I guess you could say we had the whole gym’s attention now. Even the band stopped playing. And I could see Sergeant Stricker coming in hot too.
“Where on earth did those handcuffs come from?” Mrs. Stricker said, practically skidding to a stop next to us.
“Rafe?” Mr. Schneider said, looking at the cuffs, then at me.
“Sorry,” I said. “I had to borrow them.”
“Well, now you can… un-borrow them!” Mrs. Stricker said.
“I don’t have a key,” I said.
“What?” she said.
“They’re magic cuffs,” I said. “Only Magic Murray knows how to open them.”
“No, I don’t,” Mr. Schneider said.
“WHAT???” everyone said, including me.
“Just kidding,” he said. “Stand back, everyone. I’ll have those off in a jiff.”
“Actually—” I said.
And he stopped and looked at me.
“I just need one minute,” I told him.
“Excuse me!” Mrs. Stricker said. “Mr. Murray, is it?”
“You can call me Magic Murray,” Mr. Schneider said.
“Yes, well… Mr.… Magic… or whoever you are,” Mrs. Stricker said. “Can you please free these boys from each other? Immediately?”
Mr. Schneider looked at me. Then he looked at Mrs. Stricker.
“Yes to the first part,” Mr. Schneider said. “But not so much on the immediately.”
“What is THAT supposed to mean?” Mrs. Stricker asked him.
I couldn’t tell who was madder—her, Eddie, or Ethan. Flip was totally loving it.
“Let’s just say I owe Rafe,” Mr. Schneider said. “He’s a very nice boy. A good boy. And if he says he needs a minute to sort things out with this other fine young man, I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt. Go ahead, Rafe.”
“We’ll see about that!” Mrs. Stricker said. Then she started pushing her way back through the crowd and disappeared.
For the moment, anyway.
“Just give me one minute to explain,” I told Eddie.
He looked around like he didn’t have a choice. Which he didn’t. At least not until Mrs. Stricker could dig up the bolt cutters, or the dynamite, or whatever she was probably looking for right now.
In other words, the clock was ticking, and I had to talk fast.
Coming Clean(ish)
All those times I thought about coming clean with Cheap Walks, I never really imagined it in the middle of the HVMS gym with about half the town listening in.
But then again, I never imagined a lot of things.
So I made it as short and sweet as possible. Or at least short, anyway. And I told them everything you already know about what happened.
“So you’ve been lying all this time?” Ethan asked when I was done.
“No,” I said. “I just found out about it.”
“I found out about it first!” Georgia butted in, because there’s nothing she likes better than extra credit.
“So, yeah,” I said. “That’s kind of it.”
Now that I’d said it, I wasn’t really sure what was supposed to happen next. But Mrs. Stricker sure was.
“HERE WE ARE! HERE WE ARE! MAKE ROOM! COMING THROUGH!” she said. And right behind her, I could see Mr. Mint, the custodian. I could also see the giant bolt cutters in his hand.
So I turned to face Mr. Schneider. At least, I tried to, but it wasn’t easy with Eddie squirming around like a worm on a hook.
“I guess I’m out of time,” I told Magic Murray. “You don’t want to lose your cuffs.”
“What do you say, son?” Mr. Schneider said to Eddie. “Sounds to me like a big misunderstanding. How about we all just forgive and forget?”
“Yeah, right,” Eddie said.
In other words—no way.
And that was pretty much all we had time for.
“Excuse me!” Mrs. Stricker said. They were practically on top of us now. Eddie was yanking my arm off, trying to hold the cuffs up for Mr. Mint to cut.
But Magic Murray kept his cool. Not to mention his style.
“Everyone stand back!” he told the crowd. Then he waved his hands over the cuffs three times. “Dallas, Springfield, Kalamazoo!” he said, just before they dropped off and right into his palm for a clean catch.
Not bad. People even applauded.
And Magic Murray took a little bow. Which was like the end of the show.
In fact, it was like the end of a lot of things.
