Rippler Read Online Free PDF

nuggets.”
    Gwyn’s eyebrows shot up.
    “I mean, not huge nuggets.”
    “No, no, no—not that!” Gwyn’s voice dropped to a loud whisper and she tipped her head towards Will. “Are you guys finally dating?”
    “Just . . . homework,” I said.
    “Oh, and me working all day,” she said, shaking her head in mock regret.
    I smiled. Gwyn acted like she hated school, but she pulled straight A’s.
    She reverted to the whisper. “Homework—ha! I’m so asking Ma to tell me everything
    about Will. Ma’s always chatting with the big sister.”
    “You mean Mickie?”
    “Mmm-hmm,” said Gwyn, eyes drifting back to Will. “It’s still a date, even if you’re doing homework.”
    “Shut up!” I said, lowering my own voice.
    A guest walked up and handed Gwyn a twenty and a ticket.
    “Keep the change,” said the customer.
    “God forbid I keep any for a tip,” Gwyn murmured, popping the change into the cat jar.
    She moved on to help a customer who’d just arrived just as Bridget brought out my drink.
    “Gwyn!” Bridget said. “Rufus?”
    “I got him,” I said. Cautiously, I picked up a cat for the first time in eight years and carried him to the front door, setting him outside quickly.
    “We’ll talk soon,” said Gwyn, winking as I grabbed my cookies and drinks.
    I rolled my eyes and walked over to Will. He was bent over a small black book and had placed two manila folders on my side of the table.
    “What’s that?” I asked, passing his ice-water across the table. “Your diary?”
    “It’s my sister’s. It was Pfeffer’s.”
    “You’re reading her diary? Or Pfeffer’s diary?”
    “It’s not a diary. At least I don’t think it is. It was in that folder,” he said, tapping the one to my right. “Those are all things Pfeffer gave us for safekeeping before he disappeared.”
    “So this will tell me everything I ever wanted to know about . . . myself?” I looked at the two folders.
    “Yeah, I just grabbed everything in the end. I didn’t want Mick catching me looking through her stuff.”
    “I’ll be really careful with it,” I promised. I wasn’t the most scientifically curious of students, but I vowed to read every scrap of paper in those folders. “And I’ll get it back by Wednesday, okay?”
    “Uh-huh,” he said.
    He was really distracted.
    “So what is it?” I pointed to the black book and grabbed a bit of polvorone .
    “Some book of riddles. I don’t think it’s actually related to what Mick or Pfeffer studied.
    Maybe it’s math problems.” He scratched his head, eyebrows drawn tight in concentration as he looked down at the tiny handwriting.
    “Let’s hear one of them.”
    He looked at me, raised an eyebrow, and flipped back a couple of pages. “Here’s the first one:

    Twelve children and every morning, twelve knots of brown bread and twelve cups of warm cow’s milk. Then one morning, eleven brown rolls with eleven cups of milk. There are still twelve children. What will happen?
    “But that’s dumb,” said Will as he raked fingers through his dark hair. There’s no
    divisors you can use with eleven. It’s a prime number.”
    “How about this?” I offered. “Ten of the kids can eat whatever, but one is gluten-
    intolerant, so you give her the milk, and one is lactose-intolerant so you give her the bread.
    Everyone’s happy.”
    Will laughed. “That’s better than what I was thinking. I pictured a fight.”
    “Math books aren’t so big on fights.”
    Will flipped to the next page. “Listen to this one. ‘ Ten children rest under ten blankets of eider-down. One chill morning the eider-downs are taken to be cleaned. Five filthy lengths of scratchy wool are brought in while the children march outside in snow. What will happen this bitter night?’ ”
    “Whoever wrote this has serious issues! What’s with all the filth and scratching?”
    Will cracked up. His laugh was deep and throaty. “Okay,” he said. “One more:
    ‘ A bowl of poisoned water sits