Mailbox Mania Read Online Free PDF

good about Mailbox Mania. She really wanted to.
    But how could she when her family was fighting?

FOUR
    The next day, Abby got up early.
    She read her Bible. And prayed. “Dear Lord, help Carly and Jimmy. They aren’t trying very hard to win the contest. Help us work together. Amen.”
    At breakfast, Carly ate her pancakes with too much syrup. Even Mother noticed.
    Jimmy slurped his milk. The sound bugged Abby. “Where are your manners?” she said.
    â€œWhere are yours?” he shot back.
    â€œChildren, please,” said Abby’s mother.
    Shawn was the only quiet one. Abby wished she had just one brother and no sister. Jimmy and Carly could go fly a kite!
    Abby and Shawn helped clean up the kitchen. Then Abby went to Stacy’s house.
    â€œLet’s go swimming,” Abby suggested.
    â€œCan’t,” Stacy said. “I’m working on my mailbox.”
    â€œOh, yeah. Lucky you!” Abby turned to go. She was heading home when Mr. Tressler came outside. He was swinging his cane as he walked.
    â€œHello there, missy,” Mr. Tressler called to her.
    Abby waved. She ran across the street. “Can I talk to you?”
    He smiled his wrinkled smile. “You’re talking, aren’t you?”
    Abby explained all about Mailbox Mania. “We need a judge,” she said. “Someone who can be fair.”
    He leaned on his cane. “Hm-m, sounds interesting.”
    â€œDo you want the job?”
    He rubbed his pointy chin. “What’s the pay?”
    â€œVery funny,” Abby said.
    Mr. Tressler’s eyes twinkled. “I’d be honored, Abby. When’s the big day?”
    â€œThe Fourth of July.”
    â€œI’ll be there with bells on.”
    Abby wondered, Bells on? Then she saw his smile and knew what he meant. “Thank you!”
    Mr. Tressler waved his cane.
    Abby felt good about Mr. Tressler doing the judging. But she wondered about her own mailbox. Could she get Carly and Jimmy to work on it? Would it be done in time?
    The contest was only three days away!
    â€œMaybe Shawn and I’ll decorate by ourselves,” she said out loud. Excited, she rushed across the street—to her side of the cul-de-sac.
    At that moment, Stacy came out of her house. She carried a shoebox full of paints, paper, glue, and scissors. An eager look spread across her face.
    Abby waved to her. “Hi, Stacy!”
    Stacy froze.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Abby asked.
    Stacy hid the shoebox behind her back. “I . . . uh . . . I didn’t want you to see this.”
    Abby frowned. “Why not?”
    â€œWell, I—” Stacy stopped.
    â€œWhat?” Abby had a weird feeling.
    â€œYou won’t steal my idea, will you?” Stacy asked.
    Abby held her breath. She didn’t say a word.

    â€œWell, you won’t, will you?” Stacy said.
    Abby folded her arms across her chest. “You know me better than that, Stacy Henry!”
    And she ran home.

FIVE
    That night, Abby couldn’t sleep.
    Crackity-boom! Early fireworks.
    Something else kept her awake. Starting tomorrow there were only two days left. The Fourth of July—and Mailbox Mania—was coming fast!
    It was late when Abby fell asleep. Her dreams popped with the sounds outside. In one dream, Jason was making popcorn in his mailbox. The hot sun beat down.
    Ka-bang! The mailbox exploded intoa giant popcorn ball.
    Abby woke up. Caught in her covers. Too hot. She kicked them off and went back to sleep.

    The next morning, Abby crept into Carly’s room. Her closet door stood open. Carly was humming.
    Inside the closet was a secret place. The sliding door led to a tiny space under the steps.
    â€œPs-s-t! Are you in there?” Abby called.
    The humming stopped.
    Rustle-rattle .
    Then—“Keep out!” Carly shouted.
    Abby caught a glimpse of Carly. She was working on something. Probably something for Mailbox Mania.
    Abby inched closer.