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Authors: Kelly McClymer
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was playing one of those idiotic games. Apparently, though, he actually had the sense not to pop away or do anything else magical now that he saw Angelo was in the house. “I want some cookies too.”
“Fine.” It was fine to have the Dorklock around too, I realized. As long as Tobias was with us, Angelo could stay in the kitchen with me forever.
We went into the kitchen and I poured out milk the mortal way for the three of us. Then I opened the tin I had just filled with Angelo’s favorite peanut butter cookies.
I let Angelo have first choice. He took two and said, “These look great. Did you make them yourself?”
“I did.” Which, technically, wasn’t a lie. I
had
made them. There was no need to tell him
how
.
Dorklock, as usual, couldn’t just sit there and shove cookies into his mouth while Angelo and I talked and pretended he wasn’t there. “I’d rather have chocolate chip.”
I wiggled my eyebrows at him to remind him that we had a mortal in the house. “Well, peanut butter is what I have.”
He shrugged. “Okay.” He started to summon a plate, but I quickly walked over and grabbed one out of the cabinet before Angelo could see.
I handed him the plate with my best big-sister scowl. He hurriedly scooped half a dozen cookies onto his plate, then turned to Angelo. “Want to play a video game?”
“Tobias—” He was always trying to get someone to play his games with him. But to poach Angelo? I couldn’t believe he thought I’d let him.
Angelo held up his hand to stop me from scolding Tobias. “I have to finish the yard now. Maybe some other time.” He turned his head to smile at me—a smile that, besides making me feel like the only girl on the planet, also said he knew what a pain little brothers could be.
“Okay.” Dorklock shrugged again and then popped out of the kitchen without a second thought. Fortunately, Angelo had been looking at me, so he didn’t see him disappear. Although when he looked back and noticed Tobias was gone, he said, “He moves fast.”
“Don’t all thirteen-year-old boys?” I started my countdown again, annoyed at my brother for so many reasons, I couldn’t even begin to list them.
“Maybe. But if he’s that fast, he should probably go out for the track team when he hits high school.”
Right. Track team. Sure. “Good idea.”
Just then, Mom came down the back kitchen stairs carrying a box that looked like she’d unearthed it from the attic after years of neglect. I suspected that was true, because our resident housekeeping ghost was walkingbeside her, her hands fluttering beside her as if she wished she could help carry it.
Going into polite young man mode, Angelo put down his glass of milk and sprinted over to Mom. “Here, Mrs. S. Let me get that for you.”
Mom smiled and relinquished the box to him, which gave me an eyeful of rippling muscle. Apparently the box was heavy.
“Thank you, Angelo,” Mom said. “You can put that down in the dining room, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure thing. I have to get back to the yard work, anyway.”
“I saw you working—you’ve done a great job. I can see why your mother is so proud of you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. S.” Angelo deposited the box on the dining room table, where Mom pointed. “Pru was just letting me have some of her delicious peanut butter cookies. She’s a great cook.”
“Ah. Of course.” Mom gave me a look and then opened the drawer that Dad put money into for things like the newspaper boy and the odd fund-raising effort that came by. She took out a twenty and handed it to Angelo. “Thank you again for your work. And please tell your mother that we enjoyed her casserole very much. Did she get the dish I left by your door?”
“Yes.” Angelo looked toward the front door, obviously eager to get back to work and avoid the undercurrent of tension he no doubt felt from my mother.
I could tell she wanted to tell him we didn’t need him working in our yard. But she didn’t.
“Fine.” It was fine to have the Dorklock around too, I realized. As long as Tobias was with us, Angelo could stay in the kitchen with me forever.
We went into the kitchen and I poured out milk the mortal way for the three of us. Then I opened the tin I had just filled with Angelo’s favorite peanut butter cookies.
I let Angelo have first choice. He took two and said, “These look great. Did you make them yourself?”
“I did.” Which, technically, wasn’t a lie. I
had
made them. There was no need to tell him
how
.
Dorklock, as usual, couldn’t just sit there and shove cookies into his mouth while Angelo and I talked and pretended he wasn’t there. “I’d rather have chocolate chip.”
I wiggled my eyebrows at him to remind him that we had a mortal in the house. “Well, peanut butter is what I have.”
He shrugged. “Okay.” He started to summon a plate, but I quickly walked over and grabbed one out of the cabinet before Angelo could see.
I handed him the plate with my best big-sister scowl. He hurriedly scooped half a dozen cookies onto his plate, then turned to Angelo. “Want to play a video game?”
“Tobias—” He was always trying to get someone to play his games with him. But to poach Angelo? I couldn’t believe he thought I’d let him.
Angelo held up his hand to stop me from scolding Tobias. “I have to finish the yard now. Maybe some other time.” He turned his head to smile at me—a smile that, besides making me feel like the only girl on the planet, also said he knew what a pain little brothers could be.
“Okay.” Dorklock shrugged again and then popped out of the kitchen without a second thought. Fortunately, Angelo had been looking at me, so he didn’t see him disappear. Although when he looked back and noticed Tobias was gone, he said, “He moves fast.”
“Don’t all thirteen-year-old boys?” I started my countdown again, annoyed at my brother for so many reasons, I couldn’t even begin to list them.
“Maybe. But if he’s that fast, he should probably go out for the track team when he hits high school.”
Right. Track team. Sure. “Good idea.”
Just then, Mom came down the back kitchen stairs carrying a box that looked like she’d unearthed it from the attic after years of neglect. I suspected that was true, because our resident housekeeping ghost was walkingbeside her, her hands fluttering beside her as if she wished she could help carry it.
Going into polite young man mode, Angelo put down his glass of milk and sprinted over to Mom. “Here, Mrs. S. Let me get that for you.”
Mom smiled and relinquished the box to him, which gave me an eyeful of rippling muscle. Apparently the box was heavy.
“Thank you, Angelo,” Mom said. “You can put that down in the dining room, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure thing. I have to get back to the yard work, anyway.”
“I saw you working—you’ve done a great job. I can see why your mother is so proud of you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. S.” Angelo deposited the box on the dining room table, where Mom pointed. “Pru was just letting me have some of her delicious peanut butter cookies. She’s a great cook.”
“Ah. Of course.” Mom gave me a look and then opened the drawer that Dad put money into for things like the newspaper boy and the odd fund-raising effort that came by. She took out a twenty and handed it to Angelo. “Thank you again for your work. And please tell your mother that we enjoyed her casserole very much. Did she get the dish I left by your door?”
“Yes.” Angelo looked toward the front door, obviously eager to get back to work and avoid the undercurrent of tension he no doubt felt from my mother.
I could tell she wanted to tell him we didn’t need him working in our yard. But she didn’t.
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