When I got to the bathroom, the twins were already waiting for me.
“What do you want, you dingus?” Eddie said.
“I want to know what your problem is,” I said. “You’ve been coming after me since day one.”
“Our problem?” Ethan said. “You started the whole thing.”
“I didn’t start anything,” I said. “You started it when you tore down my poster at the dog park.”
“What are you talking about?” Eddie said. “We never even saw your stupid poster. How many times do we have to tell you that?”
“Listen,” I said, “I’m just saying, stop messing with my business and I’ll stop messing with yours.”
“Or else what?” Eddie said.
“Or else find out,” I said. Then I held up the whistle. “Last chance. Are we done with this stupid war, or are we just getting started?”
“What a loser,” Eddie said. “Come on, Eth. Let’s go.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I told them. Then I gave Flip the signal, which was one long blow on that whistle.
Half a second later, the door popped open and Flip was right there. He held up the air horn and gave it a major-league blast. Then he dropped it on the floor and took off again.
Have you ever heard an air horn before? It sounds like if you took that whistle, multiplied it by infinity, and then turned up the volume.
Plus, with that bathroom echo, I’m pretty sure the whole school heard it. Maybe even you heard it, wherever you were.
The twins were smart enough to get moving after that. Which was exactly what I wanted them to do. While all three of us were hustling out the bathroom door, I pulled off my last move.
I’d been thinking about all that magic Mr. Schneider did, and how he got that quarter to show up in different places. So I’d invented my own version with the whistle and the paper clip, unfolded to make a hook.
All it took was one fast move on our way out of the bathroom. Then by the time we came into the hall, Eddie had that whistle hanging off his back pocket like a piece of evidence at a crime scene.
And of course, Mrs. Stricker got there at the speed of light.
“WHAT… WAS… THAT… NOISE?” she said.
I had my pinkie in my ear by then, and I gave Ethan a look.
“Hey, warn me next time you’re going to do that,” I said.
“I didn’t do it! You did it!” Ethan said.
“Yeah!” Eddie said.
The air horn was sitting right there on the floor, but unless Mrs. Stricker had a fingerprinting lab in her office, there was no way to prove who had used it.
So then I turned and pointed at Eddie. “Well, if I made that noise,” I said, “what’s that hanging out of your back pock…”
I kind of trailed off then, because when I pointed at the place where I’d just stuck the whistle, it was gone.
“Do you mean that?” Ethan said, and pointed right back at me.
Sure enough, I turned around and that stupid thing was hanging off my pocket now. Just like a piece of evidence at a crime scene.
“What a surprise,” Mrs. Stricker said. “Let’s go, Rafe. You know the way.”
I couldn’t believe it. I’d practiced that move with Flip about a hundred times. It was supposed to be foolproof.
But as Mrs. Stricker was marching me to the office, I started to figure out where I went wrong.
See, Flip only has two eyes and two hands. I never practiced on a four-eyed, four-handed monster before. In other words, Cheap Walks had managed to catch me in the act, steal my trick, and trick me right back with it.
Which was genius. Evil genius.
Now I was even worse off than when I started. The twins were still out to get me, probably more than ever. I had a brand-new detention. And I was also out fifteen bucks for the supplies.
I don’t know what to call that, except maybe a lose-lose-lose situation. And that’s a lot of losing.
Even for me.
The one good thing was, I had a new idea for my comic for Jeanne.
Five Bucks’ Worth of Proof
I was all out of ideas. Actually, not all out. But I was definitely scraping the bottom of the barrel. And when I did, you know what came up?
My sister.
I had to admit it. Flip was right. Georgia had skills that I didn’t. And I needed her help, like it or not.
So when I got to science class (I still can’t really believe we’re in the same class, but that’s the least of my problems), I sat down right next to her. She looked back at me like I was a B—on her quiz.
“I have to talk to you,” I said. “It’s important.”
“Oh, great,” she said. “That means so much to me.”
“Actually, I have to show you something. I wasn’t lying about Grandma Dotty, and I’m going to prove it to you,” I said. “But you have to come with me later today.”
“Why would I trust you?” she asked.
I knew all that was coming, so I was ready for her. I handed her half of a five-dollar bill.
“What’s this?” she said. “Some kind of joke?”
“It’s two dollars and fifty cents,” I said.
“It’s half a five-dollar bill,” she said.
“Then why’d you ask?” I said. “Never mind, don’t answer that. The point is, if I’m lying, you can have the other half.”
“And if you’re not lying?”
“Then you give me your half back,” I said. “See? I’m trusting you.”
I know it seems like I’d just broken my number one rule. But it was more like I’d gone from this:
To this:
I needed a win. And to do that, I needed to prove to Georgia how important my dog-walking business was.
And to do that, I needed her to see Grandma going into that soup kitchen with her own eyes.
Which is where the five dollars came in. Basically, the only language my sister and I both speak is money.
