Life on Mars Read Online Free Page A

since the Feldmans moved out. “I didn’t see it and I walked right into it,” Tripp finished. He stood, tested out some weight on his foot by bouncing up and down a little.
    â€œYou didn’t see that giant moving van,” I repeated.
    He shook his head. “Sprung right up on me.”
    I believed it. I’d seen surprising things spring up on Tripp many times before. Whole walls, for example.
    He bounced a few more times, then smiled. “I’m good,” he said. “Do I smell cookies?” He pushed past me and walked into the house, following his nose toward the kitchen. “So who’s moving in? Hope he’s our age and has a motorcycle.”
    The last thing on earth Tripp needed was a motorcycle.
    We rounded the corner into the kitchen, where Mom was sliding warm oatmeal cookies off a cookie sheet onto a cooling rack. Tripp made a beeline for them, stumbling over a stool leg and almost taking the entire cooling rack to the floor with him but catching himself just in time.
    â€œHello, Tripp,” Mom said, completely unfazed. Mom was used to Tripp, too. I suppose once you see a kid take out the entire handrail on your basement steps, almost losing a few cookies seems like no big deal.
    â€œHey, Other Mom,” Tripp answered, cramming a cookie into his mouth.
    â€œWe’ve got new neighbors,” I said, picking up a cookie and sniffing it, then putting it back onto the cooling rack. “Have you met them?”
    Mom shook her head. “No, but I think it’s just one man. Nobody your age.” She plopped more dough onto the cookie sheet in little mounds. If she didn’t stop, we were all going to turn into raisins. We would have to change our name to the Raisin Family. I would have to wear raisin pants, and every time I opened my mouth to talk, a raisin would fly out, and I’d just keep growing raisin-ier and raisin-ier until eventually I turned into a giant raisin monster and then Tripp would have to come after me, shooting an oatmeal cookie batter cannon at me from his motorcycle until I—growling, of course, because all giant monsters made of food growl—exploded and rained down tiny bits of raisins on the whole city.
    Actually, that sounded kind of awesome. I picked up the cookie again and ate it in two bites.
    â€œDoes the new guy drive a motorcycle?” Tripp asked.
    â€œI didn’t see one,” Mom said. “I think he’s a bit older.”
    â€œAw, man,” Tripp said, “just some boring old guy, then.”
    â€œHow do you know he’s boring? You haven’t even met him yet,” Mom said.
    Tripp’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, you’re right. He could be mean and scary with gnarled-up fingernails and acid breath, and he could sleep in a coffin. That would be so cool!”
    â€œWell, now you’re making him sound like a vampire, Tripp,” Mom said.
    Immediately I thought about the guy I’d seen the night before. “Mom,” I said, “have you seen him? What does he look like?”
    She shook her head. “I haven’t. I think your dad has. You can ask him later.”
    I didn’t need to ask Dad. Deep in my gut, I already knew. The burglar in the hoodie I’d seen last night … was moving in!
    I grabbed Tripp’s sleeve and pulled. “Come on, let’s go,” I said.
    â€œBot om ayting,” he said around a mouthful of cookie.
    â€œYou can eat it and walk at the same time.” I actually had my doubts about that. Tripp could do almost nothing and walk at the same time.
    â€œWhere we going?” he asked when we got outside on the sidewalk.
    â€œTo Priya’s,” I told him.
    If you live in North America, you can see a V-shaped constellation in the fall night sky. It’s Andromeda, the Chained Maiden. Andromeda’s dad was King Cepheus and her mom was Cassiopeia, who supposedly ticked off the sea nymphs by getting all braggy that