A World of Trouble Read Online Free Page B

a closer look. A small card rests on top of the package. My name’s on it. I look up and down the hallway, like a mischievous elf is hiding nearby waiting to see my reaction. Not spotting any pointy ears or shoes, I take the card and read it.
    Dear Seamus,
    Please accept this as a small token of our great appreciation. We can’t wait to see what you achieve next semester!
    Fondly,
    Your Kilter Family
    The handwriting’s familiar, but I can’t place it. I slide the card into my bathrobe pocket, bring the package into my room, and close the door.
    The token, I soon find out, isn’t small at all. It’s the Kilter Icickler, a long, skinny device that turns water into frozen daggers with the push of one button and launches them with the push of another. I picked up a display model in the Kommissary once and put it right back when I saw that it cost two thousand credits.
    If weapons can be considered gifts, this one’s great. Part of me is even tempted to try it out in the backyard. Maybe with Bartholomew John as my target.
    But I don’t. I put the Icickler back in the box, slide the box under my bed, and head for the shower.

Chapter 3

    DEMERITS: 200
    GOLD STARS: 0
    Y ou know those lists Santa Claus has? That separate naughty kids from nice ones so there’s no confusion about who gets what when December 25 rolls around? Well, I think the big guy finally went digital and experienced a major computer malfunction that jumbled everything up. Because, given all the trouble I’ve made, there’s no question which list I should be on—or that I don’t even deserve the lump of coal normal bad kids get. Yet somehow, the presents keep coming.
    First there’s the Icickler. Then there’s the Flake Kompressor, a large contraption that can pack an entire snowdrift into a singlesnowball. Next comes a set of Kringle Stars, which look like they belong on top of Christmas trees but have tips sharp enough to pin heavy stockings to marble fireplace mantels. After that are K-Puffs, marshmallows that morph into pellets suitable for BB gun or slingshot use when dunked in hot liquid. Every day a new package wrapped in plain brown paper appears by my bedroom door. And every day I shove another tempting troublemaking item under my bed or into my closet. I don’t mention them and neither do my parents, which makes how they arrive just as puzzling as who they’re from.
    This goes on for a week. Then, on New Year’s Eve, I run out of hiding spots.
    â€œCome on,” I mumble, leaning all my weight into the latest delivery.
    But it’s no use. The package is too big. My closet’s too full. Giving up, I flop on my bed, take my K-Pak from the nightstand, and start a new message.
    TO: [email protected]
    FROM: [email protected]
    SUBJECT: Thanks, and . . .
    Hi, Ike!
    I don’t want to interrupt your vacation, but I just had to thank you for all the sniper supplies you’ve been sending. They’re awesome!
    I also wanted to ask a favor. I don’t know if you plan to send anything else, but if you do, would it be too much trouble to ship it to school instead of my house? Kilter’s cover will definitely be blown if my mom finds any of this stuff, and that’s a real possibility because her preferred hobbies are cleaning and organizing.
    Thanks again!
    From,
    Seamus
    I send the message. Almost instantly, my K-Pak buzzes with a response.
    TO: [email protected]
    FROM: [email protected]
    SUBJECT: RE: Thanks, and . . .
    Hey, Seamus!
    Sounds like someone has a secret Santa! Would love to take credit, but I’ve been skiing with the fam and haven’t thought about Kilter since we left. (No offense.)
    BTW, can’t wait to hear about the mission. I expect details our first day back!
    â€”Ike
    Huh. The packages have been unmarked, with no addresses or other hints of origin. I’d assumed that Ike, who introduced me to bows