Read Online The Miracle Stealer by Neil Connelly - Free Book Online Page B

could a judge do?”
    â€œGive me custody.”
    â€œLegal custody of your brother? That makes sense. After all, your mom only feeds him dog food and makes him live in that ratty cardboard box. You’ve had crazier ideas, but I can’t think of one right now.”
    I’d figured the same thing, but I guess I had to have somebody else say it.
    Jeff asked, “Any chance your dad might help?”
    Looking out my window, I pictured his Jeep driving off in the snow. I said, “No chance.”
    â€œBut are you sure he even knows—”
    â€œDrop it.”
    â€œJust asking. I didn’t realize it was bite-Jeff’s-head-off day.”
    â€œI don’t mean to be pissy,” I said. “I just don’t know what to do.”
    We fell quiet again. That delivery guy drove off in his truck.
    â€œOkay,” Jeff said. “The first step in productive solutions is framing the nature of the problem.”
    I gave Jeff a look. “Where’d you hear that crap?”
    â€œProfessor Mullins. Applications in Critical Thinking.”
    â€œThe class you got a B in?”
    â€œSeriously, tell me as clearly as you can exactly what you want.”
    I decided to play along. “I want everybody to leave Daniel alone. Forever.”
    â€œAll right. Now, what actions could affect that change?”
    I thought about this, then held up my empty hands. “If the whole world forgot about the rescue and all the stuff afterward?”
    â€œI’m not sure we can enforce global amnesia. That solution is non-workable.”
    â€œRight,” I said.
    â€œBut what if something happened to make the people who believe in Daniel think maybe they were wrong? That they’ve been wrong all along?”
    â€œThat’d be kick-ass. But I think your solution is non-workable too.”
    â€œSeriously. We could say it was all a hoax in the first place—isn’t that what the Scarecrow dude said?”
    â€œNow we’re taking our plans from nutjobs?”
    â€œI’m just throwing out ideas,” Jeff said. “It’s called brainstorming.”
    â€œIt’s called a waste of time,” I said. I looked at the watch on Jeff’s wrist. “Your dad has got to be wondering what’s keeping you. If he calls your mom, she’ll be worried.”
    Jeff stared at me, then started the ignition and pulled back onto Roosevelt Road. A few silent minutes later, we reached the driveway that winds down to Camp Anderson and he pulled over to the side. “I didn’t mean to get you all ticked off.”
    â€œI was upset when I came to find you.”
    â€œSevere emotional states are not conducive to productive—”
    I pressed my hand up to his mouth. “I’ve had about enough of Professor Mullins.”
    His eyes looked hurt. Beneath the tips of my fingers, I felt the coolness of his lips, the soft hush of his breath. I lowered my hand and opened the door. “But I’m glad I came and found you.”
    â€œI want to help,” he said as I turned. “It’s not easy fighting miracles.”
    â€œNo,” I said. “It pretty much sucks.” I hopped out and slammed the creaky door. I started walking, not looking back, but I didn’t hear him pull away until I was halfway down the drive. Kicking at the gravel, I thought about Jeff’s words: fighting miracles .
    The truck wasn’t back yet, so I knew the house would be empty. Up on the porch, something on the swing caught my eye. I thought at first it was a Pennysaver or some advertisement, but as I stepped closer, I recognized it: It was one of Daniel’s coverless comics. Resting on top of the comic were a couple of small sticks. The two twigs had been tied with a pine needle to form the shape of a cross. I picked up this strange talisman, turned it over and back. On the first page of the comic, Superman stood before the entrance tothe Fortress of