All-American Adventure
James Patterson
Copyright
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2019 by James Patterson
Illustrations by Juliana Neufeld
Cover art by Juliana Neufeld
Cover design by Stephanie Yang
Cover copyright © 2019 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
JIMMY Patterson Books / Little, Brown and Company
Hachette Book Group
1290 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10104
JimmyPatterson.org
facebook.com/JimmyPattersonBooks
twitter.com/Jimmy_Books
First ebook edition: June 2019
JIMMY Patterson Books is an imprint of Little, Brown and Company, a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The JIMMY Patterson Books® name and logo are trademarks of JBP Business, LLC.
The Hachette Speakers Bureau provides a wide range of authors for speaking events. To find out more, go to hachettespeakersbureau.com or call (866) 376-6591.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
ISBN 978-0-316-41744-0
E3-20190514-JV-NF-ORI
Contents
COVER
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
MAP
QUICK NOTE FROM BICK KIDD
PART I: FAMILY TREASURES
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
PART II: DIGGING DEEPER
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58
CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 61
CHAPTER 62
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
JIMMY PATTERSON BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
This one is for Teddy Penn—a great reader with a big imagination and a shiny-star future.
—James Patterson
QUICK NOTE FROM BICK KIDD
Got to make this super speedy, guys.
Half an hour ago, we were bored out of our minds. Now? We’re finally on an adventure—one with a time limit, too!
Once again, I, Bickford “Bick” Kidd, will be the one telling this tale. My twin sister, Rebecca “Beck” Kidd, will be handling the illustrations.
But she better scribble fast.
Like I said, we’re on an adventure!
CHAPTER 1
There was an elephant lurking in the shadows behind us.
It just stood there. Stiff and silent. I figured he was waiting for us to make one false move and then—boink!—pointy tusk to the butt.
“Um, can we get out of here?” whispered Beck.
“Chya,” said our big brother, Tailspin Tommy. “That elephant has its trunk curled up like it just sniffed a bag of hot roasted peanuts.”
Definitely not the first thing I’d think to experience in a museum—but stranger things have happened to us Kidds.
“Or, he just got a whiff of Bick,” added Beck. “He smells like hot roasted gym socks.”
“Do not,” I countered.
“Do, too.”
“You guys?” whispered Storm, our brainy older sister. “We have only fifteen more minutes to find the Hope Diamond!”
Ah, the Hope Diamond. The treasure we were currently hunting. It’s got 45.52 carats (the kind they use to measure diamonds, not the kind bunnies nibble). It’s also 45.52 times bigger than the average engagement ring, which, Storm told us (because she memorizes trivial factoids in her spare time), is only about one carat. That’s right. The Hope is also the Humongous. It’s about the size of a walnut and is the largest deep-blue diamond in the world. Some people say it’s worth a quarter of a billion dollars!
They also say it’s cursed.
“It was originally plucked out of the brow of an Indian temple statue by a Hindu priest,” Storm had told us the night before we set off on our adventure. “The priest’s punishment for the unholy theft was a slow and agonizing death. The diamond showed up in Europe in 1642 when a greedy merchant sold it to King Louis XIV for a handsome profit. But the merchant didn’t get to spend his money because he was soon mauled to death by a pack of wild dogs.”
Storm. She loves the gory details. Says they make history way more interesting.
Anyway, she told us that when Marie Antoinette (Queen “Let Them Eat Cake”) owned it, she was caught trying to flee France with the ginormous diamond. That was in 1791, during the French Revolution, so the big blue bauble was seized by the French revolutionary government.
“They also chopped off Marie Antoinette’s head, so she probably didn’t need a diamond necklace anymore,” Storm had added.
The Hope Diamond was then stolen. More people bought and sold it (many of them getting murdered or losing their fortunes along the way). Finally, an American heiress brought it to the United States. It’s why we’re on our current expedition in the heart of Washington, DC.
We’re also trying to ignore the whole “Hope Diamond Curse” thing.
But it might’ve found us.
Because ten seconds after we slipped away from the scary elephant lurking in the dark, we were face-to-face with two snarling lions attacking a wildebeest!
CHAPTER 2
“Dudes?” whispered Tommy. “Can we, like, lose all these angry mammals?” My knees are starting to get a little shaky.
I totally agreed with my big brother. Especially when I saw what looked like a tiger ready to leap off a cliff!
