Books for Kids: My Fox Ate My Homework (A hilarious fantasy for children ages 8-12) Read online

  I could barely understand what she was saying. All I could think about was the talking fox. It was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen, but I couldn’t tell anyone about him — not even my mom.

  “We have to be out of here by Tuesday morning,” she continued. “So we’ll make the best of it for the weekend.”

  I sat at the dining room table and tried to process what she said. Uncle Mike grew up in this town and never left. I’d still have to go to the same school and face Shane. But more importantly, we had to stay here in case the fox came back. “We can’t leave,” I begged.

  My mom sat next to me. “What are you talking about? You don’t even like it here.” All I could do was look at her and plead with my eyes. “Don’t give me that look, Mister. I already feel bad enough as it is.”

  I put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” I assured her.

  She wiped her nose. “So I was thinking we could go to the farmers market tomorrow morning and sell some eggs. It’ll be fun. I used to do it in the summers every Saturday with my grandma.” She paused and smiled at me. “This is our only chance to do it together.”

  There was a sparkle in her eyes. She looked excited about it, and I couldn’t disappoint her. “Sure, Mom. We can do that.”

  She stood up and wrapped her arms around me. “It’s a shame, really.” She looked out the kitchen window and into the yard. “I had some of the best times of my life here.”

  I wondered if she had ever seen any talking animals there. I wanted to tell her about the fox so bad, but I couldn’t for two reasons. One was the fox told me not to. He didn’t threaten me — he was trying to protect himself. The other was I didn’t want my mom to think I was losing my mind.

  “Did you have any homework?” she asked.

  My stomach churned when I thought about the paper due in Miss Cox’s class. I consider myself a writer, but I didn’t have a best friend to write about. It would have to be about my mom — not a smart move for a new kid like me. Shane and Sam would tease me all year about it. I couldn't believe he had told me to write his paper!

  “I have to write something for my English class,” I told her. It wasn’t a lie, and it kept me from having to explain everything that had happened in school.

  “Okay,” she said. “You should go ahead and do that. We may not have a lot of free time this weekend.”

  I agreed with her and stood up to head for my room.

  “Just a second, Mister,” my mom commanded. “What would you like for dinner?”

  I didn’t have an appetite. My head was swirling with so many thoughts that it began to hurt. “I’m going to lie down for a while. I’m not hungry.”

  She nodded her head. “Come get me if you need anything.”

  I jumped into my bed as soon as I closed my bedroom door. The mattress was so lumpy that I was sure there were bricks inside of it. It wasn’t uncomfortable to lie on, but after eight hours of sleep it always left my back in pain. There was no reason to complain about it — we were only going to be there for a few more days.

  I was exhausted and needed a power nap before I wrote anything. Every time my eyes shut I could see the fox’s blue eyes staring back at me. I wondered if I’d ever see him again.

  FRIDAY NIGHT

  I jumped out of my sleep when I heard a ruckus outside. The room was dark so I knew the sun had gone down. I looked at my watch and saw it was midnight!

  I only felt half awake, and my back was killing me. I wished I could sleep on the floor, but that place had roaches that came out at night. I had heard them crunch under my feet when I got up to use the bathroom the night before. They disappeared the moment I turned the lights on.

  I jumped again when a door banged shut from outside. The chicken coop! I suddenly realized I did forget to lock it.

  I hopped out of the bed and shuddered every time I felt a crunch under my shoes. I walked down the hall and into the kitchen. My mom was nowhere to be found, and I didn’t expect her to be — she was sound asleep. I grabbed a flashlight off the kitchen counter and walked out the backdoor and into the yard.

  The outhouse looked scary in the dark — like a haunted house. The moon that night was shaped like a trimmed fingernail and not giving off much light. I flicked the flashlight on and marched toward the chicken coop. I had to lock it before the chickens got out and put themselves in danger.

