by Kate Messner
For my brilliant warrior-friends, Anne, Kelly, Laura, Laurel, Linda, Martha, Olugbemisola, and Tracey
Also by Kate Messner
The Brilliant Fall of Gianna Z.
Sugar and Ice
Eye of the Storm
Wake Up Missing
All the Answers
The Seventh Wish
The Exact Location of Home
Breakout
CONTENTS
Chapter One: Seagulls and Sabotage
Chapter Two: Welcome, Dogs and Sporty Moose
Chapter Three: Boxes from the Attic
Chapter Four: KicksFinder, the Bao Bus, and a Robot without a Job
Chapter Five: Business Plans and Beetles
Chapter Six: Who’s a Warrior?
Chapter Seven: Chocolate Cricket Cookie Dough
Chapter Eight: A Bark in the Dark
Chapter Nine: Uninvited Guests
Chapter Ten: The First Firefly of Summer
Chapter Eleven: The Cricket-Bot Plan
Chapter Twelve: The Chirp Challenge
Chapter Thirteen: Pitching Crickets
Chapter Fourteen: Spies in Pink High-Tops
Chapter Fifteen: Monster Donuts and Impossible Plans
Chapter Sixteen: The Story from the Bottom of the Box
Chapter Seventeen: Me Too
Chapter Eighteen: Disasters and Spies
Chapter Nineteen: The Moose Has Ears
Chapter Twenty: The Truth about Tumblers
Chapter Twenty-One: Countdown to Launch
Chapter Twenty-Two: And the Winner Is …
Chapter Twenty-Three: Like a Kung Fu Mantis
Chapter Twenty-Four: Lake Monster Security and Punk-Rock Crickets
Chapter Twenty-Five: Crickets, Warriors, and Taking Things Back
Author’s Note
CHAPTER 1
Seagulls and Sabotage
Mia hadn’t realized how much she missed the mountains. The countryside rolling past her car window was greener than anything in Boston. She loved the moose-crossing signs and the little villages that felt so sleepy and peaceful. June was in-between season in New England, but in another week, the roads would be humming with campers and fancy cars full of New York City people who stopped to take selfies with cows. For now, Mia loved watching the quiet landscapes drift by. Packing the moving truck the day after school ended had been a hassle, but she really was glad to be moving back to Vermont.
The truth was, Mia wished they’d never moved to Boston in the first place. She wished she could erase the past two years. But leaving was the next best thing, and she’d have the whole summer to settle in. The Fourth of July was less than a week away. Burlington’s fireworks were the night before Independence Day and weren’t as big as Boston’s, but they’d be reflected in Lake Champlain, which made them twice as sparkly. Mia’s family could go back to their old tradition—a picnic on the waterfront with sandwiches and Dad’s “pyrotechnic brownies” with chocolate frosting and red, white, and blue sprinkles. Best of all, Gram would be there. Summer fireworks hadn’t been the same without her catching fireflies in a jar and explaining bioluminescence in the insect world.
“You awake back there, Mia?”
“Mostly.” Mia unslouched and straightened her messy brown ponytail. She’d napped her way through half of Massachusetts and most of New Hampshire.
“Good,” Dad said, “because …” He hesitated a few seconds, then blurted, “I’m-in-Vermont-and-you’re-not!” He looked at her in the rearview mirror, cracking up as they zoomed past the Welcome to Vermont sign.
“Good one, Dad.” When Mia was little, any time the family took a road trip, she’d beg her parents to stop the car right on the border so the front seat and back seats would be in different states. Mom explained you’re not allowed to do that on highways, so instead, the crossing-the-border shout-out had become a Barnes family tradition.
“Never gets old.” Mom rolled her eyes, but she laughed, too. Then she passed a pile of day-camp brochures to the back seat. “Hey, you forgot these. I grabbed them in case you need to think more about summer plans.”
Mia hadn’t forgotten. “No thanks.” She tossed the brochures back up front.
Mom held up one with a gymnast on the cover. “There’s a new gymnastics camp.”
Mia shook her head. “I don’t want to do gymnastics.”
