Zero to Hero by Lin Oliver

wouldn’t be caught
alive
on a broomstick.”
    The Hoove howled with laughter at his own little joke. He was in a jolly mood. To his surprise, he had developed a real affection for Billy Broccoli, and he couldn’t wait to see the joy on his face when he got even with Rod Brownstone and restored his own reputation.
    When the note was finished, Billy placed it in his backpack along with the wooden box containing the swatch of Rod’s baby blanket. Then he and the Hoove went over the plan one more time. There was nothing left to do except for Billy to get a good night’s rest. The Hoove, making an exception to his “no mornings” rule, said he would be back at exactly seven to make sure Billy was up and dressed in style for his big day. He disappeared through the doorof Billy’s room, and as he floated down the hall, Billy heard Breeze yell, “There’s a cold draft in here. Will somebody please close their window?”
    If she only knew
, Billy thought.
She’d really be yelling.
    Billy got in bed, but as the minutes ticked into hours, he just lay there with his eyes wide open, staring at the ponies jumping over rainbows on his wallpaper. Dawn was breaking by the time Billy fell asleep. In the blue-gray light of his room, as his eyelids grew heavy and finally closed, Billy fell into a dream that he was shaking all over and someone was calling his name. His eyes flew open. It wasn’t a dream. The Hoove was hovering over him, shaking him vigorously and calling his name.
    “Billy! Billy! Wake up, Billy Boy! You’re not going to believe it!”
    Billy rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock on his pink and lavender bed stand. It was barely six o’clock.
    “I don’t have to get up for another hour,” he muttered, and tried to turn over to avoid theHoove, who was slapping his shoulder with a dusty old piece of paper.
    “You know what this is?” the Hoove was saying. “Your stepfather, Bennett, is a genius. I love that guy, even with all his molar talk. Look what he’s uncovered.”
    Billy’s curiosity was aroused. He turned over and glanced at the rolled-up yellowing scroll in the Hoove’s hand. He thought he saw a little spider crawl out of it and scurry across his bedsheet.
    “Look at this,” the Hoove said, unraveling the scroll and smoothing the paper with his hands, which revealed a map that looked like it was hand-drawn in brown ink. “It’s a map of our ranchero.”
    “Right,” said Billy, sitting up to get a better look. “That’s the old map Bennett found in the garage. So what?”
    “See, here’s the orange grove,” the Hoove said, pointing to the largest section of the map. “And here’s the barn. There’s the corral, the original house, the toolsheds … all four of them … and the horse-shoeing shed. And wayover there is the avocado orchard. I never knew the avocado orchard was part of our property. Can you believe it, Billy? This is, as you modern kids say, way cool. The avocado orchard!”
    “What’s the big deal?” Billy asked. “Do you have, like, a huge craving for guacamole or something?”
    “I did used to love it with Lupe’s homemade chips,” Hoover said. “But that’s not the point. The point is that the avocado orchard is on our property. Which means I can travel there safely without dematerializing. And do you know what the avocado orchard has become, Billy? Do you?”
    Billy studied the map carefully. The avocado orchard had a small road running through it. And although it was hard to read, if he looked carefully, he could see the fine print that said the road was called Moorepark Avenue.
    “My school?” he asked.
    “The very same,” the Hoove said with a grin as big as a crate of oranges. “Moorepark Middle School. Slam-bam in the middle of the old avocado orchard. Which means, my friend, that Ican go with you to school today. That the flagpole plan can be reinstated. We don’t need your Mr. Yuki to run Rod’s blankie up the flagpole. I can do it for