The Dream Club #1 - Corpse Read online

 

  The Dream Club #1 - Corpse

   

  By

  Nancy Fornataro

   

  * * * * *

   

  Nancy Fornataro

   

   

  The Dream Club #1 - Corpse

  Copyright © 2012 by Nancy Fornataro

   

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

   

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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  The Dream Club #1 - Corpse

   

   

  CHAPTER 1

   

   

  Have you ever seen a dog who thinks he's a cat? That's my dog Cotton. He even looks like a cat, and he does weird stuff that a cat would do. So that Friday, when I came home from school, I couldn't believe Cotton was in a tree, perched right there where a cat would be. I went under the tree and looked up at him.

  "You stupid dog. What are you doing up there?"

  Whimper, whimper, whine, whine. His fluffy white fur hung over his big, brown eyes, which were really sad right now. Very sad, very sorry. That's Cotton.

  Sighing, I realized I would have to use the ladder to get him down.

  Old Man Faraday from across the street came out of his house. "Ey, boy, what's up there in that tree?"

  I put on my best I'm-only-being-nice-to-you-because-you're-old smile. "Just a cat, sir. Don't worry. I'll get it down."

  He harrumphed. Only old people can do that. It's something that comes with age. "Better call the fire department, boy," he said.

  Was there a burning bush or something? "It's okay, sir, I'll get him down." That's all I needed was a bunch of fire trucks and a bunch of firemen laughing at my stupid dog.

  Cotton looked at me with sad eyes, and started shaking.

  "Okay, okay. Stay where you are. I'll be right back," I told him.

  I'm a latch-key kid, so I opened the house with my key. My mom works, so I keep this key on a chain around my neck. Sometimes I lose it though. Then I know I'm in trouble.

  Sliding the ladder out of the garage, I headed for cotton. Yup, he was still up there. And Faraday was still on his porch, mumbling about fire departments. Wow, I had an audience.

  Propping the ladder up against the tree, I saw my best friend Mikey Smith heading down the street to my house. He always comes over after school.

  "Hey," said Mikey, as I started climbing towards Cotton.

  "Hey," I said.

  "What's he doing up there?"

  "What do you think?" I replied irritably. Mikey never was real bright.

  I reached the point where I could grab Cotton. He started backing up towards the place where the tree overhangs the roof.

  "Here, boy. Come here. Come on."

  He kept backing up. Mary Smith arrived, Mikey's sister. She was two years younger than Mikey, and always trying to hang around us.

  "What's he doing up there?" She asked.

  Maybe stupidity runs in their family. By that time, I was sweating and I looked down at her and yelled, "He's picking his nose, dummy!"

  She looked perplexed. "Mikey, can dogs do that? How can they? Their paws are too big...." Her voice trailed off as Mikey gave her a dirty look. Yup, it ran in the family, all right.

  By this time, Cotton was almost to the roof. I realized I'd have to move the ladder. Sighing, I descended, muttering about stupid dogs.

  Mikey helped me move the ladder. Cotton leaped on the roof and started his whimper, whimper, whine, whine routine. He looked so pitiful up there, I just couldn't be mad at him.

  I started up the ladder again. Mrs. Katz arrived from next door. She was pretty nice, but she always seemed to watch me like a hawk. Either my Mom told her to, or she was just very nosey.

  "Is that Cotton up there?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "My goodness, he's a strange dog."

  She had a point. Very perceptive, that woman. And just a tad smarter than Mikey's sister.

  I reached the top of the ladder, with Faraday still yacking about fire departments; Mikey telling Mary to shut-up that no, dogs can't pick their noses; and Mrs. Katz clicking her tongue. Yes, I definitely had an audience now.

  Cotton was within reaching distance, and looked curiously at the people below. His ears were up. Good sign.

  "Come on, boy." I kept my voice light, so he'd know I wasn't mad at him.

  As I reached a little further to grab him, my foot skidded off the ladder and it fell to the ground. I slid and grabbed the edge of the roof.

  Hanging there from the roof, I heard Mary scream.

  "Oh, my God!" yelled Mrs. Katz.

  "He's going to die!" screamed Mary.

  "Call the Fire Department!" Faraday hollered.

  Mikey stared up, his mouth open.

  "Mikey," I yelled, gritting my teeth, "the ladder, get the ladder."

  Just then, my Mom drove up. I heard the door of her car slam. This was not going to be easy.

  "Edward," she yelled, "what are you doing up there?"

   Did ANYONE have any brains around here?

  "Just...hanging...around, Mom," I gasped. She wasn't amused.

  "Mikey," she said with The Voice of Authority, "get the ladder underneath him." Much to my relief, Mikey did as Mom requested, and my feet were once again on the ladder. Whew!

  Cotton was closer to the edge now, watching the scene below with interest, so I was able to grab him and climb down.

