Free Clocks and Robbers by Dan Poblocki Page B

he said no, he would be caught in alie. If he said yes, he’d have to confess. It’s the worst kind of question to hear when you’re feeling guilty:
Do you have something you would like to tell me?”
    Rosie sat up straight and said in a mock-sweet voice, “Well, Sylvester? Is there?”
    They all laughed and grabbed more fries.
    “Only the rest of the story, my dear,” he said with a wink.
    “So what did your uncle do?” asked Woodrow. “Lie or confess?”
    “He confessed. She already knew the truth, of course. But she wasn’t too upset. She said she was actually impressed with his … What did she call it? Resourcefulness.”
    “But how did she know he’d broken the window?” asked Woodrow.
    Sylvester nodded. “And? What do you think?”
    “Your grandmother must have found some broken glass or something,” said Viola. “Ooh! Maybe she cut herself on it.”
    Rosie shook her head. “Sylvester said they cleaned it up.”
    “Sure,” said Viola. “But they could have missed some. Or she might have found shards of glass in the garbage.”
    Sylvester shook his head. “Even if that were true, it wouldn’t be enough to lead my grandmother to the truth of what had happened. Can you guess why that wouldn’t prove anything?”
     
    “If Hal-muh-ni had found broken glass, she couldn’t know that it had come from the window,” guessed Rosie. “It could have been a drinking glass. Or a jar.”
    “Right,” said Sylvester. “Broken glass wouldn’t necessarily mean a broken window, so it had to be a different clue. What was it?”
     
    “Oh!” said Viola. “I know. It was the window itself.”
    “What do you mean?” Woodrow asked.
    “Sylvester said that the fit was perfect. And the glass was brand-new. But the house was old, over sixty years old at that point, and the other panes of glass in the window would
not
be perfect.”
    “Huh,” Rosie murmured, realizing where Viola was going.
    “Sylvester mentioned that the window was streaky. Probably filled with imperfections. Sylvester’s grandmother must have noticed the difference between the old panes and the new one, and realized that the pane had been replaced.”
    “And why do you replace a windowpane?” Rosie said, already knowing the answer.
    “Because the old one was broken,” said Woodrow.
    “You guys got it,” said Sylvester, scooping a huge dollop of ketchup onto the longest fry. “You can tell that one to Bill next time he asks about us.” Woodrow pursed his lips, and Sylvester quickly decided to move on. “So … who’s next?”

15
THE MYSTERY OF THE MISSING
MOUTH GEAR
(A ? MYSTERY)
    “I’ve got more sibling drama,” said Rosie, “if you can believe it.”
    “I believe it,” said Viola. “Your brothers and sisters are always getting into trouble.”
    Woodrow licked his lips, catching some salt with his tongue. “Rosie’s stories make me cherish my only-child-ness.”
    “No way,” said Sylvester. “I’ve heard you say you wish you had a brother or sister plenty of times.”
    Woodrow rolled his eyes. “Why would I need a brother to annoy me when I have
you?”
    “For your information,” Rosie said, “brothers and sisters do not exist simply to bother each other.” She flicked some salt off the table at the boys. “Sometimes they help each other too.”
    “That’s news to me,” said Sylvester. “Gwen does nothing but scream lately. If I have to listen to her anymore, I’m gonna scream myself!”
    “Listen to this instead,” Rosie said, holding up a hand. “My sister Keira has worn a retainer at night ever since she had her braces removed lastyear. The retainer is this small, gross, clear plastic thing that’s supposed to keep her teeth from moving around.”
    “Yuck,” said Viola. “I hope I never have to wear braces.”
    “Keira says they hurt really bad. Her retainer can hurt too. Every once in a while, she’ll wake up in the morning and realize that she’s not wearing it. Sometimes she spits the