandma,” he said in a quiet voice. It wasn’t a whisper, but it was soft enough that only Rosie and I could hear him. “I’ve never seen that woman before in my life.”

  WHOOSH! YOU’VE ALREADY READ FIVE CHAPTERS. HOW MANY MORE CHAPTERS WILL YOU READ BEFORE YOU REST?

  SIMON PUT THE bucket down and the three of us walked toward her. We didn’t know what to say. We didn’t know who she was—or why she was there. It didn’t matter. She spoke first.

  “How much?” she asked real loud.

  “Excuse me?” Rosie asked.

  “I said, ‘How much?’”

  “Umm, I’m not sure what you mean,” Rosie said slowly. “Can we help you with something?”

  “You have to speak up, missy!” the old woman called and brought her hand up to her ear. “I can’t hear a doggone thing anymore. They gave me this dumb gadget to help me hear better! I’ll tell you what I hear now. Buzzing! That’s right: buzzing! Like there are mosquitoes having a party in my ear!”

  “Umm,” Rosie said.

  “I don’t have all day, kiddies,” the woman said. “Can’t you tell I’m as old as the hills? I remember when this whole area was a soybean farm. Soybeans! You know who eats soybeans? Cows and pigs and chickens! And then we eat the cows and pigs and chickens. Seems to me we ought to just eat the soybeans. Don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” I said.<
br />
  “What?” she yelled. “What did you say? I can’t hear too good! Did I tell you that? Buzzing! Gosh-darned mosquitoes—that’s what it sounds like!”

  “Yes!” I repeated a lot louder. “Eating the soybeans first would make more sense. That would make the cows and pigs and chickens a lot happier too.”

  “Now you’re talking! I like you three already!” the woman called. She waved her hand at the clean blue Toyota Camry and then at her own red one. “My name is Myrtle. Rhymes with turtle. So, how much?”

  Rosie figured it out first. She usually does.

  “I think she wants us to wash her car,” Rosie whispered.

  It made sense to me and Simon then too.

  “You want us to wash your car, ma’am? Umm, Myrtle?” Simon asked. He was talking loudly now too. We all were. It was kind of funny.

  “Well, what do you think?” she yelled. “Why else would I be here? To buy groceries? Get gas? Harvest soybeans? Of course I want a car wash! That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

  “Umm, sure,” Rosie answered loudly. Then in a lower voice she said to me and Simon, “I think we better just wash her car.”

  Simon and I both nodded.

  “Okay, but we need to hurry up. Dad’s getting closer every minute,” Simon whispered to us. Then, in a louder voice, he said to Myrtle, “You don’t need to pay us.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! What kind of a business are you running here anyway?” the old lady asked. “They charge ten dollars down at Sudsy Sam’s. It’s not worth ten dollars, but it’s the only car wash in town. They don’t wash the hubcaps. I like hubcaps. I like mine shiny! Will you wash my hubcaps?”

  “I think she might be a little crazy,” Simon whispered.

  “She’s not crazy,” Rosie giggled. “She’s just old and funny.”