Isabelle the Itch: The Isabelle Series, Book One Read Online Free Page A

pollution and stuff like that to make herself look older. After she finished thinking, she thought she must’ve aged a lot.
    Philip had three more customers on Cottage Street. “Better give Mr. Johnson his paper next. He lost his job a couple of weeks ago and he likes to see the want ads to see if he can find another one.”
    â€œHow do you know he lost his job?” Isabelle asked.
    â€œHe has this kid, four or five I guess she is, her nose is always running and she tells me everything. They ought to put a gag on her, she tells so much.”
    Isabelle said, “I think I’ll wear my hat when I deliver the papers. And you better teach me how to fold them.” Philip had this really neat way of folding each paper into a square.
    â€œIt took me about a month to learn how to fold them,” Philip said. “I’m not sure you could do it.”
    â€œI can try,” Isabelle said.
    â€œYou want to watch out for the Olsens’ dog.” Philip pointed to the Olsens’ house. “He knows me, but he might think you were a robber or something. He almost bit me the first couple of times, but I fed him an old banana I had in my pocket and we’ve been friends ever since.”
    Isabelle shivered. There was more to this paper route stuff than met the eye.
    But then Philip winked at her.
    â€œYou’re teasing! Dogs don’t eat bananas. You’re only teasing, aren’t you?” She punched Philip on the arm with her friendship ring.
    â€œYou ever see me tap dance?” she asked. “I might be a tap dancer when I grow up.” The expression on Philip’s face showed that he wasn’t impressed. It took quite a lot to impress him. Isabelle jumped into the air, waved her arms, and crossed her eyes.
    â€œThat’s how Mary Eliza Shook looks,” she said.
    â€œCrazy,” he murmured. He checked his list. “I guess that about covers it. Oh, just don’t give the paper to the little Carter creep. He waits for me every day, like he thinks it’s a big deal to bring the paper in to his mother himself. Half the time he drops it or can’t remember where he put it or he leaves it outside and it blows away. What the world needs is more creeps like that one.
    â€œOne more thing. Don’t forget to count the papers in the bundle when you pick them up at the drop-off box. Some crooks, if they don’t have the right number of papers in their bundle, swipe yours so you’re short. And when a customer doesn’t get his paper, he calls up and hollers.”
    â€œWhat’ll I do if I’m short a paper?” Isabelle asked.
    â€œBuy one out of your own money. Or two, however many you’re short. I’ll pay you back. And use my bag because those papers get pretty heavy.” He handed her the bag, which was old and faded and said “Courier-Express” on the side in dim letters.
    With that bag on her shoulder and her hat on her head, Isabelle knew she’d feel like a king.
    â€œIf only I could collect,” she said in one last effort.
    â€œGive up.” Philip turned the corners of his mouth down.
    â€œI might ask Herbie to help me deliver,” Isabelle said.
    â€œIf he does, tell him to leave his boil at home,” Philip warned. “My customers might complain.”
    â€œO.K.,” Isabelle said, “I’ll tell him.”

7
    Philip rode off on his bike and Isabelle headed for the playground. There was usually something going on there Saturday morning.
    In the distance, a figure appeared, leaping, twirling, waving its arms. It was Mary Eliza, practicing her ballet for the entire world to see.
    â€œShe is disgusting,” Isabelle said aloud. “She is about the most disgusting person on this planet.”
    Saturday was garbage collection day. Luckily an empty can lay on its side. Isabelle crawled into it and put her chin on her knees, waiting for Mary Eliza to go by. It smelled of old