Who Stole Halloween? Read Online Free Page A

decided we couldn’t take any more. Back in the living room, I dared her to eatone of the hot-dog fingers, but she couldn’t, and it turned out neither could I. We took the dagger out of the cake instead, and shared a big piece.
    â€œAfter church tomorrow,” Yasmeen said, “we’ll look for clues.”
    â€œI don’t have time for detecting tomorrow,” I protested. “I have homework.”
    Yasmeen ignored my argument. “The thief was in a hurry. People in a hurry drop things. I bet anything there’s a clue. Don’t worry,” she said. “This case will be easy to solve. I swear.”

Chapter Six

    â€œSo what are you proposing?” my mom asked my dad. We were home after Mrs. Lee’s shower. Their door was closed, but I could hear them from the hallway. “Are we supposed to sleep like this?”
    â€œLook at it this way,” Dad said. “It’s going to make a very funny story one day.”
    â€œWho would we tell?” Mom said. “Thanks to Beth Ryan, we’re the laughingstocks of the neighborhood now!”
    I knocked on their door.
    â€œCome in,” Dad said. When I did, I saw theywere standing as far apart as two people handcuffed together can stand.
    â€œCan I help?” I asked.
    â€œNo,” Mom said.
    â€œHoney,”
Daddy said.
    â€œSorry,” Mom said. “That wasn’t fair. I’m not mad at you, Alex. I’m mad at
him
.”
    â€œGo ahead and look around,” Dad told me. “It seems like we’ve eyeballed every cranny, but metal keys don’t vaporize. It has to be somewhere.”
    Luau was right behind me, nose in the air like maybe he was trying to smell the key. I shook my parents’ bedspread, opened bureau drawers, crawled around on the rug.
    Luau, meanwhile, leaped onto my dad’s bedside table, sat down, and watched me. Then he pulled one of his favorite tricks, one he usually uses for waking me in the middle of the night. He batted things onto the floor. The alarm clock. Two books. A magazine. A seashell from our vacation last summer.
    A key.
    I reached down for it. “Does this look familiar?” I asked.
    â€œThe key!” Dad said.
    Mom smiled. “Where was it?”
    I took a deep breath and tried to speak in my best let’s-all-remain-calm voice. “On your bedside table, Dad.”
    â€œI looked there!” Dad said.
    â€œWell, you didn’t look very hard,” Mom said.
    â€œWell, possibly if you hadn’t been dragging me toward the bathroom so you could do your
makeup
. . . .”
    I unlocked the handcuffs for them. They shook out their arms and rubbed their shoulders but never stopped arguing.
    â€œYou really must have your eyesight checked, Dan,” Mom said. “You know, at your age—”
    â€œ
My
age?” my dad said. “You’ve got six months on me, Noreen.”
    Luau gave me a look that meant,
Cats have excellent eyesight, in case you didn’t know
. Then he jumped to the floor and padded out the door toward my room. I followed.
    â€œGood night, honey, and thanks!” my mom called.
    â€œYeah, Alex, thanks!” Dad called.
    Don’t thank me, I thought. Thank Luau.
    The next day was Sunday. I slept late, ate my bagel and cream cheese, then played Lousy Luigi Brothers on the PlayCube. It was looking like pretty much a perfect day—the kind when you never get out of your pajamas—until Dad said, “Don’t I remember something about math homework?”
    And Mom said, “The day’s half gone and you’re not even dressed, Alex? You’re squandering daylight!”
    When Mom makes one of her “squandering daylight” speeches, resistance is futile. So I pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt that didn’t smell too bad.
    The math homework turned out to be easy. When that was done and Yasmeen still hadn’t called, I hoped that maybe she had forgotten