Free Finders Keepers by Shelley Tougas Page A

We’re going to tiptoe up the steps. Then we’ll be ready to get out of here when he’s in the bathroom or something.”
    Ever so slowly we walked up the steps, which creaked but probably not loud enough for old ears to notice. I leaned against the door and listened for clues that Grumpa might be in the kitchen—water running, refrigerator opening and closing, microwave beeping. Nothing.
    I whispered, “It’s quiet, Alex. I think it’s safe.”
    I nudged the door open.
    There he was. Grumpa. Arms crossed, staring at the door, waiting. Alex gasped.
    â€œOut!” Grumpa pointed to the kitchen. We got out fast. Airplane fast. We stood next to the stove and looked very, very sorry. “Did you touch my taxidermy?”
    â€œNo,” I said.
    â€œNo,” Alex said.
    â€œI told you to stay out of the basement. Do your ears need cleaning?”
    â€œNo,” I said.
    â€œNo,” Alex said.
    â€œAround here we have consequences for not listening.”
    Alex and I looked at each other. After we broke the pipes and sunk the canoe and trespassed in the basement, Grumpa might have something terrible in mind. Neil had told Alex that Grumpa had no patience. Grumpa’s face squished together like he was thinking hard. He looked at Alex and then me and then Alex and then me. He waved his finger at us and said, “You break one more rule and you’ll find out what those consequences are.”
    I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling.
    There were no consequences.
    Grumpa was a real grandparent, clearly.
    Grumpa sent us outside with a stack of cookies and more orange soda. I sat on the porch steps and drank from my can while Alex took off his shoes and socks. He tromped around in a circle on the grass.
    He said, “The only good thing about living here is you can walk around outside and not worry about stepping on scorpions or tarantulas. In Arizona you either wear shoes or you die. There’s nothing scary here.”
    I was tired of hearing Alex talk about Arizona. Nothing scary in the Northwoods? Obviously he’d never read a book about Wisconsin. “Around here we don’t need shoes, but we have tornadoes that will suck you into outer space.”
    â€œWe had tornadoes, too. Dust tornadoes. Those are worse because they will suck you into outer space, and your eyes will be scratched by dust.”
    â€œWhen it rains in Wisconsin sometimes it rains so hard and so fast that it washes away entire towns. Who knows? There could be a town under Whitefish Lake from the olden days.”
    â€œIn Arizona—”
    â€œIt doesn’t rain in Arizona, Alex.”
    â€œThere are black widow spiders in Arizona!”
    â€œStop it!” I shouted. “If you like Arizona more then you should just move back! You get to live here, and you’re too stupid to care.”
    My head felt full of flames. If Alex had flames in his head, he didn’t act like it. He bent down and picked up a rock. He calmly said, “Maybe I will move back. When you leave I won’t know anyone and I’ll probably never know anyone. I’ll just run away and live in Arizona so I’ll have something to do.”
    â€œGood. Then you can hang around with…” I couldn’t remember the names of Alex’s friends. “You can be with those guys! What are their stupid names?”
    Alex looked blank.
    â€œTheir names? What are your friends’ names?”
    â€œUm … Billy. My friend is Billy.”
    â€œBilly and who else?”
    He threw the rock across the lawn, across the gravel driveway, toward Olivia Stanger’s sign. He missed, and the rock landed on the edge of the grass by our driveway. He threw another rock and missed with that one, too. Finally he said, “Nobody else. It’s just me and Billy. We don’t play with other kids much. They’re annoying and weird.”
    I knew what Alex was really saying: The other