Free The Caped 6th Grader by Zoe Quinn Page B

watch—“five minutes. If we wait for your dad and his officers, we might lose the opportunity to catch these guys.”
    I let it all sink in. It wasn't as if Howie were here alone—I mean, he did have a superhero with him. I was pretty sure that even if he messed up, I'd be able to run interference. And it was so important to him to prove he wasn't a total klutz. I knew he wasn't, but even though Howie was one of my best friends, I had to admit that sometimes he didn't show what he could really do.
    “Here's the plan,” I said. “We'll tell Miss B we're coming back tomorrow to check out the new shipment. Then we'll go around back and hide. When the truck comes, we'll wait for the bad guys to bring the first box of not-so-R.A.D. bags into the stockroom, and we'll lock them inside. Then I'll call my dad and get him down here fast.”
    “I like it!” said Howie. “What about Miss B? What if the bad guys break out of the storeroom and take her hostage or something?”
    I thought about it, then marched across the shop to where Miss B was collecting the day's receipts from the register.
    “Such a busy day!” she said. “And now I have to go upstairs to my office and record all these sales on the computer.” Shefrowned. “Hang on, I've just remembered that I have to wait for the delivery to arrive before I can get started. It's going to be a long night!”
    “I have an idea,” I said. “Why don't you let Howie and me help you with the delivery? We can wait for them and tell them where you want the boxes stacked. That way you can go up and get started on those receipts. We'll come and get you if you need to sign anything.”
    Miss Bettancourt gave me a grateful smile. “You wouldn't mind? That's awfully nice of you.”
    “Not at all.”
    “I'll come down later to lock up,” she said, gathering her paperwork and heading toward the door that led to the stairs. “You just holler if you need me. You won't have any trouble, I'm sure. Those men have been very sweet and reliable.”
    Yeah, right
, I thought.
They've got you selling their fake stuff. No wonder they're being sweet.
    We watched as she walked through the door; then we listened to her footsteps on the stairs.
    “Okay, now what?” said Howie.
    I grabbed a piece of sticky-note paper from the counter and dashed off a quick message telling the delivery guys (otherwise known as the criminals!) to come in and leave the boxes. I signed Miss Bettancourt's name.
    “We stick this on the back door to the stockroom and wait for these creepy counterfeiters to show up. We'll leave that door unlocked, and they'll come in looking for Miss B. Meanwhile, we'll hide outside, and when they're in the stockroom, we'll lock them in.”
    “I can read them their rights,” Howie boasted. “I memorized the Miranda spiel.”
    “Sounds good,” I said, but I had no intention of letting Howie anywhere near these guys. Counterfeiting was a serious crime, and that meant these crooks were bad news.
    I took Miss B's cordless phone off its base and handed it to Howie. “Take this just in case,” I said. “You go wait in the back alley.”
    Howie ran to the stockroom; I heard the back door slam behind him.
    I locked the door that led from the stockroom into the store, then shoved a chair under the knob. Once I got those guys in, I wanted them to stay in.
    When I made it to the alley, Howie was waiting, practicing his Miranda delivery.
    “You have the right to remain silent …,” he recited. “If you choose to talk, anything you say can and will—”
    “Hey, Howie,” I said, “maybe you should peek into that Dumpster to see if there are any shipping boxes from the fake purses.”
    Howie knitted his brow. “Good idea. There may be tracking codes printed on them, and that will prove these guys have been at this a while.”
    “Here, I'll give you a boost.”
    I interlaced my fingers and Howie put his foot in my hands.
    “Am I too heavy for you?” he asked.
    I had to force