“Follow me,” said Storm, backtracking to where we had spotted the elephant. “Up this way,” she directed. She doesn’t need a map because she has a photographic memory—the map was in her head.
Suddenly, I
heard footfalls echoing in the distance.
“Somebody’s following us!” I said as quietly as I could while running up a steep set of steps.
“They probably know about the Hope Diamond!” said Beck.
“Uh, everybody knows about it,” countered Storm. “It’s sort of famous.”
“This way!” I said because I saw what I thought would be an excellent hiding place.
I was wrong.
I yanked open a series of doors and we were, somehow, transported to a tropical rain forest. We’re talking 90 degrees with 90 percent humidity. A swarm of butterflies, some with ginormous wings, fluttered near our faces. One tickled my nose with its flappers.
“I have something tangled in my hair!” shrieked Beck.
“That’s a Madagascar moon moth,” said Storm, calmly. “And a Gulf fritillary butterfly. And, I believe, a pink cattleheart. Hard to tell, it’s so dark in here.”
“Because it’s the middle of the night and we’re not supposed to be here!” I exclaimed. “This is a top-secret treasure hunt!”
“Then you might want to lower your voice, little bro,” suggested Tommy. “Maybe quit exclaiming stuff.”
We heard a door swing open. Felt the whoosh of air being sucked into the airlock chamber that we’d just passed through.
“They’re following us!” I said.
“Out the back door,” said Beck, pointing straight ahead. There was a butterfly perched on her fingertip. One that looked like it had an owl face printed on its wings.
We dashed through one door, stepped into a room with a major fan stirring up a breeze, made sure that no moths or butterflies were hitching a ride on our clothes or in our hair, and then yanked open an exit.
Ten feet later, we were surrounded by bugs. We’re talking tarantulas, praying mantises, bees—the works. It was like every creepy crawler in the world was there, waiting for us in the dark.
“This place bugs me!” I shouted as quietly as I could because whoever was chasing us was right behind us, coming out of that second door from butterfly world.
“This way!” whispered Storm.
She led us into a chamber filled with mummies and then one lined with bones.
“We only have two more minutes!” We’re not going to make it!
We rounded a corner, passed a gift shop, and headed into a dimly lit room filled with sparkling glass cases.
There it was. Sitting in a display case under its own mini rotunda. The Hope Diamond!
“Well done, children,” said Dad, stepping out of the shadows, clicking his stopwatch.
“You made it up here with time to spare,” added Mom, who’d been hiding in the rare gems room with Dad.
“You guys?” I said.
“Yes, Bick?”
“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but—”
“This was the easiest, lamest, most boring, worst make-believe treasure hunt ever!” said Beck, finishing my thought for me. It’s a twin thing.
“I concur,” said Storm. “All we really needed was a floor plan for the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History.”
“Chya,” said Tommy, grabbing one from a nearby rack. “It’s like printed right in here. See?” He started tapping icons. “First floor, Mammals. Second floor. Butterfly Pavilion, Live Insect Zoo, Mummies, Bones, Gift Shop, Hope Diamond. Even I could figure it out.”
“But you had a time limit,” said Mom, acting as if that made the whole thing some kind of huge challenge.
It didn’t.
But the security guards who barged into the room swinging their bulky flashlights?
They definitely made the whole adventure a little more interesting.
CHAPTER 3
“What’s going on here?” asked one of the Smithsonian security guards.
“Just a little harmless family fun, George,” said Dad, who obviously knew the guy.
“Oh, hi, Dr. Kidd,” said George, holstering his flashlight. “Didn’t see you there.”
“Hi, Doc,” said the other guard, waving his flashlight like a chunky baton.
“Good evening, Jayden.”
“We hope we didn’t cause you guys any trouble,” added Mom.
“Nah, not at all,” said Jayden, hiking up his belt a little. “Needed the exercise.”
“Gets kind of boring around here at night,” added George.
“Tell us about it,” muttered Beck. She wasn’t a big fan of fake treasure hunts inside museums. Me, neither.
But it was the best we could do for the time being. Mom and Dad had agreed to curate an exhibit at the Smithsonian about the Lost City of Paititi, which we had discovered deep in the rain forests of Peru, where it was even sweatier than inside that hot and humid Butterfly Pavilion.
“Can’t wait for your exhibit to open,” said George.
“Me, neither,” said Jayden. “Will you be displaying any of the real gold?”
Dad shook his head. “No. That belongs to the people of Peru.”
