“I guess because you’ve never given me one,” Edison said in a clear voice.
Elroy’s face went from angry to disappointed to sad, all in about three seconds. “I haven’t?” he asked, mostly to himself. “Oh dear. I suppose I haven’t.” He looked his son in the eye. “I guess we have a lot to discuss.”
“I guess we do,” Edison agreed. Then Elroy put his hand on his son’s shoulder, and no one said anything. I don’t think anyone even moved, for like half a minute.
Finally I held out the book. “I would like Edison to have this,” I said.
My dad smiled in a That’s my boy! kind of way.
Edison smiled sadly. “I can’t take it, but thank you.”
Elroy didn’t smile, but his eyes went from hurt to hope. “That is so kind of you, Jimmy,” he said. “However, it is not your responsibility to help me and my son. It is up to him and me to understand what has gone wrong, and to fix it. And I make you this promise: we will.”
Edison nodded slightly, then took a deep breath. “Nothing justifies what I did,” he said. “I put everyone at risk, running through the streets of New York. I could have been arrested, but these nice people convinced the policewoman that it was all a misunderstanding.” He looked at his father. “The least we can do is justify their faith in us by figuring out how to be more of a family.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Elroy said, and he hugged his son.
The rest of us all looked at one another, then at Abby, who was stretched out on one of the five Persian rugs on the floor, looking a lot like the queen she was. Then she got up and started sniffing around, like she wanted to make one of those rugs her own, if you know what I mean.
My dad and I looked at each other.
“We should probably go,” he said.
AFTER SAYING OUR good-byes to Elroy and Edison, Baxter pointed out one very important fact.
“We never even got to finish our hot dogs,” he said. “I’m starving.”
The rest of us looked up at my dad. He nodded. “I’m starving too,” he said. “But this time, no lousy hot dog from a cart. This time, a proper meal.”
So we headed to an outdoor café, where we tied Abby’s leash to a table leg so she could watch all the people go by, which seemed like one of the main things to do in New York.
While we waited for the food, Baxter, Daisy, and Irwin talked excitedly about the events of the last hour, but I was thinking about something else. I was thinking about the last couple of weeks and how everything seemed connected.
“You know something?” I said. “A lot of bad things happen when people feel jealous, or left out, or not appreciated.”
All heads turned in my direction.
“Look at you, getting all deep,” Irwin said.
“Yeah,” Daisy said. “Where did that come from?”
“It’s true.” I took a bite of a nice hot buttery roll. “Think about everything that’s happened lately. Reptile Ron was jealous of Amazing Andy, and he felt like Andy got all the glory, so he tried to ruin his business by stealing the presents. Edison was jealous of his dad’s success and mad because his dad took him for granted and didn’t appreciate him.”
Daisy cleared her throat. “And when you helped make me president of the CrimeBiters, and I proposed having the meetings at my house, I think maybe you felt left out of that decision, and so maybe that’s why you took Abby to Mara’s party and tried to solve the crime all by yourself.”
“Hey, yeah,” Irwin said unhelpfully.
I thought for a second. Of course my natural reaction was to tell Daisy she was crazy, but somehow I stopped myself. Probably because I knew she wasn’t crazy at all. She was exactly right.
“Maybe,” I said, which was as far as I was willing to go—out loud anyway.
“It’s not good to be jealous,” Baxter said. “It’s stupid and wrong.” Say what you will about Baxter, but he definitely has a knack for getting to the heart of the matter.
The waiter came over with a tray full of food. “Here we are!” he said, placing my delicious fried chicken with macaroni and cheese in front of me. I couldn’t wait to dig in, but as I was picking up my knife and fork, I noticed an extra dish on the waiter’s tray. It was a giant steak, which I couldn’t remember anyone ordering.
“What the heck?” I said. “Who’s that for?”
The waiter put the steak in front of my dad, who quickly cut it up into small pieces. Then he bent down and put the plate right in front of Abby. “A fair reward for a job well done,” he said.
Abby stared at the steak for a second, like she couldn’t believe her eyes.
My dad looked at me. I looked at Abby. “Okay, go!” I said.
She ate that steak in about four seconds.
I didn’t say anything. I just gave my dad a hug.
“You’ll notice I ordered it just the way she likes it,” he said. “Extra bloody.”
MY DAD SAYS that Irwin, Daisy, Baxter, Abby, and I all slept the whole car ride home. I guess I believe him, because I don’t remember a thing.
But I do remember driving up to Baxter’s house.
And I remember pulling into his driveway and seeing about twenty cars.
