Against All Odds Read Online Free Page B

“Hey! It’s actually good!”
    His aunt beamed. “Of course it’s good. I used a recipe from the cookbook you gave me for my birthday.” She grabbed a yellow cookbook from the shelf beside the stove and held it up, reading the title out loud like some overly pleased housewife on a TV commercial.
“One Hundred Delicious Dummyproof Dishes.
Isn’t that a fun title?”
    Boney looked at his uncle and grinned. His uncle winked back.
    “But it’s not as good as the title I dreamed up for my own book,” his aunt said, placing the yellow cookbook back on the shelf.
“Seven Thousand Sensational Soup-Can Suppers.”
    “More like
Dozens of Dinner Disasters,”
Boney muttered into his casserole, but, thankfully, his aunt didn’t hear him. She was too busy looking dreamily off in the distance, no doubt fantasizing about book signings and international fame.
    “I have fifty-two recipes so far,” she mused. “I have a lot of cooking to do!” She flicked the red gingham tea towel from her arm and cracked it at some phantom bug that only she could see.
    Boney shuddered at the thought of her soup-can cookbook. He dug his fork into the tasty glop on his plate, shovelling it in. It seemed he was starving after all.
    His uncle relaxed in his chair as Boney scraped his fork across his empty plate. His aunt loaded his plate again, knocking the sides of the pot joyfully with her wooden serving spoon.
    “It’s amazing there’s anything left in the house at all, what with Itchy coming around every five minutes.” She placed the empty pot in the sink and began to scrub it.
    Boney just smiled dutifully as he inhaled his second serving. When he was finished, he ate three oatmeal cookies for dessert and excused himself, bringing his dishes to the sink. “Thank you, Auntie, that was delicious.” He gave his aunt a small peck on the cheek.
    His aunt smiled brightly. Boney saw an opportunity to approach her about the flying competition. He patted his stomach with exaggerated satisfaction.
    “I’m sure glad to have eaten such a nutritious meal tonight. It will help me get through the day tomorrow.”
    The smile left his aunt’s face. “What’s going on tomorrow?”
    “Oh,” Boney answered as casually as possible, “Squeak’s entering his model airplane in a race over at Starky Hill.”
    His aunt pursed her lips.
    “He’s been working on it for weeks,” Boney continued. “And we get to help him transport the plane to the competition. We have to leave really early, so I won’t be at the table for breakfast.” He gave his most endearing smile, hoping his aunt would overlook the part about missing breakfast.
    She harrumphed, whisked the tea towel from her arm, folded it neatly, and hung it on the handle of the oven. “I’ll make sandwiches then. And I suppose Squeak and Itchy will be needing lunch, too. It’s not like theirparents will be so organized. Though I’d need a dump truck full of sandwiches to satisfy that red-headed friend of yours.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Boney agreed, to avoid further scrutiny. He quickly made his exit and trotted upstairs.
    In his bedroom, Boney yawned. He was thinking of going over to Squeak’s house but the very idea made him feel exhausted. “Must have eaten too much casserole,” he murmured, lying down on his bed. He was just closing his eyes when he heard a rustling sound from beneath the towel that hid the Tele-tube. Squeak’s small voice floated into the room.
    “Boney … are you there? Over.”
    Groaning from bed, Boney flopped into the chair in front of his window. He removed the towel and held the end of the tube to his lips.
    “Boney here.”
    He waited for Squeak to speak, but there was silence on the other end of the line. Boney’s head bobbed sleepily. He gave another big yawn. “Are you there, Squeak?”
    “I’m here,” Squeak answered.
    “What’s on your mind?”
    More silence. Boney’s eyes drooped as he waited. “I can’t stop thinking about our experience