Chapter Two

“Ta-da!” Dad shouts. “I know who did it!”

I, Amber Brown, am so proud of my father. He has invented a new way to play our favorite game. His version . . . “Clue with Deadly Farts” . . . . . was inspired by the amazingly smelly digestive events of Dylan Marshall, the sixth grader who lives upstairs.

Dylan’s sister, Polly, puts down her cards. “All right, who was it?”

“Professor Plum in the library with an eye-watering bloozer that took the paint off the walls!”

If you’re playing with Dylan Marshall, “bloozer” is an important word to know . . . but you never want to be around one.

I always told Mom and Dad I wanted brothers and sisters. When Dad moved into the Marshalls’ house, I kind of got them.

Dad lives downstairs and I have my own room. Steve Marshall, who is divorced just like my dad, lives upstairs with his three kids . . . Polly, who is in high school . . . . Dylan, who thinks being gross is his passport to fame . . . and Savannah, who is a third grader.

It’s kind of cool. I, Amber Brown, an only child, now spend every other weekend in a house full of kids I actually like . . . . . mostly.

Right now I am really happy to be playing Clue with Deadly Farts. Especially because on Friday, when I left my most-of-the-time house, Mom and Max were fussing about the wedding.

It was starting to scare me. So many things can go wrong when two people get married.

Just look at what happened with Mom and Dad . . . . . or Steve and his wife.

Dylan is so happy with my dad’s invention that he’s rolling on the floor laughing. “We should make scratch-and-sniff cards to go with this game!” he shouts.

Polly rolls her eyes. “You are soooo disgusting, Dylan!”

But Dad agrees with Dylan. “His idea could make us a million dollars.”

“I have a million dollars,” I tell them. I explain about my new school project. I don’t mention that I forgot to put something for Dad in my first budget.

“That’s a good project. I wish your mom had learned about budgeting when she was in school.”

I glare at him. He blushes a little. He knows I don’t like it when he says bad things about Mom. He’s taking dad lessons to try to improve how he behaves with me.

I don’t think he’s ready to graduate yet.

Unlike Mom and Max, lately Dad has been acting like he doesn’t have to worry about money. He just got a new sports car. It’s bright red.

Mom calls it his middle-aged-man-starting-over car. I don’t know what that means, exactly, but she muttered it in a not very nice way. And she wonders where I get my “Little Miss Amber’s Sarcastic Voice.”

Dad isn’t the only one who could use some lessons in not putting down the other parent.

Dad tells me to pack up so he can take me home.

“Can I come along?” Dylan asks. He loves the new car.

Dad rolls his eyes.

“Oh, right,” Dylan says. “I forgot.”

One thing I love about the new car is that it only has two seats . . . so there is no room for Dylan. I don’t mind Dylan, really . . . . but I’m afraid he might have another digestive event. Since it’s too cold to roll down the windows, that could really be deadly. I don’t want to end up on a scratch-and-sniff card in our new Clue game.

I tell that to Dad as we’re getting in the car. He starts laughing so hard he begins to snort. He gives me a high five. Fortunately, we haven’t started driving yet.

I’m going to have to tell Justin about the scratch-and-sniff idea.

As we drive down Chestnut Street, where I live with my mom, I see Max storm out the front door. He slams it behind him.

He looks really, really angry—something I’ve never seen before. He gets in his car and slams that door too.

Max pulls out of the driveway before Dad and I turn in. I don’t think he saw us, but I know my dad saw him.

I turn to look at Dad. I see the start of a smug smile.

“Looks like there’s trouble in paradise.”

This makes me angry. But I’m also scared. I wonder what happened between Mom and Max.

“Dad, I don’t want you to come in.” I take a deep breath and then add, “And I don’t like it when you say things like that.”

His hands get tight on the steering wheel. He stares straight ahead for a minute, then mumbles, “Sorry I upset you, Amber.”

I notice he doesn’t say he’s sorry for what he actually said.

He definitely needs to keep taking those dad lessons.

Now I have to go in the house and see what’s going on with Mom.

Sometimes my parents are a lot of work.