And I remember Baxter saying, “What the heck is going on here?” as he got out of the car.
And I remember that even though it was late and everyone needed to get home, we all got out of the car too.
And I remember there was a big banner across their front steps that said WELCOME HOME.
And I remember thinking for a second, Why would they make a big sign to welcome Baxter home from a day in New York City?
But mostly what I remember is Baxter seeing the sign too, and starting to walk faster, and then jog, and then sprint up the walkway, and then throwing open the front door, and seeing his big brother, Bennett, standing there, with crutches, one arm in a cast, and a bandage on the left side of his neck.
And as the rest of us stood there and watched Baxter jump into his brother’s arms, I realized that heroes come in all shapes and sizes, and some heroes are more super than others. You could be a vampire in a book. Or a boy who joins the cheerleading team. Or a Spider-Man walking around Times Square taking pictures with tourists. Or a dog who risks everything to protect his family.
Or, you could be the greatest kind of hero, the kind who has no superpowers at all—unless you count heart, loyalty, and courage.
FACT: Daisy’s mom makes the best lemonade in the United States.
ANOTHER FACT: She also makes homemade ice-cream sandwiches. I didn’t even know that was a thing. Ah-maze-ing.
FINAL FACT: A TV room is no place for a club meeting—no matter how delicious the snacks.
Is it too early to run for president again?
WRITING THE CRIMEBITERS series has been a true joy, and a team effort. Going back to the beginning … I want to thank my wife, Cathy, who agreed to adopt a sweet puppy named Abby off the Internet sight unseen and then put up with Abby’s tendency to stay active until the wee hours—the very habit, of course, which sparked the idea of writing a series about a vampire dog. I also want to thank my wonderful friends at Scholastic and Scholastic Book Fairs, who have been so supportive and skillful in bringing this series to spectacular life and into the hands of readers everywhere. And finally, how can I not thank Abby herself, who finally—FINALLY—has started to sleep through the night.
TOMMY GREENWALD is the author of the Charlie Joe Jackson series about the most reluctant reader ever born. Tommy lives in Connecticut with his wife, Cathy; their kids, Charlie, Joe, and Jack; and their dogs, Coco and Abby. Abby is not necessarily a crime-fighting vampire dog—but she makes Tommy and his family very, very happy, which is definitely a kind of superpower when you think about it.
Read the CrimeBiters’ first case!
I’m one of those kids who likes to stay busy, because it helps me forget that I don’t have a lot to do.
Which makes sense, right?
That’s why, on the
morning of August 26, I wasn’t just eating cereal.
I was also searching for funny dog videos on the computer.
And I was watching YouTube clips of my favorite old TV show—STOP! POLICE!
And I was rereading a Jonah Forrester book—Fang Goodness—for approximately the six hundred and twenty-eighth time.
In other words, Tuesday, August 26, was a typical summer morning, until my sister, Misty, walked into the kitchen, looked at me, and dropped her phone.
“EW!” she screamed. “Jimmy, you have a huge blotch on your face!”
FACT: There’s never a good time for a blotch to suddenly appear on your face, but some times are worse than others. And 8:24 in the morning, two days before the first day of fifth grade, is probably just about the worst time of all.
By the way, I had no idea what a blotch was.
“What’s a blotch?” I asked Misty.
“A big, disgusting, gross mark!” she explained happily.
PROFILE
Name: Misty Bishop (sister)
Age: 14
Occupation: Texting
Interests: The usual annoying big-sister things
All of a sudden, a feeling of panic filled my chest.
“MOM!” I called. But then I remembered she wasn’t home, as usual. She left really early for work every day, and came home late too.
“DAD!”
My dad, who was in the TV room, came in and took a look.
“Wow,” he said, “she’s a beaut.” He leaned in closer. “And if I’m not mistaken,” he added, “it’s the exact shape of Rhode Island.” Then his phone buzzed. “Sorry, bud, I gotta deal with this.”
I ran to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror.
Ugh.
I had no idea what Rhode Island looked like, but it had to be the ugliest state in the entire country.
I stood there for about five seconds. Then I did what any kid who discovers a Rhode Island–shaped blotch on his face, two days before fifth grade, would do.
I screamed.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!”
My sister poked her head in. “YEESSSSSSSSS!” she said, cracking up.
FACT: When your older sister looks at you and starts laughing, you know it’s not good.
Text copyright © 2019 by Tommy Greenwald
Illustrations copyright © 2019 by Adam Stower
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available
First edition, February 2019
Cover illustration © 2019 by Adam Stower
Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll
e-ISBN 978-1-338-19329-9
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
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