Middle School Read online

“Nah,” I told Georgia. “I was just messing with you, but that’s because you kept opening your big mouth about—”

  “MOM!” Georgia screamed. “Did you hear that? Rafe totally made it up!”

  “Work it out, you two,” Mom said. “I’m not going to referee anymore.”

  “I’ll referee!” Grandma Dotty said, but Mom just turned up the TV.

  Now Georgia was standing there, squinting at me like she had acid shooting out of her eyes.

  “What?” I said.

  “You heard her,” she said. “We need to work this out.”

  “I think we just did,” I said.

  “Well, I think—” Georgia said. Right before I closed the door. I’m pretty sure she got the message, anyway.

  Don’t Mess with the Rafe.

  Cha-Ching!

  Meanwhile, my dog-walking business had gone from good to wow. Maybe it was all that TrollQuest I’d been playing, but the whole thing felt like the world’s best video game. The more dogs I walked, the more points I earned.

  And in this case, the points were cold, hard CA$H. That’s my kind of game!

  I had six regular customers now, a hundred and four bucks in the bank, and another ninety-eight stashed in my drawer at home. I could just taste that brand-new WormHole Premium system already. Everything was full steam ahead…

  Right up until the next day, when I got to the dog park and stepped in a steaming pile of trouble.

  See, they have this community bulletin board at the Park and Bark. It’s a place where you can post ads about missing cats, or alien sightings, or anything you want. That’s where I had a copy of my Dogs To Go poster.

  Except when I got there, some jerk had taken mine down and put a brand-new poster in its place. And this one had bad news written all over it.

  As soon as I saw that, my brain started to boil. Competition was one thing, but ripping down my stuff was like starting a fight.

  So I fought back.

  I reached out and tore that Cheap Walks flyer right off the board.

  “HEY!” someone yelled. “Is that yours?”

  I looked over and it was Nose Ring Guy.

  “I was just moving it,” I said.

  “Didn’t look that way to me,” he said.

  I didn’t say anything, mostly because Nose Ring Guy has arms about the size of my head. I just smoothed out that Cheap Walks flyer and put it back up.

  But I wasn’t done being mad. Not even close.

  So I let Junior and Marshmallow run around until Nose Ring Guy was gone. Then I went back over to the bulletin board.

  I looked left. I looked right. I made sure nobody else was there to yell at me.

  Then I took down that poster again, and this time, I threw it in the trash.

  Later, Cheap Walks!

  Just for the record, I’m not saying that was a good move, or a smart thing to do. I know two wrongs don’t make a right, and all that. But sometimes when I get mad, I don’t exactly think straight. And when I don’t think straight, I do dumb things.

  Like messing with someone else’s property when I shouldn’t.

  Or thinking that nobody’s watching me when they actually are.

  Or stepping right into the middle of a war.

  You know—stuff like that.

  Magic Murray

  Come in, come in, my friend!” Mr. Schneider said when I came to pick up Max that day. “I have something I want to show you.”

  Mr. Schneider’s apartment always looked like a junkyard to me. If he’d had a mom living there, she would have made him clean it up a long time ago.

  But here’s the thing about junkyards. Once you look a little closer, they can be pretty cool places.

  His living room was like a workshop. He had a big table with a bunch of tools and loose parts spread out, and those bendy lights that can go any way you want them.

  He also had stuff all over his walls. There were pictures in frames, an old calendar, and a whole bunch of posters from different magic shows. I even recognized one name, Harry Houdini. But the biggest poster showed some guy called Magic Murray.

  “Did you ever see that guy?” I asked.

  “Only every time I look in the mirror,” Mr. Schneider said.

  “No way,” I said. “That’s you?”

  “Well, yes and no,” he said. “I was Magic Murray. Now I’m just Murray Schneider, retired magician and full-time old fogey.”

  That explained the quarter trick, anyway. Also why Mr. Schneider looked about eight and a half times older than the guy on the poster.

  “Hang on one sec,” he said, and started going through some drawers. He took out a scarf, a bunch of metal cups, some fake flowers, three gloves, and finally, a pair of handcuffs.

  “Take a close look,” he said, and gave me the cuffs. “No cracks, no tricks, no funny business. Am I right?”

  Next, he held out his hands and told me to put the cuffs on him.

  “Seriously?” I said.

  “Serious as a drought in a fishbowl,” he told me. So I did.

  “Now I want you to point at those cuffs and wave your hand over them three times. Not four times, not twice, but three times exactly. We can’t afford any explosions in here.”

  I knew he was kidding around, but I played along. I reached out and waved my hand back and forth, once—

  “Dallas,” he said.

  —twice—

  “Springfield,” he said.

  —three times.

  “Kalamazoo!”

  And I swear, those cuffs flew right off. He didn’t move or anything. One second they were on his wrists, and the next, they were on the floor.

  “Not bad, right?” he said. He even took a little bow.

  “Will you show me how you did that?” I asked.

  “I just showed you,” he said. “It’s magic, not rocket science.”

  “Come on, please?” I said.

  I knew it wasn’t actually magic, but I wanted to know how those cuffs worked. And then I wanted to start using them to mess with Georgia’s mind.

