Beep-beep. BEEP!
My brother Billy leaned on the horn. Ralphie Jordan zoomed down his porch steps. He squeezed into the backseat with Lucy and Mila.
“Thanks again,” I told my brother. “It’s nice of you to give us a ride to school so early.”
Billy rubbed his tired eyes. “I still don’t understand why you couldn’t take the bus.”
I heard Lucy whisper nervously from the backseat, “I hope we’re not too late.”
We had to beg Mr. Copabianco at first. Finally, he let us into the school. We told him it was an emergency. Normally, kids aren’t allowed into the school until 9:00 a.m.
“I’ll walk down with you,” he said cheerfully. “Let’s make this snippy-snappy. I’ve got work to do.”
He took out a large key ring. He selected a key, put it into the lock, and turned. As soon as the door opened, Lucy rushed forward. She raced to the trash can. “It’s empty!” she cried.
Ralphie was crushed.
“Uh-oh,” Mila said. “This means trouble.”
“Not just trouble,” Ralphie groaned. “Bigs trouble.”
Mr. Copabianco stood in the doorway. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “They don’t empty themselves, you know.”
I turned and stared at good old Mr. Copabianco. His mouth formed a sly smile beneath his mustache.
“Where do you put the trash?” I asked.
“Into a bigger garbage can,” Mr. Copabianco said. “Then it goes to the dump.”
“THE DUMP!” Lucy exclaimed. “We’re doomed!”
“Not so fast, Lucy.” I suddenly remembered the dumpster behind the school. Once a week a large garbage truck picked up the trash.
“What day is the dumpster emptied?” I asked.
Mr. Copabianco looked at his wristwatch. “Why, should be any minute,” he said.
“Quick!” I screamed. “To the dumpster! And thanks, Mr. Copabianco. Thanks a lot!”
Chapter
11
Touchdown!
Lucy Hiller held her nose. “Bleck!”
Ralphie made a face. “You want us to climb into that thing?”
“Don’t look at me,” I said. “I didn’t steal the sneakers. I’m not swimming in that slop.”
Mila giggled.
Lucy stared up at the dumpster, scratching her head.
“Do you need a boost?” I snickered.
“Stop smiling,” Lucy complained. “This isn’t a joke. It’s … it’s…”
“Gross?” Mila offered.
“Disgusting?” I suggested.
“It’s the pits!” Ralphie lamented. He sighed, then slowly climbed into the dumpster. Lucy followed behind, still holding her nose.
“The sneakers are in there somewhere,” I said. “Just dive right in.”
“Ugh,” Lucy whined. “It smells like something died in here.”
“Nah,” I said. “That’s just yesterday’s hot lunch special. Be careful you don’t step on any Swedish meatballs.”
Suddenly, a voice boomed, “Hey, HEY! You crazy kids!! Get out of there!!!”
It was Mr. Copabianco. He was running toward us, waving his arms. “What on earth are you children thinking?” he demanded.
We told him what on earth we were thinking.
He listened carefully. Then laughed, long and loud.
“Why didn’t you just ask?” he bellowed. “I found those sneakers yesterday! I knew it must be a mistake. Nobody throws away perfectly good shoes. I’ve already returned them to Ms. Gleason’s room. Didn’t you notice them on her desk?”
We found Bigs Maloney’s sneakers back in room 201. They were right where Mr. Copabianco said they’d be. Sitting behind a stack of books … on the corner of Ms. Gleason’s desk … about five feet from her empty trash can.
Whoops.
We decided to play the Turkey Bowl early on Thanksgiving morning.
“But just for fun,” Ralphie insisted.
Bobby and Helen reluctantly agreed.
“And the boys and girls get mixed up together,” Lucy said. She smiled sweetly at Bigs. “I want to be on your team, Charlie.”
Lucy was the only person on the planet who called Bigs by his real name. The big lug turned purple with embarrassment.
The game was a blast. Lots of people played, including my brothers Daniel and Nick, my sister, Hillary, and a bunch of neighborhood kids.
Even a few parents joined us.
“Football on Thanksgiving,” my father said. “It’s an American tradition, like fireworks on the Fourth of July.”
Lydia Zuckerman caught the opening kickoff. She raced to the left sideline, then suddenly reversed direction. Twisting and turning, she darted and faked. No one touched her. You couldn’t help but stand back and admire her talent.
Lydia raced into the end zone. She spiked the ball into the ground. Touchdown!
Everyone cheered—even players on the other team. It didn’t matter. We were all playing ball together. Having fun.
Just playing a game.
After a while, we forgot to keep score.
Because in the end, only one score mattered.
Jigsaw Jones: One.
Mysteries: Zero!
Don’t miss this special sneak peek at a brand-new, never-before-published JIGSAW JONES MYSTERY:
The Case from
Outer Space
When Joey and Danika find a mysterious note tucked inside a book, all signs point to a visitor from outer space. Yikes! Can Jigsaw solve this case, when the clues are out of this world?
Chapter
1
A Knock on the Door
Call me Jones.
Jigsaw Jones, private eye.
I solve mysteries. For a dollar a day, I make problems go away. I’ve found stolen bicycles, lost jewelry, and missing parakeets. I’ve even tangled with dancing ghosts and haunted scarecrows.
Mysteries can happen anywhere, at any time. One thing I’ve learned in this business is that anyone is a suspect. That includes friends, family, and a little green man from outer space.
