Friend Or Fiend? by Judy Blume Read Free Book Online Page B

not going trick-or-treating.” I put on my Wolfman mask, and every time the
    bell rang I opened the door. A couple of little kids screamed when they saw me. One girl said, “What are you supposed to be?”
    “A fiend,” I told her.
    “What's a fiend?”
    “It's the opposite of a friend.”
    “Oh,” she said, reaching into the candy bowl. She helped herself to three mini-boxes of raisins. At least I think that's what they were. It's not that easy to see when you're wearing a Wolfman mask.
    The next time the bell rang it was Justin. I saw his dad waiting for him on the sidewalk. He was wearing a monster mask, but I recognized him anyway. Last year we went trick-or-treating together.
    “Are you supposed to be what I think you're supposed to be?” he asked.
    “Yes,” I told him. And I growled. He growled too and took a handful of candy from the bowl.
    Then we just stood there looking at each other through the eye holes in our monster masks. Finally, Justin said, “I have an idea.”
    I said, “Me too.”
    “You go first,” Justin said.
    “No, you go first.”
    “Okay,” Justin said. “Remember last year when we went trick-or-treating together?” I nodded.
    “We could do that again.”
    I pretended to think it over. Then I said, “Deal.” I found Dad and told him I'd changed my mind. I was going trick-or-treating after all. Dad helped me into my jacket and gave me a loot bag.
    “Ready?” Justin asked when I came back. “Ready,” I said.
    We jumped off the porch and ran down the street together.
    Later, when I got home, I ate two Crunch bars from my loot bag. Then I added an r to the sign that said Justin is a fiend!

Friend or Fiend?

Useless
    We're going to Uncle Phil's apartment in New York. You have to drive through a tunnel to get there. Either that or drive over a bridge. But the tunnel is faster for us. The Pain doesn't like tunnels. “Tell me when . . .” he kept saying to Mom.
    As we came up to the entrance of the tunnel, Mom said, “Okay . . . now.”
    And the Pain slid to the floor of the
    backseat of our car. He covered his eyes with his hands. “Tell me when we're out. ...”
    “You are beyond hopeless,” I told him.
    “Abigail. . .” Mom warned.
    “It's just a road,” I argued.
    “An underwater road,” the Pain said from the floor.
    “And he's not in his seat belt,” I added.
    “Thank you, Abigail,” Mom said.
    “Thank you for what?” I asked.
    I could hear Mom sigh.
    “You better not get carsick while you're down there,” I said to the Pain.
    “I'm not carsick,” the Pain said.
    “Because puking in the car isn't allowed,” I told him.
    “Abigail.. .” Mom said. “Stop talking about it or you'll make him sick.”
    “Me? Make him carsick? Why would I want to do that?”
    “That's enough, Abigail,” Mom said.
    As we came out of the tunnel, Mom called to the Pain. “All clear!” And the Pain
    sat in his seat again and fastened his seat belt.
    “Invisible line,” I reminded him. Invisible line is how we divide the backseat of the car.
    I have my side and he has his. But he gave me a kick anyway.
    So I gave him one back.
    “Children,” Mom said. “Dad can't concentrate on the road when you're acting up.”
    We got to Uncle Phil's apartment in time for lunch. But there was no sign of food. Our cousins William and Sierra were there. William is twelve and Sierra is fifteen. Last time we saw them was before Uncle Phil got divorced and moved to New York. When Mom asked if she could help get lunch ready, Uncle Phil looked surprised. He tore off the top of a paper bag and scribbled a shopping list on it. Then he gave Sierra some money and told her and William to go to the big deli on the corner.
    William pointed at the Pain and me. “What are they . . . useless?”
    Before I could say anything, before I could tell him Useless is as useless does or something like that, Sierra laughed. “Yeah,” she said. “They can help us carry everything home.”
    I didn't want