Copyright © 2017 by Commander S. T. Bolivar III
Cover illustration and design by Phil Caminiti
All rights reserved. Published by Disney • Hyperion, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney • Hyperion, 125 West End Avenue, New York, New York 10023.
ISBN: 978-1-368-00206-6
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FOR THE COMMANDER’S FATHER, WHO ALWAYS BELIEVED
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Fourty
Chapter Fourty-one
Chapter Fourty-two
Chapter Fourty-three
Chapter Fourty-four
Acknowledgments
About the Author
WELCOME TO ANOTHER BRILLIANT ACCOUNT of Mathias Littleton Larimore’s transformation into the world’s greatest thief. While other biographers claim to know the truth about Mattie Larimore and how he eventually stole (and returned) the Great Pyramids, those biographers are wrong—and in the case of Sir Alistair Wicket, those biographers are also delusional, and still owe me twenty dollars.
Ahem. Yes, even the most inaccurate historian of criminal masterminds might cite how Mathias Littleton Larimore climbed the Canton Tower using only suction cups, but only the most talented know that when Mattie was twelve, he was small, he had no interest in suction cups, and he certainly had no idea he would grow up to be the world’s greatest thief.
In fact, at this particular moment, Mattie wasn’t entirely sure he was going to grow up at all, because Mr. Larimore’s favorite scientists had invented the Aluminum Falcon and Mattie was about to try it.
“The Aluminum Falcon will revolutionize the way children travel!” Mr. Larimore bellowed to the crowd of reporters and students gathered on Munchem Academy’s front lawn. Mattie’s father stood on a hastily assembled metal stage, and every time he banged his wooden podium to emphasize a point, the metal planking clattered and whined. “No longer will you have to drive your child to soccer practice, rehearsals, or school! With the Aluminum Falcon, you simply program your destination and let your child fly!”
Fireworks exploded on either side of the stage, and an appreciative murmur rippled through the reporters. Whether they were appreciating the fireworks or the invention, Mattie wasn’t sure. He was quite sure, however, he felt sick, maybe even more than a little sick, because the Aluminum Falcon didn’t look like a revolution. It looked more like…
“A diaper,” Carter Larimore muttered.
“A diaper that can make you fly,” Mattie muttered back. He was trying to sound optimistic. He was fairly certain it wasn’t working.
His brother quirked an eyebrow. “A diaper that can make you fly and catch on fire.”
Definitely going to be sick, Mattie thought. He sat next to Carter on a low-slung bench alongside the metal stage. They were supposed to look attentive and well-behaved in case the cameras panned to them. For Mattie, this meant putting his shoulders back and keeping his hands in his lap. For Carter, it meant trying to sleep with his eyes open.
“The Aluminum Falcon doesn’t catch on fire anymore,” Mattie whispered. “They tested it.”
“You trust those two to test anything?” Carter jammed his thumb to their left. Mattie leaned forward and spotted Lem and Dr. Hoo standing at the crowd’s edge. Lem was tall and narrow. Dr. Hoo was short and round. They were Larimore Corporation’s chief scientists and very, very smart.
Lem had invented rapid-growing moss, but it fed on chipmunks, and Dr. Hoo had invented Always Flavorful Gum, but it choked the chewer, and they both had invented Wrinkles Away Cream, which totally worked because it ate the person’s wrinkles…and most of the person’s face.
Now that Mattie thought about it, most of Lem and Dr. Hoo’s inventions ate, choked, or killed things.
Carter shook his head. “You’re going to go down in history as the kid who crash-landed in a flaming diaper while screaming like a two-year-old.”
It was not a visual Mattie needed and, of course, now he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Truthfully, Mattie didn’t want to go flying (or crashing) in the Aluminum Falcon, but he didn’t want to disappoint his dad either. “Lem and Dr. Hoo are the company’s lead inventors. Dad says they’re really good at their jobs.”
“Then why are they sweating so much?”
Carter was right: Lem and Dr. Hoo were sweating a lot. Lem kept patting his shiny forehead with a handkerchief and Dr. Hoo kept checking his swampy armpits.
It made Mattie’s armpits go swampy too. “They look nervous. Why do they look nervous?”
“Maybe because they know they’re about to barbecue the boss’s son in front of the whole school?”
Mattie’s stomach threatened to squeeze up his lunch.
“But the Aluminum Falcon won’t be just any revolution,” Mr. Larimore shouted. “It will be a parental revolution! No longer will you be shackled to your child’s demanding schedule!”
The crowd clapped, and Mattie and Carter exchanged another look. It was a special look—one might even call it an understanding look—and for anyone who knew the brothers, it was also an unusual look, because until recently Carter always called Mattie girls’ names and Mattie always considered Carter the bad brother. They had not gotten along, but then, somewhere between Carter getting cloned and Mattie rescuing him, things had taken a turn for the better.
It was complicated.
“Don’t do it, Mattie. You’ll catch on fire for sure.”
“I promised Dad I would. It made him really happy.”
Carter heaved an enormous sigh. “Still looks like a diaper.”