  I dropped the flashlight when it focused on two blue eyes. The fox was walking out of the chicken coop. I was happy to see him again, but what was he doing in there?

  “You don’t want to go in there for ten to fifteen minutes,” the fox said. “And you might want to light a candle.” He waved a paw in front of his nose like something stank.

  And it did.

  The putrid odor made me feel sick. The fox was covered in something wet and slimy. I knew exactly what it was.

  “Old Nelly,” I whispered.

  The fox shook its body rapidly from side to side so the rotten egg yolk flew off of him in every direction. “That crazy old chicken threw her eggs at me! She attacked me for no reason.”

  I suspected Old Nelly had her reasons. She had never thrown her eggs at me. “Maybe she got nervous,” I explained. “You shouldn’t be in there at night.”

  The fox smiled and said, “I like you, Jonah. I think we’re gonna be good friends.”

  I couldn’t help but smile back. It didn’t feel weird talking to the fox, and he was nice. “Wait a second,” I said. “How did you know my name? And please call me Joe.”

  The fox turned and started walking toward the fence area he had jumped over earlier that day. “The other human with you yelled your name earlier. She said something about the outhouse.”

  That made sense. “Where are you going?” I asked. “I have so many things I want to ask you.”

  The fox stopped walking and faced me. “I need to get some dinner.” He looked back at the chicken coop. “I missed my last meal.” He shook his head like he was disappointed. “And there’s a river down the road. I need to wash up.”

  I had to agree with him on the last part. “That’s a good idea. You smell like wet farts.”

  He huffed, crouched on all four paws, and raced out of the yard.

  I locked the chicken coop and went back into the house. I felt a lot better after talking with the fox. I wondered how old he was. Probably the same age as me (eleven) — maybe a year or two younger. And I wondered once again when I would see him next. He liked the chicken coop. I’d try to meet him there again tomorrow.

  I turned the kitchen and living room lights on — not a roach in sight. I was wide awake now, and it was the perfect time to write my paper for school. I grabbed two sheets out of my backpack and a number 2 pencil. That was funny. Number 2. Made me think of the outhouse.

  I titled the first page My Best Friend. There were only three paragraphs to go. I couldn’t think of anything. Why was this so hard? I loved to write and could probably write a book. I could warm up by writing Shane’s paper. I knew who his best friend was, and I could make everything else up.

  No. That was a horrible idea. I crumpled the second piece of paper and threw it in the trash. I didn’t want to entertain the idea of writing Shane’s paper for him. But still, my life would be easier at school if I did it. And I wouldn’t have to walk the halls scared for my life.

  I gave up for the night and pulled out a magazine for boys. It had articles about nature and science. Maybe I’d write for that magazine one day.

  I fell out of my seat when something rapped on the kitchen window. My heart felt like it was going to explode. It thumped on my chest like it was trying to escape. I tried to ignore the noise in the kitchen, hoping it was only my imagination — but it happened again.

  There’s no reason to be afraid. I took a few steps toward the kitchen and peered around the corner at the window. I didn’t see anything. It had to be nothing more than a branch scraping against the window. It was windy outside.

  I nearly fain
ted when a small face pressed against the window. Once I caught my breath, I realized it was the fox. He laughed, stuck his tongue out at me, and pointed a paw toward the front door.

  Was he asking to come in? He disappeared from the window as quickly as he had appeared. I scratched my head and walked to the front door.

  I had misunderstood him. Why would a fox want to come inside?

  I opened the door to find the fox standing there, smiling. “Did you miss me?” he asked. He walked right past me and into the house. “I’ve never been inside a human’s den.”

  I sighed and closed the door. It was pretty awesome to have him there. Thankfully he didn’t smell like wet farts any more. He was used to being outside, and I had to lay down some rules. “Just make sure you don’t pee on the carpet,” I warned him.

  He jumped on the couch and sat up in the corner. “I won’t if you won’t.”

