Against All Odds by Natale Ghent Read Free Book Online Page B

secret?”
    The girl took the microphone and flashed another perfect smile. “My own special brand of organic, sustainable rocket fuel!” She squealed and jumped up and down with excitement.
    The crowd cheered.
    “Thank you so much,” the girl gushed, her hazel eyes sparkling. “My name is Samantha Moss and it was a pleasure to beat you today.” She held her trophy in the air as the cameras popped.
    Boney and Squeak continued to gape at the stage.
    Itchy scratched at his hair. “She owes us a new plane. And she can afford it now, too, seeing as she won the one-thousand-dollar prize.” He turned to his friends for support, but they just kept staring at the girl. Itchy elbowed Boney. “Hey, did you hear what I said?”
    Boney fluttered out of his trance. “Oh yeah, right.”
    Itchy nudged Squeak. “What do you think, Squeak? Should we ask Miss Mossy Teeth to pay for the damages?”
    “Uhhh … damages … yeah …” Squeak’s voice trailed off.
    Itchy snapped his fingers in front of Squeak’s face. “Earth to Squeak, come in, Squeak.”
    Squeak stood in a daze. “Oh … what? Sorry …”
    “Come on,” Itchy said, putting his arm around his friend. “There’s no sense standing here feeling sorry for ourselves. Besides, I’m hungry.”
    Boney handed Itchy the bag of egg salad sandwiches. “Just finish them. I’ve lost my appetite.”
    Itchy opened the bag and happily extracted a sandwich. “The day wasn’t a total loss,” he said, trying to console his friends. “At least the kittens got adopted.”He munched on the last of the sandwiches as Squeak and Boney took turns pulling the wagon home, lost in their own thoughts. Once again drivers slowed down to gawk at the boys and speed away.
    “What’s gotten into everybody?” Itchy asked.
    “Maybe they saw your picture in the paper,” Boney said.
    “It’s not my picture,” Itchy garbled through egg salad. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”
    “Sure, of course.”
    Itchy gestured with a half-eaten sandwich. “Maybe they saw Squeak crash and burn at the flying competition …”
    Boney stopped in his tracks. “Now that’s just mean.”
    “It’s fine, it’s fine,” Squeak intervened. “I wouldn’t blame anyone for gaping at us after that dismal performance today. Let’s just try not to kill each other, okay?”
    Itchy shrugged. “Sure, I don’t care.”
    Boney gave him a look and continued to pull the wagon.
    When they approached Green Bottle Street, the boys couldn’t help but notice a big moving van parked on the corner at 24 Walker Avenue.
    “Looks like someone’s moving in,” Boney said.
    Squeak pushed on the bridge of his goggles. “I didn’t even know that house was for sale.”
    Itchy craned his neck to get a better look. “It’s been empty for years. I wonder who bought it?”
    A red station wagon pulled up behind the truck and Samantha Moss jumped out, Flying Fiends trophy in hand. She waved cheerfully at the Odds.
    “Oh no …” Itchy groaned. “It’s her!”
    A tall skinny man in a lab coat stepped out from the driver’s seat, wearing a pair of goggles as thick as Squeak’s, his short white hair sticking out in every direction. He looked distractedly at the boys, pulled a box filled with pipettes and beakers from the back of the car, then scuttled into the house, and slammed the door.
    Squeak blinked. “Who the heck was that?”
    “Who cares?” Itchy said. “Let’s get out of here before old Mossy Teeth tries to talk to us.” He grabbed the wagon by the handle and began to run, the wagon clattering down the sidewalk, drawing the neighbours to their windows with the commotion. In his rush, Itchy nearly flattened Mrs. Pulmoni’s cat, sending it screeching into the street, which cued Mrs. Sheider’s schnauzers to start savagely barking. Then Snuff joined the fray, chasing the cat across the road and up Mr. Peterson’s tree just as he was gliding into his driveway on his bike. Ringing his bell