Read Online Three-Point Play by Todd Hafer - Free Book Online Page A

days. Would Beth make breakfast every morning, the way his mom had? Would mornings be pleasant, yet quiet, the way he liked them? He hoped Beth wasn’t one of those overly cheerful morning people, moving briskly, singing too loudly with the radio, saying stupid stuff like, “Smile, sunshine; it’s a big, bright, brand-new day!”
    â€œIf Beth turns out to be a perky morning person,” Cody mumbled, “I’m gonna have to join the army or the circus or something.”
    He padded to the refrigerator for a can of root beer. Upon his return, he collapsed in his father’s chair, rested his feet on the coffee table, and chugged half the soda. He set the can down, to the left of one of the coasters Beth had purchased, and let out a long, satisfying belch. “Probably won’t be able to do that much longer,” he said ruefully.

    After several minutes of channel surfing, Cody settled on a kung fu movie that seemed promising. However, after an action-packed opening sequence, nearly twenty minutes chugged by without any “kung,” and precious little “fu.”
    The last thing Cody remembered before he drifted to sleep was wishing he hadn’t, in disgust, slid the remote to the opposite end of the coffee table— meaning he’d have to move from his comfortable position to retrieve it.
    When his eyes popped open at 2:45 a.m., he began scrolling through his brain trying to think of a non-terrifying explanation for the sounds coming from his dad’s bedroom upstairs.
    The wind? No, the wind didn’t shuffle coins or jewelry back and forth across the top of a chest of drawers—which constituted the sounds Cody was sure he heard. There was something purposeful about what was going on, as if someone were looking for something in particular. Like a burglar looking for the “good” jewelry. Cody shook his head briskly, trying to focus his thoughts. Did the Martins even own any good jewelry?
    He sat rooted to the chair, willing the sounds to stop. This can’t be real , he told himself. This just can’t be happening.
    Then something clunked to the floor. Too big to be an earring, too small to be a picture frame. A watch, maybe?
    Cody scanned the area around him. Man , he scolded himself, of all nights to have remembered to put the phone on the charger up in my room—instead of tossing it on the couch. Okay, then, that settles it. I’m out the front door, right now. Just as soon as I can get my legs to move.
    He felt sweat forming along his hairline. C’mon , he ordered himself. Get moving. That burglar isn’t going to stay up there forever. If it is a burglar. Could it be Gabe Weitz’s brother? Whoever it is, you gotta move, dude!
    But for some reason he felt glued to the chair. He sucked in three deep breaths. Okay, then, time to, as Blake would say, assess the situation. In fact, maybe it’s Blake up there, just trying to scare me. Get back at me for booting him out—which I am now regretting with all my heart. I’ll call up to him right now. Use my new, deeper puberty voice. Tell him I’m on to him.
    But when Cody opened his mouth, only a soft gasp escaped. He placed both palms on the arms of the chair and lifted himself up. Moving in slow motion, he eased his way to the front door and peered through the diamond-shaped window just below his eye level. There was no car in the driveway and nothing parked along the sidewalk either. He cupped his hand around the doorknob, ready to twist it and dash from the house.
    Then he remembered Mom’s wedding ring. Last he knew, it still rested in a jewelry box atop the chest of drawers. His dad kept saying he wanted to do something special with it, but he hadn’t decided what.
    Cody shook his head in disbelief. The ring was probably the only thing of value up there. The thief would be sure to take it. And Cody couldn’t let that happen.
    Moments later, Cody shuffled toward