  I laughed and sat on the couch with him. “It’s a shame I won’t be here much longer. You’re the coolest animal I’ve ever met.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “We can’t stay here,” I confided in him. “We don’t have enough money. We’re leaving in a few days to stay with my uncle Mike.” Why was I telling him this?

  The fox looked confused. “I don’t know what that means, but in my neck of the woods, if you don’t have enough of something then you work as hard as you have to until you do.”

  He was a fox, so I didn’t expect him to understand. “I’m a kid,” I told him. “I don’t have a way to make money.”

  He huffed and pointed with one of his black paws to the magazine I was reading earlier. It was upside down on the floor. “What about that?”

  I threw my hands up. “What about it?”

  The fox jumped off the couch, grabbed the magazine, and handed it to me. “Those kids look like they’re getting enough of what they want.”

  What kids was he talking about? I studied the back of the magazine. I saw exactly what he meant, and I knew he was right. The kids in the picture had fistfuls of dollars and were surrounded by toys. They got all of that by selling candy the company in the advertisement gave them.

  “My mom won’t let me do it,” I told him. I wanted to sell the candy before, but my mom said no. She didn’t want me going door to door and meeting strangers. She said it wasn’t safe. I tried to argue with her, but she was right. Meeting new people was too scary.

  “The other human?” the fox asked. I nodded. “If this could help you get enough of what you need, then I don’t understand why it’s a problem.”

  He was making too much sense. I couldn’t make enough money selling candy to pay for the house, but I could make enough to help get it back for my mom.

  I went to the laptop computer my mom had set up in the corner of the room. It was already connected to the internet. I typed in the web address on the back of the magazine.

  The web site was filled with pictures of money and prizes. I felt excited and confident about this. If those kids on the website could make a lot of money — then so could I!

  I whipped my wallet out of my back pocket when the website asked for a credit card. I don’t have my own credit card, but my mom had given me one of hers for emergencies only. This was definitely an emergency!

  “I’m gonna do it,” I turned and told the fox. “I’m gonna get a box of candy and make a lot of money to help my mom.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” he said. “But if one box can get you all of that (he was pointing to the money and prizes on the screen), then imagine what you could do with two boxes.”

  I agreed with him and changed the quantity to two. We needed the money as soon as possible, so I opted to pay extra for overnight shipping. “I’m glad you’re here, fox,” I admitted to him. “I think we’ll be good friends.”

  His blue eyes glowed brighter and his tail wagged. “It’s time for me to go home, Joe.” He walked to the front door on his two hind legs and waited for me to open it.

  “Will I see you again?” I asked as I opened the door and let him out.

  He rubbed his chin. “It depends.”

  “It depends on what?” I wondered aloud.

  He took a step back. “It depends on if you take a bath or not. You’re the one who smells like wet farts now.”

  I smelled my armpits. I didn’t smell anything. I wanted to ask him what he was talking about, but he ran off laughing. “Made you smell your armpits!”

  SATURDAY MORNING

  I made coffee and bacon for my mom before she woke up. She could barely walk or talk until she had her coffee. And as far as the bacon — that was for me.

  We collected all of the eggs that day to take to the farmers market.

  “Thank you for locking the chicken coop last night,” she said before we got there. “Have to protect them from wild animals.”

  I nearly choked on a laugh. I couldn’t imagine the fox as a wild animal.

  “This is our table,” my mom said after we got into the park at the farmers market. She pointed to one in the middle of dozens of others. Some of the other tables were covered with fruits and vegetables. One had a massage chair next to it with a sign that said it cost five dollars for five minutes. My first thought was, This is where all the health nuts shop.

  People were everywhere — wearing jeans and overalls, walking from table to table and talking to each other like they were having the best time of their lives. That place was as crowded as the theme parks in Orlando.

  Someone blasted country music from a speaker overhead. I could smell hamburgers being grilled from a booth further down the park. This place was awesome!

