Read Online The Crossroads by Chris Grabenstein - Free Book Online

really,” said the tough guy.
    â€œOkay,” said Zack. “We’d better go home, Dad.”
    Zipper barked in agreement.
    â€œJust a minute,” his father said. “Boys, I’m George Jennings. We just moved in—down the street. The Victorian there.”
    â€œWhat’s a Victorian?”
    â€œA famous style of architecture.”
    Another snort from Tough Stuff. “Looks like a dollhouse.”
    â€œThat’s right. Most dollhouses are fashioned after Victorian homes. What’s your name, son?”
    â€œKyle. Kyle Snertz.”
    â€œDo you live around here?”
    â€œDuh.”
    Zack’s father chose to ignore Snertz’s sarcasm.
    â€œThis is my son, Zack. Zack? Say hi to Kyle.”
    â€œHey,” Zack mumbled.
    Kyle Snertz snorted back some more wet stuff. The guy seemed to have a ton of snot stuck inside his nose.
    â€œSay, guess what?” Zack’s father said to Kyle.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWe’re going to build a tree fort!”
    â€œWe are?” The news flash surprised Zack.
    Kyle was suddenly interested. “Cool. You gonna steal wood and junk from the construction sites?”
    â€œNo.” Zack’s father chuckled. “We’re not going to
steal
anything. I thought we’d run out to Home Depot. You guys are welcome to come along with us if you’d like.” The cell phone clipped to his belt started chirping. “Excuse me, fellas.” He walked away to take the call.
    The other boys moved in behind Kyle. Zack could tell he was their leader. The alpha dog.
    â€œSo, four-eyes,” Kyle sneered low so Zack’s dad couldn’t hear. “You live in a dollhouse?”
    Zack didn’t answer. Kyle was big. The boys who wanted to beat him up usually were. Big and moist.
    Kyle moved closer. Close enough that Zack could smell his sweat and know it stank like rancid chicken soup. “Seeing how you live in a dollhouse, maybe we should call you Barbie from now on.”
    Great. A nickname. Like Stinky or Ratfink, only worse.
    â€œMy name is Zack.” He mumbled it to the dirt.
    â€œNo, it’s not,
Barbie
.”
    Zipper snapped at the boy’s ankle.
    â€œHey! If your stupid dog bites me, I swear I’ll sue!” Kyle used both hands to smack Zack hard in the chest.
    â€œHey, hey, hey.” Zack’s dad saw the shove, closed up his cell. “What seems to be the problem?”
    â€œStupid dog tried to bite me.”
    â€œWhoa,” said Zack’s father. “Take it easy there, Kyle.”
    â€œAhhhhh, bite me, old man.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI said, ‘Bite me, old man.’ What’s the matter? You deaf?”
    â€œOkay. I’m going to have a word with your parents. Where exactly do you live?”
    â€œThat’s for me to know and you to find out!”
    â€œDad?” Zack tugged at his father’s arm. “Let’s go home.”
    Kyle Snertz spat on the ground. Zack knew what it meant: “Don’t come back unless you want trouble.”

    â€œSo who called?” Zack asked when they were a couple hundred feet up the street.
    â€œWork. About my business trip next week.”
    â€œMalaysia?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œCool.”
    â€œHey, Barbie,” Kyle Snertz yelled after them. “Have fun in your
tree fort
!”
    The way Snertz said “tree fort” made it sound like the sissiest thing any boy could ever do.
    It also made Zack wish he could fly away to Malaysia with his father.
    Either Malaysia or Timbuktu.

As the sun goes down, he sees an old man sitting on the stump of what used to be his tree.
    He doesn’t wish to be seen, so he isn’t.
    He would like to kill the geezer who long ago tried to chop down his tree. But he can’t. He can’t do much besides make noise and, if he tries real hard, rattle things.
    Now something draws him toward the house. Something strong. He drifts out