by Mary Amato
Orville and I opened the door and . . . guess what happened?
You’ll never guess, so I’ll just tell you.
We opened the door and a long green snake fell on our heads!
“Aiiiiiiiiiiiii!” we screamed.
A skinny girl wearing an old aviator hat with short funny hair and a huge grin jumped out from behind our bush. “Gotcha!”
It’s hard to stun the Riot Brothers, but stunned we were.
Mom stepped forward. “You must be—”
“Amelia!” the girl said. She picked up her rubber snake. “And this is my pet snake, Curly.”
I looked at Orville. Orville looked at me.
“A girl with a fake snake,” Orville whispered. “I think she’s our kind of cousin.”
FOUR
What’s in Your Backpack?
Talk, talk, talk. It’s all grown-ups want to do.
How was the trip? Are you hungry? How have you been?
They don’t even know how to ask good questions.
Do you have any candy? Can you do anything funny with your nostrils? Was there a mini-fridge in that taxi? These are good questions.
Mom was asking question after question, and frankly, time was wasting.
“Pardon me for interrupting,” I said in my excellent host voice. “We need to show Amelia where to freshen up.”
I gave Amelia my secret Riot Brother wink.
Right away she got it. “Yes,” she said. “I obviously need freshening.”
“Looks like we’ve got three peas in a pod here,” Mom said with a big smile.
Before Mom could talk more about vegetables, we grabbed Slobber and Curly and led Amelia into the backyard.
“I like your style,” Amelia said. “What are we going to do?”
“We need to have a secret Riot Brother meeting,” I said. “We are the Riot Brothers. And according to Riot Brother Rule Number Twenty-Four: Kids who are fun can become Riot Brothers even if they aren’t our brothers.”
“Did you just make that up?” Orville whispered.
“Yes,” I whispered back.
He gave me a thumbs-up.
“Would you like to join?” I asked.
“What do you do?”
“Lots of stuff,” Orville said. “We find hidden treasures and become spies and mad scientists.”
“Our mission,” I explained, “is to make something exciting happen every day.”
“I’m in.” She set her backpack on the ground.
“Riot Brother Rule Number Twenty-Five: In order to become a Riot Brother, you must take the Riot Brother Oath,” Orville said.
She raised her right hand.
“Very good,” I said. “Now flare your nostrils and repeat after me. I, say your name, promise to save another brother from the clutches of boredom . . .”
She stood tall and flared her nostrils. “I, say your name, promise to save another brother from the clutches of boredom . . . ,” she said.
It was an oldie but a goodie. Orville fell down laughing.
“Sorry,” Amelia said. “Couldn’t resist.” She raised her hand and flared her nostrils again. “I, Amelia E. Hart, promise to save another brother from the clutches of boredom . . .”
“. . . by thinking of fun things to do with my enormous brain.”
“. . . by thinking of fun things to do with my enormous brain.”
Even though that should have been the end, Orville added, “And if I ever find a lot of money on the ground, I promise to buy Orville some candy.”
“And if I ever find a lot of money on the ground, I promise to buy Orville some candy,” Amelia repeated.
“And share it with Wilbur,” I added.
“And share it with Wilbur,” she repeated.
We taught her the secret Riot Brother Handshake. (Don’t tell anybody, but the directions for this are printed in the back of this book.)
“You are now a Riot Brother,” I said.
“So what’s our first mission?”
“We are going to solve a mystery. The only problem is, we haven’t found one yet.”
“I love mysteries!” Amelia put her aviator hat in her backpack and put on her mystery-solving hat. “That’s better. Now, let’s get cracking. Do you have any mysterious places around here?”
Orville jumped right in. “That place on Garfield Road where the women put their heads in those electric helmets is very mysterious.”
“That’s Bertha’s Beauty Salon, Orville. I think the electric helmets are just hair dryers.”
“Oh.” Poor Orville looked disappointed.
“Wait a minute! The shed! Mom keeps blaming us for leaving the door open, but we haven’t been in there. So that means someone else is leaving the door open.”
“Perhaps we should investigate,” Amelia whispered.
“The shed is dark and creepy,” Orville warned. “And it smells like dried slug juice.”
What does dried slug juice smell like, you wonder? Come over and smell our shed.
“The creepier the better,” Amelia said.
“Let’s bring Slobber and Curly,” I suggested. “If someone is in there, we can throw them at him and scare him out.”
“Fake pets.” Amelia sighed affectionately. “They’re always there when you need them.”
FIVE
A Tempting Trap
We took Amelia behind the garage to see the shed, and guess what?
Did you guess that a giant slug was blocking the entrance? Well, that would’ve been sweet. But you’d be wrong. We found that the door was wide open, which wasn’t as interesting as a giant slug, but still was pretty interesting considering it was supposed to have been closed.
“We must investigate,” Amelia whispered.
We crept into the shed.
“What are we looking for?” Orville whispered.
“A clue of some kind that will tell us who is using this shed and what they are using it for,” I said. “Too bad we didn’t bring our flashlights.”
Amelia pulled a flashlight out of her backpack.
Orville and I looked at each other.
“That girl knows how to pack,” Orville said.
