The Day of the Iguana by Henry Winkler Read Free Book Online Page B

giving me a kiss. “Tomorrow’s a school day.” Like I could forget something like that.
    I went to my room and tried to write a few notes about my science topic. The more I thought about my invention, the more excited I got about it. I even picked up the phone to call Frankie and tell him my idea. But then I remembered that he wasn’t speaking to me. That made me sad, because when you have a best friend, you want to be able to tell him when you have a good idea.
    In a couple of minutes, I heard my dad snoring from his room. Then I heard my mom click off her reading light.
    I got up and headed for the living room. I needed to check out the cable box to see if I could figure out how it controlled the speed of the words on the TV screen. This was going to take some serious investigation.
    Cheerio was asleep on my bed. He lifted his head and started to wag his tail. Sometimes that means “I love you” but most of the time that means “I’m about to go nuts and start chasing my tail and spin around like a top.” I needed his cooperation so I could work without being disturbed.
    â€œStay, boy,” I whispered.
    I took my pillow and put it gently under his head. Cheerio loves to sleep on my pillow or my clothes or anything that smells like me. You gotta love him.
    I went out into the hall and the floor creaked. I froze in my tracks and counted to twenty-seven. My dad was still snoring, and there was no light coming from under my parents’ door, so I figured it was okay to go on. When I reached the living room, I could move around more freely because the carpet covered the sound of my footsteps.
    I picked up the cable box that sits on top of the TV. I couldn’t see it very well. The outside told me nothing about how it worked. That meant one thing. I was going to have to go inside the box. It was Thomas Edison time.
    I tried to separate the top and bottom of the box with my fingernail, but there was no way to get the cover off without a screwdriver. We keep our tools in a red metal toolbox under the kitchen sink. Quietly, I crept into the kitchen, found the toolbox, and opened it. I picked out a small screwdriver with a grooved end called a Phillips head screwdriver.
    Suddenly, the kitchen light came on. I spun around, and there was Emily with Katherine perched on her shoulder.
    â€œWhat are you doing with that?” Emily demanded, eyeing the screwdriver in my hand.
    â€œStuff,” I answered.
    â€œWhat kind of stuff?”
    â€œScience stuff.”
    â€œWhat kind of science stuff?”
    â€œEmily,” I said. “When I want you to know, I’ll tell you.”
    â€œWhat’s the big secret?”
    â€œWhat are you doing up?” I asked her. If she could play twenty questions, so could I.
    â€œI’m worried about Katherine,” she said. “She’s acting strange.”
    â€œOf course she’s acting strange,” I said. “She’s your iguana.”
    Katherine looked at me, shot her tongue out, and hissed so loud it sounded like air gushing out of a tire. She even lifted her lip—or at least where her lip would be if she had lips-and flashed her teeth. That was strange. Katherine’s usually in a pretty good mood, at least as far as iguana moods go.
    â€œShe keeps pacing back and forth across the room like she’s nervous,” Emily said. “I think she had a nightmare.”
    â€œMaybe they had The Mutant Moth That Ate Toledo on at the pet store, and it gave her the creeps,” I said.
    There it was again, just when I thought I had stopped thinking about it. Obviously, I had mutant moths on the brain.
    â€œIs Frankie still mad at you?” Emily asked.
    â€œBig-time.”
    â€œDo you want to talk about it?” Emily was trying to be nice. “Katherine and I are very good listeners, aren’t we, Kathy?” She nuzzled Katherine.
    â€œThat’s okay,” I said. “You and Katherine