Ace's Basement Read Online Free PDF

especially—will chase me if I walk by. You can’t explain that to your mom, though. You know?
    So the answer I give her is, “Right.”
    â€œWhat was with the little robot toy?” she asks.
    I’m not going there either. “We got a million dollars for a product placement,” I say.
    â€œAll right, smart guy. Enough for now. Don’t you have a history assignment due tomorrow?” Mom gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Anyway, I think you all did a great job.”
    There’s a death sentence if I ever heard one.
    Mom walks off. I click back through the screens to Denny’s message. Ready to post it. Sending you the blooper reel we put together hilarious lol.
    Yeah right. Denny has started using we as if he’s a king or something. Maybe he has a history assignment too.
    This reminds me that, for once, Mom is right. I should look at my homework. Hilarious can wait. I’ve had all I can take of video for one day. At least nobody is going to waste their time looking at this. I message him back. Dream on. nothing to post. trash it B4 world sees u r not a genius.
    After that’s taken care of, I do a little history homework. Not a lot of homework, so I’m kind of busy on Monday morning. I’m so busy, I don’t even look for Lisa or Denny. It’s only after I hand in my assignment that I get to breathe. That’s when I get the feeling something is different.
    I’m not sure exactly why I get the feeling. It’s a bunch of little things. Like, why do those kids on the landing stop talking as I come down the stairs? What’s with that whisper and laugh I hear behind me in the library? How come I feel eyes on me when I line up in the caf, but when I turn, it’s as if everyone has just looked away? Why does a girl in English gasp as I walk into class? Why is there giggling when I get asked to read aloud? What’s going on?
    After English, I duck into a washroom and do a quick check. My fly is up, and my hair doesn’t look any dorkier than usual. There are no new zit volcanoes on my face, and nobody has stuck a Kick Me sign to my back. My backpack is still pretty rank from the chocolate milk, but you have to be right up close to smell it. Is this all my imagination? Hey, I’m fourteen—I’m supposed to be self-conscious, right? I bet you are too.
    But I go to math and my teacher is biting down on a grin as he asks me to do a problem. Nawww…he isn’t. Is he ? I mean, why would he be laughing at me?
    This is weirding me out. After school, I don’t stick around to find Denny and give him a hard time about the video. I want to go home, chill in the basement and let this feeling pass.
    As I walk by the smokers on the corner, their voices drop. Am I going paranoid? I hustle home, give Arch some food and a scratch behind the ears, make a peanut-butter sandwich and head down to the almost-man cave.
    Chuck got me to help him put some drywall up on Saturday afternoon, so you can’t see into the man cave bathroom anymore. He says I can help him with the taping and mudding next, whatever those are. I flop into a beanbag chair, eat my sandwich and try not to think about it.
    I decide the stuff at school was just my imagination. I’m reaching for the guitar case when I hear the front door. “Hi,” Mom calls. I listen to the change in the sound of her footsteps as she walks from the tile at the front door, down the carpet in the hall and across the wooden kitchen floor. Then I watch her feet grow legs and a body as she thumps down the stairs.
    â€œHi, sweetie, how was your day?”
    â€œSensational as always, Mom.”
    â€œThat’s terrific.” Sometimes my mom doesn’t get sarcasm any more than Denny. “Got much homework?”
    â€œPractically none,” I lie.
    â€œLucky you. Then you can help Chuck. He texted that he’ll be over after supper. I’m doing that chicken you like, so