Fangs for Everything

by Tommy Greenwald

  “Who?” I yelled. “There who was?”

  “Reptile Ron!” they all yelled at the same time.

  “What?” I said. “Reptile Ron? You’re kidding me!”

  Daisy regained control of the phone. “I know, right?!?! He was standing there in shock. He was the only one in the house, because he knew that everyone would be out watching the show. He had a big garbage bag that was half full of presents, and he was covered from head to toe in blue paint! It was incredible!”

  I was trying to process what I was hearing, but it wasn’t easy. “I don’t get it. You’re telling me that Reptile Ron was the present thief?”

  It was Baxter’s turn to grab the phone. “Yup,” he said, sounding much calmer than the other two. “It was pretty unbelievable. I guess when he says he’s bringing animals back to their van, he’s also sneaking inside and stealing presents. Someone asked him why, and he said he was tired of Amazing Andy getting all the glory and also he was a terrible boss. So Reptile Ron had this idea to ruin Andy’s business by making it seem like presents were getting stolen at every party Andy was hired for. Then after Amazing Andy’s business was ruined, Reptile Ron would take over.”

  “He was jealous!” Daisy yelled from the background. “And he couldn’t take it anymore!”

  Irwin yelled into the phone, which at this point was on speaker. “The whole thing is crazy, but the main thing is, we solved the case!”

  “That’s amazing,” I said.

  “Hey, what’s the deal with you anyway?” asked Baxter. “Why would you bring Abby to the party?”

  “Yeah, uh, good question,” I said. “I—I guess I read the invitation wrong or something.”

  “What a bummer,” Irwin said. “It would have been so awesome if you’d been there, but the main thing is that the CrimeBiters are back! Isn’t that sick?”

  “Totally,” I said. “Hey, listen, I gotta go. I think I just heard my parents come in.”

  I hung up the phone and lay back down on the bed.

  The CrimeBiters are back! Isn’t that sick?

  To be honest, I was feeling a little sick myself.

  SO YEAH, I was grounded. No big surprise there.

  I believe my dad’s exact words were “I wish we could go back in time before any of this happened, but I’m pretty sure that’s not possible.”

  My mom’s exact words were “Can I pretend we’re not related?”

  She was kidding. I think. But both my parents were pretty shocked—no, really shocked—at how boneheaded my idea was to bring Abby to Mara’s birthday party, and they were also pretty disappointed—no, really disappointed—that I’d lied to Mrs. Cragg. So I wasn’t just grounded. I also had to (1) write a letter of apology to Mara; (2) write a letter of apology to Mara’s parents; (3) write a letter of apology to Mrs. Cragg; and (4) mow the lawn and rake the leaves twice a week and take out the garbage and empty the dishwasher every day and night for a month, which was probably the worst part of the punishment since it meant Misty didn’t have to do any of those things.

  The one thing they didn’t do was tell me that I shouldn’t do dumb things just to prove a point, because they knew they didn’t have to. I was able to figure that one out all by myself.

  So there I was a couple of nights later, emptying the dishwasher as usual, when I noticed a bunch of envelopes on top of the microwave.

  “What’s that stuff?” I asked my mom, who was standing next to me, trying to stop herself from helping me unload the dishes.

  FACT: Even when moms punish you, they still want to help you. It’s just in their nature.

  “Oh, just the mail,” my mom said. “I was about to go through it.”

  “Huh.” I glanced at it casually for a split second, until something unusual caught my eye.

  A bright-red envelope.

  More like a blood-red envelope, actually. I picked it up and saw that it was addressed to Mr. James Bishop.

  That’s me.

  My heart started to race as I flipped the envelope over, looking for the return address. There was none. But there was a cool sketched drawing of two black wings, and between the wings, where the body would be, were the letters EE, also in black, drawn in fancy script.

  Elroy Evans.

  “Holy smokes!” I hollered, so loud that my mom dropped the fork she was holding.

  I ripped the letter open.

  Dear Mr. Bishop:

  I am in receipt of your recent letter.