Flash forward to that afternoon, and we’re heading over to the church. I’d looked it up online, and they started serving dinner at 4:45. I also knew Grandma Dotty usually got home from her “mah-jongg game” by 5:30. So I had a pretty good idea about when to be there.
“Where are we going?” Georgia kept asking.
“No questions,” I said.
“It’s freezing out here,” she said.
“No complaints either.”
“What are we—”
“Shh!” I said, because we were there now. People were already lined up outside, and there was a sign that said PUBLIC MEALS, 4:45–6:00 DAILY.
I cut behind a Dumpster and pulled Georgia back there with me.
“This is stupid. I knew I shouldn’t believe you,” she said. “You owe me half a five-dollar bill, you big fat liar—”
“Shhhhhhh!” I said, and put a hand over her mouth. Because Grandma had just come around the corner.
“There she is,” I said.
Georgia didn’t move. She didn’t even say anything, which was maybe a first in history. We both just watched while Grandma said hi to the guy with the shopping cart and they both went inside.
“Now do you believe me?” I asked her. “That’s why I bought all that food for the house. I wasn’t making this up.”
Georgia still didn’t say anything. She was like a statue. Except then this one tear rolled down her cheek.
It’s not like I ever want Georgia to be sad. It’s more like I want her to move to Mexico, or get adopted by a family of ferrets. So when I saw her getting all wet around the eyes, I felt guilty.
But in the meantime, business was business. And I still needed to get her on board.
Funny Business
Don’t cry,” I said. “Your face is going to get frostbite, and I don’t feel like taking you to the hospital.”
“I’m not crying,” she said. “My eyes are watering from the cold.”
“Uh-huh,” I said.
Then we started walking home, and I ex
plained the whole thing.
“So now do you see?” I asked her. “We need to make sure Cheap Walks doesn’t drive Dogs To Go all the way out of business. And we need to do it soon, because they’re on the warpath.”
“We?” she said.
“I’m not asking for my sake,” I said. “I’m asking for Mom and Grandma. I mean, unless you have some high-paying job I don’t know about.”
Georgia didn’t say anything to that. But I could tell she was thinking about it.
“So, I just have one question,” she said. “If we do this, how much money am I going to make?”
“Who said anything about that?” I asked. “I already gave you five dollars.”
“Okay, well, good luck, then,” she said. “Have fun wishing you’d listened to me while you had the chance.” She even moved to the other side of the sidewalk.
“Hang on a second,” I said.
I knew what was going on. This is the part of running a business they call negotiation. Georgia hadn’t even dried her eyes and she was right back in evil genius mode. Which I couldn’t even complain about because it was what I came to her for in the first place.
Besides, Cheap Walks had two walkers, right? That meant twice the walks and twice the money. Which meant that Georgia could actually pay for herself.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ve thought about it—”
“That was quick,” she said.
“Just listen,” I said. “I’ll cut you in, but you’re going to have to walk some dogs.”
“No problem,” she said.
“And get your own customers too,” I said.
“Okay,” she said. She was already excited. I could practically see the little dollar signs in her eyes.
“Also, half of everything we make goes into the pot for the family,” I said.
“That’s fair,” Georgia said.
“And you have to help me deal with Cheap Walks or else the whole thing’s off.”
“I can do that,” she said, like she already had a couple of ideas.
And just like that, I’d bought myself an evil genius. For better or worse.
Secret Sauce
We took the long way home. I was in a weirdly good mood, considering I was hanging out with my sister.
But I had another good idea. I made Georgia play along and promise to pay me for part of the operation, starting with that half a five-dollar bill.
“Hey there!” Mom said when we came in. “What brings my favorite customers to Swifty’s Diner?”
“I’m buying dinner again,” I said. Besides Dave & Buster’s, Swifty’s was one of my favorite places. Their pie was better than playing TrollQuest. “If it’s okay, we’ll do some homework while we’re here too.”
“Of course!” Mom said.
I think she just liked seeing us not fight for a while. She also said I didn’t have to pay, but I told her I insisted. Swifty let us eat on her discount, anyway, so it was already forty percent off everything.
But all of that was just the smokescreen. The cover. The alibi for the mini-mission—which was the real reason we’d come to Swifty’s while Mom was working.
We sat at the counter at the far end of the restaurant in Mom’s section. From there, I could see all her customers. Which meant I could see when everyone got up.
First, I asked Swifty to make change for me, so I had a pocketful of dollars. Then we ordered the food.
And every time someone got up to leave, we swung into action.
“Hey, Mom, look at this!” Georgia said, and showed her some paper she was working on…
… while I slipped off my stool and pretended to head for the bathroom…
… but made a teeny-tiny detour on the way…
… right past the table where this family had just headed out…
… and I dropped a couple of extra dollars with the tip they left.
Why all the sneaky moves?
Simple.
I knew Mom wouldn’t just take the money from us. So this was the only way to give her our extra money without her knowing.
