Tree House Trouble
Page 2
“Stacy doesn’t have a tree house,” Eric insisted. “Does she?”
“Well, I’m not dreaming. Am I?” Jason laughed. “Let’s have a closer look.”
Abby bit her lip. What could they do?
Stacy whispered, “I think they’re coming up.”
Abby’s heart sank. Their secret was history!
FIVE
“Private property!” shouted Abby.
Eric and Jason stopped in their tracks. “Says who?” Jason hollered. He was halfway up the tree.
Stacy stood up, hugging her puppy. “You’re not invited,” she said.
“And we’re not kidding,” Abby spouted.
Eric frowned. “How come? It’s just us—Jason and me.”
“We’re not blind,” Abby snapped. “We know who you are.”
Jason shouted, “What’s your problem, Abby Hunter?”
“Nothing,” she said.
Eric tugged on Jason’s shirt. “C’mon. Looks like a private tea party to me.”
Abby felt funny. “Sorry, boys. We . . . uh . . . started a new club,” she explained.
Jason and Eric were standing at the base of the tree. Their flashlights were still shining.
“What happened to the Cul-de-sac Kids club?” asked Eric.
“Yeah, what about us?” Jason said.
Abby swallowed hard. She didn’t know what to say.
“We’re having a sleep-over tonight,” Stacy offered. “Just us girls.”
Eric flicked off his flashlight. “C’mon, Jason, let’s go.”
Then Jason began to sing. “Nanny, nanny, boo-boo. We’ll just have to sue you.”
“Don’t be silly,” Abby spoke up. “You can’t sue us for having a sleep-over.”
“We’ll see what the other Cul-de-sac Kids say,” Jason said.
“Yeah, we’ll just see,” said Eric.
Now Abby was worried.
But . . . wait. She was the president. The Cul-de-sac Kids couldn’t do anything without her. Could they?
“Jason! Come back here,” she called. “Don’t cause trouble for the club.”
“Me . . . cause trouble? Who’re you kidding?” He turned and laughed. Then ran for the garden gate.
Stacy started climbing down the tree.
“Where are you going?” Abby said.
“We need sleeping bags, right?” Stacy asked.
“Some snack food, too,” Abby replied. She followed her friend down.
“Hurry back,” Stacy called and ran to her house.
“I won’t be long,” Abby promised, heading home.
What else could go wrong?
SIX
Abby was coming out of her bedroom.
Ka-poof! She bumped into her sister in the hallway.
Carly stared at the sleeping bag. “What’s that for?” she asked.
“It’s for sleeping,” said Abby.
“Outside?” asked Carly.
“Where else?” Abby replied.
“Mommy!” Carly wailed.
Abby shook her head. When would her sister grow up?
She hurried to the kitchen. The cookie jar was full. Double dabble good! She filled her backpack with goodies.
Two bags of crackers.
Some mild cheese.
Half a loaf of bread.
Peanut butter and jelly.
One plastic knife.
Four napkins (just in case).
A thermos of milk.
Two drinking straws.
Four oatmeal cookies.
And two apples.
She hurried to the door. Her sleeping bag was rolled up in one arm. Her backpack in the other.
Now she was ready.
But someone was coming toward the kitchen. She heard fingers snapping. And humming.
It was Shawn! She was sure of it.
Where could she hide?
Not the pantry. Too skinny.
Under the sink? Too crowded.
Behind the refrigerator? Too heavy.
Think fast! Could she make it to the back door?
Zip-p-p!
She flew past the fridge, sink, and pantry.
Whoosh!
She was gone. Outside.
Too close, she thought.
Relieved, Abby headed for the garden gate.
Squeak! The screen door opened behind her.
“That you, Abby?” It was Jimmy.
She turned to see her little brother. He was hanging out the door.
“Oh, hi.” She faced him the best she could. Didn’t want him to see her backpack, especially.
He stared at the sleeping bag. “Why . . . you . . . sleep outside?” he asked. His English was still jumbled up. Jimmy had been adopted, from Korea.
