Riley Mack and the Other Known Troublemakers by Chris Grabenstein Read Free Book Online Page A

Their nonshedding coats make them very appealing for families with allergies.”
    Mongo’s little sister was allergic to everything. Cats. Dogs. Peanuts. Her big brother’s socks. Well, those things made everybody gag and sneeze.
    So while the Gnat Pack headed over to the Montgomery house on their bikes to meet the fifteen-hundred-dollar dog, Riley pedaled to the bank to see his mom. He was hoping he could convince her to lift the ban on all actions against Gavin Brown because Riley really wanted to do what Jamal had suggested: he wanted to retrieve all the merchandise the bully had stolen from all those fifth graders.
    First, it was the right thing to do.
    And second, Riley did not enjoy feeling the way his chat with Jamal Wilson had left him feeling. He didn’t like letting people down. “Protect your country, protect your family, protect your friends, and defend those who cannot defend themselves” was what his dad always told him. Well, right now, Riley wasn’t doing any of those things. He was lying low and keeping his nose clean. It just wasn’t who he was. He was a doer, not a lying-lower.
    Riley Mack didn’t feel like Riley Mack anymore.
    In fact, he hadn’t felt like such a big-time disappointment since he turned nine and stuffed an ice-cream cake into his underpants.
    Since Friday was payday for a lot of people in Fairview, the bank lobby was extremely crowded. Long lines snaked across the marble floor as Riley rolled through the revolving brass door. He went to the back of the line for teller window three, figuring he had to wait his turn to see his mom, which would also give him time to perfect his pitch.
    But, being a mom, Riley’s mother sixth-sensed his presence the instant he entered the building and motioned for Riley to come up to her window right away.
    Riley ducked his head, mumbled, “Excuse me” about a hundred times, and, basically, cut to the front of the line. He heard a bunch of grumbling from the grown-ups he passed, the people he was making wait even longer than they already knew they’d have to wait.
    â€œRiley?” his mom asked when he made it to her window. “Is everything okay, hon?”
    â€œYeah. I just needed to talk to you.”
    â€œIs it urgent?”
    â€œKind of.”
    â€œCan it wait?”
    Riley heard a soft whirr come from somewhere up near the ceiling. He glanced to his right and saw a spy camera aimed straight at his mother’s teller window.The lens rotated as it zoomed in for a tighter shot.
    Great. Now he was getting his mom in trouble. What a day. He was disappointing everybody, especially himself.
    â€œRiley? I don’t have a whole lot of time. I really need to take care of my customers. What’s wrong?”
    â€œIt’s nothing.”
    â€œNothing?”
    â€œYeah. I just, you know, thought I’d drop by.”
    â€œOn Friday? During rush hour?”
    â€œYeah.”
    His mom did not look pleased.
    Neither did the man who suddenly appeared behind her in the teller cage. It was her boss, the bank manager, Mr. Weitzel, the guy named Chuck who, for some bizarro reason, wanted everybody, even Riley, to call him Chip. Mr. Weitzel was glaring at Riley.
    â€œRiley?” his mother said again. “We’re kind of busy right now.”
    â€œRiiight. Never mind. I needed some money for pizza but I just remembered that Mongo owes me five bucks so I’ll get it from him. See you at home.” He waved at the scowling man looming behind his mom. “So long, Mr. Weitzel—I mean, Chip.”
    He pivoted, bolted across the lobby, and spun through the revolving door like he was riding a playground merry-go-round. He came flying out the otherside and slid across a pile of dog mess somebody forgot to pooper-scoop off the sidewalk.
    Yep, just when Riley didn’t think he could feel any lamer, he did. He was a total lame-o. The lame-inator.
    He swiped his sneaker clean on