Raising Rufus Read Online Free PDF Page A

Donald’s spiky hair a ruffle. “What are you doing, eh?” He shook his head, chuckling, and the two of them got into the squad car.
    As the car headed off down the street, Donald leaned out the window to throw one last smirk and wave at Martin.
If only I could spit venom like a Mangshan pit viper,
Martin thought,
I could wipe that smile off his face for good.
    Tyler and Nate wandered off, and Martin grimly picked up his books and returned them to his backpack. He finished dusting himself off, then looked himself over; at least there weren’t any rips or scrapes or bruises to have to explain at home.
    He tried his best to take these episodes in stride, though the unfairness of it all really made his blood boil. Why couldn’t
his
dad be a policeman who let him do whatever he wanted?
    As he zipped up the pack, he caught a glimpse of something across the way: there, standing on the other side of the fence, was Audrey Blanchard, watching him with a vaguely sympathetic expression. But Martin wasn’t in the mood for sympathy just now. Knowing she had seen the whole thing only added to his humiliation. He flung the backpack over his shoulder and marched out the gate and down the street, trying to get as far away as possible.

M artin went for a long hike in the woods, and, as always, it really helped settle his nerves. Nothing like the warm sun, the soft sounds of nature, and the thrill of small discoveries to sweeten a sour mood. He spent some time on the shore of Winoka Lake—which was not much more than a big pond, really—sitting on his favorite smooth rock, just staring out over the gently rippling water and pondering the mysteries of the world. It was his number-one favorite place to be.
    By the time he got back home to his lab, he was feeling reenergized and ready to get to work on his ancient discoveries. The fossils were interesting enough, but it was still that frozen oval thing that really fascinated him. He was surprised it was taking so long to thaw out, a whole day after he’d found it. He spent a good hour chipping off the ice and grit and hardened clay, one small chunk at a time, being extra careful not to scratch the perfectly smooth surface.
    Certainly rocks with such a perfect shape didn’t occur in nature. Or did they? Maybe it had been in a stream bed at one time, and the flowing water molded it into an oval. Actually, it looked more like a big petrified egg than a rock, but the only bird he knew of that laid eggs that size was an ostrich, and as far as he knew there were no ostriches in Wisconsin. Maybe there had been, thousands of years ago. Who knew? A trip to the library was definitely in order.
    Once the object was quite a bit cleaner, Martin carefully lifted it up and placed it on a shelf next to his workbench, where he could stare at it and ponder it to his heart’s content. To keep it from rolling off, he slid a few small stones from his collection underneath it, anchoring it in place. Then he unclipped a gooseneck lamp from the bench and attached it to the shelf, positioning it right over the stone. That way, he figured, not only would he be highlighting the showpiece of his rock collection (he liked his displays to have a dramatic flair, even though he was the only one who really ever saw them), but the heat from the lamp would also help melt off any leftover bits of ice.
    As Martin stepped back to admire his sharp new display, into the barn walked his dad. This came as a big surprise to Martin, since (1) he was home very early, and (2) he hardly ever came out to the barn. Martin knew something was up, and it wouldn’t be good.
    “Hey, sport,” Mr. Tinker said cheerily.
    “Hi.” Martin felt like he’d been caught stealing a cookie or something. He tried to sound matter-of-fact. “You’re home early.”
    “What do you mean? Six-thirty.”
    Martin checked his watch. It was actually almost seven. He’d completely lost track of the time.
    He stood there, scratching his wrist, as his dad