Free The Graham Cracker Plot by Shelley Tougas Page A

Ashley said.
    My stomach growled. Nobody delivered pizza to people on gravel roads. The peanut butter sandwiches were in the car, but the storm scared us, and we should save our food if we could. “Maybe … maybe…”
    â€œMaybe what?” Graham’s voice demanded action.
    â€œMaybe we should go upstairs and make something to eat.”
    Graham shook his head. “They might come home.”
    â€œIf they come home, they’ll either find us in the basement or the kitchen. What’s the difference? We’ll tell them the truth. We got lost in a storm. We’re hungry, and you have ear cancer.”
    Nobody argued.
    *   *   *
    We ate canned pineapple, baked beans, and pickles, and then we shared a box of cinnamon-flavored cereal without milk.
    â€œTastes like cinnamon toast.” Graham was happy again. He pointed at the picture on the wall by the table. It was Jesus and the Last Supper. “Check it out! They probably would have given us all this food because they’re church people.”
    Ashley tossed her blond-and-pink locks over her shoulder and blew a kiss at the picture. “Thank you Jesus and friends!”
    The thunder rumbled from a distance now, and the rain only pitter-pattered.
    Graham looked at me. “We could probably go.”
    â€œNo!” Ashley slapped her hands on the table. “No driving in the rain. No driving! In the rain!”
    â€œWe can’t stay here,” he said. “So what now, Daisy?”
    â€œI don’t know. This isn’t in the notebook.”
    â€œWell, you better figure it out!”
    â€œWhy don’t you figure it out?” I yelled.
    â€œBecause the Chemist is your dad!”
    â€œWho’s the Chemist?” Ashley asked.
    The worries were back in my head, but bigger than before. What a nightmare. Getting lost. The storm. The time. We’d missed the smoke break at Club Fed. We’d already stayed too long at the farmhouse. When were the church people coming home? Where would we sleep?
    Kari had probably noticed we were gone by now—really gone, not just goofing around. And she probably was looking for us already, probably wondering if Frank the Creeper had us locked away. And that was good. If we’d left a note, she’d have clues instead of suspecting Frank the Creeper. The longer the cops talked to Kari—and maybe to Frank the Creeper—the more time we had.
    Graham slapped his hand on the table. When he lifted his palm, the Idea Coin gleamed under the kitchen light.
    â€œThe Idea Coin. Use it.”
    â€œI don’t know. What if I burn up the energy? We might need it later.” Still, I put my finger on it. My whole hand tingled.
    Ashley looked at me, then Graham. “What’s an Idea Coin?”
    â€œI don’t think we have a choice,” Graham said. “I did it last time. You go.”
    â€œWho’s the Chemist and what’s an Idea Coin?”
    â€œDaisy’s dad is the Chemist,” Graham told Ashley, “and the coin is our way outta this crap-crusted mess.”
    â€œDon’t chemists pollute the world with chemicals?” Ashley said. “You sure he doesn’t belong in prison?”
    â€œThe Chemist is the other kind of chemist. He makes experiments.”
    â€œSo he’s cool?”
    â€œHe’s the best chemist in the world.” I meant Dad, but he was the Chemist forever and ever.
    â€œThen he shouldn’t be locked up,” Ashley said. “Why do people have to be in prison for things that aren’t their fault?”
    â€œRight on, Sister Ashley!” Graham high-fived her.
    I was done talking about the Chemist. The Idea Coin. It called to me.
    The coin shimmered pretty well for being created in 1919. I used my finger to drag it to the edge of the table. I clutched it in my right hand and pressed it against my heart. Then I licked it and stuck it to my forehead and closed my