Puppet Pandemonium Read Online Free PDF Page B

us the house was over a hundred years old: a Victorian fixer-upper, whatever that meant. Dad had known the family who lived in it when he was growing up. He'd always loved it. When he'd found out the house was on the market, he couldn't resist buying it. He had taken pictures of the house, but then he decided at the last minute not to show them to us. He wanted to surprise us.
    Surprise was an understatement. I was in shock. Mom didn't say a word as we drove up to the house. She just stared out the window at the chipping paint and dilapidated roof.
    “Isn't it a grand old homestead?” Dad said. “This house is on the National Register. Instead of tearing down these old Victorian homes, people in Franklin want them restored. I'm the perfect guy to do it.” He made a muscle.
    “See,” he said, pointing to the top of the house. “Our house has those elaborate wooden gables, and that circular corner tower over there is fantastic. It's like having a secret room.” He rubbed his hands together. “I can't wait to get started.”
    “I've, uh, never seen a house with a pink front porch and purple trim,” I said, wrinkling my nose. And I never wanted to see another one.
    “That's the beauty of it, Bake. It's an original painted lady. After I get finished with it, it will be thebest-looking lady on the block.” Dad looked at the house again. “It just needs a little work, that's all.” He got out of the car and started up the steps. “C'mon,” he said, motioning for us to follow. Mom was still in her seat.
    A
little
work? I wondered what was holding the house up. Dad's imagination? “At least we won't need air-conditioning,” I said, pointing to a gaping hole in the roof.
    The porch wrapped around three sides of the house. A swing hung at one end of the porch by a front window. I looked around the neighborhood. I thought I saw a kid across the street watching us through binoculars. I didn't get a good look before he disappeared. I wondered if he was my age. Mom finally got out of the car.
    “Did you pack my bike helmet?” I asked. “I may need it before I go upstairs.”
    Mom ignored me. “That swing looks inviting,” she said. “Everyone loves a porch swing.” I knew she was trying her best to be positive.
    “I'm not swinging in it,” Waldo said. “I can think of other ways of breaking my neck. What do you think I am? A dummy?” Mom spun around and I slapped my hand over his mouth.
    “Baker, leave Waldo in the car and let's go take a look,” she said.
    I followed her up the steps. “Wait a minute. What's that?”
    In the middle of the yard stood a well. It looked like it had been there for a million years. Most of its red bricks were broken and some were missing. There was a roof over the well, and a bucket to draw water sat on its ledge.
    “Hey Dad,” I called. “Are we going to have to carry our bathwater inside the house?” Things in Texas were worse than I'd imagined.
    Dad laughed. “The water runs into the house just like it did in Seattle. The only difference is we have well water.”
    He dropped the bucket into the well and I heard a splash. He brought up some water to show Mom and me. When he handed me the ladle, I tried not to gag. It smelled like rotten eggs.
    “Yuck,” I said. I let the water run down my chin. Then he gave Mom a sip. She smiled. I ran my tongue over my teeth to see if they were still there.
    “Sulfur,” he said. “It's a common problem but I bet I can fix it.” When we walked back around to the front of the yard, I saw that kid looking at us again. I'd have had to be blind to miss his bright red hair.
    My stomach grumbled again. “Hey, I'm starving, remember? Let's order a pizza.”
    I grabbed my backpack and ran inside. I hated toadmit it, but the house looked okay. It seemed to have a million rooms. When I looked at the ceiling, I noticed where Dad had already started repairing the hole in the roof. I couldn't wait to see the round room. I ran upstairs to the