“I found something!” yelled Sweetie. “Over here! I found something! It’s a giant shoe print!” The squad gathered at the back of the car.
“Wait a minute!” cried Poppy, running in circles inside the car. “Where’s my shoe? It was right here! MY SHOE IS GONE!” Poppy leaped out and tackled Sugar. “WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY SHOE?”
“It must have fallen out of the car when I was looking for jelly beans,” Sugar answered. “Take it easy!”
“You said Cousin Besnickle took the jelly beans!” said Poppy, pointing a finger in Sugar’s face.
“Befrizzle!! B-E-F-R— Never mind! This is a crime scene! The first thing we need to do is secure the area! Bring me a roll of police tape, some orange cones, and a high-definition camera!”
“We don’t have any of those things,” answered Dirt.
“Fine, we’ll do it the easy way,” said Sugar. “Try not to step on anything.”
“I can’t sleep without my shoe!” cried Poppy, his lower beak quivering. “It’s almost dark and I’m in a new place and I need my shoe!”
“I promise I will get your shoe back,” said Sugar.
“And the jelly beans,” added Sweetie. “Don’t forget the jelly beans.”
“Believe it or not, I think you’re on to something, Sweetie!” declared Sugar. “Since Befrizzle likes taking jelly beans from small, defenseless chickens so much, maybe he’ll come looking for more. . . .”
Poppy, Sweetie, and Dirt gathered in a circle around Sugar. “All we need is a decoy to lure Befrizzle back to the scene,” said Sugar. “Bring me a loofah sponge, a hot glue gun, and six yards of yellow chiffon.”
“We still don’t have any of those things,” sighed Dirt. “Can’t we just make a decoy out of loose feathers like you did before?”
“Are you sure you didn’t pack fabric and loofah sponges for the farm trip?” asked Sugar.
“Positive,” sighed Dirt.
“Fine, we’ll do it the easy way,” said Sugar. “Grab up all the loose chicken feathers down by the house.” She turned to Dirt. “And from now on, I do all the packing. Is that understood?”
Dirt let out another heavy sigh.
Chapter 6
Shortly after sunset, Sugar, Dirt, Poppy, and Sweetie peeked out the rear window of the station wagon. All eyes were on the decoy sitting in the birdcage just a few feet away, the secret second bag of jelly beans lying beside it.
“How is this going to work again?” asked Poppy.
Dirt rolled out her diagram. “We have the fishing line hooked up to the door of the birdcage. When Bepizzle tries to—”
“Befrizzle!” snapped Sugar.
“Fine,” continued Dirt. “When Befrizzle tries to grab the jelly beans out of the cage, we pull back on the fishing pole and BLAM—we’ve got him in the cage. We won’t let him out until he tells us where the shoe is.”
“This is taking too long,” said Sugar. “I’m going outside.”
“What are you going to do? You’ll blow our cover!” asked Dirt.
“I’m going to secure the perimeter,” answered Sugar.
“Secure the what?” asked Poppy.
“The perimeter,” answered Sugar.
“What’s a perimeter?” asked Sweetie.
“Listen, kid.” Sugar chuckled. “Perimeter is a very complicated term that would take about six hours to properly explain. We simply don’t have the time right—”
“A perimeter is the distance around something,” interrupted Dirt. “If you drew a rectangle around the car, that would be the perimeter.”
“I’d estimate the perimeter to be around one mile,” said Sugar. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
“I don’t think that’s right,” said Dirt.
“It’s just an estimate, kid,” explained Sugar. “It doesn’t need to be exact!”
“It should actually be kind of close,” explained Dirt. “We just need to add.” She took out some crayons and drew a rectangle. “The car is about ten feet long and five feet wide. So . . .”
“There is a time and a place for everything!” cautioned Sugar. “And the dark of night is no time for math!”
“To find the perimeter, we just add up all the sides. So 10 + 5 + 10 + 5,” continued Dirt. Poppy and Sweetie watched as Dirt set up her equation.
“This is scary!” said Poppy. “What if we get it wrong?”
