Big Bad Beans (3 page)

Stacy Henry, Abby's best friend, was going along. So was Dunkum Mifflin, the best hoop shooter around. And little Dee
Dee Winters. Seven Cul-de-sac Kids, counting the Hunter kids.

They could almost have a club meeting,
thought Jason with a sigh.

Abby often asked Jason to go with them. Dunkum did, too.

But Jason gave her plenty of excuses. For one thing, he wasn't used to going to church. For another, his dress-up clothes were too small.

“None of that matters,” Abby always said.

But Jason refused to go.

After the van left, he wandered outside. He sat on the front step and stared at Eric's house.
The lousy double-crosser better stay inside all day,
he thought.

Hey! Now, Eric—
there
was a kid for Sunday school and church!

The Hunters' van arrived back around noon.

Jason was still sitting on the step. Bored silly.

Abby ran across the street. “Hi, Jason.”

“What's up?” he asked.

“Plenty,” she said, out of breath. “Can you hide something for me?”

Jason pushed up his glasses. “Maybe.”

Abby opened her purse. She pulled out a sandwich bag full of dollar bills.

“Wow,” said Jason. “That's a bunch of money.”

“Shh! It's for Mother's Day,” Abby whispered. “And it's top secret.”

“Really?”

She handed the plastic money bag to him. “I can't seem to hide this anymore. I think someone's found my hiding place.”

“Like who?”

“I'm not sure,” Abby replied.

Jason clutched her bag of bills. “Your bucks are safe with me!”

“Double dabble good!” She turned to
cross the street. “Thanks, Jason.”

“How long should I hide the you-know-what?” Jason called to her.

“I'll need it next Saturday. Dad and I are going shopping for Mother's Day,” Abby said. “But don't tell anyone. OK?”

Jason nodded. “It's a double-done deal.”

Abby smiled. “Thanks again.” She turned to go but stopped in the middle of the street. “How's the bike deal coming?” she asked.

Suddenly, Jason felt sick. “Oh, that,” he said.

Abby frowned hard. “What's wrong?”

Jason sat stone still. Should he tell on Eric?

“C'mon, Jason. Did you buy the bike or not?” she asked.

“Eric double-crossed me,” he blurted.

Abby's eyes nearly popped out. “You're kidding . . . how?”

“He sold the bike out from under my nose,” Jason said.

He felt horrible as soon as he said it.

Worse than ever!

FIVE

Jason wished Abby would stop staring at him. He could see she wasn't leaving. Not until he explained.

“Eric sold his bike to someone else,” he repeated. “That's all there is to it.”

Abby sighed. “This is double dabble rotten.”

“It's not your fault,” he said.

Abby sat beside him on the step. “I can't believe this.”

“He's a double-crosser, that's what,” Jason said.

Abby nodded her head. “No kidding.”

Dunkum came up the street just then. He was dribbling his basketball. “Wanna play?” he asked Jason.

“Not today,” Jason replied.

Dunkum stopped bouncing the ball. He looked first at Jason, then at Abby. “Who died?” he asked.

Abby's face drooped. “Nobody,” she said.

“Could've fooled me,” Dunkum said. He twirled the basketball on his finger. “Come on, Jason, let's shoot some hoops.”

“Don't feel like it,” Jason replied. Dunkum raised his eyebrows. “Why not?”

Abby stood up. “I better get going,” she said.

“See ya,” Jason called.

Dunkum and Jason headed for the far end of the street. It was the dead end of the cul-de-sac. A grassy place with a large oak tree, near Mr. Tressler's house.

Dunkum leaned against the old tree.
He tossed his basketball to the ground. “What's going on?” he asked.

“Don't ask,” Jason said.

Dunkum frowned and let the subject drop. He pulled a black book from his back pocket. “Check this out,” he said.

Jason sat on the ground, eyeing the tiny book. “What is it?”

“It's a New Testament. I got it the first time I went to Abby's church.” He paused for a second. “I've learned lots of verses from it.”

