King Karl (Odd Squad, Book 3)
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Nick, Molly, and Karl have nowhere to turn but to each other in the latest Odd Squad adventure, and they'll need every ounce of wit, resourcefulness, and help they can get in order to rise above their biggest challenge yet.
designers, copy editors, production people, marketers, salespeople, publicists, family and friends. In Texas we have a saying: You dance with who brung you. I hope I can continue to dance with all of you for a long time. About the Author MICHAEL FRY spent middle school as a geeky, nerdy Chess Club member who played the French horn – and loved every minute of it (well, most minutes). His school days behind him, Mike is the author of the Odd Squad series and the co-creator and writer of
his mum playing on the swings. We hid behind some bushes and waited. I said, ‘You see Arnold?’ Molly shook her head. ‘There is no Arnold.’ ‘Just like you used to say there was no Emily. You don’t know anything.’ Molly glared at me. ‘Like you know anything.’ ‘I know a lot. I know you’re annoying and I know I don’t want to be here and I absolutely know if I cut myself on a sharp edge, my mum is going to kill me.’ ‘If Arnold doesn’t get you first,’ Molly said. ‘Shut up.’ ‘You shut up.’
toward the rocket. ‘MLEZ must be waiting at the top of the rocket. Let’s go.’ I really wanted to follow her, but there was the Arnold situation and … Molly rolled her eyes, slipped her backpack off her shoulders, and handed it me. ‘What?’ I said. ‘Put it on frontways.’ Yeah, I looked stupid. But it was a protection-from-sharp-edges-and-wrath-of-Mum kind of stupid. As we snuck up to the rocket, I noticed the little boy and his mum staring at us. I pointed to the rocket. ‘He’s right. Next
light. ‘Nick? Mum stood in front of me. ‘Why are you rubbing your shoulder? I didn’t know I was rubbing my shoulder. She pulled my shirt aside to reveal a bright bruise. ‘Oh, that,’ I said. ‘It’s just from my backpack.’ ‘Your backpack?’ I couldn’t tell her I’d been at Rocket Park. I was already in enough trouble. I said, ‘I guess it’s … um … you know … heavy?’ ‘You think?’ Uh-oh. Here it comes. The my-son-is-turning-into-a-stooped-troll-because-he-carries-around-a-sixteen-ton-backpack
and video games,’ said Memaw. ‘He thinks he’s NanoSnot.’ ‘NanoNerd!’ I said. ‘His suit is called a NanoBot.’ ‘NanoSnot was born without a spleen,’ said Memaw. ‘Nick! Stop yelling at your grandmother,’ said Mum. Memaw turned to Mum. ‘If you ask me, the child’s hopped up on the glue guns.’ Mum eyed Memaw. ‘Glue guns?’ Memaw continued, ‘You know, from all the NanoTots he eats.’ ‘NanoPops,’ I said. ‘Oh, you mean glutens,’ said Mum. ‘That too,’ said Memaw. First, I eat only two and a half