Free What Happened on Fox Street by Tricia Springstubb Page B

said, and now that calm, cool voice trembled. “A tragedy. They’re half orphans.”
    â€œShoot,” said the secretary, her face filling with pity. Hey, Mo wanted to burst out. No need to feel sorry for us! Hey! We’re perfectly fine! Hold your tears! But Mercedes shot her a look that made her bite her tongue.
    â€œThe way it works, B and B acquire homes at market prices. They develop properties that generate much-needed tax income for municipalities.” The secretary gave Mo an apologetic look. “But don’t worry, they only pursue eminent domain as a last resort.”
    â€œDomain? What’s that?” demanded Mercedes.
    â€œWhoever has domain over something owns it.” She tried to straighten a pile of papers. “In certain extreme situations, the city can exercise ownership over private property.”
    â€œWhat kind of situations?”
    â€œIf it’s for the good of all.”
    â€œThat’s bogus!” Mo jumped to her feet.
    â€œIs that legal?” Mercedes demanded. “It doesn’t sound legal to me.”
    â€œLots of bad stuff is legal!” The secretary swept her hand through the air, knocking over the papers she’d just straightened. “Shoot! The world is full of necessary e—”
    â€œThat’s not true!” Mo said
    â€œThat’s not true!” echoed Dottie, slipping a few more patties into her pocket.
    The door behind the desk swung open, making the woman jump half out of her skin. Mr. Wren, his tie crooked, came out first, Buckman’s big belly following close behind.
    â€œI’ll shoot you those figures pronto,” he said, clapping Mr. Wren on the shoulder. He beamed at the three girls. “I trust my gal here kept you out of trouble?”

The Thinker, Part 2
    â€œI T’S COMPLICATED,” Mr. Wren replied to every question Mo asked. He turned on the radio and hummed along, not saying anything more till he’d edged the car up the driveway, which was so narrow you could touch Mrs. Steinbott’s house as you went by, if you were Dottie and dumb enough to want to. He shut off the car but didn’t get out. He sat gripping the wheel for a long moment and at last turned around to face the backseat.
    â€œYou girls only need to know one thing. Whatever I do is for the good of us all.”
    This sounded alarmingly familiar. “Like eminent domain?”
    â€œWhat?” He gave Mo a distracted look, then climbed out of the car. “I need to think.”
    But instead of thinking, he changed his clothes and went to softball practice. Mercedes had to go help Da, and Dottie threw herself down in front of a hospital-emergency show with the fan blasting directly on her.
    That left Mo to do the thinking.
    She tried, while sprinkling the plum tree with water she’d saved from Dottie’s bath, but all her brain got was static. When she told Dottie she was going out for a little while, her sister didn’t take her eyes from the TV screen.
    â€œGive me strength. Ashley’s in the hospital. She crashed her car and fell into a compost.”
    â€œDo you mean coma, and are you allowed to watch those shows? Don’t bother to answer and do not move. I’ll be back in a few minutes—I have to check something.”
    The air was a sponge begging to be wrung out, but the sidewalks and grass were dry as ever. It was late afternoon by now, the day paused between day and evening, Mo’s favorite time. She loved to feel the world simmering down, breathing slower. As she slid down the hill into the Green Kingdom, a blue plastic bag fluttered gently, high in a tree. Mo tried, as always,not to make a sound.
    She walked up one side of the stream, jumped across, and patrolled the other as far as she could before the brush got too dense, all the while peering at the slick mud. Fox tracks were hard to distinguish from a dog’s. Four ovals and a little pad, with sharp, pointy