Iggy the Legend Read online

  Keep this in mind when you get to chapter thirteen.

  CHAPTER 8

  Truth in Advertising, at Least

  You know how sometimes you buy something and it doesn’t work? For example, you buy a rubber waffle, and on the package it says Fool Your Friends! Looks Just Like Real! There’s even a picture on the package of an amazed kid with a rubber waffle hanging out of his mouth, and around him, a circle of kids doubled over with laughter. Some of them are laughing so hard that tears are flying off their faces, that’s how funny it’s supposed to be.

  But then, let’s say you can’t wait for a friend to turn up, so you try it on your little sister, Molly, because she’s only three and pretty easy to fool, and it turns out totally different than the package. Molly doesn’t even try to eat the waffle; she just licks the syrup off the rubber. Plus, nobody thinks it’s funny. In fact, everyone is mad because Molly and the kitchen are sticky.

  The package promised big laughs, but nobody laughed at all.

  This is called false advertising.

  It’s actually a crime.

  The person who made the package is supposed to get in big trouble.

  Guess who got in trouble instead?

  Right!

  Iggy.

  If we started to talk about unfair blame in this incident, we’d never stop. So we’re going to talk about how honest Iggy is. How honest and upstanding and good.

  You see, after the kitchen portion of the rubber-waffle incident was over, and Iggy was in the go-to-your-room-and-think-about-what-you’ve-done portion, he said to himself—thinking about what had been done to him—that he would never sell something that didn’t work; he would never lie on a package; he would never commit the crime of false advertising and ruin the lives of his customers.

  Now, holding a bag of teeth, did Iggy forget these vows?

  No!

  Iggy remembered the misery and suffering that could be caused by false advertising, and he did the honest thing. The right thing. The good thing.

  He tried it himself to make sure it worked.

  * * *

  • • •

  After dinner, Iggy went to his room and took a single tooth from the bag. He spat on it. Then, holding it in his hand, he went downstairs, where his mom and dad were talking about coffee, and said, “Hey! I lost a tooth!” He held out the tooth for them to see.

  The usual thing happened: His dad glanced at it and said, “Wow, that’s a good one.” And his mom smiled and talked about how cute he was when he didn’t have any teeth.

  (Speaking of lies.)

  Then Iggy said, just a little louder than normal, “I’ll put it under my pillow tonight!”

  His mom and dad nodded and went back to talking about coffee.

  “Gosh, I hope the tooth fairy gives me a dollar fifty for this one,” said Iggy, very loudly.

  “The tooth fairy is not made of money,” said his dad.

  Iggy left the room.

  Fast-forward two hours: Time for bed. Iggy put the tooth under his pillow.

  It worked. The next morning (that’s November 19, people), Iggy was one dollar richer, and he had a product he could guarantee. He put the dollar and his dime into his sock. $10.50 to go.

  CHAPTER 9

  Buck Teeth

  One of the most surprising things Iggy discovered from his bag of teeth was this: Third graders are amazingly rich.

  Another thing he learned: They aren’t so good at subtraction.

  At morning recess, over on the third-grader part of the playground, Iggy explained it: You pay a quarter for a tooth; you get a dollar from the tooth fairy; you have made 75 cents.

  “What?” said the third graders.

  He explained it again.

  “What?” said the third graders.

  He was just about to start yelling at them when a kid named Serena said, “Oh! I get it.” She explained it in some sort of special third-grader language.

  “Ohhhh!” cried the third graders. Then they started yanking quarters out of their pockets. Iggy couldn’t believe it. Why did they have so much money? Didn’t they know how to buy stuff ? It was like they had been saving up for teeth.

  By lunch recess, Iggy was surrounded by third graders, and even some second graders, desperate to buy teeth.

  “Give me four!” said a kid named Antonio.

  “That’ll be one dollar,” said Iggy. “At the special introductory price of a quarter each.”

  He liked to say this as often as possible.

  Antonio pulled four quarters out of his pocket as if it were nothing.

  Amazing. Iggy took four Mand. Prem. #2s from his stash and dropped them into Antonio’s palm. “Don’t use them all at once,” he warned.

  “Why not?” said Antonio. “I’ll get four dollars.”

  “Yeah, but you’ll get caught too,” said Iggy wisely. “Nobody loses four teeth at the same time. Your parents will notice you don’t have four teeth missing.”