“But,” said Mom, “we’re putting together quite an exciting diorama.”
“Chya,” said Tommy. “Visitors can bust a dam and watch Paititi emerge from its lake, just like we saw.”
“Cool,” said Jayden.
“Totally,” agreed Tommy.
Then they knocked knuckles.
“What goes on in here?” asked a grouchy man in a tweed jacket as he stepped into the Hope Diamond exhibit hall.
“Me and Jayden were fist bumping,” replied Tommy. “It’s a bro thing.”
“Dr. Kidd?” The grumpy man arched an eyebrow. It was bushier than most mustaches. It kind of reminded me of a caterpillar from that Insect Zoo.
“Good evening, Professor Hingleburt,” said Dad. “What brings you to the museum at this late hour?”
“My radio!” replied the angry professor, unclipping a walkie-talkie from his belt so he could wiggle-waggle it at everybody. “I was next door, at the American History Museum. Heard we had intruders over here. I raced across the Victory Garden as quickly as I could.”
In case you’ve never been to Washington, DC, the Smithsonian is a collection of several different museums mostly lined up between the Washington Monument and the United States Capitol Building.
In addition to being crabby and cranky, Professor Hingleburt was also bald. His eyebrows were the hairiest thing on his head.
“I’m sorry we interrupted you, Professor,” said Dad with an easy smile. “Were you doing research next door?”
“Indeed I was!” said Professor Hingleburt. “I am on the verge of announcing a major discovery of monumental historical significance.”
“Is that so?” said Dad. “Congratulations.”
“Therefore,” said Professor Hingleburt, “as a serious scholar, I would appreciate it if you could keep your children on a tighter leash. We can’t have them running amok wreaking havoc!”
“We apologize,” said Mom.
“It was all in good fun,” added Dad.
“And highly educational,” I added. “Who knew there were butterflies that looked like owls?”
“The kids didn’t break anything or, you know, let any tarantulas out of their cages,” said George the guard.
“Gave us a real run for our money, though,” added the other guard, Jayden, patting his belly. “Almost made me burp. Had a double cheeseburger for dinner…”
“Well, Dr. and Mrs. Kidd,” huffed Professor Hingleburt, “just because you’re working here doesn’t mean your children should be allowed to run around these hallowed halls at all hours.”
“Mom’s a doctor, too,” said Storm.
“Then you both should know better!” said the pouting professor. “Too much freedom is a dangerous thing. It leads to anarchy and lawlessness!”
“But, Dr. Hingleburt,” said Dad, “freedom is what America is all about. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
“Is that so?” protested Dr. Hingleburt. “Well, maybe that’s why this country’s in such sad shape. With
packs of wild children pursuing their happiness by charging willy-nilly through our cherished national treasures.”
“The children won’t do it again, Professor,” said Dad. “I promise.”
“There will be no more after-hours explorations in any more national landmarks,” added Mom.
Beck and I looked at each other and sighed.
“There goes this weekend’s race up the steps of the Washington Monument,” she mumbled.
I nodded. “And that thing at the Lincoln Memorial.”
It sounded like however long we were stuck in DC, we’d have to behave like ordinary kids instead of the wild things on a wild rumpus we were born to be.
We’d have to be bored out of our gourds, instead.
CHAPTER 4
The next day, we joined Mom and Dad in the sealed-off corner of the Smithsonian where they were setting up their exhibit about our time in Peru.
“Visitors will walk through this corridor and feel as if they’ve just entered the Amazon rain forest,” Mom explained as the six of us traipsed through a maze of fake plants, all of them dripping with water.
“Whoa. How’d you get it to be so muggy in here?” asked Tommy, checking both his armpits for sweat rings.
“Dozens of humidifiers hidden behind the scenery,” explained Dad.
“You might consider selling sweat bands at the gift shop,” suggested Beck, wiping her brow. “Especially for when Bick visits.”
We rounded a bend and came to a display of wax dummies depicting the nasty loggers we’d met on our last adventure. They looked like scurvy pirates with chain saws cutting down all the trees in the area illegally.
“Deforestation is, as you guys know, a major concern in tropical rain forests,” said Mom.
“Indeed,” spouted Storm. “In the Amazon, nearly seventeen percent of the trees have been chopped down in the last fifty years.”
“Check it out!” I said, pointing to a pile of fake logs that seemed to be smoldering. “The smoke looks so real!”
