Squishy Taylor and the Bonus Sisters Read Online Free Page B

to each of us.

    ‘It’s because of my dad,’ Not-John says, biting the head off a green snake. ‘We had a fight …’
    He looks angry and sad at the same time and his face nearly reminds me of something, but I’m not sure what.
    ‘I want him to know I’m serious,’ Not-John says. He looks serious.
    ‘But you can’t stay here forever,’ Jessie says.
    ‘Why not?’ asks Not-John. ‘I’ve got a bathroom.’ He waves vaguely in the direction of the public toilet. ‘Squishy Taylor feeds me. What’s the problem?’
    I imagine Not-John growing up, shaving in the green toilet and going to work every morning by climbing out the grate. I suddenly think of something. ‘How did you even know to come here?’ I ask. ‘How did you know about the vent and the storeroom?’
    Not-John looks down at his feet.
    Jessie’s mouth twitches. ‘Did you run away from home to your own basement?’ she asks.
    Not-John doesn’t say anything.
    ‘ You totally did! ’ Jessie says, sounding pleased with herself.
    Baby rolls over and the pram squeaks.
    I have a tingling feeling of dread and excitement. I bet I know who Not-John’s dad is. I bet his dad is Mr Hinkenbushel.
    Baby starts to cry.
    ‘Your dad,’ I start to say. ‘Is he –’
    Baby’s wails get louder.
    ‘Come on, Squishy,’ Jessie says.
    ‘But, Not-John’s dad –’
    ‘Squishy, we have to get out of here. The next person in the car park is going to hear screaming and wonder who’s chained up in the storeroom.’
    I stare at Jessie. She’s right. And she’s made me think of something.
    ‘OK,’ I say and let her pull us out.

‘There’s absolutely, one hundred per cent no way his dad is Mr Hinkenbushel,’ Jessie says. ‘That would mean there’s been a kid living next door to us and we didn’t notice. For years. No way.’
    We are pushing Baby down to the playground because it’s not time for his nap to finish yet. He likes the feel of his pram wheels rolling and he’s already closed his eyes again.
    ‘But what if,’ I say excitedly, ‘what if that’s exactly why he ran away? What if Mr Hinkenbushel keeps him chained up in the cupboard?’
    Vee looks nervous but Jessie snorts. ‘He’s got a schoolbag. And sunburn.’
    ‘But Mr Hinkenbushel is so mean. That’s exactly what he would do. It’s probably why he’s even meaner this week. Because his prisoner got away. And maybe it’s not sunburn, it’s a skin disease .’
    Vee giggles and even I realise that’s a bit silly.
    ‘Well, whether he is or not, we still have to do revenge on him,’ I say.
    Jessie nods. ‘He still hates us, and he shouted at Mum.’
    At the playground, Vee and I shove the pram over to the monkey bars. Jessie sees another kid from school who’s sitting in the corner-cubby with an iPad and joins her.
    I show Vee my new monkey-bar moves. There’s one really cool trick, where I swing upside-down from my knees and brush the pram with my hair. It’s hard, because if you get it wrong, you either don’t touch the pram or you bash your face on it.
    Vee’s impressed. ‘You should do some bunk-bed tricks with me,’ she says.
    ‘OK,’ I say, a bit surprised because of how much she hated me doing the same bunk-bed acrobatics before.
    Baby wakes up screaming and we have to run to get him home. Well, not run exactly, because we aren’t allowed to run with Baby when we’re next to the road. We just walk really, really fast. Kind of jog-walk.
    As we get closer to home, we pass a massive dog out for a walk. I see the owner clutching a swinging plastic bag with a squoogy-looking weight in the bottom of it. And I have the best Hinkenbushel Revenge Club idea ever.
    ‘Wait a sec,’ I say to the others, as we pull up at our front door.
    I trail the big dog and its owner until they reach the bin at the corner. As I suspected, the squoogy plastic bag is placed in the bin and the owner keeps walking.
    I loiter beside the bin until the traffic lights change and the big dog crosses