Dunc's Undercover Christmas

by Gary Paulsen

  OTHER YEARLING BOOKS YOU WILL ENJOY:

  THE COOKCAMP, Gary Paulsen

  THE VOYAGE OF THE FROG, Gary Paulsen

  THE BOY WHO OWNED THE SCHOOL, Gary Paulsen

  HOW TO EAT FRIED WORMS, Thomas Rockwell

  HOW TO FIGHT A GIRL, Thomas Rockwell

  HOW TO GET FABULOUSLY RICH, Thomas Rockwell

  CHOCOLATE FEVER, Robert Kimmel Smith

  BOBBY BASEBALL, Robert Kimmel Smith

  JELLY BELLY, Robert Kimmel Smith

  THE SQUEAKY WHEEL, Robert Kimmel Smith

  YEARLING BOOKS/YOUNG YEARLINGS/YEARLING CLASSICS are designed especially to entertain and enlighten young people. Patricia Reilly Giff, consultant to this series, received her bachelor’s degree from Marymount College and a master’s degree in history from St. John’s University. She holds a Professional Diploma in Reading and a Doctorate of Humane Letters from Hofstra University. She was a teacher and reading consultant for many years, and is the author of numerous books for young readers.

  For a complete listing of all Yearling titles,

  write to Dell Readers Service,

  P.O. Box 1045, South Holland, IL 60473.

  Published by

  Dell Publishing

  a division of

  Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.

  1540 Broadway

  New York, New York 10036

  Copyright © 1993 by Gary Paulsen

  All rights reserved. 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 the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

  The trademark Yearling® is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.

  The trademark Dell® is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-80377-1

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Yearling Books You Will Enjoy

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Duncan—Dunc—Culpepper and Amos Binder, his best friend for life, were sitting on the old couch in Dunc’s basement. Dunc was replacing the burned-out bulbs in last year’s Christmas tree lights. He carefully unwound each strand. Plugged it in. Checked, cleaned, and tightened each bulb.

  Amos was sure that Dunc was spending too much time on this job. After all, what was a burned-out bulb here and there? But he knew Dunc. Dunc was neat and precise to the point of driving Amos crazy. He also knew it would be next to impossible to rush him—even on a beautiful day in the middle of December, when they should be outside having fun.

  Amos waited. He scratched his neck. He rubbed up and down against the back of the couch. Then he really let go. He slid down to the floor and rolled around like a puppy.

  Dunc watched him a few minutes. “That’s a bad rash. How did you get it?”

  “From the grocery store.”

  “You got a rash from the grocery store?”

  “Well—sort of.” Amos sat up. “I was following my mom down the cereal aisle. If I don’t go to the store with her, she comes home with all kinds of junk. You know, vegetables and green stuff.”

  Dunc nodded.

  “Anyway—I was in the cereal aisle picking up a couple of boxes of Fruit Slams, when it happened.”

  “What?”

  “The phone rang. I could tell it was Melissa. She has that different sort of—sharp, bell-like, ring. I always know when it’s her.”

  Dunc nodded again. Melissa Hansen was Amos’s dream girl. As far as Amos was concerned, she was the most perfect girl in the world. He was always certain she was calling him. Dunc knew that Melissa had not called Amos at the grocery store. Not just because Amos was in the grocery store but mainly because Melissa Hansen didn’t even know Amos’s name. And from all indications didn’t want to.

  “Well, since it was Melissa calling for me, I thought I’d save everybody some time and get it myself. I let go of the Fruit Slams. Took a shortcut over Mrs. Bundy’s grocery cart—she got a little excited when I stepped on her bread—and from there on it was pure instinct.”

  Dunc was positive that somewhere in Amos’s genetic makeup was a wild gene that caused him to go stone crazy whenever he heard a telephone ring. He couldn’t prove it, but someday he intended to do a study on it. It would be a long study, with notes and reams of information, and each point would be catalogued and subcatalogued, and—

  “I climbed out of Mrs. Bundy’s cart right up on the top shelf of canned goods. It was great. I could see the whole store from up there. I wish you could have seen me. I was in perfect form. Right foot down, arms up, head back. Class act all the way. I had a fix on the phone and was closing in. Then things started to go wrong.”

  Dunc took out another bulb. “What happened?”

  “Spinach. Cans of spinach. They started rolling underneath me. I couldn’t stop. I took a nosedive and wiped out the whole top shelf.”

  Dunc frowned. “I don’t get it. What caused the rash?”

  “When the shelf ended, I kept going. Right over the fruit and vegetable section. I landed headfirst in the middle of the strawberries. That’s what did it. I’m allergic.”

  “Did you ever get to the phone?”

  “No. By the time I crawled out of those slimy strawberries, Melissa had already hung up. She’s particular that way. She likes me to pick it up on that all-important first ring.”

  Dunc shook his head. “That’s too bad. About Melissa, I mean. What did the store manager say?”