Abby looked at the sky. “It’s a nice night. Don’t you think so?”
Jimmy peered up. “Yes, very nice.” It sounded like velly nice.
Abby didn’t mind. She just wanted him to go back inside. But she didn’t say that. He might get too curious. “When you’re older, you’ll sleep outside, too,” she told him.
“I old . . . NOW!” He came outside and stood up tall. “Jimmy Hunter very old.”
Abby laughed. “First graders are NOT old,” she said.
“Are too!” he insisted.
Now what? she wondered. She didn’t want him to follow her. “Isn’t Mom calling you?” she asked.
Jimmy cocked his head and listened. “Not hear mother.”
“But you’re hungry, right?” she tried again.
“I watch Abby put treats in bag.” He pointed to her backpack.
The snoop!
“There’s plenty more in the kitchen,” she hinted.
Across the fence, Stacy was calling, “Abby! Hurry up!”
Abby felt trapped. “Time for supper,” she told Jimmy. “Better go inside now.”
But Jimmy was pushy. “I eat outside . . . with big sister.”
He was being impossible. Definitely.
“I have to get going,” Abby said. “Maybe some other time.”
“NOW!” Jimmy stamped his foot. “Eat with sister now!”
Just then Shawn showed up. So did Carly. “What’s going on?” Carly asked.
“It’s nothing,” Abby said.
“Is something!” Jimmy shouted.
“Well, Mom said to wash up,” Carly bossed.
Abby kept quiet. She was tired of fussing.
Shawn spoke to Jimmy in Korean. Then they went inside.
But Carly stayed. “Where are you going, Abby?” she asked.
“To Stacy’s.”
“What for?” Carly asked.
“Mom knows, so it’s okay,” Abby said.
Carly squinted her eyes. “Why can’t you tell me?”
“You don’t need to know everything,” said Abby.
“Better tell me!”
“I don’t have to,” Abby answered. “Good-bye.” She hurried through the backyard gate. Carly’s such a pain, she thought.
Abby was glad she had a best friend. And the new Best Friends Club!
She couldn’t wait to get back to the tree house. The private clubhouse.
She dashed across Stacy’s yard.
But . . .
Plop! She dropped her sleeping bag. It rolled down the slope. Abby reached for it, and the string came untied.
“What’s taking so long?” Stacy asked. She was high atop the tree. In the wonderful tree house.
“Everything’s going wrong,” Abby muttered. She tied up her sleeping bag again.
“Did you see my sign?” Stacy leaned out of the tree house. She was pointing to something.
“What sign?” Abby turned to look.
“Down there,” Stacy said. She was shining a flashlight.
Abby saw the sign. She read it aloud. “ ‘No Boys Allowed.’ ”
“Like it?” Stacy asked.
“It’s double dabble good!” said Abby.
She dragged her sleeping bag across the yard. Then she be
gan to climb the tree. Partway up, a tickle hit her nose!
“Oh no. Not again,” Abby complained.
“What?” Stacy called down from the tree house.
“I have to sneeze,” Abby said.
“Don’t drop your sleeping bag,” Stacy said.
Abby couldn’t stop the sneeze. “AH-H-CHOO!”
“Bless you” came a voice. A weird froggy voice. It didn’t sound like Stacy. Not one bit.
“Oh, great,” moaned Abby. “Guess who’s back.”
Stacy peeked out the tree house window. “Jason? What’re you doing here?” she called to him.
“R-r-r-ribit,” Jason’s froggy voice replied.
Abby kept climbing. Faster.
Jason teased. “Well, look-ee there. Abby Hunter’s playing Tarzan!”
Who-o-osh! Abby swung over to the tree house. She found Stacy’s flashlight and turned it on.
Looking down, she saw Jason and Eric. They were standing at the bottom of the tree.
“You silly frog boy,” she called to Jason.
Stacy agreed. “Hey, you’re right. Jason does look like a frog. Especially at night.” Stacy was laughing.
So was Abby. But the boys weren’t.
