About the Author
----------------
Mollie Freilich is a Los Angeles native who started
making up stories as soon as she could speak and writing the
moment she could hold a crayon. When she isn't writing, she's
either collecting pressed pennies, hiking with her dog, Ziggy, or
working as a network executive in animation.
Read more ( javascript:void(0) )
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
--------------------------------------------------------
I was sitting on my bed, moments away from diving
into my latest Muscle Fish comic book, when I heard the static
buzz of my walkie-talkie.
“Lincoln! Lincoln! Come in, Lincoln! Do you read me?” It was my
best friend, Clyde McBride, shouting frantically. He clearly had
something he needed to share with me. Maybe he’d seen a ghost and
needed the help of a fellow ARGGH! cadet to catch it. Or maybe an
alien had just landed in his yard, and he wanted me there to make
first contact. Or maybe his dads had made their famous guacamole,
and they needed a taste tester. Or maybe . . .
“LINCOLN! Ahhhhh!” I tumbled off the bed and fell in a heap on
the floor. I scrambled to grab my walkie-talkie.
“Sorry, Clyde! I’m here! I read you loud and clear, buddy.
Over,” I replied.
“Lincoln! Phew! I was worried I’d have to call your house and
Lori would answer the phone and I’d faint and forget what I had
to say and—”
“CLYDE! Get ahold of yourself!” Clyde has a little crush on my
oldest sister, Lori, and tends to spin out of control when he
starts talking about her or to her.
“Thanks, pal. I needed that. Listen, this is big news. Really
big news. I think I’d better tell you in person. Can I come over?
Over.” The suspense was almost unbearable, but I figured I could
wait a few more minutes. Clyde hadn’t been this excited to tell
me something since the school cafeteria added rosemary to their
meatloaf.
“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “I’ll meet you outside. Over and
out.”
My brain was racing a mile a minute trying to figure out what
Clyde was going to say. I nearly tripped over my baby sister,
Lily, as I sprang from my room to dash downstairs.
“Sorry, Lil!” I called over my shoulder as my infant sister
stuck out her tongue to blow a raspberry at me.
I sprinted down the seemingly empty hallway, ing for the
stairs. I was nearly at the bannister when the high-pitched
screeeeeeech of a whistle made me skid to a stop. My six-year-old
twin sisters, Lola and Lana, decked out in matching aviator
sunglasses and neon orange sashes, stood before me. I guessed
they were practicing their hall-monitor duties at home again.
“What did we tell you about running in the halls?” Lana asked
me, tilting her sunglasses down to give me a stern look.
“C’mon, guys! I have to get downstairs. Clyde will be here in a
few minutes.”
“Answer the question or we’ll toss you in the clink!” Lola
shouted, pointing at a cardboard box with bars cut out to
resemble a jail cell. I knew they were serious. They once locked
our sister Luan up just for telling bad jokes! Come to think of
it, I’m surprised she isn’t in there more often.
“Okay, okay. I promise I’ll slow my pace down to a brisk walk.”
I sighed, eyeing the staircase.
Lola scratched some words on a notepad, then ripped off a piece
of paper and handed it to me. “Consider this your last warning,
Linky. Now move it! We have a hallway to patrol.”
They both folded their arms and glared at me. I walked as
quickly as I could to the top of the stairway. Once I was out of
the twins’ line of , I darted down the stairs, clinging to
the railing for balance. I jumped over Lynn’s skates; dodged
Luan’s ventriloquist dummy, Mr. Coconuts; and narrowly avoided
Luna’s amp. With a family this big, you usually have to navigate
through some clutter.
Finally, I reached the front door, just in time to hear the
sweet squeak of Clyde’s yellow tandem bicycle rolling up in front
of my house. I flung the door open and whirled outside to greet
him.
“Clyde!” I called as I jogged down our front steps. Clyde was
breathing heavily, like he’d just peddled the bike while hauling
a grand piano behind him. “Are you okay?”
“Just.” p. “Need.” p. “A.” p. “Second,” he puffed out
as he removed his helmet and sat down on the lawn. It felt like a
million years passed, but finally, he was able to speak again.
“I’m going to do it. I’m going to run for school treasurer.”
“That’s amazing, Clyde!” I said as I gave him a high five. This
was huge news! Clyde was ed of speaking in front of big
crowds, becoming popular, and watching someone else’s piggy bank,
so if he ran for treasurer, he’d have to overcome three of his
fears. “Let’s go inside and celebrate with some ice-cold
lemonade.”
Read more ( javascript:void(0) )