Read Online Burning Questions of Bingo Brown by Betsy Byars - Free Book Online Page A

something for all of them. Billy drew no weaponry. Bingo did not go to the pencil sharpener. They were so quiet that Mr. Markham only had to close his eyes once.
    When Bingo wrote in his journal on Friday, his questions reflected the peaceful nature of the week.
    Is this the way my life is going to be from now on?
    Am I at last in a period of peace?
    Is this adulthood?
    Or is this what’s known as the calm that comes before the storm?
    Will Billy Wentworth have bunk beds?

Spying on a Superstar
    “C OME AWAY FROM THE window and stop spying on the Wentworths.”
    Bingo snapped the curtains shut and spun around. “I was not spying.”
    “Bingo Brown, you’ve been spying ever since you got up.”
    “I have not. I’ve done dozens of things since I got up.”
    “You have done exactly two things. One, run to the window. Two, spy. Look at you. You aren’t even dressed. You’re still in your pajamas.”
    Bingo sighed. He could see that this was one of the times he was not going to change his mom’s mind, no matter how hard he tried. Her specialty was false accusations.
    He decided to do what his mother and the President of the United States did in similar situations—turn icy.
    He said coldly, “Would I be accused of further spying if I went to my room? After all, my room does face the Wentworths’ house. If my eyes happen to glance out my own window, would you call this spying too?”
    “Yes.”
    “Mom!”
    “You asked me.”
    “Well, I didn’t expect you to answer like that. You don’t have to hurt my feelings. You should—”
    His mom reached out and took his shoulder. She said, “Look.”
    “What? Where?”
    “They’ve got a wide-screen TV.”
    “Where? Let me see. Mom, I want to see too.”
    They jostled for position at the window and ended up with Bingo in front and his mom peering over his head. In silence they watched the wide-screen TV being carried up the stairs. The men had to turn it sideways to get it in the front door.
    “They’re probably going to put it in the living room,” his mom said. “If they were putting it in the game room, they’d take it in through the garage, don’t you think? Can you see where they’re putting it?”
    “I could if you’d move over, Mom, and let me stand up straight.”
    “With a wide-screen TV, the father’s probably into sports.”
    “Bowling,” Bingo said.
    “How do you know it’s bowling? You don’t need a wide screen to watch bowling.”
    “Well, he went to a roast for one of his bowling buddies, I know that for a fact.”
    “Is that a Jenn-Air stove? I—” The phone rang then and Bingo’s mom said, “Get that for me, Bingo?”
    “Why should I get it? It’s never for me.”
    “Oh, all right.”
    Bingo kept watching until his mom came back. “You missed the stereo. It was—”
    “The phone,” his mother announced, “is for you.”
    “Me?”
    “It’s a girl.”
    “For me?”
    “Your name is Bingo, isn’t it?”
    Bingo went to the phone slowly. This was the first time he had ever talked to a girl on the phone, and he was not sure he was ready for a mixed-sex conversation. He took a deep breath and picked up the phone. He held it away from his head so it didn’t touch him.
    “Hello.”
    “Bingo?”
    “Yes, it’s me. Who is this?”
    “Melissa.”
    “Melissa!”
    “Yes. Hi. Bingo, can I talk to you for a minute?”
    “Sure.”
    “Because I’ve just got to talk to somebody. I can’t keep this to myself any longer.”
    “What? What is it?”
    Bingo sank down onto the chair. His heart had started to pound. This was the way mixed-sex conversations were supposed to be—intriguing, mysterious—only Bingo had never thought of himself as having one. He brought the phone closer.
    “Bingo, do you remember the other day when Mr. Mark made us write letters to Dawn?”
    This was not what Bingo was expecting, but he said quickly, “I remember that.”
    “Remember he made me get up and describe her?”
    “Yes, I remember. You