The Fox Steals Home Read Online Free
Author: Matt Christopher
asked her. He didn’t remember her telling him that she was going somewhere this evening.
“Where am I going?” She stared at him as if that were the number-one dumb question of the day. “It’s my bridge night, dear.
I told you that this morning. Didn’t I?” she added, a frown suddenly forming on her forehead. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Maybe
I didn’t. Anyway, it’s Tuesday night, and you should know by now that I have a bridge party every Tuesday.”
He looked at her pensively, wondering if she would tell him who her visitor had been.
But she didn’t. She was too much in a hurry to leave. She just told him to get washed up, put on clean clothes, and to find
his dinner in the oven.
“What is it?” he asked. He hoped it wasn’t franks and beans again. He was getting tired of franks and beans.
“Pizza,” she said, smiling.
He smiled back. Pizza he liked.
4
H is mother woke him up the next morning at 7:15.
“Gee, Mom,” he cried, looking sleepily at his Mickey Mouse alarm clock. His father had bought it for him when he was eight,
and it was still ticking along as merrily as ever. “It’s the middle of the night!”
“You know what time it is,” she replied, her voice coming up the stairway in one giant leap. “Get your b-o-d-y down here,
so you can wash up and eat breakfast. You’ve got only fifteen more minutes before I have to leave.”
“Why can’t you leave without me?” he retorted. “I can make my own breakfast. All I eat is cereal, anyway.”
“This morning I want you to have eggs,” shesaid. “Protein is good for you. Now come down here and don’t argue with me.”
“Okay,” he sighed.
He shoved off the covers, rolled out of bed, and silently dropped upon the floor. The hardness of it was unbearable. But he
lay there awhile, his eyes closed, until his back began to ache. Then he got up.
The sun was shining brightly through the curtains of his window, proving that it and the clock were both working against him.
He dug clean socks and underwear out of his dresser, put them on, then put on his pants, shirt, and shoes, and went downstairs.
He managed to do it without falling, which was somewhat remarkable since he had kept his eyes closed all the way down.
“Well, good morning, bright eyes,” said his mother, who was already dressed in her work clothes and ready to go. She was a
manager in an office, and her work clothes were a trim-fitting suit and low heels.
“’Morning,” said Bobby, heading for the bathroom.
“Scrambled or sunny-side up?” shouted his mother while he was washing his face.
“Sunny up!” he replied, finding it an effort to raise his voice enough to get it through the door.
After a while he managed to get dried and out of the bathroom. His sunny-side up eggs, atop a piece of dark toast, were waiting
for him, along with extra toast and a glass of milk.
“I want you to go to Grandma’s today,” said his mother as she pulled on her jacket. “You don’t have a baseball game again
today, do you?”
“No,” he said, sitting down on the chair in front of the eggs. “Our next game is Thursday. Why do I have to go to Grandma’s?”
“I want you to, that’s why.”
“When do you want me to go?”
“Sometime this morning. At least before lunch, so you’ll have something else besides peanut butter and jelly for a change.”
Grandma Reenie makes good peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, too, he almost told her.
“Good-bye, dear,” his mother said, kissing him on the forehead. “See you this afternoon.”
“’Bye, Mom,” he said, and watched her go out of the door.
While he ate, he heard the old Chev grinding away in the garage as his mother tried to start it. It suddenly sparked to life,
then roared madly as his mother pressed down on the accelerator.
That’s right, Ma,
he thought, smiling to himself.
Goose it. Clean out the carbon good, and maybe burn up the rings one of these days. Can’t you remember
“Where am I going?” She stared at him as if that were the number-one dumb question of the day. “It’s my bridge night, dear.
I told you that this morning. Didn’t I?” she added, a frown suddenly forming on her forehead. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Maybe
I didn’t. Anyway, it’s Tuesday night, and you should know by now that I have a bridge party every Tuesday.”
He looked at her pensively, wondering if she would tell him who her visitor had been.
But she didn’t. She was too much in a hurry to leave. She just told him to get washed up, put on clean clothes, and to find
his dinner in the oven.
“What is it?” he asked. He hoped it wasn’t franks and beans again. He was getting tired of franks and beans.
“Pizza,” she said, smiling.
He smiled back. Pizza he liked.
4
H is mother woke him up the next morning at 7:15.
“Gee, Mom,” he cried, looking sleepily at his Mickey Mouse alarm clock. His father had bought it for him when he was eight,
and it was still ticking along as merrily as ever. “It’s the middle of the night!”
“You know what time it is,” she replied, her voice coming up the stairway in one giant leap. “Get your b-o-d-y down here,
so you can wash up and eat breakfast. You’ve got only fifteen more minutes before I have to leave.”
“Why can’t you leave without me?” he retorted. “I can make my own breakfast. All I eat is cereal, anyway.”
“This morning I want you to have eggs,” shesaid. “Protein is good for you. Now come down here and don’t argue with me.”
“Okay,” he sighed.
He shoved off the covers, rolled out of bed, and silently dropped upon the floor. The hardness of it was unbearable. But he
lay there awhile, his eyes closed, until his back began to ache. Then he got up.
The sun was shining brightly through the curtains of his window, proving that it and the clock were both working against him.
He dug clean socks and underwear out of his dresser, put them on, then put on his pants, shirt, and shoes, and went downstairs.
He managed to do it without falling, which was somewhat remarkable since he had kept his eyes closed all the way down.
“Well, good morning, bright eyes,” said his mother, who was already dressed in her work clothes and ready to go. She was a
manager in an office, and her work clothes were a trim-fitting suit and low heels.
“’Morning,” said Bobby, heading for the bathroom.
“Scrambled or sunny-side up?” shouted his mother while he was washing his face.
“Sunny up!” he replied, finding it an effort to raise his voice enough to get it through the door.
After a while he managed to get dried and out of the bathroom. His sunny-side up eggs, atop a piece of dark toast, were waiting
for him, along with extra toast and a glass of milk.
“I want you to go to Grandma’s today,” said his mother as she pulled on her jacket. “You don’t have a baseball game again
today, do you?”
“No,” he said, sitting down on the chair in front of the eggs. “Our next game is Thursday. Why do I have to go to Grandma’s?”
“I want you to, that’s why.”
“When do you want me to go?”
“Sometime this morning. At least before lunch, so you’ll have something else besides peanut butter and jelly for a change.”
Grandma Reenie makes good peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, too, he almost told her.
“Good-bye, dear,” his mother said, kissing him on the forehead. “See you this afternoon.”
“’Bye, Mom,” he said, and watched her go out of the door.
While he ate, he heard the old Chev grinding away in the garage as his mother tried to start it. It suddenly sparked to life,
then roared madly as his mother pressed down on the accelerator.
That’s right, Ma,
he thought, smiling to himself.
Goose it. Clean out the carbon good, and maybe burn up the rings one of these days. Can’t you remember