On one side of the shed was the lawn mower and big gardening tools. On the other side of the shed were our sleds and our old red wagon.
“Is anything missing?” Amelia asked.
Orville kneeled down and peered under the wagon. “Shine your light down here, Amelia. I think I see something.”
We kneeled next to Orville. Hidden under the wagon was a pile of gloves.
“There’s Mom’s missing purple glove and my missing goalie glove!” I said. “Look! There’s Mrs. Overhoser’s missing blue glove. And wait a minute! Isn’t that the glove Mr. Lawson uses when he polishes his car?”
“Looks like we have a mystery on our hands!” Amelia said. “Someone is stealing gloves and hiding them in your shed.”
Orville wiggled his fingers mysteriously. “A glove lover!”
I inspected the pile. “It’s a thief who steals only one glove in a pair. Perhaps it’s a one-armed thief who needs them to hide his fingerprints!” I suggested wisely.
Amelia pulled a magnifying glass out of her backpack and peered closely at the pile. “Let’s look for clues.”
Orville sniffed. “Whoever the thief is, he or she smells like a banana split.”
“Actually, that’s me,” Amelia said, pulling a slightly rotten banana from her pack.
After she turned her attention back to the glove pile, she found something. “Look at this! A black hair. And another. Our thief must have black hair!”
“Nice detective work, Amelia,” I said, and she beamed.
“Let’s set a trap,” she suggested.
“Great idea!” Orville exclaimed. “I’ll get the cheese!”
“O-bro, we’re not setting a mousetrap,” I explained. “We’re setting a glove-thief trap. We’ll put a pair of gloves in a strategic spot and then hide and watch to see who steals on
e. Right, Amelia?”
“Right!”
Orville shrugged. “Maybe we should put some cheese there, too. In case it’s a thief who likes cheese.”
How could you argue with that?
The first thing we had to do was get some cheese because just thinking about it made Orville hungry. But we didn’t have to go far because guess what? Amelia had some in her backpack. “I like cheese,” she said.
Next we had to get a pair of gloves. But we didn’t have to go far because guess what? Amelia had a pair of black-and-red batting gloves in her backpack.
“Wow!” Orville exclaimed. “You got any ice cream in there?”
“Sorry.” Amelia shrugged. “It would melt.” Her face lit up. “Hey! A portable personal freezer to fit in a backpack pouch would be an excellent invention.” She took a little notebook out of her backpack and jotted the idea down.
We set the gloves on a tree stump near the street, got our binoculars, hid behind the bushes, and waited in the hot sun. Amelia crossed her legs, put her fingers on her temples, and closed her eyes. We waited. And waited.
“Have you ever noticed that when you want people to walk by, they don’t?” I whispered.
“It’s like the ice cream truck,” Orville whispered back. “It never comes when you really need it.”
“Hold on,” Amelia whispered. “I’m almost done meditating.” She rubbed her temples with her fingers and whispered, “Send us a suspect. Send us a suspect.” She opened her eyes. “Look!”
Jonathan Kemp came out of his house carrying his piano book.
“Works every time!” Amelia whispered. “Here’s our first suspect.”
“Nah, it’s just our friend Jonathan.”
“He’s on his way to his piano teacher’s house,” I said.
Amelia began rubbing her temples again. “Send us a suspect. Send us a suspect.”
Mr. Overhoser walked by.
“What about him?” Amelia asked. “He only has a few hairs left.”
We watched closely. Mr. Overhoser glanced at the gloves, but kept walking.
A black cat crossed the path next.
“Uh-oh,” Orville said. “Bad luck!”
“Here’s what you do to reverse bad luck,” Amelia said. She turned around, put her thumb on her nose, wiggled her fingers, and counted backward from seven. “Works every time.”
We all did it.
Then we turned back around, and I peered through the binoculars. Only one batting glove sat on the tree stump.
“The thief has struck again!” I exclaimed. “A glove is gone! Someone must have run by while we were reversing our bad luck. Whoever it is must have been watching us to know when our backs were turned.”
“What bad luck!” Orville moaned. “Wait a minute. I thought we were reversing our bad luck. I’m so confused.”
Amelia jumped up. “It’s good luck! See? We wanted the thief to strike again so we could catch him . . . or her.”
I jumped up. “Of course! The thief will return to the shed to put the new glove in the hiding place, so if we go back and hide near the shed, we should be able to solve the mystery.”
Orville jumped up. “Hooray! Let’s go!”
The next thing we all said was “Ouch!”
Why?
Because we were so excited, we bumped right into each other.
SIX
Stick ’em Up!
We tiptoed behind the garage and noticed that the shed door was slightly open.
“Didn’t we close that?” I whispered.
Amelia and Orville both nodded.
“The thief has already returned,” Amelia whispered.
We tiptoed closer and closer.
We could hear a faint noise, the sound of someone moving around inside.
I don’t know about Orville and Amelia, but my heart was beating as fast as popcorn popping.
“What should we do?” Orville whispered.
Amelia pulled Curly out of her backpack and spoke up in a loud, strong voice. “We know you’re in there! We’ve got you surrounded.”
