Frek and the Elixir Read Online Free PDF Page B

of the lawn.
    â€œHi there, Frek,” said the counselor woman. “I’m PhiPhi and my partner here Zhak. Gov sent us to help you.” Zhak and PhiPhi had round, calm faces and pleasantly full lips. They looked like dull-witted siblings. It was said that Gov did something to the brains of those who signed on to be his counselors—Gov being the person, or the simulated person, who ran things around Middleville. The watchbird fluttered down and perched itself on PhiPhi’s shoulder.
    â€œWhen’s the last time you talked Carb Huggins?” asked Zhak, helping Frek out of his angelwings.
    â€œDon’t bother him about his father,” snapped Mom. “Carb left us last year, and that was that.”
    Frek was glad to have his mother stick up for him. These days it upset him to think about Carb. Sometimes he worried that it hadn’t just been Gov’s persecution that drove away his tough, wise-cracking father—maybe Dad had left because of something Frek himself had done. Like asking too many questions about how toons were made. Carb hadn’t liked toons at all. Or maybe Frek had brought too many glypher slugs home from school.
    Toward the end, Carb had always had a headache. Gov had put the peeker on him because of the Crufters, and he’d never fully recovered. He’d get confused sometimes. Gov had started talking about giving Carb this kind of brain therapy called the Three R’s. And then Carb had quietly gotten hold of a space bug and flown away. Maybe it wasn’t fair of Frek, but was still mad about it. Shouldn’t a father stick with his family, no matter what?
    â€œWe must know,” said PhiPhi, smiling blandly and fixing Frek with her eyes. “Necessary for you to answer. Otherwise we peek, most unfortunate. When was the last time you talked Carb, Frek?” She said all this as flatly as if she were reading it off a message board in her head. Counselors let Gov do a lot of their thinking, and they used Gov’s ugly, gobbledygook style of speech.
    â€œDon’t you dare talk about peeking him, you Gov-skulled stooge,” said Mom evenly. Somehow she’d managed to wedge herself in between Frek and the counselors.
    â€œIt’s Frek’s decision,” said PhiPhi, holding her eye contact with him.
    â€œWhat my mother said,” muttered Frek. “One night I saw him at supper and the next morning he was gone.”
    â€œDo you know why we’re here?” asked PhiPhi, taking a different tack.
    â€œAbout the Anvil from space,” blurted Frek.
    â€œYaya,” said Zhak. “Now we get somewhere.” Zhak had an extra uvvy in a mesh sack on his belt. A twitching, bright-yellow peeker uvvy. Getting peeked could mess you up for good. A regular uvvy took the words you deliberately thought at it, and sent them off to other uvvies, but peekers dug their tendrils in deep and took whatever they could find.
    â€œThe Skull Farmers told me,” said Frek, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “Some toons I saw on Stoo Steiner’s wall skin. They heard it from the Goob Dolls. They said something from space landed last night. They called it the Anvil. They said that someone on a flying saucer told them the Anvil was looking for me? At first I thought the Skull Farmers were making it up. And then Sao Steiner told me I should come see you. That’s everything I know, honest.”
    â€œI can search the house?” Zhak asked Mom.
    â€œSearch for what?” she demanded. “Maybe Frek knows what this is about, but I sure don’t. We cleaned up today, by the way, and I can tell you right now there’s nothing unusual to see. Maybe you should stop busy-bodying. You should leave honest people alone.” Her voice grew a little louder. “You think it’s easy being a full-time facilitator and raising three children? With my husband gone? And now you Gov zombies have to come here and threaten my