Double Fudge Read Online Free PDF Page B

Sometimes the subway cars are so crowded you have to stand squeezed between strangers --like sardines in a can--as Grandma would say. Personally, I hate the idea of being compared to a sardine. The smell reminds me of cat food, even though Grandma says sardines are good for your bones. Probably cat food is, too.
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    It wasn't until we got off the subway at Spring Street that I noticed Fudge was wearing just one shoe. On his other foot he had on only his yellow and black striped bumblebee sock. "Where's your shoe?" I asked him.
    "What shoe?"
    "The one that's not on your foot."
    "Oh, that shoe."
    Dad said, "Put on your other shoe, Fudge."
    "I can't."
    "Why not?" Dad asked.
    "I took it off to itch my foot and now it's gone."
    "Gone?" Dad said.
    "Yes," Fudge said.
    "That was one of your new shoes," Dad told him.
    "I know, Dad."
    "And now you've lost it."
    "I didn't lose it. I know where it is. It's on the subway."
    "The subway?" Dad said.
    "Yes," Fudge said.
    I should have convinced Dad to let me take the subway to Jimmy's on my own. There's no such thing as a simple trip downtown with my brother. He turns everything into a major production.
    Dad spotted a transit cop and waved her over, calling, "Excuse me ..."
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    "Can I help you?" the transit cop asked.
    "Yes," Dad said. "I'd like to report a missing shoe."
    She looked surprised. "A missing shoe?"
    "That's right," Dad told her. "Fudge... show the policewoman your shoe."
    "How can I show it to her if it's missing?" Fudge asked.
    "Show her the shoe that's not missing." Dad was definitely losing patience.
    "Ohhh... that shoe." Fudge held up his foot.
    The transit cop whipped out a small notebook and jotted down all the information. "Black with silver trim... child's size. Lost on the train on Saturday, September 14." She looked at Dad. "What time would you say?"
    "Somewhere between 2:00 and 2:30 P.M.," Dad told her. "Somewhere between Seventy-second Street and here."
    When she was done taking notes she closed her notebook and shoved it into her pocket. "We'll do our best but I wouldn't count on getting it back."
    "I have to get it back," Fudge said. "I need it for school."
    The cop shrugged.
    "I told Mom I needed two pairs but she wouldn't listen."
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    "I don't blame her," the cop said, "with what shoes cost nowadays."
    "I have plenty of money." He pulled a wad of Fudge Bucks out of his pocket and waved it around.
    "You keep those for an emergency," the cop told him.
    "This is an emergency," Fudge said.
    "You want my advice? Next time, keep on both your shoes."
    "Even if my foot itches?"
    "Especially then," the cop said. "Otherwise, you're going to be kissing more than one shoe good-bye."
    "Bye-bye, sue!" Tootsie sang, blowing kisses.
    The transit cop did a double take. "How does she know my name?"
    "Your name is Shoe?" Fudge asked.
    "No, it's Sue!"
    No way was I going to tell the cop my sister can't pronounce the sh sound.
    Finally, finally, I got to Jimmy's. The streets in SoHo are narrow and paved with cobblestones. It's a really old part of the city. The buildings used to be factories but now most of them have stores or art galleries on the first floor and lofts upstairs. Dad said he'd be back for me in an hour and a half. I told him to take his time.
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    The Fargos' loft is a huge open space, with an old wooden floor and a pressed tin ceiling. "Pretty cool, huh?" Jimmy asked. "You know how many windows we have? Sixteen. Want to count them?"
    "I believe you," I said. They were gigantic floor to ceiling windows.
    "Know how high the ceiling is?" Jimmy asked. He didn't wait for me to guess. "Sixteen feet. Want to measure it yourself?"
    "That's okay. I can see it's really high." I looked around. "You could set up a bowling alley in here," I told him.
    "Yeah," Jimmy said. "Or a basketball court."
    "You could blade."
    "Or flood it and play ice hockey," Jimmy said.
    "Ice hockey?"
    "Gotcha!" he said, laughing and sticking a finger in my gut.
    "I hate when you do that," I told