Shutting It Down
I’ve never been sent to the principal’s office on a Friday night before. I guess there’s a first time for everything.
I also think we set some kind of record for the most number of people in there, with me, Flip, Eddie, Ethan, Mrs. Stricker, Georgia, Mr. Schneider, and even Junior—plus Mom and Mrs. Finn, who both got called in.
“Clearly, there is a problem outside of the school that’s become a problem inside the school,” Mrs. Stricker said. I could only see part of her from where I was kind of wedged in there. But that was plenty enough for me.
“Well, it won’t be a problem any longer,” Mom said. She and Mrs. Finn had been talking, and they looked like they had something to say.
“I’m listening,” Mrs. Stricker said.
“There won’t be any more trouble between these two dog-walking businesses,” Mrs. Finn said, “because we’re putting them both out of operation.”
“NOOOO!” Eddie, Ethan, and I all said it at the same time, like we were triplets or something.
“You heard her,” Mom said. “Maybe this was my fault—”
“Our fault,” Mrs. Finn said. “We shouldn’t have let it go this far. But we warned you boys about this.”
“Honestly, we were hoping you could be mature enough to work it out,” Mom said. “I guess we were wrong.”
I didn’t know what to say. Actually, scratch that. It was more like I knew exactly what to say. I just kind of wished I didn’t have to.
But this was the new Rafe. The older, more mature, big-pain-in-my-own-butt Rafe, who never knew when to shut up.
“Put me out of business,” I said. “Not them.”
“Excuse me?” Mrs. Finn said.
Eddie and Ethan were looking at me like I was just as insane as they thought all along. But I kept going.
“None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me,” I told everyone.
And of course then I had to tell the whole embarrassing story all over again, including how Candy Crush had used my poster as a poop scoop, and how I thought Eddie or Ethan had torn it down.
“So if anyone started that war, it was me,” I said.
Mrs. Stricker smiled like she’d known it all along.
“Well, that’s the thing about wars,” Mrs. Finn said. “Usually, everyone loses.” Then she looked at the twins. “We’ll talk more about this when we get home.”
Mom gave me a look that pretty much said—Ditto.
“I hope they’re not so grounded that they can’t come back here this weekend,” Mrs. Stricker said. “Someone has to clean up the mess they’ve made of my gymnasium.”
Of course, we weren’t that grounded. I wish. So on top of everything else, I was going to spend my whole weekend with Mrs. Stricker, Eddie, and Ethan. It was like the World Series of GET ME OUT OF HERE.
And just for the record…
You might have noticed something about what I didn’t say in there. I mean, I told the truth, for sure, but I never did apologize to the twins. I just couldn’t do it. Not to them.
Maybe that would have been the extra-deluxe, really grown-up thing to do, but give me a break. Nobody grows up overnight. Especially me.
I guess I’m more like a work in progress.
Group Hug
By the time we got home, I was starting to think I’d made a huge mistake. Like maybe I’d done the wrong right thing, taking responsibility like that. Maybe I should have tried harder to keep my dog-walking business.
br />
But it was too late now. I know, because I asked Mom at the end of the looooong talk we had at the kitchen table.
“Absolutely not,” Mom said. “You really blew this one, Rafe. I’m glad you owned up to it in Mrs. Stricker’s office, but that was too little, too late.”
“I’ll take it over!” Georgia said, coming into the kitchen. “I’m way more responsible. Ooh! Maybe I’ll give it a new name! What if I call it—”
“No, sweetie,” Mom said. “Let’s just let this go.”
That’s when it really started to hit me. Dogs To Go wasn’t just about me, remember. It was also about helping the family. And now I wouldn’t able to do that anymore.
“But you don’t understand,” I said.
“Please?” Georgia said. She and I kept looking at each other, but there wasn’t anything we could say in front of Mom.
“Is something going on that I don’t know?” Mom asked. “What’s with the big stares?”
“It’s nothing,” I said. “We just really wanted to keep going, because… well, because…”
“Because we’re so poor!” Georgia blurted out.
