The Odds of Getting Even Read Online Free PDF Page B

a worn shade of pretty, like an upholstered chair faded by the sun. She stared straight ahead, the crowd’s murmurs settling around her like falling leaves.
    I stepped in front of Capers, upstaging her right back. Miss Lana applauded.
    â€œThank you for that introduction, Capers,” I said. “It’s always good to get a stranger’s take on things they know nothing about. As everyone knows, the Desperados helped capture Mr. Macon once. We’ll do it again. Anyone with clues may see me or Dale in homeroom or at the café. We have Joe Starr setting up a search and dusting for prints. The lockdown at sunset was his idea, not ours. Just in case you hate it.”
    â€œMacon’s halfway to Mexico by now,” a blond, chisel-faced man shouted.
    Dale waved. “Hey, Uncle Austin.”
    Attila flounced her hair. “On behalf of the
popular
kids in sixth grade, I’d like to say I’m not surprised your father’s a felon, Dale, but in a way I hate it because you’ll probably follow in his footsteps thanks to the Like-Father-Like-Son Rule.”
    The courtroom erupted.
    Miss Rose stood up. “Stop it right this minute!” she said, her voice ringing across the room. Attila froze like a field mouse in open terrain.
    â€œNot another word about my son,” Miss Rose said, her face so strained, her lips had gone white. “This has nothing to do with Dale, and we have nothing more to say. Neither do you, Anna Celeste—not to us. Are we clear?” she demanded, her stare practically melting the turkey earrings dangling from Attila’s pink ears.
    The courtroom went tight as a full-stretched slingshot.
    â€œAre we clear?” Miss Rose repeated, shifting her gaze to Attila’s mother—mean, beige Mrs. Simpson.
    Not many people go toe-to-toe with the Simpsons, who are second-generation cul-de-sac. But Miss Rose can stare down a bulldog if she thinks she’s right.
    Mrs. Simpson licked her lips. “Anna, sit down.”
    Attila plunked onto the bench as Starr marched into the room. “Curfew sundown to sunup,” he said. “If you see Macon, dial 911.”
    â€œSorry Macon gave you the slip,” a voice behind me said. “Makes you look bad.”
    I wheeled. Slate! He’s like a snake, I thought. So still, you forget he’s there, and poison when you step on him.
    Slate scratched his face, his handcuffs flashing. “People always underestimate Macon. He’s like little Dale overthere—smarter than you think. He’s always three steps ahead of you people.”
    â€œExcept when we throw him in jail,” I shot back.
    He smiled. “Really? Because I don’t see him here. Do you?”
    â€œHe has a point,” Dale whispered. “Daddy’s gone.”
    Slate’s smile broadened. “Let me know if I can help you puzzle things out, Starr. I have nothing but time on my hands. And I admire Macon Johnson so.”
    â€œPut a double guard on him,” Starr told the bailiff.
    Slate’s eyes glittered. “Why? What could I have to do with the escape? I was sitting right here. Ask your star witnesses. Hi, Mo. Hi, Dale,” he said, smiling like a frog smiles at flies. “I look forward to spending time with you when I get out of here.”
    The Colonel and Lavender both lunged at him. Starr blocked them like a football lineman, bulldozing them to a halt. “Take Slate to lockup,” he barked at the bailiff.
    Slate smiled at Miss Rose as the bailiff jerked him to his feet. “Nice seeing you, Rose. Your husband’s showing his true genius. Again.”
    â€œGet him out of here. Now,” Starr shouted. “The rest of you, go home.”

    Starr stood by the courtroom door, watching the crowd file by. As the Colonel and I drew even, he grabbed theColonel’s arm. “Colonel,” he said, “I’d appreciate it if you’d ride with me today. You know Macon and