Alien in My Pocket #3 Read Online Free Page A

was sitting up front in his usual spot, but he was staring out the window instead of showing off some new gizmo he was working on. His head seemed to bob with sleepiness.
    Then I remembered his meddling and snooping and spying. “Serves him right,” I mumbled.
    Olivia was trying to get me to watch her do coin tricks.
    â€œWhere’d it go?” she asked for the third time. “See? It’s gone. Can you believe it? That’s magic.”
    I just rolled my eyes.
    â€œDon’t be a hater, Zack.”
    I couldn’t wait for her magic phase to end.
    Olivia was curious about practically everything. Last week it was French. The week before that she was obsessed with an animal I had never heard of called a pangolin. Before that it was hypnosis, kite building, juggling, and a few long weeks when all she could talk about was how they built the pyramids. She never stuck with anything for very long. That made her kind of fascinating—but exhausting.
    â€œOh my gosh, there’s a coin in your ear,” she said, pretending to pull a quarter out of my ear. “How did your empty head become a piggy bank?”
    I stared at her with dull eyes. “Bleh,” I said.
    After slogging through math, social studies, and reading, my teacher, Miss Martin, announced that it was time for a mandatory Young Volunteers meeting. It was a prerace run-through. We reviewed schedules and responsibilities for tomorrow’s race. About ten kids who had been caught in some misdeed or another squeezed into Principal Luntz’s tiny conference room. The room smelled like bologna, apple juice, and boredom.
    I counted Max Myers yawning seven times in one minute.
    After reviewing who was doing what at the race, Principal Luntz asked us if everyone had tested their walkie-talkies as he had suggested in our last meeting.
    Olivia and I looked at each other and smiled. We nodded.
    Principal Luntz passed out our official volunteer badges and dismissed us, but he asked me to stay behind. He waved Olivia away when she tried to stay at my side.
    â€œRemember, you have the right to a lawyer, Zack,” she said, not helping me feel any better. “You have the right to remain silent, too.” With a nod and a firm slap on my back, she exited.
    I turned back to Principal Luntz, who had me fixed in an odd stare.
    Did he know about Amp tearing apart my walkie-talkie?
    Did he know I had blacked out one of Ben Franklin’s front teeth in my history book?
    Had he heard about the thunderous Cheerio-smelling burp I launched the day before during reading time?
    My heart tap-danced. My stomach shrank. My armpits got moist.
    â€œZack, can you tell me anything about this note?” he asked, handing me a note written on a torn piece of binder paper.
    It was written in Taylor’s straight, overly neat writing.

    Â 
    Dear everybody,
    I have decided to run away. I’ll be fine.
    My brother Zack knows why.
    I’ll send for my robots and tools. Mail them carefully.
    Thank you,
    Taylor S. McGee, 1st grader
    Â 
    Principal Luntz peered down at me.
    I stared at the note and tried not to look guilty.
    â€œI do not like when my students run away from home, but when they run away from school, it causes me great difficulty. He indicates you know why he ran away. Can you shed some light on that?”
    I twisted up my mouth and looked at the ceiling, trying to look like I was thinking of a reason Taylor might run away. “Not a clue,” I concluded.
    â€œOkay,” he sighed, focusing on me with intense interest. “Have a seat. Your parents will be here in a minute or two.”
    That was grim news. As my mind raced, one thing remained clear: my brother could not take a joke.

08
    The Drive
    â€œY ou’re not getting the gravity of this situation,” Mom said, turning around in the front seat to check on how upset I looked.
    I’ve found that there’s nothing worse than getting the third degree in