Do Not Pass Go Read Online Free PDF

Deet’s room was the coldest in the house, because the heat registers weren’t working right. Dad was going to get around to fixing it this weekend, he said.
    Deet was having a hard time concentrating on his social studies book, the Constitution this week, because his mom was washing the dishes and chattering away as she usually did while she worked. She was telling him, word for word, the plot of the movieshe’d seen last night on television. Some World War II thing about a guy in a German prison camp. Actually, it sounded interesting, and Deet had to frown hard at the Bill of Rights to stay in focus. The television in the living room was on too loud as usual.
    P.J. and Jam were already in their pajamas, playing on the living room carpet, surrounded by their Barbie dolls, which Deet hated, because Barbies never seemed to have anything on their little minds but clothes and Ken. He was irritated by the tone of voice they used when they played with Barbies, the tone that implied that whatever was happening in Barbie’s little world, it was of great importance, the center of the universe, in fact, the highest development of civilization. When he was finished outlining the Bill of Rights he was going to sabotage their little plastic lives, give them something real to worry about, like nuclear disaster, or cancer, or something.
    Deet had just discovered that his social studies book was sitting in a little puddle of ketchup left over from dinner, and he was trying to wipe it off with a paper towel when the phone rang.
    His mom dashed to the phone, a dish towel thrownover her shoulder and a pot in her hand, breathless when she answered. It was her long, long silence after she said hello that made Deet look up from his book. She seemed to freeze on the spot, and she didn’t say a thing, except “Yes.” Then she hung up, her face absolutely still.
    The television announcer’s silly, enthusiastic voice blared in the living room.
    â€œPut the girls to bed, Deet,” she said. She didn’t look at him.
    Deet lowered his eyes to the table. The blood felt as if it were draining from his face, leaving his skin feeling tight and itchy. He could hear his heart begin to thump hard, could hear his blood pounding in his ears.
    Something terrible had happened, just as he’d always thought it would.
    A dozen things might have happened. An accident. Maybe Dad had had an accident. Maybe Grandpa had had a heart attack. No, none of those things. She would have said something like, “Where is he? I’ll be right there.” She hadn’t said a thing. This was something worse, something there were no words for.
    When he got up from the table, his knees were shaky. He went into the living room to get the girls.
    â€œPick up your stuff. Mom wants you to go to bed.” His voice was as shaky as his knees. P.J. started to collect the fluffy little bits of Barbie clothes, minuscule shoes, tiny purses, but Jam charged into the kitchen. “Mom, just a little while longer?”
    Deet went back to the kitchen to collect Jam, and he could see that she had seen their mom’s face.
    Deet put his hand in the middle of Jam’s back and propelled her toward the door. Jam gave another glance at their mother before she left the kitchen. Before Deet could follow her, P. J. dashed into the kitchen and searched for her favorite cup in the dish rack, the pink plastic one with the ballerina.
    â€œMom, there’s this boy at school who has a baby fox,” she said. She’d turned on the faucet and was testing the running water with her fingers, waiting until it was just cold enough. “I wish we had a fox. That would be really cool.” She filled her glass and drank it down, then turned to see if there was even the smallest hope of getting a fox and saw her mother’s face. P.J. lookedquickly at Deet, who jerked his head at her to tell her to come. She put the glass down and followed