  First of all, I very much appreciate your kind comments. It is the goal of every author to create stories that move and excite people, and it is especially gratifying when children tell me that they have enjoyed reading my books, so thank you for that.

  Second, you ask a very important question: How can you tell if someone is a vampire? That is an age-old mystery that I’m afraid may be impossible to answer. Part of our fascination with these extraordinary creatures is that we are never sure who they are among us, if they are in fact among us at all. It is possible that there are no vampires in this world at all, and it is possible that there is a vampire sitting at the very next table in a restaurant. This is the great unknown.

  Third, believing in vampires most certainly does NOT make you childish. In fact, it makes you the opposite of childish. It makes you a dreamer. Someone who believes in possibility, and imagination, and the promise of something far beyond our natural beliefs and expectations.

  And finally, Mr. Bishop, I would like to extend an invitation. As it happens, I will be in New York City in two weeks’ time for an appearance and book signing at the annual COM-MIX convention. It is always a true delight for me to meet my youngest readers. As such, would you consider attending the convention, as my guest? And while you’re at it, why not bring the creature whom you believe may be a vampire? This way, we can draw our conclusions together.

  If this is something that interests you, please e-mail my assistant, Thora Saxby, at Thora@Evanstown.com.

  I very much look forward to our meeting.

  Most sincerely,

  Elroy Evans

  I sat down at the kitchen table, clutching the letter.

  Holy cannoli.

  I must have had some kind of crazy look in my eyes, because my mom came rushing over. “What is it? What happened? Is everything okay?”

  I handed her the letter without a word. As she read it, it occurred to me that I’d never even told my parents that I’d written to Elroy in the first place. I hadn’t told Mrs. Cragg either. The only person that knew was Misty, and she’d tortured me about it.

  Boy, was it going to be sweet showing her this letter!

  “Wow, this is amazing,” my mom said, sitting down at the table next to me. “When did you write to him?”

  “A few weeks ago, I guess. I didn’t say anything because I figured nothing would ever happen.”

  “Well, something certainly did happen!” My mom got her cell phone out. “I’m going to call Dad. He’ll love this! You’re going to meet your favorite author!”

  “What about being grounded?”

  My mom waved me off. “This is a special occasion.”

  I was on a roll. “Can I invite my friends? Can Abby come?”

  “We’ll discuss all that tonight, but I don’t see why not.” My mom laughed. “Last I checked, there weren’t any chimpanzees running around New York City.”

  I laughed too, probably a little too loudly. “Great! I’m going to go tell the gang!”

  I couldn’t believe my luck. The past few days had been kind of miserable—I was grounded, Abby was in the doghouse (not really, but you know what I mean), and the CrimeBiters hadn’t even needed me to solve our biggest case in a long time. Now here I was about to tell them that they could join me in New York City to meet a famous author at the coolest convention in the world!

  I went from feeling left out to feeling back in.

  When I called the other CrimeBiters, they couldn’t say yes fast enough. Baxter thanked me for helping him take his mi
nd off worrying about his brother. Daisy said “That is so awesome!” when I told her about the letter. Even Irwin sounded impressed, although of course he tried not to.

  It occurred to me that I should have started writing letters to authors a long time ago.

  IRWIN WONK AND I have been best friends since as long as I can remember. He also happens to have the most awesome trampoline in all of Quietville.

  The two things are still not related.

  I still swear.

  The day after I got my letter from Elroy Evans—my mom had already proudly taped it up on the refrigerator, which was the highest honor in the land—I was back at Irwin’s, telling him all about the trip we had coming up to New York. As usual, I was the only one jumping.

  “And after we meet Elroy, we can go out to eat at some fun place like an Applebee’s or TGIF or something,” I said.

  Irwin rolled his eyes. “They have really delicious restaurants in New York,” he said. “Like, from every country in the world. We could eat Tanzanian food, or Icelandic if we wanted.”

  “What kind of food is that?”

  “I have no idea.”

