Free Blossoms and the Green Phantom by Betsy Byars Page A

eyebrows.
    Junior’s left ear hurt too. It was pressed against the roof, and in the thirty minutes that he had spent on the roof, Junior had learned a lot about chickens through that ear.
    It seemed to him that there were three hens who were causing all the trouble, and these three hens were making it impossible for any of the other chickens to sleep. And if the chickens didn’t sleep, Junior couldn’t move, and if Junior couldn’t move, Junior couldn’t get down, and if Junior couldn’t get down—
    Junior broke off. It was exactly like a story Junior’s teacher had read them last year. Junior could hear his teacher saying the last, sad line of the story, “And Junior will not get home tonight.”
    Junior’s mind kept going after his teacher’s sentence stopped. “And if Junior doesn’t get home tonight, Junior will still be up here in the morning when old man Benson comes out to feed the chickens.”
    Junior shuddered slightly at the thought, and the three leaders of the chickens reacted with fluttering wings, more cries of bruck-bruck-bruckkkk . Oh, be quiet, Junior said, go to sleep. Lay some eggs. Haven’t you got anything better to do than squawk?
    Maybe, Junior thought suddenly, I should just go for it. Maybe I should unhook my toes, pull my legs around and jump off the roof.
    That was exactly what he would have done a year ago. But one of the last things the doctor had told Junior was no more jumping off high places. “You land hard on those legs again, and you’ll most likely be right back in the hospital.” Junior would almost rather be up on top of a chicken house than in the hospital.
    And maybe, his dismal thoughts continued, if he let go with his toes, he might slide off the roof before he had a chance to turn himself around. He had a clear picture of himself, arms extended, plunging into the hard earth. Breaking both your arms couldn’t be much better than breaking both your legs.
    Maybe, he thought, and another tear rolled off his eyebrow, maybe I should just do the sensible thing and stay up here for the rest of my life.

CHAPTER 18
The Nightmare
    Pap was asleep, and Pap was having a nightmare. In his nightmare he was trapped in a garbage Dumpster, only the garbage Dumpster of his dream was filled with liquid garbage and Pap was drowning in it.
    First the garbage had been up to his chest, then his chin, and now it was over his head. The garbage was like quicksand. It kept pulling him under. It was all Pap could do to come up for air.
    Pap went down once, twice. He struggled up for one last breath. Then he was going down into the garbage for the last time.
    At that moment Pap was awakened by being hit in the head with a bag of garbage. “What—what?” he cried. He batted at the air.
    The plastic bag broke. Garbage rained around him. He reacted by trying to do what he had been trying to do in his nightmare—get his head above garbage.
    His arms were swimming frantically through the loose garbage, but as in his nightmare, he couldn’t get high enough. He tried to push to the surface with his legs, but they were useless.
    In a desperate move, Pap braced his hands on his knees. He forced himself to his feet.
    Then Pap heard a woman scream.
    That scream brought Pap back into the real world. He was in a Dumpster, but it wasn’t full of liquid garbage, just everyday real garbage. So the scream had to be real too. That meant someone was here! Someone was outside! Someone had thrown garbage on him!
    “Wait! Help! Help! Help!”
    Pap peered over the side of the Dumpster. A woman was backing away in openmouthed horror. When she saw his face, she screamed again and broke into a run for her car. He caught a glimpse of her terrified face as she ran through the car’s headlights.
    “Please help me, please! I ain’t gonna hurt you. I can’t hurt nobody.”
    The woman got into the car. She slammed the door and locked it. Then she peered at Pap through the windshield. She looked as if she’d seen a