Pop by Gordon Korman Read Free Book Online

Marcus knew one exterminator who was going to be seriously bent out of shape over this.
    As they retraced the lines back to the front door, Marcus sprinkled sugar over the chocolate stripes.
    â€œNot too much,” Charlie advised. “We don’t want it to be too delicious out here. We want to lead them inside for the main banquet.” He took the sugar bag from Marcus, inserted the pouring spout into the mail slot, and dumped the remainder of the ten pounds inside the store.
    Marcus reached in with a long twig and swept the sugar around, spreading the pile all about the floor.
    Charlie rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Look—ants are already investigating the chocolate syrup. By morning, this place is going to be a bug sanctuary!”
    Marcus took note of the store hours posted on the door. “He opens at nine. We should he here by eight thirty.”
    Charlie nodded. “That guy’s going to rue the day he ever messed with us!”
    Marcus couldn’t escape the suspicion that this episode would provide plenty of ruing to go around.

CHAPTER SIX
    W hen Marcus awoke the next morning, he knew about eight seconds of tranquility before it all came flooding back.
    Oh, God .
    What a stupid thing to do. What a waste of time and energy, not to mention sugar, syrup, chocolate sauce, and whatever else they’d spread around K.O. Pest Control. He didn’t even have the consolation of having been just a spectator. He’d had a million chances to walk away, and yet something had kept him there. There had been no stopping Charlie, but Marcus supposedly had full use of his own free will! And if this prank turned out to be half as awful as he was pretty sure it was going to be…
    He checked the clock on the nightstand. Six fifty-seven. Getting back to sleep was utterly impossible. He was too stressed. Sixteen years old and playing with bugs. How pathetic was that?
    And yet he had to know. Had Charlie’s concoction of sugar and spice and all things nice attracted enough insects to freak out an exterminator? The answer was a short ride away.
    Downstairs, his mother was loading the pickup truck with tripods and equipment.
    She looked at him as he appeared in the front hall. “You’re up? You? Rip Van Marcus? What’s the occasion?”
    â€œYou were up earlier,” he pointed out.
    â€œMy shift doesn’t start till noon, so I thought I’d try to catch the morning light on the Gunks.”
    That was the mountain range Mom was so hot and bothered about for her book—the Shawangunks, or Gunks for short. It sounded more like what was probably going on inside Kenneth Oliver’s mail slot. Marcus flooded a bowl of raisin bran with milk and began to eat, still standing.
    â€œDid you call your father last night?” she asked.
    â€œWhat should I call him?” he mumbled, mouth full.
    She looked at him reproachfully. “He phoned you.”
    â€œMust have been a slow day at the Kremlin.”
    She grew tight-lipped. “If you don’t return the call, sooner or later I’ll get a lawyer’s letter accusing me of alienating him from his child. He, who invented alienation.”
    â€œI’ll e-mail,” Marcus offered. “I’ve got a busy day.”
    â€œIt’s Saturday. What are you so busy about?”
    I’m meeting my middle-aged friend down at the bug infestation . Aloud, he murmured something about homework and football and Three Alarm Park.
    She shouldered her camera bag. “Make the call,” she said. “And not because I don’t want to get served. You only get one father.”
    He watched her climb into the truck and drive away. She had guts, his mother, and not just for betting her professional future on a mountain range with a dumb name. He was almost in awe of her determination to succeed—Marcus didn’t care that much about anything, except maybe football. Guts and character. She had