The Schwa was Here by Neal Shusterman Read Free Book Online Page B

No one in that crowd would risk their necks, or any other part of their anatomy, for us.
    “Well, there they are,” said Crawley, hearing the sirens. “Tell me, is this your first arrest, or are you repeat offenders?”
    As we weren’t actually arrested at the American Airlines terminal, I told him it was a first offense.
    “It won’t be the last, I’m sure,” he said.
    I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, sir, but I think it will be.”
    “Will be what?”
    “I think it will be the last time I’m arrested.”
    “I find that hard to believe.” He leaned over, scratching one of his dogs behind the ears. “Can’t change breeding, isn’t that right, Avarice?”
    The dog purred.
    Breeding?
Now I was getting mad. “My breeding is fine,” I told him. The Schwa, who’s still mostly petrified, hits me to shutme up, but I don’t. “If you ask me, it’s
your
breeding that’s all screwed up.”
    Crawley raised his eyebrows and gripped his poker. “Is that so.”
    “It must take some pretty bad genes to turn someone into a miserable old man who’d send a couple of kids to jail just for trying to get a plastic dog bowl.”
    He scowled at me for a long time. The sound of sirens peaked, then stopped right outside. Then he said, “Genes aren’t everything. You failed to take environment into account.”
    “Well, so did you.”
    There came an urgent knocking at the door, and all the dogs went running toward it, barking. “Mr. Crawley,” said a muffled voice through the door, over the chorus of barks. “Mr. Crawley, are you all right?”
    The old man gave the Schwa and me a twisted grin. “Destiny calls.” He rolled off toward the door, calling back to us, “Either of you try to escape and I’ll have you shot.”
    I didn’t really believe that, but I also didn’t want to take any chances.
    “This is bad, Antsy,” the Schwa said. “Real bad.”
    “Tell me something I don’t know.”
    Crawley rolled back in about a minute. Amazingly, no police officers were with him. “I told them it was a false alarm.”
    The sigh of relief rolled off the Schwa and me like a wave. “Thank you, Mr. Crawley.”
    He ignored us. “The police will only give you a slap on the wrist, and since you’re not crying hysterically in terror right now, I assume your parents will not beat you. Therefore I will administer your punishment personally. You will return here tomorrow by the
front
door, at three o’clock sharp, and beginworking off your transgression. If you fail to come, I will find out what your parents do for a living, and I will have them fired.”
    “You can’t do that!”
    “I’ve found I can do anything I please.”
    I thought it was just an idle threat, but then I remembered the great egg shortage. A man like Crawley had more money than God in a good economy, as my father would say, and probably had friends in both high and low places. If he said he’d have my father fired, I figured I should believe it.
    “What will you pay us?” I asked.
    “Nothing.”
    “That’s slavery!”
    “No,” said Crawley, with a grin so wide it stretched his wrinkles straight. “
That’s
community service.”

6. As If I Didn’t Already Have Enough Annoying Things to Do Every Day, Now I Gotta Do This
    I wasn’t too hungry at dinner that night. Sure, I was no stranger to failed schemes, but never had one backfired so badly. The fifty-four bucks were the least of my worries, now that Crawley was pulling our strings. It was enough to kill any appetite.
    For the entire meal I just sort of moved my food around my plate. My parents didn’t notice, mainly because I wasn’t Frankie or Christina. If Christina doesn’t eat, right away they’re feeling her forehead to see if she’s got a fever. As for Frankie, not eating isn’t one of his problems. He’s more likely to get yelled at for taking all the food. Once I tried to take a huge plateful like Frankie does, just to see what my parents would do. While I wasn’t looking,