Odds Are Good by Bruce Coville Read Free Book Online Page B

together with a piece of used chewing gum, and a moldy sandwich.
    Jamie dug her way through the mound of stuff until she found the sketch. She carried it to her desk and smoothed it out, then picked up the ball of clay and began to work. After about half an hour she decided to go get a snack.
    When she got up from her desk and turned around she let out a yelp of astonishment.
    Her bed was perfectly clean! The mess she had dumped onto it had been organized and tidied into meek submission. The crumpled papers had vanished, the pencils were lined up in a tidy row, the crayons unstuck, the gum that held them together mysteriously gone. Even the backpack’s straps had been neatly folded beneath it.
    â€œWhat is going on here?” she cried.
    The only answer was a yawn from Mr. Bumpo.
    Goose bumps prickling over her arms, Jamie wondered if she should run for her life. But nothing about what was happening was threatening. It was just . . .
weird.
    She stared at her bed for a while, then made a decision. Stomping over to it, she snatched up the neat piles and tossed them into the air. Mr. Bumpo yowled in alarm, bolted from the bed, and ran out of the room. Jamie stirred the mess around a bit more, rumpled the bedcovers for good measure, then went back to her desk and picked up her tools. She pretended to work. What she was really doing was trying to look over her shoulder while bending her neck as little as possible.
    For several minutes nothing happened except that her neck got sore. In a way, she was glad nothing happened; part of her had been afraid of what she might see. Eventually the pain in her neck got to be too much, and she was forced to straighten her head. When she turned back she saw a brown blur out of the corner of her eye.
    â€œGotcha!” she cried, leaping to her feet.
    But whatever it was had disappeared.
    Jamie stood still for a moment, wondering what had happened.
Under the bed!
she thought suddenly.
    Dropping to her knees, she crept to the bed and lifted the edge of the spread. All she saw was clean floor, and a ripple of movement at the other side of the spread. Whatever had been there had escaped.
    â€œThat little stinker is fast,” Jamie muttered, getting to her feet. She stared at the bed, which was still a mess, and made a decision. Leaving the room, she headed for the kitchen.
    Â 
    When Jamie returned to her room the bed had been remade and the things from her pack were in perfect order. This did not surprise her.
    She went to the far side of the bed, the side from which whatever-it-was had disappeared. She opened the bottle of molasses she had taken from the kitchen, then poured a thick line of the sticky goo the length of the bed, about a foot from the edge. Replacing the lid, she once again messed up everything on top of the bed. Then she returned to her desk.
    It wasn’t long before she heard a tiny voice cry, “What have you done, what have you done?”
    Turning, she saw a manlike creature about a foot-and-a-half tall. He was jumping up and down beside her bed. Covered with brown fur, he looked like a tiny, potbellied version of Bigfoot. The main differences were a long tail and a generally more human face.
    â€œWretched girl!” cried the creature, shaking a hazelnut-sized fist at her. “What’s the matter wi’ you?”
    â€œWhat’s the matter with
you?
” she replied. “Sneaking into a person’s room and cleaning it up when you’re not invited is perverted.”
    â€œI was too invited,” snapped the creature. Sitting down, he flicked his tail out of the way and began licking molasses from the bottom of his right foot.
    â€œWhat a liar you are!” said Jamie.
    â€œWhat a Messy Carruthers you are!” replied the creature. “And you don’t know everything, miss. I was sent here by one of your blood. That counts as invitation if she is close enough—which she is.”
    Jamie scowled, then her eyes