JW01. Under Locker and Key

by Allison K. Hymas

  “Oh, the job you know nothing about? Great. I almost got in serious trouble, but it seems someone convinced twenty people that not only did they see me pull the fire alarm, but I did it with good intentions. And then there’s this.” I handed Case the burned rag.

  He held the bag up to the light. “Decent work. Whoever did this is an adequate forger.”

  “Who says it didn’t come from a real, honest fire?” I grinned. “Thanks, guys.”

  “Save your thanks. It wasn’t us.” Case took the bag, then grabbed the pencil and used it to open the bag. He poked the contents and then took a deep whiff. “The rag looks like one from the cafeteria, but it’s soaked in melted butter. Real butter. The cafeteria uses a margarine spray. Good job, but not great. Whoever did this takes no pride in the expert forge.”

  Hack typed nonsense and deleted it. “Not everyone’s a snob about it like you.”

  I looked at the burned rag. “Huh.” So Case wasn’t my forger. Who was? And who could have convinced twenty people that they’d seen me run to the alarm over a cafeteria grease fire? Who had that much pull with both students and teachers?

  Could it be . . .

  No, that was insane. She would let her grandmother go to jail before she’d break the rules. And she’d never forge evidence.

  Maybe she did it to protect Tate. Yeah, that made sense. If I’d turned around at the last minute and denied everything, Tate would have been tried and found guilty of a crime she didn’t commit. That would have offended the detective’s sensitive sense of justice. Maybe she saw it as justice to fake evidence to protect an innocent, just like it was okay, by her, to lie to get into Mark’s room. Or to go through my stuff during track practice.

  But then, where had those twenty people who backed up my innocence come from? Why protect me, too? No ride on a grappling-hook rope was that much fun. At least, I didn’t think so. It couldn’t be her.

  Case was the only forger I knew. It made more sense that Case was refusing to own up to what he saw as a substandard forge job. Yeah, that had to be it. Right?

  “We saw McDuff and Natalie escorting the guy I suspect was the locker thief,” Hack said. “Who would have guessed that guy Mark was behind the crime wave?”

  “Who cares? I’m just glad that Tate is off the hook for the alarm,” I said.

  “Oh, good,” Case said. “I wonder if she’s free on Friday.”

  “I think she has soccer practice then,” Hack told him.

  “No worries. I’ll figure something out. So this is all over?” Case asked me.

  “Yeah, finally,” I said. “The bad guy’s caught, and everyone’s getting their stuff back, though I’m not going to get any glory for retrieving it.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll make sure everyone knows what you did,” Case said. “Can’t have people thinking you were the locker thief.”

  “So I assume that means you want to hear the play-by-play.”

  Hack shut off the computer so fast I thought the power had gone out. “Of course!”

  “SHHH!” Ms. Gimbel had come back.

  “Later,” I whispered. “At lunch. That will give me some time to figure out what could possibly combine forgery and computers.”

  “You’ll never guess it,” Hack said. He looked up. “We’d better get to class. Or, at least, I should. Ms. Gimbel’s giving me a weird look.”

  Case and I looked up. Ms. Gimbel was glaring at Hack in a way that meant she recognized him and was about to remind him, firmly, what the school’s rules were regarding computer use, and then hover over him while he finished his work.

  Hack stood up. “No need to attract attention now that everything’s back to normal. I’ll see you in homeroom.” He hurried out of the library.

  Case extended an Eagles-gloved hand. “Everything’s back to normal, right?”

  “Everything,” I said, grabbing his hand. “Well, I think so. I promise.”

  Case nodded. “I’m glad you’re still on the straight and narrow.”

  I snorted. “As straight and narrow as I ever can be. So, can you give me any clues about Hack’s new scheme?”

  “With any luck I’ll talk him out of it before lunch. He wants to use the computers here. Can you imagine? Right under the snitch’s nose. He’s lost his mind.”

  “Yep.” I had to be careful and make sure every part of Becca’s involvement in the key job was edited out when I told my story to Case and Hack. They wouldn’t understand. I wasn’t sure I did.