  “Sorry, Rafe,” Mr. Schneider said. “A magician never tells his secrets. But you can keep the quarter.”

  “What quarter?” I said.

  “The one under your foot,” he said.

  Sure enough, I took a step back and there it was, right where I’d been standing the whole time. Wow!

  I mean, it still wasn’t as nice as a five-dollar bill, but I was starting to think there might be another way Magic Murray could pay me for all that dog-walking.

  The Truce Is Loose

  I was pulling a snack out of the fridge later and I got blindsided, big-time. You know that thing in scary movies where someone closes a door and the psycho killer is standing right there?

  That was Georgia. For a loudmouth, she sure can move quietly.

  “What do you want?” I said.

  “Listen, Rafe,” Georgia told me. “I know you don’t want me in your classes, and all that. But I was thinking about what Mom said—”

  “You mean when she told you I was her favorite?”

  “Very funny,” she said. “Here’s my idea. You help me take out the garbage tonight, and I’ll help you get ready for tomorrow’s English quiz. You know, like a truce. And we make sure Mom sees us doing all of it together.”

  I liked the idea of making Mom happy. And I knew Georgia hated doing the garbage. But I also didn’t trust my sister any farther than I could throw an overweight elephant up a steep hill.

  “What makes you think I need your help?” I said.

  “Did you even finish the book?” she said.

  “Maybe.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t think so,” she said.

  The problem was, I hadn’t finished. I was thinking maybe I’d stay up all night getting it done, but… who am I kidding? That wasn’t ever going to happen.

  Also, Mrs. Stonecase is famous for her killer essay quizzes. It’s like she’s allergic to multiple choice or something.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. “For Mom’s sake. But you help me first and then I help you.”

  “Deal,” Georgia said.

  So we waited for Mom to come home. Then Georgia told me all about what happens at the end of Island of the Blue Dolphins. After that, we took out the trash.

  “This is good to see,” Mom said. “Nice cooperation, you two.”

  Georgia gave me one of her told-you-so looks, but I didn’t care. I just wanted Mom to be happy.

  Also, we’d spent at least half an hour studying for that quiz and less than ten minutes taking out the trash. In other words, I totally came out ahead on this one. Score another point for the Rafe.

  Boo-yah!

  English Quiz Death Match

  Have a seat, take out a pen, and leave the rest of your things on the floor,” Mrs. Stonecase said when we came into English the next morning.

  Nobody takes quizzes more seriously than she does. But here’s the cool part. Now that I had a piece of Georgia’s brain on my side, I felt like I was wearing an F-proof suit for this one.

  Sure enough, as soon as I got a look at those essay questions, I actually knew what I wanted to say for all three of them, right away. The last time that happened…

  Actually, that never happens. Not for me, anyway.

  But this time, I was ready to rumble!

  I come out of my corner fast. I go at this thing like it’s made out of steak and I’m a starving man. Right swing! Left hook! Jab-jab-jab! I get it up against the ropes and keep on swinging so it knows I mean business. The way it’s going so far, I’m going to make this quiz wish it had never been born.

  Next question!

  I don’t slow down, even for a second. I keep coming with everything I’ve got, light on my feet and heavy with my hands. I dodge! I slide! I dance! I weave! I’m pulling out moves even I didn’t know I had, while I answer this thing to within an inch of its life.

  Next question!

  Happy ending? Yeah, you bet. For me. We’re in the home stretch now, and I’ve got this thing right where I want it. As soon as I spot my opening, I make my final move. WHAM! The whole thing comes down like a little pig’s straw house. And as far as I can tell, it’s not getting up again.

  In fact, the whole thing’s over so quick, this crowd is going to be screaming for their money back. But ask me if I care.

  Because I just scored myself the world’s easiest knockout.

  Not Even Close

  So let’s just say I finished that quiz feeling pretty good. There were a couple of things I didn’t remember from what Georgia had told me, but I was still thinking I had a solid B+ coming. Maybe even an A.

  “Does anyone have any questions about the quiz?” Mrs. Stonecase asked after everyone handed theirs in.

  Usually, I keep my mouth shut for that kind of thing. But this time, I went for it. Even Mrs. S looked surprised when my hand went up.

  “Yes, Rafe?” she said.

  “On number three, does it matter if I couldn’t remember the name of the oil company?” I asked.

  “Excuse me?” Mrs. Stonecase said.

  “The one at the end of the story. You know—the oil company that takes over the island and gives Karana a job,” I told her.

  “A job?” she said.

  “Yeah, at the Blue Dolphin Café?” I asked. “I remembered everything else, so I’m hoping it doesn’t take too many points off if I…”

  But then I stopped, because Mrs. Stonecase was looking at me like one of us had forgotten how to speak English.

  “I assume this is some kind of joke, Rafe,” she said.

  Maybe that’s why some of the other kids were laughing, I wasn’t sure. But something was definitely wrong. I looked over at Georgia, and she was too busy scribbling on a piece of paper to notice.

  “Did you even read the book?” Mrs. S asked me.