Eric pointed to the sign. “What’s this supposed to mean?”
Stacy smirked. “Exactly what it says.”
Jason sneezed. Three times.
“God bless you,” Abby repeated three times.
Eric spoke up. “Are you really starting up another club? Without the rest of us?”
“We haven’t decided yet,” Stacy said.
“Yes, we have,” Abby replied. “Our club’s already begun.”
Jason chirped some froggy sounds. “We’ll see about that,” he said.
“We sure will,” Eric added.
They left as quickly as they’d come.
“What was that all about?” Stacy asked Abby.
“I’m sure we’ll find out,” Abby said.
“Sooner or later,” said Stacy.
Abby hoped it wouldn’t be too soon. She was ready for a supper snack. And a cozy bed under the stars.
Without nose tickles.
SEVEN
It was past midnight.
Abby awoke with a tickle. A foot tickle!
She reached into her sleeping bag. Down . . . down . . . down. She scratched and scratched. Ah-h! Much better.
Soon she fell back to sleep.
Seconds later . . . another tickle. This time it was her elbow. She scratched it and snuggled down.
Another tickle tickled her. She must be dreaming. So she let the tickle go.
Soon it really tickled. Like a bunch of cooties!
In her sleepy fog, Abby thought of cooties. They had tickled her little sister once. Cooties had ended up in Carly’s hair.
Lice. That’s what Mother had called them.
Yuk! Abby shivered.
Now there were more tickles. Lots more. Abby knew she wasn’t dreaming! She had to scratch the tickles away.
Quickly, she crawled out of her sleeping bag. She started to scratch, but the tickles were moving. These were very weird tickles. They were tickles that crawled!
She hoped they weren’t lice. She wanted to scream. But Stacy was sound asleep. She didn’t want to wake up her friend.
Abby turned on her flashlight. She saw the reason for the tickles. They weren’t lice. They were . . .
“Ants!” she hollered.
Stacy sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Wh-a-at?”
“Look! We’ve got ants!” Abby said. She pointed to the little black dots. Crawling dots. Crawling black tickles.
Stacy leaped out of her sleeping bag. She did a little ant dance. “This is worse than a bad dream,” she said.
Ants tickled the floor of the tree house. They crawled up the walls. And all over the windowsill. They even dotted the girls’ pillows.
They were everywhere!
“I’m getting out of here,” Abby said. She picked up her sleeping bag and shook it.
Stacy did, too.
The girls looked all around.
“We must’ve dropped food scraps,” Abby said.
Stacy shined her flashlight around. “But I don’t see any scraps. Just icky black ants!”
The girls tossed their sleeping bags to the ground. They scurried down the tree. Their sleep-over was over.
“See ya tomorrow,” Stacy said. And she headed for her house.
“Bye!” Abby called and turned to go.
Suddenly, something caught her eye. A glass object—long and narrow. She went to the base of the tree. “An ant farm? What’s it doing here?”
She noticed something strange. The ant farm had been tipped over.
“Who would do this?” she asked the darkness.
Then she knew.
Jason and Eric!
“Is this their idea of getting even?” Abby almost laughed. She was double dabble sure she was right. The boys were mad because they couldn’t be in the new club. The Best Friends Club.
Silly boys. Their ant farm couldn’t scare her away.
Nope! She knew what she must do.
Right away.
EIGHT
Abby hosed down the tree house with Stacy’s garden hose.
Swoosh! She sprayed everything in sight.
Things got a bit soggy, except her sleeping bag. She put it on Stacy’s back porch.
It was a warm night. The tree house would dry out fast.
Abby shook her sleeping bag again. She turned it inside out. She checked every corner. Still a few more ants. A few dozen!
She flicked the stray ants off with her fingers. One . . . by . . . one. Just like cooties. Yee-uck!
Finally, the ants were gone.
Abby climbed back up to the tree house. She felt the wood floor. Still damp. She’d wait a little longer.
Then she spied the patio pillows in her backyard. They were waterproof. She decided to borrow them. Just for tonight.
