Colonial Madness Read Online Free PDF Page A

about survival,” said Angel. “You don’t take advantage of your surroundings.”
    â€œSure I do,” I said as we followed our parents to the gate. “Watch as I take advantage of my mother.”
    I hurried to catch Mom and tugged at her sleeve. “Can I have change for the penny squasher, please?”
    I loved the souvenir machines that would flatten a penny and print an image on it. It was kind of an obsession of mine that started as an obsession of my dad’s. My mom said he always had pockets of loose change, and any time he was somewhere that had one of those machines, he’d get a flattened penny in every pattern. There weren’t many ways for me to bond with a dead man, but it was better than Mom’s idea of holding a séance.
    Uncle Deke reached into his pocket and fished out a handful of coins. “Here.” He offered them to me. “I’ll be three pounds lighter if you take them.”
    Mom smirked. “Looks like you picked up someone’s bad habit.”
    â€œActually,” said Uncle Deke with a grin, “he picked it up from me.”
    The adults stood around and watched Angel and me flatten pennies until it was time to board our flight. When the plane touched down in Boston, Dylan and his dad, my Uncle Max, were waiting for us at the gate.
    â€œHey, future runners-up!” Uncle Max greeted us with a tip of his cowboy hat. After he and Dylan moved away, he’d become a cattle baron out in Texas and was now probably the richest living member of our family.
    Uncle Max shook hands with Uncle Deke and kissed Mom and Aunt Zoe on the cheek. Then he turned to Dylan. “Say hi, son!”
    â€œHey, future losers,” mumbled Dylan, not bothering to look up from the frozen yogurt he was eating.
    For a kid who came from money, Dylan dressed like he came from a Dumpster. His cargo shorts were baggy and frayed, his T-shirt was stained, and his hair was a shaggy nightmare.
    â€œThat’s a healthy snack,” Aunt Zoe told him with an encouraging smile. “All that active bacteria is good for you.”
    Dylan stopped midbite and scowled at her. “Gross.” He spit the yogurt back in his cup and turned to Uncle Max. “Give me money for ice cream.”
    â€œNow, Dylan, you know that’s a bad idea.” Uncle Max chuckled again and turned to us, tapping his head. “He gets brain freeze.”
    â€œHard to imagine,” I said. Mom nudged me.
    â€œWhatever,” said Dylan. “I’m gonna go talk to people that matter.” He pulled a phone from his pocket and wandered off.
    Uncle Max shrugged at us apologetically. “Since his mother and I divorced, he’s been going through a rough stage. At least, that’s what the therapist says.”
    I had a feeling the therapist said more than that . . . like “Get out!” or “I can’t help” or “Have you thought of adding a dungeon in your house?”
    â€œWell, hopefully this experience will be beneficial,” said Mom. “And really bring you two together, like me and my gal.” She put her arm around me and squeezed. I beamed up at her.
    â€œShoot, Dylan’s headed for the escalator,” said Uncle Max. “I’d better catch him before he gets it going in reverse.”
    â€œThere’s a shuttle van waiting for us!” called Uncle Deke, tapping his watch. “Don’t be too long!”
    â€œThey’ll be fine,” said Aunt Zoe. “It’s not like they need the money anyway.”
    I glanced at Angel. Neither of us said anything, but I knew we were both secretly hoping the shuttle would leave without them. If they came along, Dylan would be a huge pain and probably make poor Uncle Max do everything.
    But when we reached ground transportation, Dylan and Uncle Max were already there, standing beside a man holding a sign that said ARCHIBALD FAMILY .
    â€œThat’s