Scurvy Goonda Read Online Free

dad’s friends revealed that there was no camping trip, and credit card records showed that his father was in New York City, the truth hit young Ted: his father wasn’t coming home. Shortly after that, even the credit card records stopped arriving.
    Ted kept a photograph of his father in his bedroom. He had been a handsome man with a muscular physique, a receding hairline, and big hands. Ted remembered those hands gripping his ankles as he rode on his father’s shoulders, way up high. The photo, from a fishing trip, showed his father helping him bait a hook. He remembered his father telling him stories about pirates and sea captains every night before he went to bed. He remembered that his father had loved him, though he was no longer quite sure if this was true. Maybe he just hoped he did?
    Soon after Ted’s dad left, Scurvy Goonda showed up.
    These days, Ted found himself thinking of his dad a lot. Any time he saw one of his classmates getting picked up at school by a father, or he passed a sports field where fathers were cheeringon their kids in soccer games or field hockey matches, he wondered what his life would have been like if his dad was still around to help him with everything.
    It was hard being the only male in his family. His mother and Grandma Rose expected him to know how to change fuses and cut plants with the Weedwacker and get rid of mice. Even Adeline thought he should be a natural when it came to trapping spiders—indeed,
all
spider-disposal tasks fell on Ted’s skinny shoulders.
    Ted stared out the window. A windsurfer was skimming along the surface of the water. Ted remembered that his father used to love windsurfing. Even now, sitting at the kitchen table, Ted could almost picture his father holding up a big blue sail, buzzing along on top of the waves—
    “WHY DO MEATBALLS HAVE TO BE ROUND ANYWAY?” said Grandma Rose. “I WANT MY MEAT IN A TRIANGLE!”
    Debbie piled spaghetti onto Grandma Rose’s plate, sprinkling the pasta with a few of her tears. Spaghetti had been Declan’s favorite meal. Debbie still made the dish every Friday night, and it always made her cry.
    “Why do you make spaghetti if it makes you sad?” asked Adeline.
    “It was your father’s favorite,” Debbie explained, sniffling. “I want to have it ready when he comes home.”
    “How do you know he’ll come home on a Friday?”
    “PIPE DOWN, ADELINE,” said Grandma Rose. “YOU SOUND LIKE A ZEPPELIN EXPLOSION.”
    “We scheduled an appointment for you to see a marvelous psychiatrist, Ted,” said Debbie. Grandma Rose nodded andspaghetti spilled from her mouth. She wasn’t good at chewing anymore.
    “No way,” he declared.
    “Sweetheart, you need friends who aren’t imaginary pirates,” said his mother.
    “He’s real to me.”
    “THEN WHY CAN’T ANYBODY BUT YOU SEE HIM?” asked Grandma Rose. “YOU WEARING GOGGLES MADE OF STUPID?”
    “Maybe they can’t see him because he’s… shy?” he offered.
    “PIRATES AREN’T SHY!” said Grandma Rose.
    This was true. Scurvy was crazed and loud and consumed by bacon lust, and generally pretty much anything but shy.
    “Maybe he hides from you ’cuz … ’cuz he just doesn’t like you!” said Adeline, nodding to Scurvy, who was standing at the corner of the table observing the action. Scurvy tipped his tricorne and winked.
    “Rightie-o, young Adeline,” said Scurvy.
    “Don’t talk to invisible pirates, dear,” said Debbie. “And finish your milk.”
    “Can I go now?” said Ted.
    “Next Monday. Two o’clock. Dr. Winterhalter,” said his mom.
    “I have to go to work now, Mother.”
    Ted walked outside, got on his bike, and started pedaling madly.
There’s nothing WRONG
, he thought.
Except for the fact that I’ll spend the next eight hours at a lousy job where the bacon is going to be strewn around the meat aisle because our customers are MANIACS who ENJOY digging through piles of bacon, searching for the one PRIME PIECE that has only a SPECK