Poached by Stuart Gibbs Page B

we’re up against here.” He turned to me solemnly. “You understand how bad this looks for you?”
    â€œYes,” I said.
    â€œHopefully, I’ll find something else on the footage,” Dadsaid. “Chances are, the security guys didn’t pay very close attention to the rest of it—if they paid any attention at all. However, if I don’t find anything else—”
    â€œYou have to,” I interrupted. “Someone else took Kazoo. They have to be on the video. Security just didn’t see it.”
    â€œI hope it’s that easy,” Dad said, though he sounded strangely pessimistic. He ejected the DVD and turned to Arthur. “Thanks for letting us use your office.”
    â€œDon’t mention it,” Arthur said. Something struck me as odd about how he said it, though. He didn’t even look up. His eyes were riveted to his computer monitor again.
    Dad sensed something was wrong too. “Arthur,” he said worriedly. “What have you done?”
    â€œMy duty as a keeper,” Arthur replied.
    Dad grabbed me by the arm. “We have to get out of here, Teddy. Now!”
    We ran for the exit, but we had only gone a few steps before Marge O’Malley and Bubba Stackhouse entered. The two of them filled the doorway, blocking any chance of escape. Marge dangled a pair of handcuffs from one meaty finger and gave me a big toothy grin. “Theodore Roosevelt Fitzroy,” she said proudly, “you’re under arrest.”

CHAOS
    Dad shot a look of betrayal at Arthur. “You tipped them off?”
    Arthur couldn’t even bring himself to meet my father’s gaze. “Face the facts!” he mewled. “Teddy’s guilty!”
    â€œMr. Fitzroy, please step away from your son,” Bubba Stackhouse said. It was the first time I was seeing him up close. He was a big man in every way. He was at least six and a half feet tall, and his shoulders seemed four feet across. Muscles bulged under his shirt, but a large belly did too. He had a big nose, big ears, and a huge anvil jaw. Even his voice was big. It boomed and echoed inside the cave like a depth charge. “We’d like to make this as easy as possible for everyone.”
    Instead of doing what Bubba asked, Dad stepped in front of me, the way a buffalo would to protect its youngfrom predators. “Teddy hasn’t done anything wrong.”
    Bubba’s muscles tensed in anger. “I don’t want to hurt you, sir, but I will have to if that’s what it takes.”
    â€œI’m not worried about me getting hurt,” Dad replied. “I’m worried about Teddy. I don’t think there’s any need to put handcuffs on him. He’s only twelve.”
    â€œ I’ll be the judge of what’s necessary.” Marge stepped forward as well, twirling the cuffs on her finger. “Now step away from the boy.”
    To my surprise, Dad complied. He suddenly shifted to the side, leaving me out in the open. Marge and Bubba loomed over me. I felt like a shrimp facing a pair of whales.
    â€œTurn around, Theodore,” Marge said. “And put your hands behind your back.”
    I looked to my father nervously, expecting him to stand up for me. Instead, to my surprise, he gave me a slight nod.
    So I did exactly as Marge had asked. I turned around and put my wrists together at the base of my spine.
    â€œGood boy,” Marge said, like I was a dog. She took a step closer, still twirling the handcuffs.
    Dad suddenly sprang into action. He snatched the cuffs off Marge’s finger and, before Marge even knew what was happening, locked one around her left wrist.
    â€œHey!” Marge shouted.
    Bubba spun toward Dad. He reflexively raised his fists . . .
    And Dad snapped the other handcuff around his wrist.
    Bubba grabbed for him, but as his right arm was now cuffed to Marge’s left, his reach was suddenly cut short.
    Dad easily leaped out of