Which normally would’ve been a good thing. But something told Patches that Grissel had meant what he said in the very worst way possible.
Elliot had spent the entire day thinking about whether he wanted to become the Brownie king. He thought about it during recess when he should have been watching the ball that smacked him in the face. He thought about it during lunch when he should have told Dorcas, the lunch lady, he most definitely did not want lima beans on his tray. And he thought about it during science when the teacher asked what he’d get if he mixed hydrogen and oxygen. Elliot had said, “Brownies.” He was given detention on Friday for that.
What Elliot finally decided was that he was no good at making decisions. If he couldn’t decide whether to become king, how could he possibly make decisions for the Brownies? And he didn’t like the idea of fighting a war with the Goblins. He remembered the Goblins he’d met on Halloween three years ago, the way their skin had boiled and bubbled. He’d been lucky that the water splashing on them made them leave, because he was sure they were getting ready to do something bad. Ever since that night, Elliot didn’t like scary movies so much. He’d already seen the real thing.
But would he really say no to being king just because he was scared? Elliot could handle scary. After all, Tubs Lawless was scary. Even Tubs’s parents were afraid of him. They bought him a new toy every single day as a reward for not burning down their house. He usually took the old toys to school and threw them at Elliot.
Elliot was good at dodging the little things, like electronic games and action figures. It was harder to avoid the bigger things, like Tubs’s bicycle.
Just thinking of it now gave Elliot a shudder.
But there was more. Elliot knew he could fight back. He remembered the time when Tubs had tried to push him off the bus. Elliot had tripped him, and Tubs fell face first into the mud. It had been one of the best moments of Elliot’s life. Maybe winning a war against the Goblins would feel just as good.
King of the Brownies, how hard could it be? They certainly lived up to his order to provide food for the day. Crispy bacon, toast with homemade jelly, and fluffy pancakes were waiting for him when he came downstairs that morning. Mother happily accused Father of making it for the family as a surprise. Father looked confused, but he didn’t deny it. And if dinner was as good as breakfast, then from now on he could eat like…well, he could eat like a king.
That night, Elliot stared at his table loaded with roast beef, steamed carrots, and fresh bread. He would be king for anyone who could cook like this.
Beside him, Kyle reached a hand out to take a slice of bread, but Wendy pushed it away. “Not until Mom and Dad get back with Uncle Rufus.”
“They wouldn’t care if we started eating. Uncle Rufus is used to cold jail food. We’re not.” Reed leaned closer to the table so he could smell the food better.
“I’ll bet jail food is a lot better than Wendy’s food,” Cole grumbled.
Wendy looked as if she was thinking about getting mad. Then she shrugged and said, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt if we started eating. Just eat slowly so it looks like we waited longer.”
Reed, Kyle, and Cole dug into the food so quickly that there was no room for Elliot to dish up his plate. He wanted to stand on his chair and tell them the food was really his because the Brownies made it. But even if he did, everyone was so busy eating that they wouldn’t have heard him. Finally, he sat back on his chair to wait for a turn.
“We’re home!” Father announced as they came through the doorway. He was carrying a big sack full of Uncle Rufus’s belongings from jail. Elliot didn’t think his uncle would bother to unpack. As soon as he stole again, he’d just need to pack up to go back to jail.
“Come say hello to Uncle Rufus,” Mother said as she walked in. Then she stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think you should have waited for us before eating?”
“I told them to wait,” Wendy said with a mouthful of bread.
“I see that Elliot waited,” Father said. “Such a polite boy.”
Elliot didn’t tell his parents that waiting wasn’t his choice. If they wanted to think he was polite, then he didn’t want to disappoint them.
Uncle Rufus stopped in the doorway and looked around. “Where’s my family?” It sounded as if he were really asking. Maybe his eyes were getting worse.
This time, Elliot beat the others to be first in line to hug his uncle. “We’re glad you’re home,” he said.
Uncle Rufus studied Elliot’s face. “Something’s different about you. You’re standing taller.”
“Nobody beat me up today,” Elliot said.
“Well, isn’t that nice,” Uncle Rufus said, patting Elliot on the head.
As Elliot’s parents helped Uncle Rufus get seated at the table, Mother stared at all the food and asked, “Where did this meal come from?”
“We know Wendy didn’t cook it, because she didn’t need to trick us with dessert to get us to come,” Kyle said.
Cole laughed and added, “And we know Dad didn’t cook it, because this is real food, not something Dad trapped with his rope outside.”
“Don’t be silly,” Father said. “I’ve never gotten that trap to work. Except for that skunk, of course, which I still say would have tasted fine if it didn’t smell so skunkish.”
“Well, wherever dinner came from, it’s the best way to welcome Uncle Rufus home from jail,” Mother said.
Uncle Rufus smiled at his family, and the wrinkles around his eyes folded together. “Speaking of jail, I forgot that I brought each of you a gift.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out shiny key chains for Father, Reed, Kyle, and Cole, and earrings for