  When Case and I left the library, I saw her. Becca was leaning against the office doors, listening in on Mark’s judgment. But her eyes followed me. I saluted her, and she tried to kill me with her eyes. I saw her hand touch the camera in her pocket.

  I spotted Tate in the hall, glowing with happiness. I felt guilty for the bad weekend she must have had, but at least everything had worked out. She waved as I passed, and I waved back.

  Somehow the rumor that the locker thief had been caught had spread, and homeroom buzzed with happy clients. They didn’t know it was me who’d stopped the thief, but they would soon. Probably before lunch, if I knew my friends. Good thing, too: I wouldn’t get very many clients if everyone thought I was dirty, and the school still needed my unique brand of skills.

  For example, down the row from me a girl was panicking because she’d left her geology project on the school bus, and a boy was totally engrossed in a new game. I gave him until the end of first period before the game got confiscated.

  I grinned. Becca hated me, I was the leader in light fingers at Scottsville, and students needed my services. My life was back to normal.

  Or as normal as life can be for Jeremy Wilderson, retrieval specialist.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book would never have come to be without the help and efforts of so many people to whom I owe so much. Lauren E. Abramo, for being a top-notch agent. Thank you for helping me improve as a writer and for guiding me through the process of publication. I couldn’t have done this without you.

  Amy Cloud, for being the best editor I could ask for. Thank you for seeing the potential in my story and guiding me to find it as well.

  Karen Sherman, for her careful copyediting that caught the problems I’d missed and put the final polish on the book.

  Matt David, for the excellent cover illustration. You really brought my characters and story to life. Also, thanks to Karin Paprocki for the fun and dynamic cover design.

  Chris Crowe, because if it wasn’t for his mentoring and support, this book would never have become more than the “fun hobby story” I thought it was. Thank you for encouraging me to try something new and telling me that this story was worth writing. Thanks also go out to my classmates in his workshop for your excellent ideas and critiques. You know who you are.

  My gratitude also to my family for believing in me. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for reading my writing and encouraging me, from when I was a child scribbling my first stories in crayon, to pursue my dreams. Thanks also to my sister Grace for being a patient sister and a fantastic reader, and to David, Chrisanne, Brian, Nicole, and other family members and friends who supported me and listened as I talked through story ideas with them.

  READ ON

  FOR A SNEAK PEEK AT THE SECOND BOOK OF JEREMY WILDERSON’S ADVENTURES!

  I had no idea trouble was brewing until Case busted through my back door at sunset one Thursday during summer vacation.

  Hey, don’t think that because I didn’t have my thumb pressed to the pulse of Scottsville’s criminal activity, I’d been slacking at my job. I’m not a crime lord, and I’m not a detective like Becca Mills. My job starts after the crime has been committed, when the victim comes to me with a sob story and a slice of chocolate cake.

  But I had tried to pay a little more attention that summer. If I’d been more attentive during the school year, I’d have known which thieves were active and that Mark was a dirty criminal psychopath who definitely did not need my help.

  My contacts, lik
e Cricket and Tomboy Tate, had gone on vacation or to camp, but the silence on the underground wasn’t too odd. Summers are generally pretty chill, work-wise, for me, so on the day that all this began, I had biked, swam, and played video games with Case and Hack. Then Case went off to meet Elena Harmon at Comet Cream, which is an ice cream parlor that he frequents because it’s a good place to find clients from all over town. I avoid it because Becca knows this fact.

  (A note about Comet Cream: it’s a small ice-cream place attached to Space Station Alpha, one of those mega-entertainment businesses that has mini golf, laser tag, and an arcade where, if you play well and earn lots of tickets, you can maybe get a key chain. Ice cream is cheap at Comet, and the whole complex is biking distance from anywhere in town. Thus, it has become a popular hangout for anyone trying to escape parents for a few hours during the summer. I went once with my family, but I prefer the games to the ice cream. Becca doesn’t bother me in the arcade.)

  Fast forward to an hour later, when Case burst into my house without knocking, his eyes wild.

