Goosebumps 2 Stay Out of the Basement
Chapter 1
“Hey, Dad—catch!”
Casey tossed the Frisbee across the smooth, green lawn. Casey’s dad made a face,
squinting into the sun. The Frisbee hit the ground and skipped a few times before
landing under the hedge at the back of the house.
“Not today. I’m busy,” Dr. Brewer said, and abruptly turned and loped into the
house. The screen door slammed behind him.
Casey brushed his straight blond hair back off his forehead. “What’s his
problem?” he called to Margaret, his sister, who had watched the whole scene from
the side of the redwood garage.
“You know,” Margaret said quietly. She wiped her hands on the legs of her jeans
and held them both up, inviting a toss. “I’ll play Frisbee with you for a little while,”
she said.
“Okay,” Casey said without enthusiasm. He walked slowly over to retrieve the
Frisbee from under the hedge.
Margaret moved closer. She felt sorry for Casey. He and their dad were really
close, always playing ball or Frisbee or Nintendo together. But Dr. Brewer didn’t
seem to have time for that anymore.
Jumping up to catch the Frisbee, Margaret realized she felt sorry for herself, too.
Dad hadn’t been the same to her, either. In fact, he spent so much time down in the
basement, he barely said a word to her.
He doesn’t even call me Princess anymore, Margaret thought. It was a nickname
she hated. But at least it was a nickname, a sign of closeness.
She tossed the red Frisbee back. A bad toss. Casey chased after it, but it sailed
away from him. Margaret looked up to the golden hills beyond their backyard.
California, she thought.
It’s so weird out here. Here it is, the middle of winter, and there isn’t a cloud in
the sky, and Casey and I are out in jeans and T-shirts as if it were the middle of
summer.
She made a diving catch for a wild toss, rolling over on the manicured lawn and
Casey tossed the Frisbee across the smooth, green lawn. Casey’s dad made a face,
squinting into the sun. The Frisbee hit the ground and skipped a few times before
landing under the hedge at the back of the house.
“Not today. I’m busy,” Dr. Brewer said, and abruptly turned and loped into the
house. The screen door slammed behind him.
Casey brushed his straight blond hair back off his forehead. “What’s his
problem?” he called to Margaret, his sister, who had watched the whole scene from
the side of the redwood garage.
“You know,” Margaret said quietly. She wiped her hands on the legs of her jeans
and held them both up, inviting a toss. “I’ll play Frisbee with you for a little while,”
she said.
“Okay,” Casey said without enthusiasm. He walked slowly over to retrieve the
Frisbee from under the hedge.
Margaret moved closer. She felt sorry for Casey. He and their dad were really
close, always playing ball or Frisbee or Nintendo together. But Dr. Brewer didn’t
seem to have time for that anymore.
Jumping up to catch the Frisbee, Margaret realized she felt sorry for herself, too.
Dad hadn’t been the same to her, either. In fact, he spent so much time down in the
basement, he barely said a word to her.
He doesn’t even call me Princess anymore, Margaret thought. It was a nickname
she hated. But at least it was a nickname, a sign of closeness.
She tossed the red Frisbee back. A bad toss. Casey chased after it, but it sailed
away from him. Margaret looked up to the golden hills beyond their backyard.
California, she thought.
It’s so weird out here. Here it is, the middle of winter, and there isn’t a cloud in
the sky, and Casey and I are out in jeans and T-shirts as if it were the middle of
summer.
She made a diving catch for a wild toss, rolling over on the manicured lawn and
raising the Frisbee above her head triumphantly.
“Show off,” Casey muttered, unimpressed.
“You’re the hot dog in the family,” Margaret called.
“Well, you’re a dork.”
“Hey, Casey—you want me to play with you or not?”
He shrugged.
Everyone was so edgy these days, Margaret realized.
It was easy to figure out why.
“Show off,” Casey muttered, unimpressed.
“You’re the hot dog in the family,” Margaret called.
“Well, you’re a dork.”
“Hey, Casey—you want me to play with you or not?”
He shrugged.
Everyone was so edgy these days, Margaret realized.
It was easy to figure out why.
Langganan:
Posting Komentar
(
Atom
)
Tidak ada komentar :
Posting Komentar