  I kept jumping. “Maybe tomorrow after school we could all meet up and figure out what else we should do in New York. It’s going to be the most fun day ever!”

  “That would be awesome,” Irwin said. “But, uh, I can’t tomorrow. I’m busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Just, you know, stuff.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said.

  I know what you’re thinking—a normal person might have followed up with something like, What kind of stuff? But I wasn’t a normal person right at that moment. I was a person who was way too busy thinking about how I was Elroy Evans’s new best friend. I was kind of like a person planning his own birthday party. Nothing else mattered.

  So you can imagine my surprise when I was leaving school the next day, heading toward the bus, and I saw a crowd of kids gathered over by the softball field. I craned my neck and was able to see some pom-poms flying around, so I knew it had to be cheerleading practice. But what could be so fascinating about cheerleading practice? I didn’t need to see Daisy doing more flips and twirls, that’s for sure. So I kept walking.

  Then I heard a kid named Jack Winston yell, “No way! That is just so wrong!” which made everyone else laugh.

  Okay, now I was curious.

  I jogged over to the field. I could hear the cheer they were practicing:

  “Put it in the basket. Put it in the hole. To shoot, to score, to win is our goal!”

  I mean, it wasn’t exactly genius poetry or anything, but there wasn’t anything that sounded so wrong about that. And I didn’t see anything else worth laughing about either, unless you counted the fact that Betsy Kincaid’s glasses fell off every time she did a high kick.

  Then I looked down the row of cheerleaders and saw something that made me rub my eyes.

  I looked again.

  Irwin.

  As in, Irwin Wonk.

  That’s right, my Irwin. Neighbor, best friend, CrimeBiter.

  And now … cheerleader.

  Yup. There he was, right in the middle of the row, cheering his heart out. He was wearing an official cheerleading sweater and a pair of shorts. He was holding pom-poms. And his glasses didn’t fall off once.

  He spotted me, and an embarrassed look quickly crossed his face, because he must have seen the shocked look on mine. He gave me a wave, then went back to work. Daisy spotted me too, and she grinned and yelled, “I know, right? Isn’t it great?”

  But before I had a chance to answer, Jack Winston hollered, “Yeah, it’s great if you want to be a girl!” That inspired more laughter and a few other comments from the crowd:

  “Hey, Irwin, where’s your dress?”

  “Can you do a split?”

  “Who’s the cute new cheerleader?”

  I could feel my skin start to get hot as I watched Irwin try to ignore all the mean jokes. He just kept right on cheering. I knew I had to do something to defend my friend.

  “Hey, everyone? Do me a favor and shut your mouths.”

  I wish it had been me who said it, but it wasn’t. I wasn’t quite fast enough, I guess. Or brave enough.

  But Chad Knight was.

  Chad stared at the crowd until everyone was quiet. Then he said, “I remember people made fun of me when I quit lacrosse to take up ballroom dancing. They didn’t realize how hard it was, and how athletic. I bet it’s the same with cheerleading.” He gave Irwin a thumbs-up. “I think it’s awesome that you joined the cheerleading squad. Keep up the good work. As for the rest of you,” he said, looking around at the crowd, “grow up.”

  “I think it’s great too!” I jumped in. “Way to go, Irwin!” But as we all know, nobody really pays attention to the guy who finishes—or speaks—second.

  Chad came over and smacked me on the back, athlete to athlete. It kind of hurt, but I was going to keep that to myself.

  “Very cool that Irwin is doing this cheerleading thing,” Chad said. “When did he decide to join the squad?”

  “A few days ago,” I said. In other words, I lied. Irwin hadn’t told me a thing, of course. And I knew it was probably because he thought I’d laugh at him, just like the other kids.

  Since the fun was over, most kids started to drift away, but Chad and I stayed and watched for a few minutes, as the cheerleaders flipped and flew their way through a bunch of routines. It turned out Daisy was a really good athlete, and I was impressed watching her. Irwin, however, wasn’t so great. But I could tell that he was having an absolute blast, and I’m pretty sure that’s all that matters.

