the backpack so hard a couple of my fingernails broke when he ripped it out of my hands. Then he shoved me and I went flying backwards and landed on the sidewalk hard on my butt.
"Ow! Dude! I weigh ninety pounds!" Bald Guy actually laughed and I thought Lily was going to burst a blood vessel.
"Hey, Cue Ball!" shouted Lily. She lifted her right knee almost to her chin. Her arms were up and tucked close to her upper torso. Her hands were fisted. She pointed her toe, leaned back, pivoted on her left foot, turned out her hip, and landed a perfect roundhouse kick in Bald Guy's face. Her leg snapped out and back so fast it was a blur.
He instantly dropped my backpack and clutched his nose. Blood streamed from between his fingers. He flew at Lily in a rage. But before he could get his hands around her neck, I jumped up and kicked him hard in his left kneecap I leaned back and put all my weight, and some serious anger, into it, just like Lily once taught me. I know I said I wasn't a fan of senseless violence. But, kicking this guy made a whole lot of sense to me.
Bald Guy had only winced when Lily kicked him in the face. But he screamed and grabbed his knee when I kicked him. Lily tried to deliver a swift karate chop to the back of his thick neck but her hand kept bouncing off. Bald Guy kept grabbing for Lily with one hand, while protecting his good knee with his other. Finally â in a very un-karate like move â she clasped her hands together in one big fist and swung out like she was swinging a tennis racket, connecting with Bald Guy's jaw, and knocking him out cold. Note to self: Never tick off Lily.
Alex was holding his own against the other guy who was wearing a gold tracksuit, which matched my high-tops perfectly. When tracksuit guy punched Alex in the stomach, Lily and I started to run over to help him. But Alex, who was now pinned against the side of SUV, shook his head at us.
"Scat!" he yelled. We knew what he meant, and as much as we hated to leave him behind, I grabbed my backpack and Lily and I took off running in opposite directions.
Chapter Seven
You're probably thinking Lily and I are cold for leaving Alex with those goons. But rule number three is: Alex is in charge. Do what he says. When he says scat, which by the way doesn't mean he was treating us like pesky felines, we do. Scat is short for scatter. Meaning we stop what we're doing and run in opposite directions, forcing whoever is chasing us to decide who they'll follow. The momentary pause by our pursuers gives us the best chance for getting away. It seemed like I ran forever and finally ended up hiding in an alley behind a dumpster for half an hour before I got the courage to check to see if anyone was following me. No one was.
I didn't want to take a chance on running into Dr. McFarland and her thugs, and I had just the thing for situations just like this. It was plain brown tweed cap from the 1800's and it belonged to Sherlock Holmes. I know what you're thinking. Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character. Not. I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was not Sherlock Holmes's creator. He was his biographer. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes was a memoir. Sherlock was a real detective.
And if you've read about Sherlock's adventures then you already know he was a master of disguise. Sherlock's cap had the ability to completely transform whoever wears it. All you have to do is put a picture or drawing of what you wanted to look like inside the pocket in the cap's lining before putting it on and â voilà â you've got a new face. As you can imagine, the cap's power would be pretty dangerous in the wrong hands, which is why the cap stays locked up in the vault back home. Mrs. T. would kill me if she knew I had it. But it was no biggie. All I had to do was put it back when I gotâ¦yikes! My backpack was a wet sticky mess inside. When the bald goon and I had gotten into a tug of war, it must have punctured my
"Ow! Dude! I weigh ninety pounds!" Bald Guy actually laughed and I thought Lily was going to burst a blood vessel.
"Hey, Cue Ball!" shouted Lily. She lifted her right knee almost to her chin. Her arms were up and tucked close to her upper torso. Her hands were fisted. She pointed her toe, leaned back, pivoted on her left foot, turned out her hip, and landed a perfect roundhouse kick in Bald Guy's face. Her leg snapped out and back so fast it was a blur.
He instantly dropped my backpack and clutched his nose. Blood streamed from between his fingers. He flew at Lily in a rage. But before he could get his hands around her neck, I jumped up and kicked him hard in his left kneecap I leaned back and put all my weight, and some serious anger, into it, just like Lily once taught me. I know I said I wasn't a fan of senseless violence. But, kicking this guy made a whole lot of sense to me.
Bald Guy had only winced when Lily kicked him in the face. But he screamed and grabbed his knee when I kicked him. Lily tried to deliver a swift karate chop to the back of his thick neck but her hand kept bouncing off. Bald Guy kept grabbing for Lily with one hand, while protecting his good knee with his other. Finally â in a very un-karate like move â she clasped her hands together in one big fist and swung out like she was swinging a tennis racket, connecting with Bald Guy's jaw, and knocking him out cold. Note to self: Never tick off Lily.
Alex was holding his own against the other guy who was wearing a gold tracksuit, which matched my high-tops perfectly. When tracksuit guy punched Alex in the stomach, Lily and I started to run over to help him. But Alex, who was now pinned against the side of SUV, shook his head at us.
"Scat!" he yelled. We knew what he meant, and as much as we hated to leave him behind, I grabbed my backpack and Lily and I took off running in opposite directions.
Chapter Seven
You're probably thinking Lily and I are cold for leaving Alex with those goons. But rule number three is: Alex is in charge. Do what he says. When he says scat, which by the way doesn't mean he was treating us like pesky felines, we do. Scat is short for scatter. Meaning we stop what we're doing and run in opposite directions, forcing whoever is chasing us to decide who they'll follow. The momentary pause by our pursuers gives us the best chance for getting away. It seemed like I ran forever and finally ended up hiding in an alley behind a dumpster for half an hour before I got the courage to check to see if anyone was following me. No one was.
I didn't want to take a chance on running into Dr. McFarland and her thugs, and I had just the thing for situations just like this. It was plain brown tweed cap from the 1800's and it belonged to Sherlock Holmes. I know what you're thinking. Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character. Not. I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was not Sherlock Holmes's creator. He was his biographer. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes was a memoir. Sherlock was a real detective.
And if you've read about Sherlock's adventures then you already know he was a master of disguise. Sherlock's cap had the ability to completely transform whoever wears it. All you have to do is put a picture or drawing of what you wanted to look like inside the pocket in the cap's lining before putting it on and â voilà â you've got a new face. As you can imagine, the cap's power would be pretty dangerous in the wrong hands, which is why the cap stays locked up in the vault back home. Mrs. T. would kill me if she knew I had it. But it was no biggie. All I had to do was put it back when I gotâ¦yikes! My backpack was a wet sticky mess inside. When the bald goon and I had gotten into a tug of war, it must have punctured my
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