Go figure.
It was a lazy Sunday morning. Outside my window, it looked like a nice spring day. The sky was blue with wispy clouds that looked like they had been painted by an artist. A swell day for a ball game. Or a mystery. Maybe both if I got lucky.
I was standing at my dining room table, staring at a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle. It was supposed to be a picture of our solar system. The sun and eight planets. But right now it was a mess. Scattered pieces lay everywhere. I scratched my head and munched on a blueberry Pop-Tart. Not too hot, not too cold. Just right. As a cook, I’m pretty good with a toaster. I began working on the border, grouping all the pieces that had a flat edge. Sooner or later, I’d work my way through the planets. The rust red of Mars. The rings of Saturn. And the green tint of Neptune. I’ve never met a puzzle I couldn’t solve. That’s because I know the secret. The simple trick? Don’t give up.
Don’t ever give up.
My dog, Rags, leaped at the door. He barked and barked. A minute later, the doorbell rang. Ding-a-ling, ding-dong. That’s the thing about Rags. He’s faster than a doorbell. People have been coming to our house all his life. But for my dog, it’s always the most exciting thing that ever happened.
Every single time.
“Get the door, Worm,” my brother Billy said. He was sprawled on the couch, reading a book. Teenagers, yeesh.
“Why me?” I complained.
“Because I’m not doing it.”
Billy kept reading.
Rags kept barking.
And the doorbell kept ringing.
Somebody was in a hurry.
I opened the door. Joey Pignattano and Danika Starling were standing on my stoop. We were in the same class together, room 201, with Ms. Gleason.
“Hey, Jigsaw!” Danika waved. She bounced on her toes. The bright beads in her hair clicked and clacked.
“Boy, am I glad to see you!” Joey exclaimed. He burst into the roo
m. “Got any water?”
“I would invite you inside, Joey,” I said, “but you beat me to it.”
Danika smiled.
“I ate half a bag of Jolly Ranchers this morning,” Joey announced. “Now my tongue feels super weird!”
“That’s not good for your teeth,” I said.
Joey looked worried. “My tongue isn’t good for my teeth? Are you sure? They both live inside my mouth.”
“Never mind,” I said.
“Pipe down, guys!” Billy complained. “I’m reading here.”
“Come into the kitchen,” I told Joey and Danika. “We’ll get fewer complaints. Besides, I’ve got grape juice. It’s on the house.”
“On the house?” Joey asked. “Is it safe?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You keep grape juice on your roof?” Joey asked.
Danika gave Joey a friendly shove. “Jigsaw said ‘on the house.’ He means it’s free, Joey,” she said, laughing.
Joey pushed back his glasses with an index finger. “Free? In that case, I’ll take a big glass.”
Chapter
2
One Small Problem
I poured three glasses of grape juice.
“Got any snacks?” Joey asked. “Cookies? Chips? Corn dogs? Crackers?”
“Corn dogs?” I repeated. “Seriously?”
“Oh, they are delicious,” Joey said. “I ate six yesterday. Or was that last week? I forget.”
Danika shook her head and giggled. Joey always made her laugh.
I set out a bowl of chips.
Joey pounced like a football player on a fumble. He was a skinny guy, but he ate like a rhinoceros.
“So what’s up?” I asked.
“We found a note,” Danika began.
“Aliens are coming,” Joey interrupted. He chomped on a fistful of potato chips.
I waited for Joey to stop chewing. It took a while. Hum-dee-dum, dee-dum-dum. I finally asked, “What do you mean, aliens?”
“Aliens, Jigsaw!” he exclaimed. “Little green men from Mars—from the stars—from outer space!”
Thank you for reading this FEIWEL AND FRIENDS book.
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The Case of the
Smelly Sneaker
possible are:
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OUR BOOKS ARE FRIENDS FOR LIFE.
Read more Jigsaw Jones Mysteries by James Preller
The Case from Outer Space—New!
The Case of the Smelly Sneaker
The Case of the Bicycle Bandit
The Case of the Glow-in-the-Dark Ghost
The Case of the Mummy Mystery
The Case of the Best Pet Ever
The Case of the Buried Treasure
The Case of the Disappearing Dinosaur
The Case of the Million-Dollar Mystery
About the Author
James Preller is the author of numerous books, including the acclaimed novels The Fall, Bystander, and Six Innings, and the Scary Tales and Jigsaw Jones series. He travels throughout the country visiting classrooms and book festivals. He lives in Delmar, New York, with his wife and their children.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1 Splaaaaatt!
Chapter 2 The Challenge
Chapter 3 The Spring Street Superstar
Chapter 4 Doing the Turkey Lurkey
Chapter 5 Swiped!
Chapter 6 The Kid in the Hall
Chapter 7 The List of Suspects
Chapter 8 Lydia
Chapter 9 The Confession
Chapter 10 To the Dumpster
Chapter 11 Touchdown!
Teaser
Other Books By James Preller
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2001 by James Preller
Art used with permission from Scholastic
A Feiwel and Friends Book
An imprint of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010
mackids.com
All rights reserved.
Illustrations by Jamie Smith
Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945 ext. 5442 or by e-mail at [email protected].
First Feiwel and Friends edition 2017
eBook edition August 2017
Originally published as The Case of the Sneaker Sneak by Scholastic in 2001
eISBN 978-1-250-11079-4
The Case of the Smelly Sneaker Page 3