“I agree.” Caroline Spencer dropped onto the bench next to Mattie. Her dark eyes were huge in her moon-round face. “As your favorite—and smartest—best friend, I have to tell you: you’re going to look like you’re wearing your underwear over your pants.”
Mattie thought for a moment. “Like a superhero?”
“Like a super dork.” Mattie glared at her and Caroline shrugged. “I’m just sayin’.”
“She’s right,” Carter agreed, nodding.
Technically, Caroline was almost always right. It was one of the many reasons s
he was Mattie’s friend, and later, would be Mattie’s partner in crime. In fact, Caroline would eventually know all the ways to turn boots, pants, and hamsters into Aluminum Falcons, but right now she thought the idea was ridiculous.
“And now!” Up on the stage, Mr. Larimore rubbed his hands together. “Without further ado, I give you…the Aluminum Falcon!”
Carter shook his head. “Please don’t shriek like a girl on your way down.”
“And please don’t scream like a boy when you hit the dirt,” Caroline added.
Mattie glared at them, but Caroline and Carter didn’t notice because they were too busy glaring at each other. Mattie patted his sweaty palms against his pants and stood up. He walked across the grass to the stage steps and joined his father and Lem by the podium.
“Stop looking like you’re going to throw up,” Lem whispered.
“But I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“Well, pretend like you don’t. Your mother’s an actress, so, you know, act.” Lem held out the Aluminum Falcon. Up close, the “parental revolution” looked even less like anything “aluminum” and way more like a diaper. The fabric was concrete gray with coffee can–size engines on either hip, and there were big red buttons down the butt.
“Do I want to know what those do?” Mattie asked.
Lem took an awfully long moment to think about it.
“Never mind.” Mattie tugged the Falcon on over his pants and fastened the connector just below his belt. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it was kind of warm.
Like really warm.
“Uh, Lem?” Mattie shimmied his butt from side to side, but it didn’t help. His butt still felt like it was being slowly cooked. “Why’s it hot?”
“That’s the jet pack,” Lem explained, his long brown fingers tapping something into the Aluminum Falcon’s control pad.
“Is it going to get worse?”
“Of course not. We tested it.”
Carter’s earlier words echoed in Mattie’s head and his armpits broke out in a fresh sweat.
“And now!” Mattie’s father boomed, and his microphone screeched. “For the moment you’ve all been waiting for! My son, Mathias Littleton Larimore, will demonstrate the full power of the Aluminum Falcon!”
This was Mattie’s cue to smile and wave at the audience. The audience did not smile or wave back.
Which made Mattie’s father frown.
Mr. Larimore was a short, wide man, and perhaps because he was so short and wide, he liked big things: big SUVs, big buildings, big corporations. At the moment, Mr. Larimore loved his big podium because when no one smiled back at his son, Mr. Larimore could pound on it and make the microphone screech.
“The Aluminum Falcon!” he bellowed, and this time people cheered.
“Okay,” Lem whispered, backing up a step. “I’ve already programmed the coordinates for a spin around the school. If that doesn’t work, I’ll control the Falcon manually—”
“And if that doesn’t work?” Mattie interrupted.
Lem thought about it. “It’ll work. It will.”
“Are you convincing me or you?”
Lem didn’t answer. He showed Mattie a small yellow remote control. It fit perfectly in Mattie’s palm. “If you get nervous, just press this button here and it will radio me.” The scientist patted Mattie’s shoulder. “We’ll handle everything. You just smile.”
Mattie nodded. He knew this part, and he would try his best, but the thing was, it was awfully hard to try his best when the Aluminum Falcon was pinching his butt and the waistband was making it hard to breathe—or perhaps that was just an effect of being stared at. The crowd was so quiet. All eyes were pinned to Mattie.
Lem took Mr. Larimore’s spot behind the podium and opened a slim silver laptop. After a few keystrokes, the Aluminum Falcon’s engines cut on with a whine and a sputter, pushing Mattie up a few inches and then a few more. His sneakers dangled in the air.
“Ready?” Lem yelled over the engines’ roar.
Mattie nodded and Lem pushed another series of buttons on the keyboard. Nothing happened. Lem pushed a few more buttons. Still nothing. Lem walloped the side of the computer and the Falcon jerked.
Uh-oh, Mattie thought, but he didn’t think it for long because the Falcon suddenly surged upward, shooting sparks into the grass.
THE ALUMINUM FALCON SHIFTED AGAIN, picking up speed. Mattie glimpsed his brother’s face as he powered higher. “Don’t puke,” Carter called.
I’m totally going to puke, Mattie thought, squeezing his eyes shut. Cold air whipped over his cheeks as the Aluminum Falcon climbed and climbed.
And jerked to a stop.
Mattie popped open his eyes. He was hundreds of feet above the crowd now. Lem had told him everyone would look like ants at this height, but to Mattie, their faces were more like shiny blobs. Everyone was staring at him.
“Okay,” Lem’s voice squeaked through the radio at Mattie’s hip. “You ready to show them what the Falcon can do?”