  “Put those right there,” my mom said. She was pointing to the middle of our table. I knew she was talking about the eggs we had hauled there. Our arms were full with cartons that were cut in half.

  “Good morning, ya’ll,” said an old guy wearing a straw hat and staring at the eggs. He had a strong country accent. “Glad ya’ll could join us. My name is Jim Bob.”

  My mom wiped her hands on her pants. “Hi, Jim Bob. We’re happy to be here. My name is Julie, and this is my son Jonah.”

  “Call me Joe,” I told him right away.

  He gave me a weird look, shook his head, laughed, and pointed to the eggs. “How much?”

  “It’s six dollars for half a dozen eggs,” my mom said proudly.

  Mr. Bob whistled. “That’s too rich for my blood. I can get a whole dozen at the grocery store for half that price.”

  My mom crossed her arms. “You’re right, Jim Bob. But the chickens that laid the eggs you get at the grocery store were raised on an overcrowded ranch. They were stressed out all the time. They may have ingested pesticides and ate each other’s poop.”

  Mr. Bob scrunched his face in disgust. I did too.

  “Now my chickens were raised on a small farm by my grandma,” my mom continued. “She hand fed them every day and talked to them like they were her own children.” She put a hand on my back. “Those chickens were loved. They’re happy. Happy chickens make better tasting eggs.”

  Jim Bob walked away with two dozen eggs!

  “That was amazing, Mom!” I looked at her with nothing but respect. I hoped I could be like her one day. “You’ve gotta teach me how to do that.”

  She took a deep breath and laughed. “Don’t get used to it. They really are overpriced.” She leaned against the table. “Your great-grandma never came here to make money. She just wanted to interact with people.”

  I didn’t know a lot about my great-grandma, but she seemed pretty cool. I couldn’t help but wonder how she survived all these years by selling eggs. She never had a job, and my great-grandfather passed away long before I was born.

  “How did she do it?” I asked my mom.

  “How did she do what?”

  “How did she live without any money?” I wondered aloud. She left this world without a penny to her name.

  My mom shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sure she
had government assistance. And your great-grandfather Ray made sure she was taken care of before he passed away.”

  An elderly couple stepped up to our table and smiled. “What do we have here?” the woman asked. Her hair was gray in the front and the rest of it was brown. The man with her was bald with a long gray mustache and bushy gray eyebrows.

  “Don’t be silly,” the old man told the woman. “I'd know these eggs anywhere.” He stared at me and squinted an eye. “These are Rita’s eggs. What are you doing with them?”

  I had no idea who Rita was or why this guy thought the eggs were hers. He was a lunatic, and I didn’t want to deal with it. He scared me. “Mom?” I said, looking up at her and swallowing hard.

  My mom laughed. “My name is Julie, and this is my son, Jonah,” she said to the couple. She patted me on the back. “Rita was my grandma.”

  “Call me Joe,” I whispered.

  “Oh, dear child,” the old woman said in a comforting voice. “I’m so happy to meet you. Your grandma was a wonderful person.” She stared at the table for a minute like she was lost in memories. “My name is Martha Hunter.” She pointed to the man. “This is my husband, Jonathan Hunter.”

  My mom stepped around the table and shook the couples’ hands. “Did you know her well?” she asked Mrs. Hunter.

  Mr. Hunter cleared his throat. “Are you kidding me?” he laughed. “The two of them never stopped talking!” He looked at me and winked. “I had to get a new bottle of Aspirin every week.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” his wife said. “He’s old and bitter.” She shook her head and grabbed my mom’s hands. “I miss her dearly. We must get together and talk sometime.”

  My mom smiled. “Thank you.”

  Mr. Hunter grabbed his wife’s hand and pulled on it. “Let’s keep moving, Martha. The sun is hotter than a bonfire right now.” He wiped his forehead. “Let these young people work on their tans.”

  I half waved at Mr. Hunter as they walked away. He was scary at first but overall a really cool guy.