“That’s fine.” Dad glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You can make your own decisions about summer activities.”
“Great!” At least somebody was on her side.
“Provided those activities involve something other than watching reality TV,” Mom said.
“Bummer.” Add in some Mountain Dew and Chex Mix, and that had been exactly Mia’s plan for the summer. When she got hurt and then had surgery a year ago, she couldn’t do anything active for months, so she’d plunked herself down on the couch and watched all six seasons of Deal with the Sharks and American Warrior Challenge. When her arm finally healed, the doctor wrote a note saying she could go back to the gym, but by then both shows had another season out. So she kept watching.
“You need to choose two activities,” Mom said, dropping the brochures in Mia’s lap. “One active and one educational. Something for—”
“I know. Something for my body and something for my brain.” Mia sighed. “But I think I build muscle just watching those American Warrior ladies. Have you seen them scale the warped wall?” Mia loved how strong they looked. Like nobody would ever dare mess with them. “And Deal with the Sharks is totally educational.”
It looked like such a fun show to be on if you had the right invention. Once, in third grade, Mia and her friend Alex had made a robot out of old toaster parts from the free pile after the neighborhood garage sale. It didn’t do anything, so it wouldn’t have been good Deal with the Sharks material, but Mia loved thinking up other ideas.
Maybe that’s why she opened the brochure for Launch Camp for Young Entrepreneurs. “I might try this one. I could learn stuff to help Gram with her cricket farm.”
“Sounds great. But I doubt Gram needs much help now that she’s retiring,” Mom said.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Dad said. “Last time we talked, she didn’t sound interested in selling the place anymore.”
“You’re kidding.” Mom left Mia and her brochures alone and turned to Dad. “She had that offer from the man who runs the food-processing plant up the street. It was perfect.”
Dad shrugged.
“She needs to think this through,” Mom said. “Running a cricket farm isn’t light work. And with her health failing …”
Mia opened a flyer and started reading about Knitting Camp. Anything was better than thinking about the idea that Gram wouldn’t be around forever. She’d had a mild stroke in January, and even though she’d gotten out of the hospital quickly, the doctors said she had to take it easy for a while. That was the only time Mia had ever seen her grumpy. She’d looked frail, too. That wasn’t a word Mia ever would have used to describe her grandmother before, and it had made her so sad.
But for the past few months, Gram had been texting Mia how she’d been going to physical therapy. Now she didn’t need a walker or cane anymore, and she’d been doing core exercises to get her balance back. Last week, Gram had texted Mia a picture of herself planking in a new green warm-up suit: Made it to 45 seconds today! Gram was still supposed to cut down on stress, though, so she was getting ready to retire. That was the plan anyway. It was part of why Mia’s parents had decided to move back to Vermont, to help with the transition.
“Here we are,” Dad said when they pulled into the industrial park. Gram’s new cricket farm was squashed between the Green Mountain Moose warehouse and an enormous gym.
“Hey, that’s one of t
he camps we were looking at!” Mom reached back and shuffled the brochures until she found that one to wave at Mia.
“I told you, I don’t want to do gymnastics.” Mia pushed away the brochure.
“But it has Warrior Camp!” Mom opened the flyer to a page with kids climbing a rock wall. “You love that show.”
“I like watching it.” Mia took the brochure and dropped it back in her pile. Why couldn’t there be a camp where you had snacks and watched other people climb stuff?
“Ready to check out Gram’s new place?” Dad pulled into a parking space next to the Green Mountain Cricket Farm sign, and they headed for the door. Gram had moved everything here right before her stroke. Before that, she’d been raising crickets in her basement. “Gram’s excited to give us the grand tour. Bet she’s waiting in the lobby with cricket-flour cookies for you, Mia.”
Dad was half-right. Gram was in the lobby, but she wasn’t waiting with cookies. She was standing on a chair, swinging a broom over her head and swearing up at the rafters, where two seagulls perched on a beam by the window. She looked more like one of the Avengers than an old lady who had a stroke six months ago.
