Free The Puzzle Master by Heather Spiva

before he asked (even if that meant mowing the lawn for free) let Leila whine and tell on him if she pleased, and clean up Mason’s side of the room—bed and all. He had to, or be banned from fun.
    He’d had trouble falling asleep last night, which didn’t help when Leila whined to help her with her cereal. His head was in a fog. All he could think about was that Iris had cancer—or used to. Even when she sloshed her cereal across the kitchen table, and it ended up all over his lap, Marshall didn’t yell. He just got up and went to the sink to grab the dishrag.
    Mason was at the table too, but Marshall hadn’t noticed.
    He had a mouth full of cereal and stopped chewing after watching his brother do whatever he needed to do without talking back, or telling Leila to be quiet. “What’s gotten into you Marsh?”
    “Huh?” Marshall went to the table to clean up the milk. Mom and dad were still in bed, trying to sleep in. But the cartoons were blaring a bit loud. Just the way Leila liked them.
    “Why are you so, I don’t know, not here?” Mason returned to chewing, and began slurping the milk out of his bowl.
    “I’m here,” he lied and finished wiping up the mess. “I just didn’t sleep well, is all. Why do you care?”
    “I didn’t hear you breathing funny or coughing. What, is that Iris girl keeping you awake?” Mason raised his eyebrows. “She sure is pretty.”
    “You shut up about her,” Marshall hissed. “She’s my friend.”
    Mason smirked and looked back into his bowl. “Sure, Marsh, whatever you say.”
        “Ooh, you’re not supposed to say that word,” Leila interjected. “I’m telling on Mom that you said shut up.” She skipped out of the kitchen, sing- songing her tattle.
    Marshall sighed and took the milk soaked rag back to the sink to rinse it out. If he didn’t, it would stink up the kitchen, and he’d be to blame. He had to think of everything, absolutely everything . There had to be nothing they could question; nothing they could blame on him. He had to get to Luke’s at four. The big one waiting there in a pile was weighing heavy on him. They had to get started so he could get his big prize, to win the bet. It would mean he could join Michael’s group. That is, if they thought an old fishing pole was cool. They probably would, just knowing how much it was worth and not because they liked antiques.
    But as he put his cereal bowl in the sink, he was beginning to wonder if he even wanted to be in their stupid club anymore.
    ***
    That afternoon, other than going to Luke’s, he was running out of ideas to keep himself busy. He thought about swimming, but his neighbor Jerry had the flu, and he probably didn’t feel like swimming. It would’ve been nice to get a last summer swim in before autumn set in. And Jerry was just a few houses down. Maybe he was better?
    Marshall went out to the garage and grabbed his bike. He rode over to Jerry’s house and rang the bell but no one answered. He figured as much. The flu was terrible, like a hundred bad things happening to you at once. It made you wish you didn’t have to feel anything; no pain, no feeling, nothing.
    He headed home and saw one of the Williams’ twins riding around on his bike too.
    “Hey Marsh.” It was Brewster. Marshall could always tell it was him , because he said hi to him first. Benton never did.  Brewster was genuinely happy to see him where as Benton seemed to have his own agenda; people he wanted to know, the things he wanted to do. They were identical, but their attitudes were night and day. The worst part of it all was that they were both above par at riding their bikes. They beat him every time.
    “Hi Brewster.” They both stopped their bikes in the middle of the street. The sun was low in the morning sky, and the air had a crisp touch to it. But the heat was still there, and they knew they were in for another scorcher. Marshall just couldn’t wait for summer to end.
    “What’re you doing?”