Chapter 28

There’s just a few days left of summer break, and I still have to invite 152 people to church.

I get up at the crack of eleven and head out on my bike. The sun’s out, the birds are chirping, and Mrs. Fox is . . . well, yelling at someone.

“Hey, Mrs. Fox,” I say as I ride up. “Who are you yelling at?”

“You!” she says. “Stop riding on my lawn!” She’s always joking, even though she doesn’t smile. “It’s barely grown back since the last time you mowed it.”

Mrs. Fox, just like Mr. Polvado, secretly likes me. Very secretly. She’s never actually said it, but sometimes she asks me to help with yard work or watch her house when she’s on vacation. And she makes the best cookies!

I invite her to church and tell her that I only have 151 more people to invite in order to reach my summer goal.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” she says. “But I think I have something that’ll help you.”

She opens her garage and disappears inside. I can’t wait to see what she has for me. Too bad I have to wait a long time.

“Uh, Mrs. Fox?” I call. “Are you okay?”

She emerges from the garage. “I was hoping you had left,” she says. “Here, this will help you get the word out.”

She hands me a bullhorn.

“My very own bullhorn!” I shout.

“It isn’t yours to keep,” Mrs. Fox points out. “And based on how loud you just shouted, maybe you don’t even need it.”

I immediately convince her that a bullhorn is a great tool to help tell people about Jesus. It’s sort of like how the Bible talks about shouting the Good News from the mountaintops! Since we don’t have a lot of mountaintops in Texas, I’m going to bullhorn the gospel from my bike.

“Okay,” Mrs. Fox agrees, “but please don’t tell anyone where you got it.”

Now I have my very own bullhorn . . . to borrow. I call Billy and tell him to meet me at Gus’s Hardware Store. As I get on my bike, Mrs. Fox loudly reminds me to stay off her lawn and use her driveway instead. Wow! I know someone else who doesn’t need a bullhorn to be heard.

“Come to church on Sunday!” I shout through the bullhorn as I ride through town. “Tell them Average Boy sent you and receive extra sprinkles on your donut. Then listen to the pastor and receive Jesus as your Savior!”

Some people wave at me from their windows. One guy wildly swerves his car when I blast him with the Good News. A lady even opens her front door and pulls out her phone. She probably wants to call me and ask more about church—but she doesn’t have my number. Weird.

I come to a stop in front of Gus’s Hardware Store. Billy’s already there. All that bullhorning really slowed down my bike riding. I pull up a map of our town on my phone to see which houses I haven’t hit yet. Nothing can stop me now!

“Stop!” Mr. Morefield calls from his police car. “You can’t ride through town shouting at everyone.”

Mr. Morefield is the local sheriff. He’s also the worship pastor at our church.

“Come on, Sheriff Morefield,” I plead. “I’m inviting everyone to church. Imagine having the entire town singing along with you at church!”

Sheriff Morefield gets out of the car and smiles. I can tell he’s picturing it in his mind. But then he gets serious.

“I’m sorry, AB, but I can’t allow you to blast every neighborhood with that bullhorn. It’s a noise violation. In fact, you’re usually a noise violation without the bullhorn.”

“I could yell quieter,” I offer.

“No can do, AB,” he says. “Several folks have called to complain.”

Billy and I hang our heads. We’re devastated.

“Let’s see that map of the houses you still need to visit,” Sheriff Morefield says.

I show him my phone.

“Get in the car,” he commands. “I need some help.”

We might be devastated, but we aren’t dumb. We’d never turn down a chance to ride in a real police car. Billy and I park our bikes and jump in. After a quick lecture about not turning on the siren, we pull onto Main Street.

“Are you going to take us to all those houses so I can invite them to church?” I ask.

“I can’t do that. I’m on duty. But it just so happens that I need to go to many of those same houses today. I’m handing out flyers about a new neighborhood watch program.”

“Which neighborhoods will they be watching?” I ask.

“A neighborhood watch is when people in a community help keep an eye out for sketchy folks. You know, the kind who climb flagpoles, shoot off fruit rockets, or try to skateboard around town using an umbrella and a leaf blower.”

The sheriff must be a fan of my books.

“Yeah,” Billy says. “That stuff is, uh, very sketchy.”

I try not to laugh.

We pull up to the first house. Sheriff Morefield hands me a stack of papers. “Just give them this flyer about the meeting. I’ll wave to them, and then we’ll go to the next house.”

“And I’ll invite them to church,” I add.

“I didn’t say that,” Sheriff Morefield says. “Like I said, I’m on duty. But you citizens have volunteered to help me spread the news about the next neighborhood watch meeting. Whatever other Good News you talk about is up to you.”

Billy and I climb out of the car and run up to the first house. With a police car sitting out front, everyone seems eager to talk with us. In just a couple of hours, we hit all the remaining houses on my list.

Now everyone in town is invited to church, and I did it with help from a police escort!

“See you tomorrow,” I tell Sheriff Morefield when he drops us off at Gus’s Hardware Store.

“Why’s that?” he asks. “You’re not going to make any more neighborhood announcements on the bullhorn, are you?”

“Nope,” I say. “It’s the end-of-summer parade!”