Dawn and the Impossible Three Read Online Free

yourselves. I’ll be back soon.”
    â€œSay hi to Mr. Spier for me,” I called.
    â€œI will!” Mom dashed off, waving over her shoulder, and climbed into her car.
    I closed the front door and stood around in the hall with my jacket on, trying to warm up. Then I walked through the living room and collected the things that didn’t belong there: a can of hair spray, a bicycle pump, a jar of instant coffee, and a ladle. Sometimes I thought our entire house (except for my room) was like one big game of What’s Wrong with This Picture?
    I put the hair spray, the pump, the coffee, the ladle, and Mom’s earring away. In our dark little kitchen, I lifted the lid on the double boiler and peeked inside. I sniffed. I poked at the stuff with a fork.
    â€œHey, Jeff —” I started to shout.
    â€œIt’s Leftover Stew,” he called from the den, before I had even asked the question.
    Oh, gross. Ew, ew, ew. Leftover Stew.
    I checked our freezer. “Hey, Jeff!” I shouted again.
    â€œThere’s all-natural frozen meatless pizza,” he replied. “Couldn’t we have that?”
    â€œDefinitely.” I popped the frozen pizza in the oven. Then I wandered into the den.
    My brother was sprawled on the sofa, watching a cartoon show. “What’re you going to do with the stew?” he asked.
    â€œPut it back in the fridge. Maybe Mom will eat it.”
    â€œI wish we had a dog,” Jeff said. “Dogs love leftovers.” Jeff’s eyes never left the TV screen.
    I returned to the kitchen and checked the pizza. Then I sat down at the table and tried to begin my homework, but I couldn’t concentrate. I got up and walked slowly through our house.
    I didn’t care that it was dark or that the roomswere small or that everything was low down. I thought it was cozy. I was glad, however, that the kitchen and the bathrooms had been remodeled. Actually, I was glad to have bathrooms at all. The old outhouse was still in our backyard, at the edge of the property. I had looked in it once. Yick. Dark, dusty, and full of cobwebs. A Colonial kitchen might have been fun — but not very practical. I wondered how long it would take to bake a pizza in a fireplace.
    Ding!
The oven timer went off.
    â€œHey, Jeff, it’s pizza!” I yelled.
    Jeff dragged himself away from the TV while I went back to the kitchen. I returned the Leftover Stew to the refrigerator. Jeff got out plates, napkins, forks, and the salad.
    We sat down across from each other. I was starving.
    No sooner had I lifted a piece of steaming, spicy, melty pizza to my mouth than the phone rang.
    I looked at Jeff. He was faster than I. He’d already gotten the pizza
in
his mouth. He looked at me.
    â€œWould you puh-
lease
get the phone?” I pleaded. The pizza smelled so good it was making me dizzy.
    â€œMphhhyrst?” Jeff asked. He’d taken the biggest bite in the history of the world.
    â€œNever mind.” With a gigantic sigh I put the pizza back on my plate. I answered the phone on the fourth ring.
    â€œHi, it’s me,” said Mary Anne’s voice. “What are you doing?”
    â€œEating dinner,” I replied. My mouth was watering.
    â€œOh. I just ate. I had a sandwich. What are you eating?”
    â€œPizza. Hey, I should have asked you over so you wouldn’t have to eat alone.”
    â€œThat’s okay. Maybe next time. Listen, I had a great idea. Do you want to help me redo my room?”
    â€œSure! That would be fun. Hey! You know what?”
    â€œWhat?” asked Mary Anne.
    â€œWe’ve got some stuff I bet you could use. Our house in California was bigger than this one, and we’ve got cartons of things up in the attic that we don’t have room for. I know there are a few posters somewhere. And there’s this neat reading lamp that used to be in my room. And probably some pillows, too.”
    â€œDoesn’t your mom want