Against All Odds Read Online Free PDF

his efforts to arrive early, Squeak beat him again. He was already waiting expectantly in front of his garage, wearing his favourite
Star Trek
T-shirt—the one with theimage of Spock’s face airbrushed in front of the starship
Enterprise.
As usual, Itchy was nowhere to be seen.
    Boney skidded up to the garage. “Are you ready to win the big prize?”
    Squeak saluted. “Affirmative.”
    “What is the big prize again?”
    “A thousand dollars cash, a year’s membership to the Flying Fiends Amateur Aircraft Club, and paid entry to the NASA Revolutionary Vehicles and Concepts Competition.”
    Boney nodded. “Not bad. Did you figure out what happened yesterday during the test flight?”
    “No,” Squeak said. “But I think it’s connected to the electrical storm we experienced the other night.”
    “I wish you’d tell me your theory.”
    Squeak pushed on the bridge of his goggles but said nothing. Boney held up the bag of sandwiches.
    “My aunt made lunch for us.”
    “That was nice of her.”
    “And I have some money for drinks.” Boney pulled a handful of change from his pants pocket.
    “Good thinking,” Itchy said, shuffling up to his friends. He was eating a muffin and carrying a basket with three black-and-grey-striped kittens rolled together like socks. He was wearing the green bandana again, but this time, instead of the Superman T-shirt, he wore abaggy pink shirt with a picture of several forlorn-looking kittens on the front and a giant powder-blue phone number sprayed across the back. Between the pink shirt and the green bandana, his tangled red hair looked as though it were on fire.
    “Where’d you get the kittens?” Boney asked. “And what’s with the shirt?”
    Itchy slouched. “My mom … she joined some club for rescuing stray cats.”
    Squeak peered into the basket. “Fascinating.”
    “Yeah … I guess. It’s better than knitting terrible stuff, or dyeing everything in the house weird colours all the time. But now we’ve got kittens running all over the place.” Itchy sneezed and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his pink shirt. “She wanted me to wear this for advertising at the competition. I’ve got shirts for you guys, too.” He pulled two more pink T-shirts from his knapsack and handed them out.
    Boney forced a smile. “Gee … thanks …” He looked to Squeak for help.
    Squeak didn’t respond but simply took the T-shirt and pulled it over his
Star Trek
shirt. Boney resigned himself with a shrug and did the same. He turned to look at Squeak. Squeak blinked back at him. The kitten shirts were so long they looked like pink minidresses.
    “Perfect,” Boney muttered.
    “What’s in the paper bag?” Itchy asked, gesturing with the basket of kittens.
    Boney hid the bag behind his back. “Nothing.”
    “Smells like egg salad sandwiches.” Itchy reached for the bag.
    Boney dodged him, holding the bag at arm’s length. “They’re for later.”
    “But I’m hungry now.”
    “I just saw you eat a muffin,” Boney said.
    “That was breakfast.”
    “So?”
    “I’m still hungry.”
    Boney scoffed, handing the bag of sandwiches to his friend. “You can have ONE.”
    Itchy placed the basket of kittens on the ground and ripped open the bag. “There must be a dozen in here.” He pulled a sandwich out and took a big bite. “Mmm … delicious egg salad … but I still prefer peanut butter and jelly …”
    Boney folded his arms. “I’ll keep that in mind for future reference. Try not to eat the kittens while you’re at it.”
    “We’d better get going,” Squeak said, studying his watch. “I want to be sure to get the best position on the cliff for the race.”
    The boys wheeled the cloaked
StarSweeper
from Squeak’s garage, careful not to bang the wings againstthe door frame as they manoeuvred the craft outside. The wheels of the wagon squeaked like a small flock of dim-witted birds, the edge of the tarp brushing the tops of the tires. The Odds hauled the plane down the