BFF* by Judy Blume Read Free Book Online Page B

dark blue jumpsuit with
Ed
stitched on the pocket. He had a brown and white dog with him. A beagle, I think. He brought the dog into our house. “This is Henry,” Mr. Kravitz said. “He’s trained to find termites.”
    â€œWe don’t have termites,” Mom told him. “We have mice.”
    Mr. Kravitz looked at his notebook. “Oh, that’s right.” He laughed and shook his head. “Well, Henry’s not a bad mouser, for a dog.”
    Mr. Kravitz and Henry followed Mom into the kitchen. Then, as if she’d just remembered I wasthere, she said, “This is my daughter, Stephanie.”
    â€œHow do, Stephanie,” Mr. Kravitz said.
    â€œMr. Kravitz bought the yellow house,” Mom reminded me.
    â€œI know,” I told her.
    â€œAnd we’re certainly enjoying it,” Mr. Kravitz said.
    â€œI’m glad,” Mom said. “Well … I’ll let you get down to business, Mr. Kravitz. I hope you can clear up our problem.”
    â€œI’ll do my best,” Mr. Kravitz said.
    Mom went upstairs to work at her computer, which she’s moved from the den to her bedroom. I went to the refrigerator to get a glass of juice. “Do you use traps?” I asked Mr. Kravitz.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhat do you use?”
    â€œSomething else.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDoes it make a difference?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause my brother and I don’t believe in violence.”
    â€œI don’t use anything violent.”
    â€œWhat do you use?”
    Mr. Kravitz let out a deep breath. “I use something to discourage them from coming back.”
    â€œPoison?” I asked.
    â€œWe don’t think of it that way.”
    â€œOh,” I said, drinking my apple juice. Then I remembered my manners. “Would you like a glass of juice?”
    â€œNo thank you,” Mr. Kravitz said. His dog, Henry, was sniffing inside the cabinet under the sink.
    â€œSo, who sleeps in my old room?” I asked.
    Mr. Kravitz was inside the cabinet now, poking around with a flashlight. “Which room would that be?” he said. His voice was muffled.
    â€œTop of the stairs … first room to the left,” I told him.
    â€œHmm … that would be my youngest son’s room. He’s in ninth grade at Fox Junior High.”
    â€œReally,” I said, talking louder. “I go to Fox. I’m in seventh grade.”
    â€œMaybe you know Jeremy,” Mr. Kravitz said.
    â€œJeremy?”
    â€œYes. Jeremy Kravitz. He’s my son.”
    â€œI only know one Jeremy,” I said. “And he’s not your son. He wears a chartreuse jacket with a dragon on the back.”
    Mr. Kravitz backed out of the cabinet. “That’s
my
jacket,” he said, laughing.
    â€œYour jacket?”
    â€œNineteen-sixty-two,” Mr. Kravitz said, standing up. “I was a senior in high school then.”
    â€œAre you saying that the boy who wears that dragon jacket is your son?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œAnd his name is Jeremy and he sleeps in my old room?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œExcuse me,” I said to Mr. Kravitz. “I’ve got to do my homework now.” I had to call Alison and Rachel right away! I ran into the den to use the phone.
    I called Rachel first. “You won’t believe this,” I began, “but …” I told her the whole story. “You’ve got to come right over.”
    â€œI’m practicing my flute now,” Rachel said.
    â€œRachel …” I said, “we are talking about Jeremy Dragon whose father happens to be standing in my kitchen ….”
    â€œAll right ….” Rachel said. “I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
    I didn’t have to convince Alison. She ran all the way around the pond and arrived at my house breathless. When Rachel got here the three of us