His dreams of eternal happiness were awoken when Dr. Dill strode up to them. “He has Rib Eye?” he screamed into his phone. “My, those are rare. . . .” He kept walking without even a wave.
“I’ll be starting school with you in a couple of weeks,” snapped Vlad, eyeing Wilmer with a very unfriendly sneer. Wilmer had been so lost in heavenly Roxie-land that he had forgotten about Vlad and Claudius. “I saved your life, but this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”
“Of course not,” agreed Wilmer.
“That goes double for me,” scowled Claudius.
“That goes triple for me,” piped in Ernie, stepping forward. Then he wheeled around and shot out his thumb. Wilmer quickly gave him a vigorous best-friend thumbshake.
“I hope you’re not mad at me, Ernie,” Wilmer said. “I promised we’d hang out all weekend, and I’m afraid I wasn’t a very good friend. I let my head get too big.”
“Well, I’m sorry for trying to kill you,” said Ernie. “I suppose that makes us even.”
Mrs. Padgett cleared her throat. She stared at the destroyed hotel. “A shame,” she muttered to herself. “Such a lovely hotel. Well, not lovely. Not even nice. But it was a hotel.”
“Who won the science fair?” asked Roxie.
Mrs. Padgett looked startled. “I completely forgot. I was hired to judge a contest, and I suppose I should do my job. Let no one accuse Valveeta Padgett of dropping the ball!” She wandered toward the rubble, stepping over shards of twisted metal and concrete boulders.
Something shone in the middle of the debris—a faint electric light. Mrs. Padgett made her way toward the glow and cleared some fallen drywall from around it. She lifted up a small object. Wires led from a light bulb into a potato.
“Hey, it worked,” said Ernie, as surprised as anyone.
“I hereby give Ernie Rinehart first place in this year’s state science fair!” declared Mrs. Padgett. She walked out of the rubble, took a mangled ribbon from her pocket, and handed it to Ernie.
“Wow, thanks!” he exclaimed.
“I guess that makes you the greatest middle-school scientist in the state,” said Wilmer.
“That’s me,” agreed Ernie with a laugh. “I’m a regular Alfred Einstern.”
“That’s Albert Einstein,” said Wilmer.
Ernie shrugged. “Him too.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE FORTY-FIFTH ANNUAL STATE SCIENCE FAIR AND CONSORTIUM!
The First Place Medal for Scientific Achievement goes to
Ernie Rinehart
for his entry
“Electric Potato”
Official Judge
Valveeta Padgett
Wilmer waved good-bye to Roxie and Harriet as they climbed into Roxie’s dad’s car. “I think our radio show will be a smash hit,” said Roxie. “And don’t forget to call me. I waited all summer and you never did.”
Wilmer nodded, although part of him—the incredibly wimpy part—was already trying to think of an excuse not to get in touch with her. What if the radio show went poorly? What if the script was bad? What if he broke the microphone? Or sneezed on her? Roxie might never speak to him again. Maybe it was best to avoid calling her and to continue playing hard to get.
Not that he was hard to get. He was pretty easy to get when it came to Roxie.
No. He would call her. Avoiding Roxie—that was the old Wilmer. But calling her wasn’t the newer, bad Wilmer either. It was a brand-new Wilmer that was mostly the old Wilmer but with a new, more confident part. Maybe.
Wilmer shook his head. It didn’t feel cloudy anymore, but he was terribly confused, anyway.
“It’s been great getting to know you,” said Harriet, wiping a lone tear from her cheek. “I still think you’re amazing, even if we aren’t meant for each other.”
Parents were picking up their kids, shocked to find a destroyed hotel and to hear about the horrible plot. With no landlines or cell phone service (except for Dr. Dill’s special phone, and he hadn’t been any help at all), there had been no way to contact the outside world. Parents were angry to hear about what had happened, but it was hard to stay mad at Mr. Sneed and Elvira when they were so busy wishing everyone to “Have a wonderful rainbow day!” and exclaiming, “We love unicorns!”
