7 ROTTEN EGGS

CHAPTER 7 ROTTEN EGGS That afternoon, Alexander did his math, science, and reading with no bathroom breaks. Ms. Vanderpants didn't let him leave until twenty minutes after the final bell. "Good enough for your first day, Alexander," said Ms. Vanderpants. "You may leave." Rip and Nikki were waiting for Alexander in the lobby.

"Sorry I'm late," said Alexander. "Poor Salamander," said Nikki. "Principal Vanderpants is really working you." The three friends walked a few blocks in silence until Rip whooped with joy. "A garbage truck!" he shouted, pointing down the street. "Let's go watch it crush stuff!" They made their way to the truck, which was surprisingly clean. And totally empty. The trash collector was scratching her head.

"Shoot!" said Rip. "There's no trash to smash!" "You're telling me!" said the trash collector. "Every can on this route was empty. Somebody must have dumped them before I came along!" Alexander raised an eyebrow. It stayed raised for the rest of the walk home. "A clean garbage truck?" he said. "Empty trash cans? Something stinks about all this!" "You mean something doesn't stink," said Rip. Alexander rolled his eyes. "Guys, watch out for caboose-crashers. I'll see you tomorrow." He cut across his yard. SLAM! His dad burst onto the front porch. He held a yellow bowl in one hand, and his nose with the other.

"Stand back, AI!" he shouted. He raced to the trash can, tossed the bowl inside, and slammed the lid shut. "What's so stinky, Dad?" asked Alexander. "My homemade tuna salad," Alexander's dad said, wiping his brow. "The eggs had gone bad. Also the tuna... The mayo, too, now that I think of it." He patted his son's head. "So we're ordering pizza!" "This reminds me of last week's meatball disaster," mumbled Alexander. "Yeah, yeah. Hey, I'll race you to the door!" said his dad. "Last one there is a uh, never mind."

Alexander headed inside and flopped down on the couch. His nose wrinkled. The whole house smelled like rotten tuna salad. What a stinky day! he thought. My one-on-one class stinks. Rip's blue spots stink! The tuna salad really stinks... He quickly sat up. The milk cooler was stinky, too. and the funky cheese yesterday... Could the caboose-crasher be connected to stinky stuff? He made some notes.

The caboose-crasher can't be a skunky-monkey. Alexander thought as he wadded up the scrap paper. I really wish I had the notebook!