“Mom! What’s going on?” Dad rushed over, helped her down, and took the broom.
“These birds pooped all over the place, and who knows how many crickets they scarfed up before we shooed them out here. And now they won’t leave.” Gram adjusted the green-framed reading glasses on her head, which had gotten half-lost in her wild gray curls. Then she seemed to remember that her family was visiting. “Sorry. Hi.” She gave them all hugs. Mia’s was extra long. Then Gram reached for her broom back.
Dad held on to it. “Let’s just open the door. I bet the birds will find their way out. You need to relax.”
“Relax?” Gram yanked the broom out of his hand. “When someone’s trying to ruin my lifework?”
“Aw, Mom … those birds aren’t out to get you. This is just a little mishap.”
“Mishap? No.” Gram pointed her broom at the birds. “This is sabotage.”
CHAPTER 2
Welcome, Dogs and Sporty Moose
“Wait, what?” Dad looked up at the seagulls.
Mia looked up, too. Then she looked at Gram. “You think somebody did this on purpose?”
“I certainly do. And I know who it was. Chet Potsworth.” Gram spit out the name. “He’s trying to force me out!”
“Isn’t that the guy who offered to buy the farm?” Mom used her extra-calm voice. “I can’t imagine he’d do such a thing. Don’t you think it’s more likely you left a door open?”
“Absolutely not. I’m telling you, Chet Potsworth is behind this. He called yesterday to ask again about buying the place. And now we have seagulls. I don’t know who he thinks he is, trying to force me out of my own farm.”
Mom gave Dad the we-need-to-have-a-conversation-about-this look.
Dad gave her the I-don’t-know-what-you-expect-me-to-do-about-it look. Mia could almost see the prickly brain waves bouncing back and forth between them.
Just then, the office door opened, and a fat sausage of an English bulldog puppy came waddle-running out, barking up a storm.
“Syd!” Gram shouted, shaking her head. “She’s supposed to be the welcome dog, but we’ve obviously got some work to do.”
“You got a dog!” Mia bent to pet Syd, whose huge puppy head looked as if it might tip the rest of her over.
“You got a dog?” Mom said.
Gram ignored her and turned to Mia, who was rubbing Syd’s belly. “She’ll love you forever now. She only ever barks the first time she meets someone.”
“Sorry about that!” A short, muscular bald guy came jogging out of the office. “I didn’t know you had people here.”
Gram introduced them. “This is Daniel, my new employee.”
“New employee?” Mom gave Dad the what-the-heck-is-going-on-here look.
Dad pretended not to notice. He shook Daniel’s hand. “I’m Steve,” he said. “Sylvia’s son. This is my daughter, Mia, and my wife, Sharon.”
“Nice to meet you.” Daniel looked at Mom. “You might not want to stand right there.”
“Why?” Mom said.
Right on cue, a seagull pooped in her hair. Her face twisted into the sort of grossed-out, horrified expression you see in modern art paintings when people’s faces are melting.
“Hold on and I’ll get you some paper towels.” Gram headed for her office, and Mia noticed that even though she wasn’t using a cane anymore, her walk wasn’t quite right. Her right foot was a little droopy or something, so she had to lift that knee up higher when she stepped. “Here you go.” Gram came back, handed Mom the paper towels, and pointed to the corner. “Bathroom’s over there.”
As Mom left to clean up, Daniel turned to Gram. “Sorry I can’t stay longer. I have to leave for practice at ten.”
“Practice for what?” Dad asked.
“Lake Monsters.” Daniel swung an imaginary baseball bat. “I used to play growing up in the Dominican Republic. When I moved here for grad school and had Sylvia for class, she suggested I try out for the team.”
“That’s so cool!” Mia had forgotten Burlington had a minor league team.
“Shoot, that reminds me,” Daniel said. “We have a game a week from Saturday, so I can’t staff our farmers market booth the whole time. I can ask James to cover for me if you want.”
“Absolutely not,” Gram said. “He’ll want to be at the ballpark, cheering on his beloved husband. Maybe Mia can help.”
