It was just before noon, and Patrick Picklebottom was sitting on the floor of his room, reading a new book he had bought the day before. Downstairs, he could hear his little sister playing video games, angrily yelling at the TV screen, and from outside his window wafted the smell of freshly cut grass. His father had been mowing the lawn since finishing breakfast a few hours earlier—his typical Saturday morning routine.
Patrick was fully engrossed in his book, and had just reached the most exciting chapter, when he was jolted back to reality by his best friend, Claire, standing at the door to his room. “Earth to Patrick! Hey, can you hear me?”
“Huh?” Patrick asked, looking confused. “Sorry, Claire, I didn’t see you. What did you say?”
“No kidding you didn’t see me—I’ve been standing here trying to get your attention for, like, an hour!” Claire had a flair for exaggeration. Patrick guessed she had actually only been standing there for about thirty seconds or so, but he didn’t push her on it.
“Sorry,” he repeated. “I was just really into this book.”
“What else is new? You’re always into a book,” Claire said sarcastically “Meanwhile, you’re missing a beautiful day outside! Come on, let’s go do something!” And without waiting for his reply, Claire turned and bounded down the hallway, through the living room, gave a quick “See you later, Mrs. P!” tohis mom, and was out the front door, waiting by her bike.
Patrick sighed and reluctantly put down his book. He knew there was no arguing with Claire when she was this motivated and ready to go. Besides, he figured,
he could always look forward to reading the rest of his book later, before bed.
Getting his own bicycle out of the garage, he met Claire at the base of his driveway. “Okay, so where do you want to go?” He asked, pushing his hair back and putting on his helmet.
“I don’t know. I saw some signs for yard sales a few blocks over. Want to go check them out?”
“Sure! Yard sales almost always have boxes of great, old books for sale, for practically nothing!” Patrick said, finally feeling excited.
Claire rolled her eyes, “You and your books!” And, strapping on her own helmet, they took off down Maple Ave., turned left onto Sullivan Way, cut through the school yard, and came to a particularly large yard sale in front of a small, yellow house with bright blue trim. He knew the house well, but had never been inside—Roger Wigglesworth lived there. Roger was a particularly nasty kid in his grade who was always bragging about expensive games he had, or impressive things he had done. He especially liked to talk about his many athletic talents, although Patrick had spent many gym classes with Roger, and could never recall him doing anything all that extraordinary.
Before Patrick could protest, Claire was already off her bike and making her way through the small crowd of customers and around to each of the piles of items for sale, looking for hidden treasures. Patrick followed her, halfheartedly keeping an eye out for any books that looked interesting, but determined not to buy anything that Roger Wigglesworth was selling.
After a few minutes of looking around and not finding much, Patrick was ready to leave and explore the next yard sale a few houses over, when he distinctly heard Roger’s voice just off to his left.