A few minutes later, this older couple got up from the counter and went to pay their bill at the register.
Mom was in the back, and I shoved three bucks into Georgia’s hand.
“Go! Now!” I said. “Move, move, move!”
I’m not going to lie. She was even better at this than I was. Someday she’s going to make a bundle working for the CIA or the FBI or MI5. In the meantime, she was all over that diner, helping me help Mom work for the T-I-P-S.
“Well, I had a pretty good shift,” Mom said, once we were putting on our coats to leave.
“You did?” I asked, all innocent.
“Usually, people get kind of tight right after the holidays, but I guess there’s some generous spirit in the air today.”
And I looked at Georgia, and she looked at me, and we didn’t say a word. But I’m pretty sure we were thinking the same thing.
Mission accomplished.
Cheat Walks
It didn’t take long for Georgia to start earning her keep in the dog-walking business either. She had two new customers by Sunday afternoon, and that wasn’t even the best part.
When she knocked on my door and came into my room that day, there was this look in her eyes. It reminded me of one of those nature documentaries, where you see a lion just before she eats an antelope.
“What is it?” I said.
“I have some big news,” she said.
That got my attention. “About Cheap Walks?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You’re never going to believe this, but they’re cheating.”
For a second, I got excited. But then I got confused. “Hang on,” I said. “How do you cheat at dog-walking?”
“By not walking the dogs,” she said. “Here—look!”
Then she opened her laptop on my desk to show me some pictures.
“So what does this mean?” I said.
“It means they’re lying to their customers!” Georgia said. “Duh! Everyone’s paying for their dogs to get fresh air and sunshine, not sit around someone’s garage and wait for a turn on a stupid treadmill.”
“How did you even get those pictures?” I said. “It’s only been two days.”
“You think they take weekends off?” she said. “Seriously, Rafe. You need to up your game.”
Georgia was definitely onto something, but there was just one other problem here. I told Mom a long time ago that I wasn’t going to do any more spying with cameras. Believe it or not, I’ve already been there, done that, and gotten into big trouble for it.
“I can’t use those pictures,” I said. “I promised Mom I wouldn’t do this kind of thing—”
“Yeah, but you didn’t take the pictures,” Georgia said. “I did. And besides, even if you can’t use them, Eddie and Ethan don’t know that. They just have to think you will.”
And I thought—wow. My sister was even better at this stuff than I thought.
“Yeah, okay,” I said. “I’ll talk to them tomorrow.”
“Wrong again,” Georgia said. “They’re going to be all over you tomorrow. You have to do this now. And I’m coming with you.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I said.
“Okay, fine,” she said, and closed her laptop. “I guess you could just describe the pictures to them when you get there. Because if I’m staying home, so is my computer.”
I was starting to think I’d created some kind of monster. But you know what else? Monsters can be pretty useful if you use them the right way.
So we put on our coats and told Mom we were taking Junior out for a walk.
“It’s so nice to see you two doing things together,” Mom said.
“I know, right?” Georgia said, giving me this big smile—the same kind you might see on a lion just before she takes her first bite of antelope.
Fake It Till You Make It
So I hightailed it over to the Finns’ house with Junior and Taga
long Khatchadorian (also known as Georgia). She was right, though. I didn’t have any time to lose. Monday morning, I’d see the twins in school. And Monday afternoon, I’d be back out walking my customers, which was when they’d probably try to hit me again.
“Hi, Mrs. Finn,” I said when she answered the door. “Are Eddie and Ethan home?”
“Come in,” she said. “The boys are in the garage.”
“Oh, are they?” Georgia said, like she was in a movie or something.
“I’ll just go get them,” Mrs. Finn said.
“Actually,” I told her, “we can talk to them out there. It’ll only take a second.”
So she led us back through the kitchen and out to the garage. Sure enough, the twins were there, along with a bunch of junk, a big workbench, and one beat-up old treadmill.
“Boys? You have some visitors,” Mrs. Finn said.
I was kind of hoping to catch them in the act, but they were just fooling around with some tools.
“What are you doing here?” Eddie asked.
“Be polite, please,” Mrs. Finn said, and then closed the door.
“Nice treadmill,” I said.
“Is that why you came over? To talk about exercise equipment?” Eddie asked.
“Actually, yeah,” I said. “Because I was just wondering what your customers might think of these.”
I looked down at Georgia and she set her laptop on the workbench. Then she opened it up, really slowly, like it had explosives inside or something. I think she just liked the attention.
Then she pulled up a picture of someone’s cocker spaniel tied right to the treadmill and stood back so they could see.
“Looks a little dangerous to me,” Georgia said. “For the dogs, I mean. But maybe… well… maybe for you guys too.”
Eddie and Ethan looked at each other like they were cornered. Which they basically were.
“Who are you?” Eddie demanded.
Georgia smiled in her smug little way. “Rafe’s sister, and the new co-president of Dogs to Go. Nice to meet you.”