Mattie took a deep, deep breath and pressed the radio’s response button. “Yep.”
Pssshfffttt. Pssshfffttt. The Aluminum Falcon began to climb again. It went faster and faster and then suddenly dipped. Mattie’s stomach soared into his throat. The Falcon pivoted and Mattie’s stomach twirled. The Falcon went into a dive and Mattie flung his arms wide.
It’s like riding a roller coaster! he thought as the Falcon swooped him higher.
“You okay?” Lem asked and the radio crackled. “You’re not scared, are you?”
“No, no, I’m really good!” Mattie waved to the crowd and the crowd waved back and, this time, Mattie didn’t have to fake his grin. “This is amazing, Lem.”
Maybe even more than amazing because this high, the air was sweeter and colder, the tops of the trees looked like dark green bottle brushes, and the Munchem cemetery looked…well, if not exactly pretty, it certainly looked prettier than it usually did. The spiny black iron fence didn’t seem quite so sharp and the long yellowy weeds didn’t seem quite so long and yellowy.
The Munchem roof still looks terrible, Mattie thought as he spun in a circle, taking in the whole school. Lem and Dr. Hoo were geniuses! The Aluminum Falcon was so much fun!
Until it wasn’t.
The Falcon jerked, heaving Mattie a few feet higher, then dipping him so low and so fast his head snapped back.
Putputputput. Pow!
Mattie’s knees nearly hit his face, his arms whipped from side to side, and far, far below, he heard Mr. Larimore’s microphone squeal.
“Just look at the Falcon’s maneuverability!” Mattie’s dad bellowed as his son’s knees snapped upward again. “Notice the lightning-fast reflexes!”
Mattie noticed them all right. He fumbled with the radio remote. “Uh, Lem?”
“On it.”
“Thanks—”
ScreeeeeeeeeeePOP!
The Falcon dropped a couple feet and smoke streamed from the waistband. Mattie coughed. His eyes watered, turning everything smeary and shimmery.
“There!” Lem said, and the Falcon leveled out. “Sorry. I’m going to put it on manual controls. How’s that?”
“Better.” Mattie jammed his thumb against the radio button again. “Yes. Yes, this is better.”
Or was it? Because now Mattie was hovering just above Munchem Academy’s thick forest. The tops of trees brushed his sneakers like fingers stretching for the sun, and when a cool breeze whisked past, it peeled back brown leaves and piney branches. Mattie spotted a squirrel nest…a cardinal…a pair of red eyes.
Red eyes?! Mattie blinked and looked again. A pale, bony hand wound up through the leaves! It was reaching for his foot!
The Aluminum Falcon dropped.
“Aiiiiiieeeeeeee!” Mattie screeched as he swooshed past the eyes, the hand, and approximately 2,565,284 branches. He plunged toward the ground.
I’mgoingtodie!
Ka—POW!!
Once again, the Falcon stopped. The en
gines repositioned their directions and pushed Mattie through the tree limbs. One of the branches caught him in the face and he spit out a leaf.
“Hold on,” Lem said. He sounded rather breathless. Mattie could relate. His heart was jackhammering in his chest. The Falcon pushed him out of the forest, shifted, and began to lower. It lowered and lowered until finally…
Whump.
Mattie hit the lawn and blinked up at the bright blue sky. He couldn’t catch his breath and his butt hurt, but nothing felt broken.
And nothing was on fire.
“Mattie!” Lem rushed to Mattie’s side and dropped to his knees. The scientist’s eyes bugged behind his glasses. “Talk to me!”
“I’m okay.” Mattie sat up and shook grass clippings out of his hair. He’d landed only twenty or so feet from the stage and audience. Caroline was ashen-faced, Carter didn’t look surprised, and Mr. Larimore? Well, Mr. Larimore’s big blue forehead vein was pulsing.
“Your father is going to fire me,” Lem said, using the same tone one would use for observing how grass is green or how daggers stab people in the back. He was resigned to his fate.
But Mattie wasn’t. “No way,” he whispered as Mr. Larimore stomped toward them. “Follow my lead.”
“What?”
“Act like you’re not terrified!” Mattie bounced to his feet and flung his arms wide, grass bits flying everywhere. He grinned at the reporters. “Ta-da!”
The reporters stared and said nothing and Lem stared and said nothing. Mattie nudged the scientist with his toe.
“Oh! Ta-da!” Lem managed.
“What are you doing?” Mr. Larimore hissed. His short, round shadow slipped over Mattie and Lem.
“That sure was fun!” Mattie cried. He struggled out of the Aluminum Falcon and held it above his head like a trophy. “Who wants to go next?”
The crowd shifted but no one said anything, and the silence stretched so long Mattie began to sweat and Lem began to shake.
“Sit down!” Mr. Larimore said, his blue forehead vein still pulsing. Nothing good ever happened when Mr. Larimore’s vein pulsed. Sometimes people got fired. Sometimes people cried. Either way, there was always a lot of screaming and running around. “Go sit down right now, Mattie!”
The Girl Who Knew Even More Page 1