  “Um… yes?” I said.

  “Well, I hope you read the next one more carefully,” she said. Then she started handing out our copies of A Long Walk to Water.

  A second later, Madison Walker tapped me on the shoulder and passed me a note. It had my name on it in Georgia’s handwriting. And when I unfolded it, there was just one single word inside.

  Which is when I realized how badly I’d blown it. And I don’t just mean on the quiz. Because I’d also broken the number one rule when it comes to dealing with Georgia.

  Rule #1: NEVER TRUST GEORGIA.

  Choices, Choices

  If that was Georgia’s way of paying me back for my little science fair fake-out, then I obviously wasn’t being creative enough.

  Lucky for me, creative is my specialty.

  I spent the rest of the day thinking about my next move—and thinking bigger.

  Like for instance, maybe I’d give her whole room the Saran wrap treatment—with bonus points for doing it while she was asleep.

  Or maybe I’d go old-school. There’s definitely something to say for the classics. Like for instance, I’m a big fan of the twenty-one-pizza salute.

  Then again, maybe it made more sense to come up with something all new. Something nobody had ever seen before. The possibilities were endless, really. It’s like Mom says sometimes—the only limitation is my imagination.

  Whatever it was going to be, I wanted to take my time and be careful choosing it. Until then, I knew Georgia would always be wondering when it would happen. That was a little bit of torture in itself.

  The problem was, all of that was about to fly out the window. The next big move was going to choose me. And when it did, it was going to make my little battle with Georgia seem like the world’s smallest potatoes.

  In other words, the Great Dog War had already started.

  I just didn’t know it yet.

  Big Trouble in Dogtown

  When I got out of school that day, it was ten degrees and snowing like crazy. It looked like the whole world had a bad case of dandruff.

  But when I got to the Johnstons’ house to pick up Marshmallow, Mrs. Johnston looked totally confused to see me.

  “Rafe?” she said. “What are you doing out in this weather? You sounded terrible on the phone.”

  “I did?” I said.

  “Yes, not at all like yourself. I thought you were sick,” she said.

  “I’m okay,” I said. But something weird was going on, because I’d never called Mrs. Johnston.

  “Well, I’m sorry you came all this way,” she said. “But your sub was just here. He already walked Marshmallow and we’re all set for today.”

  It was getting weirder by the second. First, she was talking about phone calls I never made. And now I supposedly had a substitute?

  The thing was, I didn’t want Mrs. Johnston to know how clueless I was. Not until I figured this out. So I tried to play it cool, which wasn’t that hard in ten-degree weather.

  “Did you see which way he went?” I asked.

  “Sorry, no,” she said. “But he did say today’s walk was free and that the price would be four dollars from now on.”

  And—BAM! Another piece of the puzzle landed like a boulder on my brain. That Cheap Walks flyer had said something about the first walk being free and then four dollars after that.

  This was getting very real, very fast. Whoever this kid was, he’d started coming after my business. And he’d even impersonated me on the phone to do it.

  “Rafe?” Mrs. Johnston waved a hand in front of my face. “You don’t seem well, honey. Why don’t you go home and get back in bed?”

  “Yeah, okay. Good idea,” I said. I even threw in a little cough to make it convincing.

  But then I booked it straight over to the Calhouns’ house instead. And sure enough—

  “Rafe? What are you doing here?” Mr. Calhoun said. “Your sub just picked up Frick and Frack a minute ago.”

  That was it. I’d officially been sub-otaged.

  “Did you see which way he went?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Mr. Calhoun said, and pointed up the street. “I think that’s him right there.”

  When I looked, I saw some jerk at the top of the block, walking Frick and Frack around the corner and out of sight.

  “Okaythanksalot!” I said.

  Then I took off after him like my business empire, my bank account, and my WormHole Premium Multi-Platform GameBox depended on it.

  Which they basically did.

  Double Trouble

  I wasn’t just regular mad anymore. Now I was fighting mad. If you’ve ever taken a punch, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

  I booked up the street as fast as I could. The snow was up to my knees, so I wasn’t exactly clocking Olympic time, but I kept moving.

  I went around the corner.

  Up the next block.

  Onto another street.

  And that’s where I finally spotted him. Kind of. Because this is where things got weird.

  Now the kid was coming back down the street, like he’d just turned around from wherever he’d been. Which wasn’t the weird part. The thing was, he had three completely different dogs with him.

  It was like he’d slipped around the corner, traded in Frick and Frack, and come back the other way, all in about a minute and a half.

  What… the… dog???

  I’d never seen this kid before, but it didn’t even matter. I was so confused by now, I didn’t feel ready for anything.

  Before he could spot me, I jumped behind one of the snowplow piles on the side of the road. Then I made like a snow mole and got myself as far out of sight as I could.

  “Hey!” the kid yelled.

  I thought he’d spotted me, so I almost stood back up. But first, I took a quick peek. And that’s when I saw who he was actually yelling for.

  You know that expression, “I couldn’t believe my eyes”? That was me just then. Because what I saw was an exact copy of the same kid, walking up the street with Frick and Frack. (Have you figured it out yet?)