  “That’s the funny part. I figured he’d be upset. At least want me to pay for some of the damage. But he didn’t. He just stood there and made a noise sort of like the one Scruff makes when he has to go out. Oh, he asked my mom if she would consider shopping over at that new supermarket across town. Don’t you think that’s kind of weird? Asking a steady customer to shop somewhere else?”

  Dunc put in the last bulb. “Well, I guess that does it. What do you want to do now?”

  Amos stopped scratching. “I still have some Christmas shopping to do.” He looked at his watch. “And it’s about time for Melissa to get out of dance class. If we start for the mall now, we’ll probably pass her coming out of Miss Borgia’s studio.”

  Dunc ignored the part about Melissa. “I thought you had all your Christmas shopping finished.”

  “I do. At least, I have my family finished. I bought my mom this really cool basketball. I got my dad a new video cartridge. And I bought Amy the best thing of all: a game of Laser Chase.”

  “I can see that you really put a lot of thought into choosing your gifts,” Dunc said.

  “Yeah. It’s tough. You wouldn’t want to spend all that money and see stuff just lie around not being used. I try extra hard to get things a person really wants.”

  “And if that person just happens to be you …”

  Amos grinned. “Isn’t Christmas great?”

  Dunc shook his head. “I worry about you.” He stacked the strands of Christmas lights neatly on a shelf. “Who else do you need to shop for?”

  “My cousin T.J. He’s coming to visit for the holidays.”

  “I’ve heard you talk about him. He’s a little younger than us, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah, a year or so. But he’s a neat guy. His dad is African American. His great-grandm
other still lives in Ethiopia. She taught him to speak Amharic. That’s her native language. He’s always quoting old Amharic proverbs. But they lose a little something in the English translation.”

  “What does ‘T.J.’ stand for?”

  “His whole name is Theodore James Tyler. But the only one who can call him that and get away with it is his great-grandmother.”

  “When’s he going to get here?” Dunc asked.

  “He should be here day after tomorrow. I think you’re really going to like him. He invents things.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “Oh, all kinds of things. You’ll see when you meet him. His dad’s some kind of scientist. I guess T.J. takes after him.”

  Amos looked at his watch again. “Come on. I’ll tell you more about him on the way to the mall. If we don’t hurry, I’ll miss my chance to wave at her.”

  Dunc thought about telling him how pointless it was. That Melissa wouldn’t recognize him, and even if she did, she wouldn’t wave at him. He started to.

  Instead he shook his head and followed Amos out the door.

  The mall was ablaze with bright reds and greens. A Santa was taking Christmas Eve orders from small, wide-eyed children. The stores were bursting at the seams with shoppers. Christmas was definitely here.

  “Too bad Melissa didn’t notice you,” Dunc said.

  Amos was looking at a remote-control robot. “Yeah. Next time I’ll have to try a little harder to get her attention.”

  Dunc smiled. “You would have thought stopping traffic and waving that fluorescent yellow ‘Hello Melissa’ banner would do the trick.”

  “She was busy with her friends.”

  “So I noticed.”

  Amos ignored him and kept playing with the robot.

  “Are you thinking about getting that for T.J.?” Dunc asked.

  “This? Heck no. He could probably build ten of these himself.”

  “Then why are you wasting our time looking at it?”

  “It’s not a waste of time.” Amos made the robot go in little circles. “I check out stuff. You know, in case someone hasn’t bought my gift yet and they need some suggestions. Speaking of gifts, have you bought me one yet?”

  “What makes you think I’m going to get you a gift?”

  “Come off it! You always get me something.” Amos looked worried. “You are getting me a gift, aren’t you?”

  Dunc’s eyes had a mischievous look. “Yes and no.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m getting you something. But I don’t have all the details worked out yet.”

  “What kind of a present has details to work out?”

  Dunc changed the subject. “Have you thought of anything for T.J. yet?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. A gift certificate from the electronics store. He spends most of his time building different gadgets. I’m sure he can use some spare parts.”

  “The electronics store is at the other end of the mall.” Dunc pulled on his sleeve.

  “Okay, okay. Give me a minute. Let me take one last test run around this aisle.”

  Dunc sighed. “Try to hurry.”

  Amos and the robot rounded the corner. They were making their way through the pet section when Amos accidentally pushed the fast-forward button. The robot took off. It ran smack into someone’s black boot.

  Amos looked up. It was Santa. Or rather a man dressed in a Santa suit with a long white beard.

  He winked at Amos. “This what you want for Christmas, son? Well, I’m the man to talk to about it. Of course, you haven’t been all that good this year, have you?”

  Amos stared at the Santa. His mouth was hanging wide open.

  “Let’s see. There was that unfortunate problem with your dog.” The Santa laughed. “And there’s the incident involving your sister’s diary. But who knows?” He winked. “I may stop by your house anyway.”

  The Santa reached down, picked up the robot, and handed it to Amos. “Take care you don’t test run the battery down.” Then he walked down the aisle ringing a silver bell and saying, “Ho, ho, ho.”

  Amos watched him until he was out of sight. Then he blasted around the corner to the counter where Dunc was waiting.

  “What took you—” Dunc started.

  Amos interrupted, “You won’t believe it—Santa—real—he knows!”

