I Kill the Mockingbird Read Online Free PDF

Mort looks like an aging rock star. According to my parents, he’s raised Elena as half princess and half business partner. In other words, she can do pretty much anythingshe wants as long as she helps out at the store and treats the king kindly. From what I’ve seen, both the king (a.k.a. Mort) and the princess have a pretty good deal.
    “In time for what?” I ask.
    “The big reveal.” Mort pulls a Cub Scout knife from his front pocket and slices open a box.
    Elena lowers the paperback she’s reading. It’s a novel called Franny and Zooey . I’ve read it before, but Idon’t remember it that well. I point at the book. “Isn’t that the one about the girl who lies around the house crying all the time?”
    Elena nods. “She stops eventually.”
    “She stops when Jesus shows up,” says Michael.
    Elena shakes her head. “Jesus doesn’t show up.”
    “He does too.”
    “Does not.”
    “Jesus comes into the kitchen and asks for a glass of ginger ale,” Michael reminds her.
    “It’s onlya small glass,” I recall.
    “I don’t even like ginger ale,” says Elena.
    Michael shakes his head. “You’re missing the point.”
    “If Jesus comes over,” says Mort, “you can ask him to turn your ginger ale into grape soda.” He reaches into the cardboard box and pulls out several books. They are all brand new copies of To Kill a Mockingbird .
    “That’s on our summer reading list,” I say.
    “I know.” Mortopens the remaining boxes. “I’ve also got Ender’s Game, David Copperfield , Fahrenheit 451, and all the others, too.” He stacks the books neatly on the counter. “I’ve been thinking about doing some kind of online thing to let kids know they can get their summer reading books here. Do any of you know how to do that?” Mort is not much of a computer guy.
    “Maybe we could get everybody’s e-mail addressesfrom school?” Michael suggests.
    “I don’t think my dad gives that stuff out,” I tell him.
    Elena tosses Franny and Zooey onto a nearby shelf. “Nobody reads e-mail,” she says. “We need to get everybody’s cell numbers and text them.” She walks around to the front of the counter. “Or maybe we could use Twitter and Facebook and Tumblr and all that.”
    “What are you talking about?” Mort says to her.
    Before Elena can answer, the front door swings open and a small, dark-haired girl steps into the shop. She’s wearing a too-big baseball cap stuffed over a mess of wild, dark curls. A sky-blue T-shirt reaches down to her knees, and she’s got a tiny dachshund stuffed into the crook of one arm. The dog has a red, white, and blue collar attached to a long, green leash that’s dragging on the ground behindthem. “My name is Ginny,” the girl says in a very loud voice. “Do you have any dog books?”
    Her dachshund squirms and wiggles and wags his tail like a wind-up toy plugged into a nuclear power plant.
    “Sure,” says Elena.
    Ginny examines Elena. The two of them are nearly the same height. “Do you work here?”
    “I live here.”
    Ginny, who can’t be more than eight or nine years old, turns around in acircle to take in the entire store. When she’s done, she puts her free hand on her hip as if she owns the place. She returns her gaze to Elena. “So do you have dog books or not?”
    Elena narrows her eyes. “I just said we did.”
    “What kind of dog books?” I ask. “Books with stories about dogs? Books about raising puppies? Books about dog training?”
    “My dog is very well trained.” Ginny places herdachshund onto the floor. Unfortunately, nobody seems to have let the dog know that he’s well-trained. The moment his feet hit the ground, he sprints full speed toward the back of the shop. The dachshund’s tiny toenails sound like toothpicks spilling across a table top. His leash skitters behind him like a skinny snake trying to catch its supper.
    “Hey!” yells Elena.
    “Balder!” hollers Ginny.
    “Balder?” says Michael.
    Ginny glares at him.