Soon the pillows were laid out. She unrolled her sleeping bag on top of them. She couldn’t wait to guard the hideout. She would sleep in the tree house. All by herself. Her very own tree house. At least for tonight.
When morning came, Abby peeked one eye open.
No more ants. All clear!
She rubbed her eyes and sat up.
Flump! Something soft tapped her head. She looked up. White strips of paper floated above her. “Someone was very busy last night. I think I know who.”
A toilet paper tent hung over the tree house. Like a huge spider web!
Abby laughed. “Wait’ll Stacy sees this.”
She got up and climbed down the tree. Stepping back, she looked at the oak tree. Her eyes scanned the huge trunk.
Then she saw it! Someone had marked out the word “boys” on Stacy’s sign. Now it read: No Girls Allowed.
Abby frowned. “Wait’ll Stacy sees this,” she said.
Jason and Eric were acting like big babies. They had no right to spoil the sign!
She thought and thought. The boys were out very late last night.
Hm-m . . . She could get Jason and Eric in BIG trouble. All she’d have to do is tattle.
Should I? she wondered.
Abby stopped Stacy in the hall before Sunday school. “I think Jason and Eric decorated our tree house.”
“I’m not surprised,” Stacy said. “My mom saw it, too. But let’s not tattle.”
“Why not? They deserve it,” Abby said.
“They deserve something else, too,” Stacy replied.
“What?” asked Abby.
“I think you already know.” Stacy turned to the classroom.
What’s she mean? Abby wondered. She followed Stacy to Sunday school. The older Cul-de-sac Kids were already sitting down. Shawn, Abby’s Korean brother, was grinning at her. So was Dunkum, the tallest boy on Blossom Hill Lane.
Jason and Eric were smiling, too.
Abby sat beside Stacy. “What’s so funny?”
Just then a folded note landed on Abby’s lap. She opened it.
The note read: Remember the CDS Kids’ Motto? Signed: The CDS Boys.
Abby handed the note to Stacy.
Stacy read it. “Looks like the boys are in this together.”
Abby nodded. “No kidding.”
Stacy pulled on her curls. “Shouldn’t we share the tree house with them?”
Abby couldn’t believe her ears. “Are you crazy?” she whispered. “No way!”
The teacher arrived. It was time to begin.
Stacy opened her Sunday school book. She stared at the lesson. “Look at this.” She showed Abby. “It’s about sharing.”
Abby wasn’t surprised. She’d read verses like this before. She looked over at Jason and Eric. They were still smiling. Big smiles.
Rats! They’re grinning about the lesson, thought Abby. Well, they could just keep smiling. She wouldn’t give up the tree house. Not yet!
NINE
It was after dinner. Abby dashed to the tree house.
Someone had removed all the toilet paper. Probably Stacy’s grandpa, thought Abby.
Soon Shawn and Dunkum showed up. Eric and Jason, too.
“We’re coming up! Ready or not!” Jason yelled.
“No way!” Abby shouted back. “Wrap me up in toilet paper if you want to. Cover me with black ants. I’m not giving up this tree house!”
Dunkum looked surprised. “Why not? The tree house is big enough for everyone.”
Abby looked around her. Dunkum was right. The tree house was big. Still, she didn’t want to share. “Stacy!” she called toward the house. “Stacy, come!”
Her friend ran out the back door. She stared at the boys. “What’s going on now?” Stacy asked.
Jason spoke up. “We wanna have a meeting. In the tree house.”
“But we always meet at Dunkum’s,” Stacy argued.
Jason didn’t give up. “The tree house is better,” he said. “And you know it!”
Stacy looked up at the old oak tree. “So . . . you like MY tree house?” she said.
Abby held her breath. Stacy had called the tree house hers!
Shawn, Abby’s adopted brother, piped up. “Please, Stacy? We have very short meeting. Yes?”
Stacy looked over at Abby. And Abby felt funny. Real funny.
“It’s time for something different.” Jason was getting pushy.