Mr. Dooley hurried over from the parking lot with a loud shout and a hearty wave. He wore one shoe, his pants backward, and oversize goggles that extended about six inches from his face. “Wilmer! Ernie! There you are! How was your weekend? Did you indulge in the splendor of science?”
“Um, Dad, the hotel is destroyed,” said Wilmer, pointing to the debris.
“Oh? Why, so it is. I didn’t notice. I hope that didn’t spoil things for you. Are you ready to go? Mom is cooking up a wonderful dinner tonight just for you. Something with furniture wax and tartar sauce. She’s been very secretive about it. But Preston has been proudly shouting ‘red pepper flakes’ all morning, so I think it’s spicy. That’s called observation. All scientists have the talent.”
Wilmer nodded. His dad hadn’t noticed the fallen hotel, of course, but Wilmer was used to his selective observations.
“It was a very interesting weekend,” said Ernie as they walked to the car. “I won first place at the fair.” He held up his ribbon.
“Congratulations!” shouted Mr. Dooley, giving Ernie a slap on the back. “I always knew you had it in you.”
They passed Dr. Dill, who was off his phone and standing with Vlad and Claudius. The cousins scowled when the Dooleys and Ernie approached.
“Why, hello, Fernando!” Mr. Dooley greeted Dr. Dill. “I heard that you were chaperoning this weekend. I trust the kids didn’t give you any trouble?”
“Of course not. I watched them like a hawk. Vlad is a marvelous child.”
“And so is Claudius, right?” asked Mr. Dooley, patting Claudius on the head.
“Of course,” said Dr. Dill. “That goes without saying.” Claudius smiled just as his father’s phone rang. Dr. Dill answered it. “Dr. Dill here . . . What? She has the Belly Flops? Are you sure you’re not jumping to conclusions?” Without another glance, he walked away in animated conversation.
Wilmer, Ernie, and Dr. Dooley strolled through the parking lot. “I think it’s wonderful that Dr. Dill spent the weekend with Claudius,” said Mr. Dooley. “I hope you aren’t mad that I couldn’t come too.”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t trade you for Dr. Dill or any other father in the world,” said Wilmer.
Mr. Dooley blushed. Wilmer almost made a comment about how blushing is caused by adrenaline and blood flow, but then decided that no one probably cared.
“I hope you got my note,” said Mr. Dooley. “I hid a special one for you in your shoe.”
“I did, Dad. And it was helpful. The power of observation goes a long way. It was just the reminder that I needed.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said Mr. Dooley. “I would have felt terrible if anything went wrong this weekend.”
They strolled past a chain of ambulances parked in front of the hotel, their sirens blaring. Three fire trucks were behind them, and dozens of firefighters ran around shouting and sifting through the rubble.
“Yes, it’s a good thing nothing went wrong,” said Wilmer with a sigh.
As Ernie and Wilmer climbed into the back of Mr. Dooley’s car, Wilmer saw something wedged between the seats. He lifted out a small yellow candy wrapped in clear plastic. A handwritten note read, May your weekend be filled with happiness and sardines. “This must have fallen out of my pocket during the drive up,” said Wilmer.
Ernie snatched the bar from Wilmer’s hands without looking at the note, ripped open the package, and snapped off a giant bite. Within seconds, he was rolling down the window and spitting out the treat, his face looking as yellow as the candy.
“Mom’s chocolate-sardine-lemon wraps,” said Wilmer with a sympathetic nod.
Ernie gasped for air as Mr. Dooley pulled the car out of the parking space. Wilmer looked outside the wind
ow and saw Mr. Sneed shouting to one of the firefighters. “Of course! Who doesn’t love unicorns?”
Dear Journal,
It was a long weekend. I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet at home. All scientists need their rest. Einstein supposedly slept ten hours a night unless he was in the middle of a great discovery. And then he slept eleven hours a night.