“It’s okay to get things wrong,” said Dirt. “I get things wrong all the time.”
“You got that right,” mumbled Sugar. “Let’s start with your packing—”
“Okay, so 10 +10 = 20,” continued Dirt, ignoring Sugar’s remark. “And 5 + 5 = 10.”
“Don’t come crying to me when your night math doesn’t turn out the way you expect it to!” warned Sugar.
“And 20 + 10 = 30,” finished Dirt. “It’s approximately thirty feet around the car. So I’m going to estimate that it will take you just about a minute to secure the perimeter.”
“Nice work, kid,” said Sugar. “I’m proud of you. It takes nerves of steel to do math in the dark. I didn’t think it could be done.”
“Thanks, Sug—”
“Shhhh,” said Sugar, her wing to her beak. She pressed her face against the window. “Something’s out there. . . .”
Dirt took her position at the fishing pole and gripped it as tightly as she could. Sugar motioned for Poppy and Sweetie to take cover under the front seat.
“Stay down!” she whispered. “It’s coming closer.”
Sugar grabbed a small shovel from Barbara’s search-and-rescue kit and walked toward the front passenger window on shaky legs.
“Ha-hoo, ha-hoo, ha-hoo.” Through the open crack, she could hear someone breathing. A shiver went down her spine. Sugar raised the shovel over her head.
“SHELP!!!”
Sugar and the shovel fell backward from the weight of the shovel, knocking everybody over. The squad helped one another to their feet, and Sugar scrambled to the top of the headrest. “The decoy is gone!” she exclaimed, gaping out the window.
“Did we catch Befrickle?” asked Dirt. She ran to the window to get a closer look.
“Negative,” said Sugar, alarmed. “And the cage is gone too.”
“That’s impossible!” cried Dirt.
The chickens ran up the fishing pole and slid down the fishing line outside the window.
“No paint chips and no fibers,” noted Sugar.
“No footprints, either,” noted Dirt with an eye roll.
“Nothing but some loose feathers,” observed Sweetie. “They must have fallen off the decoy.”
“Our decoy was covered in yellow feathers,” said Sugar. “But this one’s white and speckled. AHA! Bring me a pair of tweezers, an evidence bag, and a high-powered microscope. STAT!”
“We don’t have any of those things,” Dirt declared.
“Fine, we’ll do it the easy way,” said Sugar. “Put it in your pocket and try not to bend it.”
“Now what?” asked Poppy.
“This is tough to say, kid, and even tougher to hear. It’s late, it’s dark, and we’re in a strange place with a jelly bean–taking, shoe-stealing, abnormally large chicken on the loose, and there is nobody here to help us. We are absolutely, completely, and totally on our own.”
“Couldn’t we just ask Mom?” said Dirt.
“I’m sure J. J. would help,” added Sweetie.
“Or the cousins? They seemed nice. I’m sure they might help,” suggested Poppy.
“We can help you, Booger,” said a pair of voices from under the car. “We know where your shoe is.”
The chicken squad peered under the car. Four red eyes, parked low to the ground, peered back out at them.
“Who’s Booger?” asked Dirt, Poppy, and Sweetie in unison.
“She’s Booger,” said the voices, their eyes shifting together in Sugar’s direction.
“Who are you?” asked Dirt, turning back to the eyes.
“We’re just piglets und
er the car,” they said together.
“How do you know my name?” asked Sugar.
“Huh?” said Dirt, Poppy, and Sweetie, turning to stare at their sister.
“I needed a new name in a hurry,” Sugar explained. “And I picked Bugar!” She regretted saying it immediately.
Chapter 7
“Instinct tells me we probably shouldn’t trust piglets under the car,” said Dirt.
“The same instincts that helped you pack?” asked Sugar. “Listen, kid, we’re on a farm. Piglets under cars are perfectly normal.” She turned her attention back to the pigs. “How do you know where to find the shoe?”
“We keep an eye on things around here, Booger. We watch things. We see things. We know things,” answered the piglets. “And we know where your shoe is.”
“I thought Bespackled was the security guard around here,” asked Poppy, confused.
