Nine Doors Read Online Free

make a movie or don’t you?”
    â€œYeah, I do. I just don’t want to—”
    He cut me off. “Well, then get used to it. Nobody pays to go to a
Batman
movie towatch the Joker double-park. People want danger! They want excitement!”
    I didn’t say anything. Who did he think he was kidding? Burning bio-waste was gross, but frankly, it wasn’t that exciting. I’d rather watch a car chase any day.
    He waved his hand at me. “Oh, come on,” he went. “These are brick houses, cement steps, asphalt driveways. What could possibly catch on fire?”
    â€œI don’t know. Lots,” I said. “Frankly, I don’t want to go to jail because I burnt down somebody’s house playing”—I paused so he could hear how dumb it sounded— “Nicky Nicky Nine Doors.”
    I turned to go.
    Richard went, “All right. All right. You win.” He picked up the bag and tore the top half off.
    â€œOkay,” he said. “How about this? Stunt poo, itty-bitty bag and a bucket of water to put out the flames. Does that meet your safety requirements, Fire Chief Murray?”
    I looked at the bag. It was half the size of my shoe. I felt ridiculous. Howmuch harm could a little thing like that do?
    I hesitated. I didn’t want to look like a wuss.
    â€œOkay, okay!” he said. “I’ll also throw in a fire truck and—for a limited time only—a Dalmatian dog wearing a little red helmet too!”
    I laughed. What could I do?
    â€œFine,” I said. “Whatever.”
    â€œExcellent!” Richard plopped the chocolate bar into the paper bag and dug around in his backpack for matches. That’s when I knew I’d been tricked.
    The doggie-doo.
    The bag.
    The chocolate bar.
    The matches.
    Some inspiration. My guess is Richard had this planned right from the start. I could just see him planting the dog poop there himself. The weird thing is, I almost admired him for it. The guy sure knew how to get what he wanted.
    â€œNow,” he said, “we just have to find a victim...”
    He turned on the camera and started playing with the controls. “Nice,” he said. “You can zoom right into people’s windows. Take a look.”
    I peered at our house through the camera. I could see my mother pounding away on her computer. I scanned past Marjorie’s place. I saw something move inside, but the curtains were closed so I couldn’t tell if it was her or a cat or just the wind. The next few houses seemed empty—but the one at the end was better than we could have hoped for.
    I passed the camera back to Richard. “See the house on the corner?” I said. “There’s someone on the second floor... left-hand side.”
    I waited while he zeroed in on them.
    â€œIf the house is laid out like ours,” I said, “the person’s in the bathroom.”
    I didn’t need to explain. Richard understood immediately.
    He put on that old-lady voice again. “Oh dear, oh dear. I do hope we shan’t be catching them at an inconvenienttime...” He did this ha-ha chuckle thing.
    â€œOh and look, Nervous Nelly,” he said. “You’re in luck. There’s a hose at the side of the house. That’s even better than a bucket.”
    We crept down behind a car. He handed me the camera and looked right into the lens. He spoke in the whispery way reporters do when they’re trying to sound important.
    â€œDoor number two. The prey has been spotted. All systems are go. Now it’s up to yours truly—the fearless Richard B. Inkpen— to deliver the blow.”
    He poked his face up like a periscope, did a quick check for witnesses and then booked it across the street.
    He ran to the side of the house and pulled the hose over to the steps. He made this big deal of turning on the tap and demonstrating how the water spurted out. He gave me a cheesy thumbs-up, then tiptoed up the