I look around Logan’s place. It is pretty messy. I never knew the kid was a hobo. He lives in this little patch of grass under a black tarp. I keep looking around. My hopes of finding a bag of oreos were gone. So much for that.
Oreos are good.
Who doesn’t have at least one bag of Oreos? Apparently him. Like, he’s the only person in the world without a bag of Oreos. Seriously? Well, I can’t be mad at him too long just because he didn’t have a bag of Oreos. I wonder how long he has been living alone.
Now I am actually feeling pretty bad for Logan.
“Wow, Logan, I-” I started.
“Yeah, yeah. You feel bad for me. Yada yada yada.”
Out of seemingly nowhere, a shadow was approaching the tent. Logan, Jayme, and I scuttled to find a hiding place. It was already too late. The person pulled away the entrance to the tarp, only to reveal the face of . . . MR. TRACTOR?
“Well, well, kids,” Me. Tractor said. “Trying to escape us? Logan, if you had just listened to your father, we wouldn’t have to do this. At least your grades would have saved you. Jayme, you haven’t taken the final exam because we believe you have dyslexia. Oliva. Oh, sweet, Olivia. There’s nothing to help you now. Say goodbye.” From then on, all went black.