  “You! You’re the best! You! Can pass this test! You! You’re the man! You! Can do it, yes, you can!”

  The cheer ended, and Chad and I burst out in applause.

  “Sweeeeet!” we hollered. “That was awesome!”

  Daisy, Irwin, Mara, and the rest of the cheerleaders were grinning from ear to ear. Daisy might have taken an extra glance at Chad, but I didn’t even care. They were my friends, they were having fun, Elroy Evans had invited me to be his guest in New York City, and everything seemed back on track at last.

  Until the door of the school opened, and everything changed.

  THE FIRST THING I heard was a loud voice.

  “NOOOOO!”

  The cheerleaders stopped cheering, everyone stopped walking and talking, and we all turned to see Baxter, who had just come out of the school. Mr. Klondike, the viceprincipal, was standing next to him with his hand on Baxter’s shoulder.

  Baxter was crying.

  Irwin, Daisy, and I all sprinted over.

  “Are you okay?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Baxter, what is it?”

  But he stared at the ground and wouldn’t look up at us. Finally, after a few seconds, Mr. Klondike cleared his throat. “Can I tell them, young man?”

  Baxter nodded.

  “As I’m sure you know, Baxter has a brother, Bennett, who is heroically serving in our armed forces,” said Mr. Klondike. “This afternoon, Baxter’s mother received word that Bennett was injured when the helicopter he was riding in had to make a crash landing.”

  A hard knot formed in my stomach, and tears sprang to my eyes. I looked at Irwin and Daisy, and I could tell they were feeling the exact same thing.

  “Is he going to be okay?” I managed to ask.

  Mr. Klondike glanced at Baxter, then back at us. “We certainly hope so. Bennett has been evacuated to a hospital where he will receive the very best care.”

  Baxter suddenly looked up. “My brother is the strongest person I know,” he said, his voice sounding raspy. “He will be okay. I know he will be okay.”

  “We’re here for you, Bax,” Daisy said, and she wrapped him up in a big hug. Irwin and I stood there, trying to figure out what to do. Finally, desperate for something to say, I blurted out, “Do you still want to come to the COM-MIX convention with us? I really hope you do. Bu
t if you don’t, we will definitely bring you back something awesome.”

  Daisy glared at me like I’d just asked Baxter if he wanted to see the inside of my eyelids, but Baxter nodded. “No, I still want to come. I have to ask my mom, but I think she’ll say yes. It will be good to have a fun day in New York City.”

  I grinned. “Cool!” Then I looked at Daisy like, See?

  Mr. Klondike pointed out toward the parking lot. “Your mother is here, Baxter.” Mrs. Bratford was getting out of her car and walking toward us, and Mrs. Cragg was with her. Mrs. Cragg was Baxter’s dad’s sister, which I sometimes forgot, since she’d become such an important part of our family too, as my after-school babysitter.

  The two women reached Baxter, and it was clear they’d been crying too.

  “We’re all praying for your son, Mrs. Bratford,” said Mr. Klondike. The rest of us nodded but didn’t say anything. I quickly squeezed Mrs. Cragg’s hand though. She squeezed mine back.

  Mrs. Bratford tried to smile at us kids, then put her arm around her son’s shoulder as they headed back to their car. Mr. Klondike nodded at us before he went back inside.

  That left Daisy, Irwin, and me all standing there. We looked at each other.

  “I don’t know about you,” Daisy said to Irwin, “but I don’t feel much like cheerleading right now.”

  “Me neither,” Irwin said.

  The three of us slowly walked home.

  No one said a single word the whole way.

  BAXTER ENDED UP being right—his mom did think it would be a good distraction for him to come to New York City with us and go to COM-MIX. So on the day of the convention, me, my dad, Baxter, Irwin, Daisy, and Abby all piled into the car and headed to New York. On the way there, we listened to an audiobook—Fang Goodness, of course, which was the first Jonah Forrester novel ever.