“I’m … busy then, I think.” Mia couldn’t imagine standing at a booth at City Hall Park, selling cricket protein powder to strangers. But she felt bad letting Gram down. “I can help now, though, if you want.”
“Actually, we need to get going,” Mom said. She’d just come out of the bathroom, rubbing her damp hair with a paper towel.
Dad nodded. “Do you want to come with us and see the new house?”
“I can’t,” Gram said. “I have a meeting with a contractor for the new air filtration system.”
“New air filtration system?” Mom pressed her lips together. “Mia, would you give us a few minutes? You can check out that gym with the fun camp.”
“Sure.” Mia hugged Gram and went outside. But the last thing she wanted to think about was gymnastics, so she turned away from the gym and went to see what Green Mountain Moose was all about.
The front windows showed off a big office with a wall full of stuffed toy moose, all wearing clothes and carrying props. There was a white-coated doctor moose with a stethoscope around its neck, a businessperson moose with a briefcase, and a construction worker moose with antlers sticking out from under its hard hat. Another shelf was full of moose athletes—a soccer moose and a football moose and a figure skater with its hooves stuffed into skates.
“Do you play a sport?” somebody said, and Mia jumped about a mile. When she landed, a short, sturdy man with spiky gray hair was backing away from her with his hands up, laughing. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Bob Jacobson. I run this zany moose company. Is Sylvia your grandmother?”
Mia nodded.
“Thought so!” he said. “You’re Mia, right?”
She nodded again. How did the Moose Man know her name?
“Your grandma’s talked a lot about you. Don’t you love our sporty moose?” He gestured to the shelf of athletes with antlers. “Let me guess …” He looked Mia up and down in a way that made her want to put on a big parka. “I bet you’re a runner!”
“No, I’m a—” Mia almost said “gymnast” but remembered she wasn’t anymore. “I don’t play a sport.” She was grateful when her parents came out of the cricket farm. But then she realized they were arguing. With more than just their eyes.
“This was not the plan,” Mom said. She’d never been a fan of the cricket farm in the first place because she said it was another one of Gram’s far-out ideas. There was nothing far-out about Mom. She liked sensible shoes, a sensible ha
ircut, and sensible jobs. Cricket farming wasn’t in that category. “We moved back to help your mother transition—not to help her take care of a million crickets.”
“She’s not asking for help.”
“She needs to cut down on stress.”
“She needs time,” Dad said. “She’ll see.” He looked around. “Mia, let’s head out!”
“Coming!” Mia turned back to the Moose Man, said “Nice to meet you,” and hurried to the car. She hoped her parents would stop talking when she got in, but they didn’t.
“I know you still think your mother is some kind of superhero, but she’s too old for this. Did you hear what she said? She thinks someone’s sabotaging her farm.”
“I know.” Dad pulled out of the driveway. “I mean, it’s possible, but …”
“She’s not thinking clearly,” Mom said. “You know her stroke affected the left side of her brain, and that can impact logic and reasoning. It’s time for her to step back from all this.”
Mia looked down at the pile of brochures on the seat next to her. She couldn’t listen to her mom talk about Gram like that anymore, so she changed the subject to the one thing she thought might get her attention. “I’ll do that Warrior Camp!”
It worked. Mom turned around. “That’s great! I’ll get you signed up for that and Launch Camp tonight. I bet you’ll really enjoy it!”
Mia nodded, even though she knew she’d hate it. But at least the Warrior Camp was close to Gram’s cricket farm. Mia would be able to spend some time with her and make sure Mom was wrong. Gram might be walking a little funny, but her thinking was just fine. Mia would make sure. And she’d be able to help out with chores so Gram could keep doing what she loved. Because if she couldn’t … well, Mia didn’t even want to think about that.
CHAPTER 3
Boxes from the Attic
Mia and her parents picked up Vietnamese takeout for dinner. The movers had already delivered their furniture and boxes, so after they ate, Mia went to her new room to unpack. It was bigger than her room in Boston, which was good because Gram had made her parents take back all the stuff they’d stored in her attic when they moved away.
