Jubber Tries to Think The clock in our kitchen read 1:25. The thought flashed through my mind that I had made too much noise and somebody had called the police. I was in trouble now. They’d arrest me, and I’d get remediated and everything. I’d get sent to some horrible new family, a thousand times worse than the Whingles who weren’t bad people in their own way. I should have just stayed with them and behaved myself. But then I heard a voice and knew that it wasn’t the police after all. “Jubber!” the voice shouted. “What a life! I tell you! Great show, too. Wow. I love a good musical.” It was Mr. Earpicker. He started to sing, but his voice was so harsh that it sounded more like he was being killed. I couldn’t recognize the tune. “Darn nice of you to take me out! Expensive, those tickets.” Any second, they might walk in the kitchen and see me. I couldn’t get back up the stairs, because the foot of the stairs was in full view of the front door.
