Free Dunc's Undercover Christmas by Gary Paulsen

Duncan—Dunc—Culpepper and Amos Binder, his best friend for life, were sitting on the old couch in Dunc’s basement. Dunc was replacing the burned-out bulbs in last year’s Christmas tree lights. He carefully unwound each strand. Plugged it in. Checked, cleaned, and tightened each bulb.
    Amos was sure that Dunc was spending too much time on this job. After all, what was a burned-out bulb here and there? But he knew Dunc. Dunc was neat and preciseto the point of driving Amos crazy. He also knew it would be next to impossible to rush him—even on a beautiful day in the middle of December, when they should be outside having fun.
    Amos waited. He scratched his neck. He rubbed up and down against the back of the couch. Then he really let go. He slid down to the floor and rolled around like a puppy.
    Dunc watched him a few minutes. “That’s a bad rash. How did you get it?”
    â€œFrom the grocery store.”
    â€œYou got a rash from the grocery store?”
    â€œWell—sort of.” Amos sat up. “I was following my mom down the cereal aisle. If I don’t go to the store with her, she comes home with all kinds of junk. You know, vegetables and green stuff.”
    Dunc nodded.
    â€œAnyway—I was in the cereal aisle picking up a couple of boxes of Fruit Slams, when it happened.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe phone rang. I could tell it was Melissa.She has that different sort of—sharp, bell-like, ring. I always know when it’s her.”
    Dunc nodded again. Melissa Hansen was Amos’s dream girl. As far as Amos was concerned, she was the most perfect girl in the world. He was always certain she was calling him. Dunc knew that Melissa had not called Amos at the grocery store. Not just because Amos was in the grocery store but mainly because Melissa Hansen didn’t even know Amos’s name. And from all indications didn’t want to.
    â€œWell, since it was Melissa calling for me, I thought I’d save everybody some time and get it myself. I let go of the Fruit Slams. Took a shortcut over Mrs. Bundy’s grocery cart—she got a little excited when I stepped on her bread—and from there on it was pure instinct.”
    Dunc was positive that somewhere in Amos’s genetic makeup was a wild gene that caused him to go stone crazy whenever he heard a telephone ring. He couldn’t prove it, but someday he intended to do astudy on it. It would be a long study, with notes and reams of information, and each point would be catalogued and subcatalogued, and—
    â€œI climbed out of Mrs. Bundy’s cart right up on the top shelf of canned goods. It was great. I could see the whole store from up there. I wish you could have seen me. I was in perfect form. Right foot down, arms up, head back. Class act all the way. I had a fix on the phone and was closing in. Then things started to go wrong.”
    Dunc took out another bulb. “What happened?”
    â€œSpinach. Cans of spinach. They started rolling underneath me. I couldn’t stop. I took a nosedive and wiped out the whole top shelf.”
    Dunc frowned. “I don’t get it. What caused the rash?”
    â€œWhen the shelf ended, I kept going. Right over the fruit and vegetable section. I landed headfirst in the middle of the strawberries. That’s what did it. I’m allergic.”
    â€œDid you ever get to the phone?”
    â€œNo. By the time I crawled out of those slimy strawberries, Melissa had already hung up. She’s particular that way. She likes me to pick it up on that all-important first ring.”
    Dunc shook his head. “That’s too bad. About Melissa, I mean. What did the store manager say?”
    â€œThat’s the funny part. I figured he’d be upset. At least want me to pay for some of the damage. But he didn’t. He just stood there and made a noise sort of like the one Scruff makes when he has to go out. Oh, he asked my mom if she