Free The Boy Who Ate Dog Biscuits by Betsy Sachs Page A

his head. “Bor-ing.”
    “Tell me about it. My birthday isn’t till next Sunday. And I
still
had to clean.” Billy satdown on the stone wall. “Did you get the thing?”
    Howard pulled a small black box out of his back pocket. It was an electric garage-door opener from his house.
    Howard smiled at Billy. Billy smiled back.
    “Let’s go to my house.” Howard slid off the wall.
    They cut through a neighbor’s side yard over to the next street. None of the other kids were around. It was very quiet.
    “So what do you want to do with it?” Billy kicked a stone ahead of him as he walked.
    “See how far away from the garage I can get and still make it go.”
    They hid behind the bushes across the street from Howard’s house. Howard pushed the button on the black box.
    At the top of the Rosas’ driveway, the garage door groaned and shook. Slowly it lifted and stayed up.
    “Aw-right!” Howard punched Billy’s arm.
    “Ouch.” Billy rubbed his skin. He hated when Howard did that.
    “Now, listen,” said Howard. “I’m going downto the Breens’ house. You stand on the sidewalk and signal with your arms. Okay?”
    “When do I get to do it?”
    “It’s mine. I go first.” Howard stood up. He straightened his sunglasses.
    “Boy,” Billy muttered. He watched as Howard ran down the block as far as Chrissy Breen’s house. Chrissy was going into third grade with Billy and Howard.
    The garage door rattled down and up and then down again. Billy raised his arms as a signal to Howard.
    Howard ran toward a mailbox that was five houses away.
    The garage door rattled up and down. Billy signaled again.
    When Howard was nine houses away, Howard’s little brother, Frankie, came toddling across the driveway. He was on his way to the sandbox under the trees. The door went up. Frankie dropped his doll and stood watching.
    Howard came running back. “Hey!” he shouted. “You’re supposed to signal, dummy!”
    Billy pointed toward the driveway. “Do itagain and watch your brother.”
    Howard pressed the garage-door opener. The door went up. Frankie’s head went up.
    Then the door came down. Frankie’s head did too.
    Billy and Howard started laughing. They stopped when they saw Frankie step on the bottom handle of the garage door and grab the lock. They ran up the driveway.
    “Ride me,” said Frankie. He gave Howard and Billy a grape-jelly smile.
    “Oh, wow!” Howard whooped. “Let’s see if he can ride it. Hang on, Frankie!”
    Billy wondered if it was a good idea. He didn’t say anything, though. Howard would call him a baby.
    “Ride me,” Frankie giggled. “Ride, ride, ride!”
    Howard danced around, shouting, “Count down! Ten, nine, eight—”
    Just then the side door of his house opened. Howard’s mother came out. “What in the world is going on out here?” she asked.
    “Nothing.” Howard tried to hide the electric opener behind his back.

    Frankie clung to the door handle. “Ride me!” he shouted. “Up, down! Up, down!”
    “Howard! Are you crazy?” Mrs. Rosa picked Frankie up.
    Frankie kicked his legs against his mother’s side. His arms flapped in the air. “Up, down!” he screamed.
    “All right. Let’s have it.” Mrs. Rosa took the opener. She pressed the button. The door groaned. It shook. It did not go up. “Well, that’s just dandy,” she said. “In the house, Howard Rosa. You’ll have to go home, Billy.”
    “Ride, Mama!” Frankie cried. His face was all red. “Ride, Mama, ride!” he wailed as she carried him into the house.

3   
    “Inside, Billy.” Mr. Getten stood in the kitchen doorway. He was wearing overalls. There were little curls of wood in his dark hair.
    “Do I have to?” Billy asked.
    Mr. Getten frowned.
    “But it’s not even lunchtime yet.”
    Mr. Getten didn’t say a word. Billy got the message. He walked past his father into the cool, dark kitchen.
    Billy’s mother was sitting at the kitchen table. She looked angry too. Billy knew it was going to