“What's so great about that?” Jason asked.

Dunkum grinned. “If I say all the verses by next Sunday, I'll win another ribbon. Then I'll have twenty-five. Maybe I'll even win the grand prize!”

Jason didn't give a hoot about church prizes. He was thinking about the bike that got away.

“Here,” Dunkum said. He handed the pocket Bible to Jason. “Follow along and see if I've got my verses right. OK?”

“Whatever,” Jason complained. “If you
have
to.”

So Dunkum began.

Halfway through the first verse, Jason stopped him. “Wrong. You're mixed up,” he said.

Dunkum started over. But he missed more words.

“You were real close.” Jason closed the book. “I oughta go home now. Mom's leafy lunch is calling.”

Dunkum nodded. “Thanks. Can you help me again?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Jason said, getting up. He wiped his hands on his jeans.

They hurried down Blossom Hill Lane. Jason pushed his hand deep into his pants pocket. Yes! Abby's money was safe there.

“Wanna come to church next Sunday?” asked Dunkum. “It's Mother's Day. Bring your mom and get a rose.”

Jason scratched his head. “She'd like that.”

They walked past Eric's house. Jason looked the other way on purpose.

“See ya later,” Dunkum said. He darted across the street. The basketball danced under one leg. “Come over Wednesday after school,” he called. “I'll have my verses ready by then.”

“I guess so,” said Jason. He didn't see what was so special about saying Bible verses from memory. Except maybe for the grand prize. Whatever
that
was.

After lunch, he went to his room and opened his junk drawer. Abby's cash fit into his cardboard money box. He stacked up a pile of baseball cards between her money and his. Abby's Mother's Day money was on the left and his money was on the right.

Super good!

Now . . . he needed to find another used bike to buy. Everything would be
hoo-ray good, if he could.

Quickly, Jason emptied his other pocket. Big, bad garbanzo beans were inside. He'd sneaked them off his plate at lunch.

Surely Mom could come up with something better than yucky bean salads. But if not, he'd have to hide them in his junk drawer. They'd be fine there until trash day.

Wednesday!

SIX

It was Monday.

Jason's class lined up for art. They were making pop-up heart vases from construction paper. For Mother's Day.

Eric put glue bottles on each table. When he passed Jason's table, he bragged about his new mountain bike. “I'm getting it in two days,” he said.

Jason felt sick again. All the Cul-de-sac Kids had cool bikes. Even Dee Dee Winters.

Abby sat across from him at the table. She was helping the new girl follow the
pattern, fold, and cut the pages.

Jason watched her do what she did best—help others. He wanted to thank her for helping him raise money for Eric's bike. Eric's dumb old mountain bike. The one he never bought!

The word was out by morning recess. Eric had double-crossed Jason. Everyone knew about it. Even the little kids!

Bossy Dee Dee warned Jason about eating chocolate bars with his leftover bike money. “You'll spoil your mother's plans for your health,” she teased.

“Mind your own business.” He turned away to find a soccer game.

“It's not the only bike in the world,” Dee Dee said.

Maybe to her it wasn't. But Dee Dee hadn't felt the smooth, shiny frame, its golden flecks smiling through the blue. She hadn't heard the whir of its jazzy tire spokes.

Br-ring!
The bell rang.

Everyone raced to the school. Everyone except Jason. He dragged his feet.

After school on Wednesday, Jason went straight home.

He tossed pieces of lettuce and three wrinkled garbanzo beans from his lunch into the junk drawer. His money and Abby's money was safely hidden in the corner.

Then he headed to Dunkum's house. Time to help him practice Bible verses.

Dunkum stood tall beside his desk.

Jason sat on the bed, checking the words in the New Testament.

“Galations 6:2: ‘Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.'”

“You said it perfectly!” said Jason. “Now what?”

“Luke 3:11: ‘The man with two tunics should share with him who has none, and the one who has food should do the same.'”