Dottie Tisk had the library’s only copy of Charlotte’s Web. That was the worst possible situation. If her parents found it, they’d destroy it. If I went to their house and asked Dottie if I could borrow it, she might deny she had it. But I had to try. The Tisks lived just a few houses away, so I headed over there.
The Jesus statue was standing guard, of course. I avoided his eyes, but as I passed, I said, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything bad.”
No one answered the door. I should’ve known—they were probably at Glorious Heart, Mr. Tisk’s church, being it was Sunday and all. I peeked in through the front window. An ordinary living room—no Charlotte’s Web in sight. I looked back at the statue. It hadn’t turned its head or anything spooky, so I walked around the house and checked out some of the other windows.
Dottie’s bedroom was at the back of the house. Her window was behind some rosebushes. I eased between the thorny bushes and the house. Her window was open a crack. I pushed the window up far enough to poke my head through and looked around. The room was incredibly neat and boring—nothing hanging on the walls, no clothes strewn on the floor, no Charlotte’s Web or any other books. I hiked the front half of my body onto the sill and took a closer look. She had probably hidden the book from her parents. I inched farther in so just my legs were sticking out of the window.
Something furry and gray exploded from the floor and flew past me through the open window. I was so startled I fell into the room.
“Come back here!” I yelled.
Mr. Peebles was about to do no such thing. He was over the fence and gone in an instant.
“Not my fault,” I muttered. Even though it clearly was my fault, saying it wasn’t made me feel better. As long as I was in Dottie’s room—also not my fault—I decided to take a look around.
From what I could see, Dottie was the neatest, most boring fourteen-year-old girl on the planet. Her bed was so perfectly made it looked like something out of a virtual-reality set.
Where would a neat freak hide a book? I looked through all the drawers. I checked her closet with its precisely hung row of stodgy dresses. I looked under her bed. Not so much as a single dust bunny.
I heard voices, then the sound of the bedroom door opening. I scooted under the bed. I could see Dottie’s feet.
“Mom!” she shouted. A moment later I saw Mrs. Tisk’s white shoes enter the room.
“Mr. Peebles is gone!” Dottie said.
“Tsk—you left your window open,” Mrs. Tisk said.
“I did not! It was only open a crack when I left.”
Mrs. Tisk crossed over to the window and closed it.
“Mr. Peebles must have got it open,” Dottie said.
“That cat is freakishly smart,” Mrs. Tisk said. “He’s more trouble than he’s worth. If he returns, we’re giving him back to your uncle.”
“Nooo!” Dottie wailed.
I heard a thwack and a gasp. I was pretty sure Dottie had just gotten slapped.
“Control yourself!” Mrs. Tisk snapped. “Do not contradict your elders. You will stay in this room until I decide it’s time for you to come out!” She marched out of the room and slammed the door.
Dottie let out a tiny sob and sat down on her bed. After a few more sobs she knelt down next to the bed. Her knees were inches from my face. Was she praying? No, she was pulling something out from between the mattress and the box spring. She stood up and plopped onto the bed. A moment later I heard the dry, slithery sound of paper pages being turned.
Charlotte! I was sure of it. She was reading Charlotte’s Web!
I would have to wait for Dottie to leave, then grab the book and escape through the window—but judging by the tone her mother had taken, that could be hours. I eased my cell out of my pocket and texted Billy.
Help! Stuck under Dottie’s bed and she is sitting on it. Need distraction.
I hit send. My phone made a whoosh sound—I’d forgotten to mute it. Had Dottie heard? I held my breath. Dottie was moving around. I watched for her feet to hit the floor, but instead it was her hair that landed on the carpet, framing her upside-down face like a curtain. Her colorless eyes regarded me with the cold, unblinking detachment of a boa constrictor.
“Hey,” I said friendlily.
“You are under my bed,” she said unfriendlily.
“True.” There was no point in denying it.
“You left my window open,” she said.
“It was already a little bit open,” I said. “I just opened it a little more.”
“Why do you keep stealing Mr. Peebles?” Her face was turning red. I thought for a second it was because she was mad, but then I decided it was because she was hanging upside down.
“Mr. Peebles has a mind of his own.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because of Charlotte’s Web,” I said.
She stared at me without replying.
“Your parents wrecked my e-book. They made a computer virus that messed up every digital copy of Charlotte’s Web on the planet. I need to borrow the book so I can fix it.”
Dottie’s head retracted. I wriggled out from under the bed. She was sitting against the headboard hugging the copy of Charlotte to her chest.
“You can’t have it. I’m not done.”
“You’re not even supposed to be reading it,” I said.
“And you’re not supposed to be breaking into people’s houses stealing their cats.”
“That was an accident! Anyway, if you call your parents, I’ll tell them you’re reading Charlotte.”
I had her there—I could tell by the way she scowled.
“My parents don’t even have a computer,” Dottie said. “They couldn’t do what you said even if they wanted to.”
“Maybe they got somebody else to do it for them.”
Dottie’s dead eyes flickered at that. She knew something she wasn’t telling me.
“We’re going to track down whoever did it,” I said. “Billy Bates has a webhound on the digital trail, and I bet it leads right here.”
Dottie laughed. It sounded like rusty bedsprings. I guessed she hadn’t had much practice.
“You won’t be laughing when I have your parents arrested.” I said that mostly because I was mad, not because I thought I could actually do it.
Dottie’s face turned red. “You better not. You think losing your stupid e-book is bad, what if . . . whoever did it . . . what if . . . oh never mind.” She looked away. “It’s just one stupid book. What if you forgot everything you ever read? How would you like that?”
I said, “Huh?”
My cell chirped. It was Billy.
You still stuck?
I texted back.
No.
Billy replied a second later.
Get over here now.
I hesitated. Did he mean “as soon as is convenient” or “NOW now”? I texted back.
Getting book. Be there in a while.
“Who are you talking to?” Dottie asked.
“None of your business. Look, Dottie, I really need that book. I promise I’ll return it to you tomorrow.”
“No! I want to know what happens.”
“You can wait. This is important!”
Dottie shoved the book under her butt and crossed her arms. This was not going well.
I said, in my most reasonable voice, “Dottie, you—”
My cell chirped again. It was Billy.
NOW!!!
“Dottie!” Mrs. Tisk’s voice came from outside the room. “Who are you talking to?”
I was out the window in a flash. It was an impressive exit—except for the part where I landed in the rosebushes, then snagged my favorite jeans on the way over the fence and tore a huge hole in the knee. Scratched, irritated, and a bit shredded, I headed for Billy’s house.