  “Dude,” I said. I had been sitting near the back door, waiting for work if it came and killing time by doing summer reading (To Kill a Mockingbird), so I was there to greet him. “Next time, don’t hold back. Just kick the door off its hinges.”

  “We have a problem,” he said.

  “Yes,” a voice said. “A devious kid wearing Eagles gloves and a shifty look just infiltrated our house by the back door.” My older brother Rick had made an appearance, coming in from the kitchen with a can of root beer. “Yet another illicit exchange for our Dr. Evil, and I appear to have stepped right into the middle. Oh, my, what am I to do?”

  “How about you shut up and go away?” I said as Case picked at the Philadelphia Eagles logo on the back of one of his fingerless gloves. “Do your homework or read some college pamphlets.”

  “I’ll read the pamphlets tomorrow. And summer work is better done in the heat of desperation during the last week of August,” Rick said. “Preferably in the spare time between scrimmages.”

  Oh, right. Football camp. Like he hadn’t mentioned that six times a day all summer.

  “The question is,” Rick said, “should I tell Mom about this little get-together now, or should I hold out for a better offer from Dr. Evil? My integrity is strong, but it can be bought.” He grinned at me. “For the right price.”

  Case glanced from Rick to me, breathing hard. He thought Rick was serious. But I know my bonehead brother better. He knew nothing, and therefore his threat was as empty as the top half of a bag of chips.

  I pointed a thumb at the stairs. “Come on, Case. Let’s talk in my room. Rick’s not allowed to bother me there.” I glared at my brother.

  “Wouldn’t dream of walking into your evil lair. I’d probably step on your fluffy cat’s tail and ruin the joy of any diabolic stroking. I’d hate to put my baby brother out like that.”

  “Oh, you got me a fluffy cat? You shouldn’t have. No, really, you shouldn’t have. I’m a dog person.”

  Rick laughed. “Joke now, if you want. But if I see blood coming from under your door or smoke from above, I’m calling the authorities.”

  “That was one time!” I called as I hurried Case away.

  In case you were wondering, it was smoke. Case, Hack, and I were experimenting with invisible inks. Most of them are made visible with heat. We had a little accident.

  “Okay,” I said once I’d closed the door. “What’s the urgency? You look like someone stole your art supplies.”

  “Not mine,” Case said. “But someone did steal brushes and paint, and it’s bad. It’s so bad. I’m sorry, I told them everything. They know everything.” He sat down on my bed, his dark skin paler than usual.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Author photo by Matthew Argyle

  ALLISON K. HYMAS holds an MFA from Brigham Young University and lives in Utah. This is her first novel.

  allisonkhymas.com

  ALADDIN

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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.

  ALADDIN MAX

  Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

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  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  First Aladdin MAX paperback edition April 2017

  Text copyright © 2017 by Allison K. Hymas

  Cover illustration copyright © 2017 by Matt David

  Also available in an Aladdin hardcover edition.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  ALADDIN and related logo are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  ALADDIN MAX is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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  Interior designed by Mike Rosamilia

  Jacket designed by Karin Paprocki

  Jacket illustration copyright © 2017 by Matt David

  The text of this book was set in Adobe Caslon Pro.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Hymas, Allison K.

  Title: Under locker and key / by Allison K. Hymas.

  Description: New York : Aladdin, [2017] | Series: MAX |

  Summary: “Eleven-year-old Jeremy Wilderson teams up with his rival crime fighter to stop the stealing spree that’s wreaking havoc on Scottsville Middle School”—Provided by publisher.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016049810 (print) | LCCN 2016054720 (eBook) |

  ISBN 9781481463430 (hc) | ISBN 9781481463423 (paperback) |

  ISBN 9781481463447 (eBook)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Middle schools—Fiction. | Schools—Fiction. |

  Stealing—Fiction. | Mystery and detective stories. |

  BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION / Action & Adventure / General. |

  JUVENILE FICTION / Social Issues / Friendship.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.H94 Un 2017 (print) |

  LCC PZ7.1.H94 (eBook) | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016049810

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Acknowledgments

  Sneak Peek at the Second Book of Jeremy Wilkerson’s Adventures!

  About the Author

  Copyright