Free Lawn Boy Returns by Gary Paulsen Page A

I caught a whiff of him.
    “So, uh, where do you live?” I asked.
    “Oh, ya know, here ’n’ there. I was passin’ through town and heard about my cuz Joey from a buddy.”
    “Uh-huh. What, exactly, did you hear?”
    “I heard Joey’s gettin’ ready for a big fight. Bruiser Bulk—ain’t he the Upper Midwest heavyweight champ? From what I hear, Joey’s got a shot at takin’ the title.”
    I looked over at Grandma and Joey. She’d put her hands up in front of her face and Joey was, very gently, tapping them with loose fists as she taunted him. “Is that all you’ve got? C’mon, let’s see some speed and power.” Never mind that if Joey so much as flicked her with his forefinger and thumb, he’d propel her into next week.
    I looked back at Zed, who had been studying me with the same look that I see in the neighbor’s cat’s eyes when she watches baby birds learning to fly.
    “I heard how ya got stinkin’ rich this summer.” Zed smiled, and I got a chill down my spine when I saw his teeth. They looked like he’d sharpened them with a file.
    I thought: I’m not the only one who needs someone to keep an eye on them for the next few days.
    “So, what do you do for a living?” I asked.
    “Oh, ya know, this ’n’ that. I’m between jobs now an’ it seems to me Joey could use a good corner man, and who’s better to have on yer side than fam’ly? Plus I don’t go all squeamish at the sighta blood ’n’ guts.”
    Uh-huh.
    “Hey, bud.” Zed looked around and nodded. “Ya got a nice spread. Figger I can park my rig here? The parkin’ lot at Joey’s place don’t have much room.”
    “You could, um, probably stay here while you’re in town. For a few days. I guess. Because Joey’s real busy getting ready for the fight.” And I’d rather have you where I can see you, I silently finished. Looking out for Joey’s interests was part of my sponsorship responsibilities.
    “That’s real sportin’ of ya, pal, don’t mind if I do.” Zed looked way too happy about the chance to park in our driveway.
    I broke up Grandma and Joey’s boxing lesson. “Zed’s going to park here for a few days.” Grandma didn’t seem to be bothered that we had just brought down the property values of the entire neighbourhoodby offering to host this rusted-out piece of garbage. Meanwhile, Joey helped Zed plug in the world’s longest extension cord from his camper to our garage.
    Then Joey took off for his midmorning training session (not to be confused with his early-morning workout and, of course, nothing like his late-morning weight lifting). Grandma went inside to rest her eyes (that’s what she calls taking a nap), and Zed—after blowing his nose without using a tissue, sending a snot rocket onto the perfectly mowed lawn—thumped up the step into his “rig” and started to fry up some roadkill he’d scraped off the interstate. At least that’s how it smelled.
    And that was how the bad part started.

2
The Status Quo in Economic Endeavors—at Best, an Unreliable Concept
    I stood on the driveway for a second, wondering: How was I going to handle Zed? Because I had a really strong sense that Zed was a problem. A big problem. Epic. The kind of problem I didn’t want a nice guy like Joey to face on his own. I wished I could ask my parents for advice, because they always approach a problem calmly and thoughtfully, but I knew that if I told them about Zed while they were gone, they’d worry about me and Grandma and Joey. And they really deserved a couple of days up north without any worries, because they workedreally hard, Dad with all his inventions and Mom teaching math. I wanted them to enjoy the little vacation they’d taken.
    Then I glanced at my watch and realized I was running late. I walked into the garage and took the tarp off my lawn mower.
    Every evening when I come home from work, I take a rag and wipe all the loose grass and dirt from the riding mower, and then I cover it with a big tarp. I