“Georgia!” I shouted. Seriously, if any human being could use an Off switch, it’s my sister.
“It’s not like she doesn’t already know!” Georgia said.
“What are you two talking about?” Mom said. “Listen, we’re never going to be rich, but we’re okay.”
“Then why is Grandma eating at the soup kitchen?” I asked. There was no sense holding back now.
Mom stopped and squinted at me. “How do you know about that?” she said. That’s when Grandma Dotty muted the TV. A second later, she came in and sat down with us.
“I wasn’t spying,” I told Grandma. “I saw you going in there. And then I went back with Georgia and we saw you going in again. So we kind of put two and two together.”
Mom looked at both of us. Then she reached out and took one of my hands and one of Georgia’s too.
“We didn’t want you to worry, because you don’t have to,” Mom said. “Some families just need a little help, including us. But it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“In fact, I volunteer every other day,” Grandma said. “Right after my mah-jongg game. Some days I eat, some days I work. That way, I feel like I’m earning my soup.”
It was all making more sense now. In the best possible way.
“Well, we still have some money for you,” Georgia said. “Don’t we, Rafe?”
“We’ve been saving up,” I said. Then I went to get the shoe box out of my drawer.
When I showed Mom the $265 we’d saved ($50 from Georgia, $215 from me), she looked like she was totally touched. It was like she wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.
“This is so sweet,” Mom said. She already had us both by the hand, and now she pulled us all into one of her big group hugs.
“Listen, kids,” Mom said. “That’s your money. I really appreciate the thought, but I want you to keep it.”
She didn’t have to ask Georgia twice. It took about five seconds for her to count out her fifty bucks and take it back.
That left me $215. Plus the $175 I had in the bank. Which was almost enough for a WormHole Premium system, I realized.
“Hey, Georgia,” I said. “Can I borrow nine dollars?”
“Get your own,” she said. “Now that we’re out of business, I don’t know if you’ll ever pay me back.”
But then she looked over at Mom, and Mom didn’t even have to say a word.
“Okay, fii-inne,” Georgia said. Then she pulled out her money and chose the wrinkliest ten-dollar bill she had.
“Thanks,” I said. I started to take it, but she held it back.
“Where’s my change?” she said, and waited for me to hand her a one-dollar bill. And sign an IOU. And promise to pay her back, just as soon as I figured out how to make some money again.
So I guess you could say things were getting back to normal. Which you might think is where the happy-ending part of this story could start up.
But you’d be wrong.
There was still another whole war to fight.
Stinker and Geo
I never expected to find myself here with this wide-eyed troll girl, fighting my way through the Maze of the Mist for the second time. I thought I’d conquered this thing already.
But here we are. I know we’re going to have to navigate the whole thing backward after we pick up the invisible lantern from the molten iron pool at the center of the maze. But I don’t tell that to Geo. She can figure it out for herself.
Her eyes are about three times the size of mine. You’d think she’d notice a few of the clues along the way, like the tiny markers cut into the walls that she keeps running right past.
Oh well. I’m not here to make sure she gets out alive. That’s her job.
“You sure you want to go this way?” I say.
“I don’t get it. We’ve tried every path there is—”
That’s when she steps on a trigger stone and opens one of the hidden panels. But not the good kind. Before you can say “Gulp!” we’re facing down a giant ratzard. It’s half rat, half lizard, and about the size of a sports car.
And let’s just say ratzards are not picky eaters.
“Do I use my sword?” Geo asks me.
“What do you think?” I say.
“I’m going to use my sword,” she says.
But that’s only because she doesn’t know ratzards have an IQ of about 200. They may look like ugly pink-eyed rodents with long green tails, but they’ve got the brains of an Einstein. And they can smell aggression too. One whiff, and they strike.
I take a step back, because I know what’s about to happen. Before Geo can even get her blade free, she’s halfway down that monster’s throat and on her way to its stomach.
Game over!