  Dunc frowned at him. “Calm down. What happened?”

  Amos started again. “He’s real. He knows things about me. I thought he was only for little kids or dweebs, but he’s really real.”

  Dunc scratched his head. “Are you okay? Maybe we’d better get you home. Let you get some rest. We can shop later.”

  “No. You don’t understand. Santa—I met the real Santa. He told me things.”

  “Is that all? Those guys are paid to tell you things. They tell everybody the same things over and over.”

  Amos grabbed the front of Dunc’s coat. “Listen to me. This one knew real-life things about me.”

  “Amos.”

  “He knew about my dog and my sister.”

  “Get real, Amos. Those are common things. He made a good guess. Don’t let it spook you.”

  “I don’t know.…”

  “Come on. I’ll buy you a soda. You need it. What would Melissa say if she heard you carrying on about a real Santa Claus?”

  Amos’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe you’re right. I lost it there for a minute. He caught me off guard with some of that stuff. Don’t worry, I’m okay now. Uh—Dunc?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Let’s keep this just between us. Okay?”

  “No problem.”

  Amos chucked a basketball at the hoop above his garage door. It bounced off the rim. He caught it on the way down. Dribbled to the end of the driveway, and turned to face the basket.

  A dreamy look came to his face. He was in the game of his life, standing at the free-throw line. A hush came over the crowd. The score was tied with only two seconds left on the clock. It was the last chance for his team to score. The winning point rested on his shoulders. He bounced the ball. Once. Twice. Took careful aim. And he—

  “Amos.”

  —missed.

  Dunc rode up in the driveway waving a newspaper.

  “Aw, man!” Amos stomped his foot. “You just ruined our only chance to win the game.”

  Dunc looked around. He sat back on his bike. “The game?”

  “Never mind.” Amos picked up the ball. “What were you yelling about?”

  “Take a look at this.” Dunc unfolded the paper and pointed to an article.

  Amos read the headline out loud: “ ‘Store Robbed by Shoplifting Santa.’ ” He handed the paper back. “Want to play a little one-on-one?”

  “Don’t you get it?” Dunc asked.

  “No, I don’t get it. And I don’t want to get it. Let me tell you why. Because every time you read something in the newspaper, you get us involved. And that always means trouble. Like the time you read about that chemical stuff at the dump. And I was attacked by dead bodies and had to run around town dressed up like garbage.”

  “You were not attacked, you just thought you were. And we were dressed in camouflage.”

  Amos bounced the ball.

  “We were in this store yesterday,” Dunc said.

  Amos shrugged. “So?”

  “You saw a Santa.”

  “I saw about a dozen Santas yesterday.”

  Dunc pointed to the paper. “The article puts the robbery at about the same time we were in the department store. You may have actually seen the Santa who ripped them off.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean—no?”

  “I mean no. It couldn’t have been him. He wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “Amos. You’re not back on that real Santa kick again, are you?”

  “All I’m saying is that I talked to him—you didn’t. There was something about him. He didn’t seem the type.”

  Dunc
folded up the newspaper. “Well, it’s a lead, and I think we ought to check it out. The police aren’t having much luck. Whoever this guy is, he shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it. Especially at Christmas.”

  “Even if you’re right—which I doubt—what could we do about it anyway?”

  “I knew you’d be interested.”

  Amos held up his hand. “I never said I was interested. All I said was—”

  Dunc interrupted, “I’ve decided to call it the Case of the Sticky-Fingered Santa.”

  Amos shook his head. “Here we go again. You’re bound and determined to get us in some kind of mess, aren’t you? It’s what you live for.” He handed Dunc the ball. “Let’s shoot some free throws before we get too carried away with this detective stuff.”

  Dunc weighed the ball in his hand. Eyed the basket and carelessly tossed it through the hoop.

  “How did you do that? I’ve never seen you do that before!” Amos’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

  Dunc shrugged. “I’ve been studying angles of trajectory. I guess you could call that basket applied science. You see …”

  The rest of his answer was drowned out when a blue and white van pulled up to the curb.

  A man got out and started pulling suitcases out of the back. The side door opened. A short kid wearing a tan trench coat that hung almost to the ground stepped out.

  “T.J.!” Amos yelled.

  The kid grinned. “Hiya, Amos. Long time no see.”

  “T.J., I want you to meet my best friend in the whole world—Dunc Culpepper.”

  Dunc stuck out his hand. Amos saw the move and tried to warn him. It was too late. A flashing red light inched out of T.J.’s top coat pocket. Alarms started going off.

  Dunc jumped back.

  T.J. pressed a button. A voice said, “The time is ten o’clock.”

  T.J. looked up. “Wrong button.” He pressed another one. A boxing glove on the end of a spring popped out of his coat. He tried to stuff it back inside his coat, but it didn’t want to go.

  The neighbors were starting to come outside. Amos’s dog, Scruff, trotted over and started barking. That set off a chain reaction. Dogs were barking up and down the street. T.J. kept pushing the wrong buttons. He couldn’t get the alarm to shut off.