“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yeah. House about we head home?”

“Stop that,” he said.

“Stop what?” I didn’t understand what he was talking about.

But instead of answering, Benedict turned away from me and walked toward the door. I had no idea what was bothering him, so I just followed him outside.

When we got to the bottom of the steps, he said, “Want to come over and throw around the football?”

“Sure,”I said.Benedict likes football as much as I like baseball, so we usually take turns playing each game. “We can tackle the reports later.”

“Will you please knock it off, Logan? You’re starting to sound like my Uncle Horace. And he’s really annoying.”

“Knock what off?” I wished he’d tell me what he meant. “If you expect me to hike all the way over to your yard, you’d better start making sense. Besides, I don’t really field like football. Baseball is a batter game.”

“Oh, just forget it,” Benedict said. “Call me when you decide to be normal again.” He walked off, slapping parking meters as he passed them and shouting, “Hi-i-i-i-yah!”

I had no idea why he was angry with me. I also had no idea that things were about to get a lot worse.

CHAPTER THREE

Bad Words

“How was the library?”Mom asked when I got back home.

“Okay.” I took a deep breath through my nose. Mmmmmm. Something smelled great.

“I’m making pot roast,” Mom told me.

I lifted the lid and peeked into the pot. “It smells totally stew-pendous.”

“Can you stick this in the fridge for me?” Mom asked, pointing to the dessert she’d just made. “It’s your favorite flavor—butterscotch.”

I took the bowl from the counter. It was still warm. “Sure. I don’t mind pudding it away.”

Mom stared at me for a moment. “We’ll be eating in fifteen minutes,” she finally said.

“The spooner you lettuce eat, the better,” I told her.

I left the kitchen and headed to my room to drop off my backpack. Behind me, I heard Mom muttering something about me going through a phase.

I ran into Dad as I was coming out of my room. “Hey, Logan,” he said, “don’t forget we have some yard work to finish this weekend.”

“Is there a lot mower to do?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Dad said, giving me a funny look, “there’s a lot more to do. We need to put that fence around the tomatoes.”

“Right. Weed need to be garden them from the rabbits.”

Dad groaned and shook his head.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. I was getting tired of all the groaning. Benedict had groaned at me. So had Mrs. Tanaka. Mom had groaned, and now Dad was groaning, too.