Raising Rufus Read Online Free PDF Page B

ended up launching it over his shoulder and straight onto his workbench, where it knocked over a bug display, scattered some tools, bounced straight up against the shelf, and banged directly on Martin’s prize oval whatever-it-was. The thing tottered, came loose from its makeshift moorings—and rolled straight off the edge, heading for the floor.
    Martin let out a gasp and instinctively leaped over—and made a perfect diving catch just before it hit the ground.
    “Now,
that’s
a catch!” his dad barked. “Why in the blazes can’t you do that with a football?”
    Martin wanted to answer, but all he could come up with was a strained smile and a shrug.
    Mr. Tinker rubbed his brow as though stricken with a splitting headache. “We’ll pick this up later. Maybe in the fall, eh? I’ll take you to a Packers game or something. Go on in and get cleaned up for dinner.”
    As his dad marched out of the barn, Martin picked up a rag and gently wiped a few droplets of water—former ice chips—from the object’s smooth surface; then he carefully returned it to its proper place on the shelf and centered it under the lamp. Any thoughts of football had already vanished from his head.
    —
    When class was over the next day, Martin managed to avoid Donald Grimes and headed straight for the public library. He’d been preoccupied with fossils and eggs and ostriches all day, and he was eager to do a bit of Internet searching and check out a few books.
    His mom was on duty behind the desk, and she gave him a big smile as he walked in.
    “Hi, squash blossom. How was school?”
    “Fine. Mom, would you mind not calling me that?”
    “Really?”
    “It’s kind of mooshy.”
    He could tell from her crinkled brow that this was a big disappointment to her. She had always called him mooshy names, but
really.
In
public
?
    “Okay,” she said, lips oddly twisted. Then she took a more businesslike tone. “Looking for something in particular today, sir?”
    “Maybe a book about rocks. Or fossils. Geology stuff.”
    “Righto. That would be in section—”
    “I know.” Of course. He had checked out geology books before. “See ya.”
    As he headed off, she called after him, “Will you be needing a ride home, sir?”
    “No thanks. I’m good.”
    Martin spent some time in the computer room, trawling the Net for whatever bits and pieces he could find about the many different kinds of fossils and how they form. But the sheer volume of information was a bit overwhelming, and it got kind of hard for him to sort out the good science from the bad. He always preferred to get his science info from books, anyway—it was generally more reliable, and he really liked having a solid thing in his hands that he could carry with him and delve into like a treasure chest of ideas.
    So he headed into the stacks, made his way to the geology section, and started examining the book spines, looking for a title that might promise a few answers to the Mystery of the Oval Thing.
Gravel Pits of the Midwest
? Not likely.
Diamond Cutting and Valuation
? Nope, not that either. Ah:
A Book of Fossils.
Could be good.
    The book was wedged in tight, and when Martin pulled on it…
kabloof!
The whole row of books tumbled off the shelf and scattered on the floor. “Great,” he mumbled as he stooped down to pick them up. What really gave him a start, though, was what he saw through the gap on the shelf when he stood back up: the face of Audrey Blanchard, close up and in living color, her bright blue eyes staring at him through a sea of freckles, pencil tucked firmly behind her ear.
    “It works better if you take ’em out one at a time,” she said matter-of-factly.
    In no mood for lame jokes, or for small talk with a stranger—well, an almost- stranger—Martin quickly picked up the rest of the books and slid them back onto the shelf. Audrey watched him coolly through the narrowing gap until he finally put the last book in place, blocking her completely. He didn’t