The Great Shelby Holmes Read Free Page A

going undercover.”
    Undercover?
    She skipped over to a barbershop on the corner where a few guys were sitting outside, fanning themselves in the mid-August heat. Sir Arthur helped himself to the water bowl out front.
    “Why, Miss Shelby Holmes!” An older guy with more salt than pepper in his hair reached into his pocket and handed her a butterscotch wrapped in yellow cellophane. “You staying out of trouble, or you trying to find some?”
    Shelby unwrapped the candy. “What do you think?”
    The men erupted into a chorus of laughter.
    “Who you got over there?” The man gestured at me to come forward.
    “Mr. Washington, this is John Watson. He moved into 221 A with his mother, a former army doctor. John, Mr. Washington runs this barbershop and knows almost as much as I do about what’s happening in our neighborhood.”
    “Well, well, well …” He gave me a once-over. I stuck my chest out a bit, wanting his approval. “Listen here, son, you grow your hair out a bit more, and I’ll treat you to a nice new style. Any friend of Shelby’s is a friend of mine.”
    First pizza, then a haircut. Why was everybody offering her free stuff? I mean, the haircut was technically for me, but it was because I was a friend of Shelby’s. Well, we weren’t really friends, but I wasn’t going to argue with him. Free was free.
    Shelby waved good-bye as she crossed the street. “You’ll like the Academy.” She continued our conversation from before without missing a beat. “I’ll also be in sixth grade.”
    I nearly tripped over the curb. “How old are you?”
    “I’m nine, but I skipped a couple of grades.”
    Of course she had. “You don’t look nine.”
    “I’m aware,” she said, kneeling down to pet Sir Arthur. “It doesn’t bother me. I think it’s best to look as young as possible.”
    “Why?” All I wanted was to grow up and stop being thought of as a little kid.
    “Adults always underestimate kids, especially girls. It does have its advantages. If you saw me on the street, you’d probably ignore me. Most people do,” she said without an ounce of pity. “It allows me to study my marks without worrying about getting caught.”
    Her marks ? At this point, I decided to stop asking questions. I didn’t think I’d ever understand this girl.
    “Plus, I’ve been practicing jujitsu for a few years, so I’m stronger than I look. Believe me, I’m not somebody people want to mess with.”
    Oh, I believed her all right. I’d known her for less than twenty-four hours and I already knew not to get on her bad side.
    “Now let’s focus on you,” Shelby said as I tensed up. “We’ve got to do something about your name.”
    “What’s wrong with my name?”
    “Well, there are two other Johns in our class. John Wu goes by John, and John Bryant goes by Bryant. So you’ll need a sobriquet. I’m going to refer to you as Watson. It suits you. Trust me, you could be called worse things.”
    I was sure Shelby Holmes had been called more than a few names. Know-it-all was one that sprang to mind.
    “Okay,” I agreed, knowing it didn’t really matter what I wanted to be called. She would’ve given me whatever name suited her.
    As we rounded another corner, Shelby’s eyes got big. She looked like a little kid on Christmas morning.
    There, parked outside a deli on the opposite side of the street was a cop car with its lights flashing.
    Shelby clapped her hands together excitedly. “Watson, I’ve got work to do.”

CHAPTER
    3
    B efore M om and I moved , D ad sat me down for a talk about living in the “ real world ” ( aka not on an army post). One thing he told me was that I shouldn’t go looking for trouble, especially where the police were involved.
    Apparently, Shelby’s dad never had that talk with her, since she handed me Sir Arthur’s leash and marched up to the police officers. “Hello, officers. What’s going on?”
    “Shelby!” An older white guy wearing an apron that matched his white