“Never mind that!” cried Sugar.
“So,” said Dirt, “where’s the shoe?”
“Not so fast,” said the piglets. “You give us something we want, and then we give you something you want.”
“What is it you want, exactly?” asked Sugar.
“A loofah sponge, a hot glue gun, and six yards of yellow chiffon,” said the piglets under the car.
Sugar narrowed her eyes and spun to face Dirt. “NEVER . . . PACKING . . . AGAIN! Do you hear me?”
“We don’t have any of those things,” said Dirt, embarrassed.
“Fine,” answered the piglets together. “We want jelly beans.”
“We don’t have any more jelly beans,” replied Sugar. “Befrizzle took the first bag and the secret second bag, too.”
“Tough bit of luck there, Booger,” said the piglets under the car. “I guess we can’t help you with that shoe, after all.”
“There’s actually a third bag, Booger. I mean, Sugar,” said Dirt.
“What?” yelped Sugar.
“There’s a super-secret third bag of jelly beans. In case of an emergency.”
“You’ve been withholding jelly beans this whole time?” Sugar cried. “And you call yourselves family?”
“I’m sorry, but you’re not a good sharer, Sugar Booger!” squeaked Sweetie. “There, I finally said it!”
“Had to be said,” agreed the piglets.
Dirt hopped up into the car and then reappeared with the super-secret third bag of jelly beans.
“Toss it,” said the piglets.
Dirt tossed the jelly beans under the car into the dark.
“Your shoe is in the barn. High up in the rafters. With family.” Then the piglets closed their eyes and the area under the car went completely black and silent.
Chapter 8
The chicken squad peeked through the crack between the big red double doors. “Now remember, the plan is that we’re going to search the barn, interrogate the cousins, find Befrizzle, and then he’ll take us to the shoe,” Sugar reminded them.
“Mom is not going to just let us interrogate our cousins,” said Dirt.
“That is a really rude thing to do,” added Sweetie.
“Not if Mom doesn’t see it!” whispered Sugar as they tiptoed in the shadows. “Now keep it down or you’ll wake the—”
“There you are!” The squad looked back and saw half a dozen wide-awake chickens gathered around the old tractor parked inside the barn. They all looked exactly like Moosh.
“Which one is Mom?” whispered Dirt.
“No idea,” replied Sugar. “It may be a trap. Let me handle this. . . .”
“You are so adorable!” said one of the chickens.
Sugar turned to her siblings. “That’s not Mom.”
“What sweet angels!” said another chicken.
“Absolutely not Mom,” mumbled Sugar.
One of the chickens stepped forward with her wings on her hips. She narrowed her eyes and took in a long, deep breath. Her chicken nostrils flared.
“That one’s Mom,” said Sugar.
“Your cousins have been looking all over for you,” said Moosh. “They were finally so tuckered out they all went to bed!”
“We were playing hide-and-seek, Mom,” fibbed Sugar. “Looks like we won!”
“Off to bed with you then!” said Moosh impatiently. “More time for fun and games in the morning.” She walked them over to a soft spot of hay just a few feet from where she was visiting with her sisters.
“Aren’t you going to sleep now too, Mom?” asked Sugar.
“Too much catching up to do!” answered Moosh, her voice suddenly happy again. “We’ll probably talk until the sun comes up!”
Sugar and Dirt exchanged looks as they watched Moosh settle back down by the tractor, just a few feet away.
“They’re going to be up all night!” moaned Poppy. “We’ll never find Befrizzle, and I’m never going to get my shoe back!”
Sugar thought for a moment. “Dirt, come with me. Bring your notebook.”
Sugar and Dirt stepped over to the tractor. “Mom, can you help us with something?”
“What is it?” asked Moosh, eyeing them suspiciously.
“Well, the, um, the barn is feeling very BIG to Poppy so, um Dirt and I thought that if we could show him exactly how big it was, it would help him fall asleep . . . ,” explained Sugar as she motioned for Dirt to open her notebook. “You know how he doesn’t really like new places. Right, Dirt?”
