Fallout by Todd Strasser Read Free Book Online Page A

figure what’s the big deal and maybe it will make Paula feel better. So I say me.
    â€œWell, aren’t you the brave one?” Mrs. Shaw says, and I’m not sure whether she means it or is being sarcastic. Since all Sparky and I have to cover us is the blanket, he has to get up with me. Like a four-legged creature, we shuffle over to the toilet bucket. Once again Mrs. Shaw blocks the view and Dad cranks the ventilator. I really do have to go, but I can’t with Sparky standing next to me and all these people around. It’s as if everything down there is blocked, and in an instant I go from the proud feeling of being brave to feeling completely embarrassed, because even with the ventilator going, the others will be able to tell that nothing is happening. That’s when Mrs. Shaw whispers, “Think about waterfalls and garden hoses.”
    The next thing I know, pee splashes into the bucket, where it mixes with Paula’s and Mrs. Shaw’s, and I wonder why it was so hard to go before.
    Janet goes next, and then one by one, the fathers pee in the bucket, only Dad doesn’t crank the ventilator for them. After a while, the only one who hasn’t gone is Ronnie. I glance at him, but instead of a smirk, his face is scrunched up as if he’s in agony.
    Mr. Shaw squeezes his arm. “You better go.”
    â€œShut up,” he grunts.
    A jolt jumps through me like an electric charge. I’ve never heard a kid say that to a parent or any grown-up. I wait for Mr. or Mrs. Shaw to scold him, but there’s only silence until Ronnie lets out a low moan as if his bladder is about to explode.
    A moment later, when I hear a gurgle, I assume Ronnie is going in his pajamas. But Dad quickly looks up at the water tank, and his eyebrows practically leap off his head. It’s the sound of running water!
    Maybe it’s the relief of knowing we have water or the sound of it sloshing through the pipes, but Ronnie races to the toilet bucket and goes.

When Dad came home from work, Sparky and I followed him into his and Mom’s bedroom, where he took off his suit, shirt, and tie, removed his brown leather shoes and placed shoe trees in them. Then he unsnapped the elastic garters around his calves that held up his long, thin socks, and put on dungarees, a gray Fruit of the Loom sweatshirt, white wool socks, and old tennis sneakers.
    â€œAre we getting a bomb shelter?” I asked.
    â€œI’ll tell you at dinner,” he said, and headed outside. In the summer, Dad often did yard work before dinner. Sparky and I followed him into the backyard, where he stopped to look at the hole.
    â€œHow deep will it get?” I asked.
    â€œPretty deep,” Dad said.
    â€œSure would make a good pool,” said Sparky.
    â€œYes, it would,” said Dad.
    â€œA pool would be fun,” Sparky said.
    â€œWe need a shelter more than we need a pool.”
    â€œCouldn’t it be a shelter
and
a pool?” Sparky asked.
    Just then, Mom called us in. During dinner, Dad told Sparky how there was a chance we might go to war with the Russians.
    â€œWhy don’t they like us?” my brother asked. “Did we do something bad to them?”
    â€œThey don’t agree with our form of government.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    Dad tried to explain, but it was hard to go from what a democracy was to why the Russians would want to blow us to smithereens.
    â€œIf the Russians win, will we be their prisoners?” I asked.
    â€œNot necessarily,” Dad said. “A lot of people think that if there’s a war, neither side can win.” He must have seen the confused expressions on our faces, because he added, “Both sides have so many bombs that there’s a good chance we’ll destroy so much of each other’s countries that no one will be able to claim victory.”
    That didn’t make sense. Why would anyone go to war if they knew ahead of time that neither