  So, that's the kind of stuff my dog does. My name is Eddie McCoy, and I live in a one-story house on Rubicon Street. I have red hair that's kind of long in back, and my Mom says I'm too thin.

  Cotton, aside from thinking he's a cat, is a little white furry monster who I wouldn't part with for anything. He doesn't like strange people, and he hates strange kids even more. He can be really fierce at times, bares his teeth, the whole routine. Especially when it's time for a bath or grooming. He's not your typical small dog.

  Mikey, my best friend, is eleven like me, and lives down the street. We have a club, but right now we're the only members. His sister Mary is a provisional member, but we still have to vote on her. I'm not wild about the idea of having a bunch of people in the club, but she's okay, so I told her I'd think about it.

  That day, after the roof incident, and after I calmed my Mom down, we headed over to the empty lot down the street from my house. It's pretty overgrown with weeds, but a few weeks ago we found a perfect spot there for our club headquarters.

  We tromped military-style through the high weeds with Mary following a safe distance behind, copying our movements. Even Cotton dragged his belly on the ground. We tried to keep low and out of sight for two reasons.

  First, we didn't want anyone to know where our club headquarters was located, especially Stinky Weston. Bart Weston, as he's known to the rest of the world, got his nickname because he has the smelliest feet this side of the Rockies. I made the fatal mistake of having him sleep over one night. Phew! My Mom had to spray the room with this Lilac Stuff the next day. I don't know which was worse, Stinky's feet or the Lilac Smell.

  The second reason to stay low was to avoid Mary, but she already knew the club's location. She's a pretty good little tracker...I have to respect her for that.

  We arrived at our headquarters, which is located in a large indentation at the base of
a big hill, surrounded by tall bushes. We never wanted to leave any of our stuff there for spies to take, so I always brought all our equipment in my back-pack.

  The equipment included baseball cards, Cotton bones, a blanket, potato chips, sodas, two walkie-talkies, candy bars, note pads, and pens. We spread out the blanket, unloaded the stuff, and pretended we didn't see Mary sneaking up on us.

  "The fifth meeting of the Dream Club is now called to order," I said. We called it the Dream Club because we have a lot of dreams for the future, which hopefully will come true.

  "Okay, Mikey, read the list of dreams." I sat cross-legged and flipped open a soda.

  "Um," he grabbed the notepad, "the first is to get two paint-ball guns."

  I nodded.

  "The second is to go to Disneyland." We live in Denver, Colorado, and my Mom said Disneyland was a long way away. We were pretty convinced we'd get there eventually, though.

  "The third is to get Eddie a new Dad." This would be the toughest one. My Dad died when I was three, so I don't remember him much. Mom has been alone since then. I've been looking for a new Dad, but haven't had much luck.

  Mikey wiped his forehead. I could see Mary lurking in the bushes, so I waved her in. Cotton sat next to me, panting loudly.

  She smiled self-consciously as she made her way through the bushes and sat with us. I had decided to let her in our club, but she had to pass initiation first.

  "Mary Smith," I said formally, as we sat huddled in a circle, "we have decided to let you be a member of the Dream Club."

  Her blue eyes grew large, and her brown pigtails bounced, a sure sign she was excited.

  "Now," I continued, "there is one prerequisite for getting in the club."

  She looked perplexed. "Pre...prequisite?"

  "P-r-e-r-e-q-u-i-s-i-t-e. It means you have to do something first before you can become a member."

  "Oh."

  I could see her filing the word in her memory bank for future reference. This kid was smart, and sometimes even helped Mikey with his homework.

  I looked at her seriously. "Okay, close your eyes."

  She squeezed her eyes shut. "It won't hurt, will it Eddie?"

  "Nope." I paused to give her time to relax. "Now, everyone in this club shares dreams. You heard the first three." She smiled, but her eyes were still closed. "Now, we will add yours to the list. But it has to be one we can all share."

  A few minutes passed. Mikey opened a soda, and I opened a pack of chips and gave one to Cotton. We waited. I could hear the wheels turning in that brain of hers.

  She spoke. "My wish is for a big-screen T.V.."

  "How big?" It was a good dream. I approved.

  "Sixty inches."

  "Good. Mikey, add it to the list."

  Mikey was vice-president, club secretary, and I was president, I told Mary.

  "What will I be?" She asked.

  "Hmmmm."

  Mikey spoke. "How about treasurer?" Mary had a good head for math.

  "Okay, Mary, you are officially club treasurer."

  She looked at us seriously. "How much do you have?"

  Mikey looked confused. "How much what?"

  I shook my head. "Money, dummy. Let's see...looks like five dollars and thirty-three cents." I handed over the money. No problem with trust here, Mary was the biggest tightwad on the block.

  "I'll need a notepad to keep track and a box for the money," she said crisply.

  "Done," I replied.

  Then our heads bounced up as we heard the noise. The loud bang.

  Mary spun around. "Firecracker?"

  Mikey and I looked at each other, astonished. "Gun!" We said in unison.