“Riiight,” said Dirt. “So, um, can you help us figure out the perimeter of the barn?”
“So worried about their little brother,” said one of the Moosh look-alikes. “I’d love to help!”
“Not Mom,” Sugar mumbled to herself.
Dirt drew on her pad, sketching out the barn and estimating the length and width in feet. Then she labeled the sides of the barn and mapped out her equation. “So we just add 50 + 50 and 70 + 70 . . .”
“Shhh . . . ,” said Sugar. Dirt looked up. All the grown-ups were sound asleep with their heads tucked beneath their wings.
“Wow,” whispered Dirt.
“Night math,” replied Sugar, walking over their bodies to get to her sister. “More than they could handle. They’ll be out cold till morning.”
“You scare me sometimes, Sugar,” said Dirt.
“I scare myself sometimes too, kid.”
Chapter 9
Sugar climbed the rungs up to the sleeping area, and the squad followed as quietly as they could. Their cousins were all sound asleep, lined up in neat rows.
“What brings you to the barn, Booger?” The giant chicken stepped out of the darkest corner on the highest row.
“Well, what have we here?” said Sugar. “A large speckled chicken with a wide face, enormous eyes, and a long gray string hanging out of his mouth!”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a mouse tail,” said Dirt, moving in closer.
“Ew!” said Sweetie.
“I can see you clearly now, Befrizzle,” said Sugar, stepping closer. “Very, very clearly. And you are no chicken.”
“I never said—” Befrizzle began.
“Listen, kid,” said Sugar. “You know exactly what you are, and I know exactly what you are. You’re an . . . emu!”
“An emu?” said Dirt.
“A what-mu?” said Befrizzle, blinking rapidly.
“Why wouldn’t he admit to being an emu?” asked Dirt.
“You’re right, Dirt. My bad,” said Sugar. “He’s a SHEMU!”
“A shemu?” said Dirt. “What’s a shemu?”
“It’s the female form of emu,” explained Sugar. “Like cow and bull, rooster and hen. Gander and goose. You know . . . emu and shemu.”
“I don’t think that’s right,” said Dirt.
“I’ll tell you what’s not right,” said Sugar. “Befrizzle is not right! He doesn’t look like one of us; he doesn‘t even breathe like one of us!”
Dirt, Sweetie, and Poppy gasped.
“What’s not right,” Sugar continued, “is Befrizzle pretending to be part of
our family so he could steal our jelly beans!”
Tears rolled down Befrizzle’s exceptionally wide face.
“Why am I suddenly getting that weird feeling again?” asked Sugar.
“I’m pretty sure you get that feeling whenever you’re being, well, rude,” suggested Sweetie.
“She’s right,” said Dirt. “Plus . . . a mob of awkwardly silent chickens has surrounded us, and that does feel really weird.”
“Befrizzle is absolutely part of this family,” said Bailey, Bassie, Bert, and Bodie. The chicken cousins all took a step toward Sugar, pressing closer. Befrizzle wiped his tears with an enormous speckled wing.
“Oh no, poor Befrizzle,” said Poppy. “Sugar didn’t mean to be rude. She . . . just . . . well, is, sometimes!”
“Only when Mom’s not around!” protested Sugar. “That doesn’t really count!”
Befrizzle closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. “I think I know what you are looking for.” He opened his expansive wings and took off into the rafters of the barn without making a sound. The chicken squad watched in awe. He landed silently a moment later with the cage and the feather decoy. “This little one looked so scared in the cage in the dark that I couldn’t bear to leave her there alone. She hasn’t said a word, but she’s very sweet, and she’s been keeping me company all night.”
Sugar looked down at her feet.
“You can’t sleep at night?” asked Dirt.
Befrizzle shook his head.
“Are you nocturnal?” Dirt asked gently.
Befrizzle nodded.
“Does that mean ’lonely’?” asked Poppy.
“No,” said Dirt. “Animals that are awake mostly at night and sleep during the day are nocturnal. Like owls and mice.” Dirt turned back to Befrizzle. “You’re an owl, aren’t you?”