I’m grateful for the power of observation. Once again, it saved the day. But there is something even more important than observation, not only in science, but everywhere. Friendship. I wouldn’t have saved anyone without help from Harriet, Roxie, Ernie, and even Claudius and Vlad. If anyone calls me “amazing” for saving the hotel, I’ll make sure I give all of them proper credit. They’re ALL amazing.
I’m through with being the hero, anyway. I just want to be a normal seventh grader this year.
Uh-oh. The car just stalled. Dad says it must be from the new purple GasBUZZZZ! he poured into the fuel tank after he arrived. Not all of Dad’s ideas are great. A few months ago he invented BarfBUZZZZ! It was worse than it sounds.
Uh-oh again . . . Dad says we need to get out of the car right now before it blows up. Not a good sign. I’ll write more later. When I begin my normal life. Which will be soon, I hope.
But honestly, probably never.
Signing off,
Me
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, I would like to acknowledge myself, without whom this book would not exist. Really, anyone else I’m acknowledging is far down the list of responsible parties.
Still, I must mention Emma Ledbetter, editor extraordinaire, who is single-handedly responsible for elevating this book to its almost embarrassingly lofty heights, as well as Joanna Volpe: agent, cheerleader, and world record holder in Bozo Buckets.
I would also like to express my eternal thanks to Lauren, Emmy, Madelyn, and various relatives, in-laws, and such. You are all dear to me, unless you aren’t. I’ll be in touch.
And no acknowledgment of mine can fail to mention the marvelous mustache of Chester A. Arthur, our twenty-first president. To those who say William Howard Taft had a more impressive display of facial hair, I denounce you! Shame!
—F. D.
FOWLER DEWITT has been called “the World’s Greatest Living Author” by three of his aunts. His worldwide fame spread early when, as a child, he discovered the rare radioactive mineral now known as Fowlerite. Although his accomplishments are too many to mention on a single book flap, DeWitt also owns the world’s largest collection of mustaches. He currently lives by himself but refuses to divulge where due to his crippling phobia of hats. You can learn more about DeWitt on his Facebook page.
Biographer’s note: Some claim Fowler DeWitt is the same person as children’s author Allan Woodrow, since they have never been spotted in the same room together. But if they were the same person, they’d always be in the same room together. As such, these claims cannot be substantiated. You can make your own conclusions by visiting Woodrow and DeWitt’s shared website: allanwoodrow.com.
RODOLFO MONTALVO is an emerging artist who loves working on all kinds of illustration. He started drawing so early in life that he doesn’t even remember when he first started doing it. No matter where he was or what he did growing up, drawing was always a part of him. Today he feels very fortunate to be able to work as an illustrator and hopes to keep drawing and writing into old age, alongside his wife, who is also an artist. See more of his work at rodolfomontalvo.com.
Atheneum Books for Young Readers
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Also by Fowler DeWitt
The Contagious Colors of Mumpley Middle School
ATHENEUM BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2014 by Allan Woodrow and Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Illustrations copyright © 2014 by Rodolfo Montalvo
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Jacket design by Lauren Rille
Jacket illustration copyright © 2014 by Rodolfo Montalvo
Book design by Lauren Rille
The text for this book is set in Excelsior.
The illustrations for this book are rendered in pen and ink, brush, and digital color.
First Edition
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
DeWitt, Fowler.
The amazing Wilmer Dooley : a Mumpley Middle School mystery / by Fowler DeWitt ; illustrated by Rodolfo Montalvo. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Hoping to impress Roxie with his dazzling project on bacteria, seventh-grader-to-be Wilmer Dooley enters the state science fair, where he encounters his archnemesis, Claudius, who may be planning something terribly sinister.
ISBN 978-1-4424-9854-9 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4424-9856-3 (eBook)
[1. Science—Methodology—Fiction. 2. Science fairs—Fiction. 3. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Montalvo, Rodolfo, illustrator. II. Title.
PZ7.D526Am 2014
[Fic]—dc23 2013033177
The Amazing Wilmer Dooley Page 15