“AUGHHH!” Georgia shouted, and sat back on the couch. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“How are you ever going to learn if I tell you everything?” I asked her.
She looked like she wanted to throw her controller across the room, but I knew she wouldn’t. She spent thirty-nine dollars of her own money on it.
See, after spending an awkwardly silent weekend cleaning up the gym with the Twin Terrors (if you thought I’d end up being best buds with them after this whole nutty war, you thought way wrong), I went and finally bought the WormHole Premium Multi-Platform GameBox! I’d been letting Georgia play TrollQuest with me for the low, low price of one dollar an hour.
“I’m never going to get out of that maze,” she said. “Just give me a clue.”
“No problem,” I said. “Clues are fifty cents apiece. Or you can spring for the mega-clue, but that’s two-fifty.”
“MOM!” Georgia shouted. “Rafe’s blackmailing me! Again!”
“That’s a dollar!” Mom said.
Anytime we argued with each other now, it had a price attached. And mostly, it was working. My mom’s kind of a genius in her own way, if you ask me. Since Dogs To Go is officially shut down, handing over a dollar just to scream at Georgia is way too expensive.
But here’s a little secret for you. I actually like playing TrollQuest with Georgia, and I don’t just mean for the money.
The truth is, she’s always going to kick my butt when it comes to school. So at least I have this. It’s not what you’d call an even trade, but it’s something, anyway. She has school, I have video games. I don’t even know if that means you should be glad for me, or feel sorry for me, or what.
But you know what else? I can’t spend my time worrying about that right now. I’ve got things to do. My own dog to walk. Comics to draw.
And quests to quest.
Magic Murray Rides Again
Knock-knock-knock!
I opened the door and leaned inside Magic Murray’s dressing room. Which was really just a public bathroom.
“You almost ready, M.M.?” I asked him. “The crowd’s getting restless.
”
Mr. Schneider looked in the mirror and took off his hat. Then he put it back on again. Then he adjusted it, just so.
“Is everything set onstage?” he asked me.
“All good to go,” I said. “Now they just need you.”
“Well then, let’s give them what they want,” he said, and headed out of the bathroom.
“Good luck!” I told him.
“No, no, no,” he said. “You don’t say ‘Good luck.’ You say ‘Break a leg.’ Or maybe with me, it’s more like ‘Break a hip.’ Ba-dum-bum! Are you writing these down?”
He was kidding, though. I was finally figuring out Mr. Schneider’s sense of humor.
And I was learning all this stuff about showbiz, too. Like how to get some “gigs” for Magic Murray. He was calling himself “the world’s oldest magician” now. I don’t know if that was technically true, but it got the people at the soup kitchen interested, anyway.
And who knows? Maybe pretty soon, I’ll start finding more places for him to perform. Maybe even places that pay real money, and not just free dinner. And maybe… just maybe… after that, I can start earning some commissions.
Hey, what can I say? I like making money. Who doesn’t?
But I like working with Mr. Schneider too. He says I’m the best thing to happen to his career since the night Freddy “Fast Fingers” DaSilva got arrested and couldn’t go onstage. Someday, I’ll get him to tell me that whole story. He says he’s got a million of them.
In the meantime, just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. I know I will!
James patterson received the Literarian Award for Outstanding Service to the American Literary Community at the 2015 National Book Awards. He holds the Guinness World Record for the most #1 New York Times bestsellers, including Middle School and I Funny, and his books have sold more than 325 million copies worldwide. A tireless champion of the power of books and reading, Patterson created a children’s book imprint, JIMMY Patterson, whose mission is simple: “We want every kid who finishes a JIMMY Book to say, ‘PLEASE GIVE ME ANOTHER BOOK.’” He has donated more than one million books to students and soldiers and funds over four hundred Teacher Education Scholarships at twenty-four colleges and universities. He has also donated millions to independent bookstores and school libraries. Patterson invests the proceeds from the sales of JIMMY Patterson Books in pro-reading initiatives.