“Yeah.” Orville pulled Slobber out of his pocket. “We have animals here, ready to bite you.”
“I need something to hold,” I whispered. Amelia nodded and threw me the banana.
I held it out and said loudly, “We also have rotten fruit. So come out with your hands up! Or, if you only have one hand, come out with that up.”
There was no sound.
“Open the door,” I whispered to Orville.
“You open it,” he whispered to Amelia.
“Wilbur should. He’s the oldest,” she whispered.
“Let’s all do it together,” I suggested.
In slow motion, we put our hands on the door and opened it wider and wider and wider. . . .
Crouched in the darkness by the wagon, looking right at us, was . . .
A pair of glowing yellow eyes!
Orville yelped and threw Slobber.
Amelia yelped and threw Curly.
I yelped and threw the rotten banana.
The thief screeched and bolted between our legs.
What kind of thief has yellow eyes and can run between the legs of short people?
A cat burglar! A black cat burglar!
We chased after the cat, who ran all the way to Ms. Booth’s house and hid in her bushes.
“That figures,” Orville said as we caught our breath. “Ms. Booth is crazy about cats.”
She answered after three knocks.
“Hello, Ms. Booth. We’re here because we believe that one of your cats has been stealing gloves,” I explained.
“It’s a black cat, ma’am,” Amelia added.
“Who really has a thing for gloves,” Orville added.
“Meatball?” Ms. Booth asked.
“No thanks,” Orville said. “We just had some cheese.”
“No. Meatball is the name of my black cat. She’s been missing for several days now,” Ms. Booth said.
“Well, she’s hiding in the bushes right here.” Amelia pointed.
Ms. Booth brought out a bowl of food and tapped it. “Meatball! It’s din-din time!”
The cat came out of the bushes and started chowing down.
Ms. Booth clapped her hands. “Oh, I was so worried. Thank you for finding her. And sorry about the gloves. She’s always had a thing for gloves.”
“No problem, ma’am,” Amelia said. “We’re very good at solving mysteries.”
“You might want to buy Meatball some gloves of her own,” Orville suggested.
Ms. Booth blew us kisses and took Meatball inside.
“Looks like we did it!” I said as we headed home. “In fact, we triple-did it! We solved the mystery of who was leaving the shed door open and who was stealing gloves, and we solved a mystery that we didn’t even know was a mystery: the mystery of the missing Meatball.”
“Three mysteries in one!” Orville exclaimed.
“Hip hip, hooroonie!” Amelia cried and threw her hat in the air.
Then the three of us did a victory dance.
SEVEN
Pass the Peas, Please
It was fun returning the gloves and explaining how we caught the cat culprit. Everybody congratulated us, and Mrs. Overhoser was so glad to get her favorite gardening glove back she even gave us cookies!
The rest of the day went by very quickly. We introduced Amelia to our neighborhood friends—Margaret, Jonathan, Alan, and Selena—and played with them.
Then Mom called us in for dinner. “We’re having pasta and peas,” she said.
“Peas!” Orville started jumping up and down. “We love peas!”
Amelia elbowed me. “What am I missing?”
“We invented a dinner table game using peas, called Holey Cheese-n-Peas. Orville particularly loves it because he usually wins.”
She nodded. “I have a feeling I’m going to like it.”
After we ate our pasta, we put a big slice of cheese on each of our plates.
>
“How many holes this time?” Orville asked me.
“How about five?”
We punched five perfect holes out of each cheese slice by using a drinking straw’s rim like a cookie cutter, and then we passed the straw to Amelia so that she could do the same.
“Okay, now put five peas on your plate, anywhere except in the holes.”
“Got it,” Amelia said.
“When I say go, we will all pick up our plates and try to get the peas to land in the holes by tilting the plate around. We have one minute. After the time is up, whoever gets the most peas in the holes wins.”
Amelia grinned and held on to her plate, ready for action.
“Go!” I said.
Mom watched the time.
Plates tilted. Peas rolled.
“Yes!” I got one.
“Pretty please, little pea, go in the hole,” Amelia said.
“Yes! Yes!” Orville cried. He must’ve gotten two.
“Hooray!” Amelia got one.
“Ten seconds left,” Mom said. “Nine, eight, seven, six . . .”
My peas wouldn’t stay put.
“Yes! Yes!” Orville cried.
“Yes! Yes!” Amelia cried.
“Five, four, three, two, one! Time’s up!”
“Whooeee! I have all five!” Amelia was so excited, she jumped up and all the peas flew off her plate. “Well, I had all five.”
“I’m a witness,” Mom said. “She did have all five.”
“Sorry,” Amelia said to Orville.
“That’s okay. I’ll get you next time!” Orville said with a grin.
Amelia did a little victory dance.
“Okay, now eat your peas!” Mom said.
We ate the peas. We ate the cheese. We even ate the holes.
“You know what I always say? Somehow food tastes better after you’ve had the chance to play with it,” Amelia said.
“That’s a Riot Brother saying if ever I heard one,” I said. “May we add that to our Riot Brother saying collection, Amelia?”
“I’d be honored,” she replied.
When it was time for bed, we set up the cot for Amelia in our room.
