Riley Mack and the Other Known Troublemakers by Chris Grabenstein Page A

Riley.
    â€œNow what?”
    â€œStand by. Mongo?”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œShout, ‘Rebecca Drake stinks,’ then duck.”
    â€œBut she doesn’t stink, Riley. In fact, I think she is a very talented cheerleader. Very pretty, too. I can see why Gavin keeps staring at her.”
    â€œMongo?”
    â€œYes, Briana?”
    â€œIt’s called acting! Act!”
    â€œOh. Okay.”
    â€œWait for my cue,” said Riley as he panned up the crowd to Gavin. Unfortunately, at that moment, their mark was stuffing a whole hot dog slathered with mustard into his mouth.
    â€œYou watching Gavin, Bree?” Riley asked.
    â€œYep.”
    â€œMe, too. Okay. Go for it, Mongo.”
    Mongo cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Rebecca Drake stinks!” He quickly tucked his head down between his knees.
    Gavin whipped around. “Who said that?” Now he stood up. “Which one of you jerks said Rebecca stinks?”
    â€œShout, ‘Down in front,’” Riley coached Mongo.
    â€œWith my head between my knees?”
    â€œYes! Briana? Pick up on it!”
    â€œDown in front!” shouted Mongo.
    â€œDown in front! Down in front!” chanted Briana, even though she was in the aisle with a food tray strapped around her neck, not sitting behind Gavin Brown.
    â€œWho said it?” Gavin hollered again.
    Now he really was blocking people’s view, and the Furriers’ best batter, Samuel Justus, was at the plate looking like he was ready to knock one out of the park, so everybody joined in the refrain:
    â€œDown in front, dork face, down in front!”
    Stomp, stomp.
    â€œDown in front, dork face, down in front!”
    Stomp, stomp.
    Flapping his hand at the whole crowd, Gavin finally sat down.
    Riley grinned. Maybe it was a good thing baseball had so few cheers. The fans were always hungry for a new one.
    The slugger at the plate hit a home run. The crowd rose to its feet. The bleachers rocked with joy. Everybody, including Gavin Brown, immediately forgot how some loudmouth had insulted the perky blond cheerleader.
    â€œOur work here is done,” said Riley. “Extricate at your earliest convenience. Rendezvous in fifteen minutes at Jake’s place.”
    â€œRiley?” asked Mongo sheepishly.
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œHow do I extricate?”
    â€œIt means ‘get out,’” said Briana.
    â€œOh, okay. But the game isn’t over.”
    â€œYou’re right,” said Riley. “It’s just getting started.”

19
    AROUND SIX P.M., RILEY’S CREW, joined by Jamal Wilson, reassembled in the basement of Jake Lowenstein’s house.
    Riley remembered when he had first met Jake. In fifth grade, Jake Lowenstein was the shy new kid without any friends who always sat in the back of any classroom. Riley, who, like so many military kids, had once moved six times and attended six different schools in a single school year, never forgot what it felt like to be the new kid with zero friends. So, one day in late September, he sat down at the desk next to Jake’s and started peppering the hooded genius with whispered questions while, up at the front of the classroom, theteacher, Mrs. Finkel—who was close to retirement and extremely hard of hearing—tapped a globe with her wooden pointer and droned on about longitude and latitude.
    â€œHey,” Riley whispered to Jake, “what do people in China call their good plates? Hey, is it true cannibals don’t eat clowns because they taste funny? Hey, you ever wonder what disease cured ham actually had?”
    That’s the one that finally made Jake smile. “Hey,” he whispered back, “what do you call a male ladybug?”
    That one cracked Riley up, and they’d been friends ever since.
    Now Jake’s house was where Riley, Jamal, and Mongo would be spending the night so they could get up bright and early on Sunday morning to finally