بگو سیب و بمیر فصل 9

Say Cheese and Die! - Chapter 9

“ Mmmm. This is great chicken, Mom,” Greg’s brother, Terry, said, chewing as he talked.

“Thanks for the compliment,” Mrs. Banks said drily, “but it’s veal—not chicken.”

Greg and his dad burst out laughing. Terry’s face grew bright red. “Well,” he said, still chewing, “it’s such excellent veal, it tastes as good as chicken!”

“I don’t know why I bother to cook,” Mrs. Banks sighed.

Mr. Banks changed the subject. “How are things at the Dairy Freeze?” he asked.

“We ran out of vanilla this afternoon,” Terry said, forking a small potato and shoving it whole into his mouth. He chewed it briefly, then gulped it down. “People were annoyed about that.”

“I don’t think I can go for the ride,” Greg said, staring down at his dinner, which he’d hardly touched. “I mean—”

“Why not?” his father asked.

“Well…” Greg searched his mind for a good reason. He needed to make one up, but his mind was a blank.

He couldn’t tell them the truth.

That he had taken a snapshot of Michael, and it showed Michael falling. Then a few seconds later, Michael had fallen.

And now he had taken a picture of the new car. And the car was wrecked in the photo.

Greg didn’t really know what it meant. But he was suddenly filled with this powerful feeling of dread, of fear, of… he didn’t know what.

A kind of troubled feeling he’d never had before.

But he couldn’t tell them any of that. It was too weird. Too crazy.

“I… made plans to go over to Michael’s,” he lied, staring down at his plate.

“Well, call him and tell him you’ll see him tomorrow,” Mr. Banks said, slicing his veal. “That’s no problem.”

“Well, I’m kind of not feeling very well, either,” Greg said.

“What’s wrong?” Mrs. Banks asked with instant concern. “Do you have a temperature? I thought you looked a little flushed when you came in.”

“No,” Greg replied uncomfortably. “No temperature. I just feel kind of tired, not very hungry.”

“Can I have your chicken—I mean, veal?”

Terry asked eagerly. He reached his fork across the table and nabbed the cutlet off Greg’s plate.

“Well, a nice ride might make you feel better,” Greg’s dad said, eyeing Greg suspiciously. “You know, some fresh air. You can stretch out in the back if you want.”

“But, Dad—” Greg stopped. He had used up all the excuses he could think of. They would never believe him if he said he needed to stay home and do homework on a Saturday night!

“You’re coming with us, and that’s final,” Mr. Banks said, still studying Greg closely. “You’ve been dying for this new wagon to arrive. I really don’t understand your problem.”

Neither do I, Greg admitted to himself.

I don’t understand it at all. Why am I so afraid of riding in the new car? Just because there’s something wrong with that stupid camera?

I’m being silly, Greg thought, trying to shake away the feeling of dread that had taken away his appetite.

“Okay, Dad. Great,” he said, forcing a smile. “I’ll come.”

“Are there any more potatoes?” Terry asked.