Philip and the Superstition Kid (9781452430423) by John Paulits

Chapter One
     
    Philip looked out his bedroom window and
smiled. Splashes of sunshine glinted off the windows of the houses
across the street. The summer breeze blew gently through the window
screen, just strong enough that his hair tickled his neck a little
as the breeze ruffled it. Philip usually associated good smells
with chocolate and bakeries, but right now the sweet aroma of
somebody’s newly mown lawn made Philip inhale deeply. Today was the
first official day of summer vacation; fourth grade was a thing of
the past; and the long, beautiful, wonderful-smelling summer lay
ahead, day after endless joyful day.
    Below and to his right Philip saw his best
friend Emery step out of his front door. Philip hurried from his
room, dashed down the stairs, and bolted outside. He waved to Emery
and crossed the street. Emery walked toward him.
    “ Emery.” Philip smiled and
opened his arms wide. “Welcome to summer vacation.”
    Emery glared at him unresponsively.
    Philip lowered his
arms. Now what? he wondered. “Summer vacation, Emery,” he reminded his
friend.
    “ I dreamed a dream last
night,” Emery said gloomily.
    “ So what? Everybody does
that.”
    “ Not like this they don’t.
There goes the summer.” Emery moved his hand like he was shooing
away a fly.
    Mrs. Logan lived at the corner, and there
was an empty space inside the thick bushes near the back of her
house Philip and Emery used as a hidden clubhouse. Mrs. Logan
rarely left her house—Emery insisted she was a hundred and four
years old, but Philip said that was impossible—so no one bothered
them when they sat in the shady coolness, unknown to the world.
They were on their way there now out of habit.
    “ Emery, vacation just
started,” Philip said impatiently. “How could a dream spoil the
summer? It’s only the first day for Pete’s sake.”
    “ You know those stupid
rabbits’ feet we all got at Kevin’s party last week?”
    “ Yeah.”
    “ They’re not good
luck.”
    “ Whoever said they
were?”
    Emery looked at Philip
sadly. “ Everybody knows that a rabbit’s foot is supposed to bring luck. That’s
why people chop off the rabbit’s foot—to get good luck.”
    Philip winced at Emery’s description.
    “ That’s just make
believe,” Philip argued.
    “ It’s not. Look it up. Why
would people keep chopping off rabbits’ feet just for
make-believe?”
    “ Stop talking about
chopping off feet, okay?” Philip said, his voice rising.
    “ I carried my rabbit’s
foot around since the party, and I didn’t have any bad
luck.”
    Philip waited. Then he asked, “Did you have
any good luck?”
    Emery shrugged. “I got promoted,” he
offered.
    Philip could feel his
exasperation beginning to build as it always did when Emery started
acting weird. “I got promoted, too, and I don’t even know where my
stupid rabbit’s foot got to. And I didn’t have any bad luck this
week either. And everybody got promoted.”
    “ The babies didn’t cry as
much this week,” Emery argued. Emery had two infant
sisters.
    “ They’re getting older.
They’ll cry less anyway. What about the dream?”
    “ I figured that if I got
good luck during the day carrying the rabbit’s foot, then I was
wasting it at night just leaving it on my bureau, so last night I
decided to put it under my pillow to get good luck when I was
sleeping.”
    Philip shook his head and in a loud voice
cried, “What kind of good luck can you have when you’re asleep?
Nothing happens when you’re asleep.”
    “ I didn’t fall out of
bed,” Emery said.
    “ Did you ever fall out of
bed before?”
    Emery thought a minute. “I don’t remember
that I did.”
    “ So there. You wouldn’t
fall out of bed anyway. I didn’t fall out of bed. My mother and
father didn’t fall out of bed. A zillion million people didn’t fall
out of bed. What did the rabbit’s foot have to do with
it?”
    Emery shrugged.
    “ The dream?” Philip said
impatiently.
    The boys had reached the