Double Fudge

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Book: Double Fudge by Judy Blume Read Free Book Online
Authors: Judy Blume
Tags: Fiction
Pete."
    I shook my head. I didn't believe him for a minute. Not one minute. I knew him too well. He was hiding something. So that night I waited outside his bedroom door. Since he's afraid of monsters he never closes it all the way. He's got night-lights plugged into every outlet in his room. And before he gets into bed he sprays the whole place with monster spray--which is
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    nothing but scented water in a bottle with a fancy label. But he believes in it, so I've promised Mom and Dad I'll never tell.
    This time, when Fudge sang, "Good night... sleep tight," I crept into his room. I could see him on his bed, thumbing through one of his catalogs. "Good night... sleep tight," he sang again. "Don't let the monsters bite."
    "Good night... sleep tight ..." came the reply. Only it wasn't coming from Uncle Feather. It was coming from my brother!
    "Aha!" I called, jumping onto his bed. "Gotcha!"
    Fudge screamed. I guess I really scared him. Then he started bawling.
    Dad came running into Fudge's room, followed by Mom. She picked Fudge up. He clung to her. "What's wrong, Fudgie... tell Mommy... where does it hurt?"
    "You want to know what's wrong?" I said. "I'll tell you."
    "No, Pete!" Fudge screamed through his tears. "No!"
    Mom and Dad looked puzzled. "What's all this about?" Dad asked.
    "I'll tell you what it's about," I said, whipping the cover off Uncle Feather's cage. "Uncle Feather's lost his voice
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    and Fudge has been talking for him. I caught him in the act."
    "What?" Mom said.
    "Your younger son is a good mimic," I said. "He almost got away with it."
    "How long has this been going on?" Dad asked. I half-expected Uncle Feather to answer, It's been going on for weeks now. "It's about time you noticed. "
    "Peter ..." Dad began.
    "Don't ask me," I said. "Ask bird-boy."
    "Fudge ..." Dad said.
    Fudge buried his face in Mom's neck, slobbering all over her.
    "How long has it been since Uncle Feather talked?" Dad asked.
    "Since... since... since ..." Fudge sobbed. "Since Richie Potter's first play date." His face was a mess of snot and saliva.
    "But that was weeks ago," Mom said.
    "I ... I ... I ... gave him my best marble... the green one and ..."
    "You gave Richie Potter your best marble?" Mom said. "That was very generous of you."
    "No!" Fudge cried. "I gave it to Uncle Feather. I put it in his cage and he swallowed it and now he can't talk." That unleashed another round of sobbing.
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    "You fed Uncle Feather a marble?" I asked.
    "I didn't feed him, Pete! I gave it to him to play with. I didn't know he was going to swallow it and stop talking."
    "Wait a minute ..." I said. "How could Uncle Feather swallow a marble? I mean, look at the size of him."
    We all looked over at Uncle Feather, who stared back at us.
    "I gave it to him before I went to school and when Richie Potter came over the marble was gone and Uncle Feather wouldn't talk."
    "Was that the day Richie Potter wanted broccoli for a snack?" Mom asked.
    "Does broccoli have something to do with Fudge's marble?" Dad said.
    "I don't think so," Mom said. "Does it, Fudge?"
    "No!" Fudge started crying again.
    All this time Uncle Feather watched from his cage. If you ask me, he was enjoying the attention.
    The next day Mom called the vet while Fudge danced around her. "Don't forget to tell her about my marble," he kept reminding Mom.
    Finally, Mom said, "My son wants to know if our bird could have swallowed his marble by accident."
    The vet must have said No because Mom shook her
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    head and said, "That's what we thought." Then the vet must have asked Mom questions, because Mom said, "His appetite is fine and he's drinking the same amount of water as usual." After that it was, "He loves his bath." Then, "Oh yes... he's his usual active self. He's just not talking. He won't say a word." Then there were a couple of uh-huhs and three or four I sees from Mom. She reached for a notepad and wrote something down. "Yes... well... thank you so much." Then she hung up the

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