  Antonio thought about it. “They don’t notice much. They just had twins.”

  “Listen, kid, I’m a pro,” said Iggy. “Try two now and save two for later.”

  Antonio looked down at the teeth. “Maybe you’re right. I could keep two for when I really need money.”

  “Right!” said Iggy. “It’s like money in the bank.”

  “Hurry up!” yelled the kids in line.

  * * *

  • • •

  After school, Diego and Arch and Owen and Aidan and Miles took off for the clubhouse, but Iggy didn’t mind. Yesterday, he had been down and out, but today, Iggy was a successful businessman! He walked home, his backpack jingling with seventeen quarters. Otherwise known as $4.25. For sure, he still needed $6.25, but he had orders for twelve teeth from kids who were bringing money tomorrow, which meant—Iggy sat down on the curb to do the math—a total of $3.00. Which, added to the seventeen quarters he’d made that day and the dollar from his own tooth the night before, gave him a grand total of—Iggy squeezed his head to do the math—$8.25![*] Which meant—Iggy hit himself on the head to do the math—he still needed $3.25.

  “Why are you hitting your head?” asked a voice above him.

  It was the Russian girl. She was famous. “I’m doing math,” explained Iggy. “In my head.”

  She frowned. “Math is better without hitting.”

  Iggy shrugged. To each their own.

  “You have teeth?” she asked. “To sell?”

  Iggy nodded.

  “I want thirteen.”

  “You want thirteen?” asked Iggy.

  She nodded.

  “It’s not going to work,” Iggy told her.

  “Yes, please. Thirteen,” she repeated. “Three and ten.”

  “You’re in fifth grade,” Iggy tried to explain. “You already lost most of your teeth. No one will believe you.”

  She frowned. “Believe me?”

  “No one will believe they fell out. No one will give you money.”

  “Who gives money?”

  “The tooth fairy!” yelled Iggy.

  The Russian girl looked at him like he was crazy. “A fairy with teeth?”

  “No! The tooth fairy brings you money when your teeth fall out!”

  She hesitated. “Nice story for nice boy. I want thirteen.” She pulled a pouch from the neck of her shirt. “I have money.”

  Iggy stared at her.

  “It isn’t necessary to hit your head,” she said. “Three dollars and twenty-five cents.”

  Exactly what he needed. Still. “What are you going to do with them?” Iggy asked.

  “You have change?” she said, handing him a five.

  “What are you going to do with them?” he asked again.

  “It is one dollar and seventy-five cents,” she said he
lpfully.

  “I know.” He gave her seven of his quarters. “What are you going to do with them?”

  “Now the teeth.” She held out her hand. “Thirteen,” she added, in case he’d forgotten. “Three and ten.”

  Iggy opened his backpack, counted out thirteen Mand. Prems., and gave them to her. “What are you going to do with them?” he asked very slowly.

  She smiled. “Don’t worry, nice boy. Thank you for teeth.” Pause. “The teeth,” she corrected herself.

  Iggy tried a different way. “What do kids in Russia do with their teeth when they fall out?”

  “They give them to rats,” she said.[*]

  CHAPTER 10

  The Fighting Legends

  At 3:05 p.m. on November 20, Iggy received his final quarter. He had $11.60! But not on him (quarters are heavy). He tore home, gathered all his money, plus the leftover teeth (because you never knew when you might make a sale), and raced toward Diego’s house to become—at last!—a Fighting Legend.

  When he arrived, panting and jingling, the other Legends (except Aidan, who had rugby) were already in the treehouse, sitting on the bench in a row. Diego reclined on the hammock. “Put the money over there,” he directed Iggy, pointing to a corner.

  Iggy poured twenty-two quarters and one dime onto the floor and laid the five and the one on top. “Ta-DA!” he said proudly, gesturing at his pile.

  “You want me to count it, Diego?” squeaked Andrés. “I can count it.”

  “No,” said Diego. “Nobody wants you to do anything.”

  “What’s he doing here?” asked Iggy.

  “I told you. My mom made me.”

  “So I’m in?” asked Iggy.

  Diego nodded. “Yup. You’re in.”

  “Yeah!” yelled Iggy.

  Arch and Owen and Miles didn’t say anything.

  “So? That’s it?” Iggy asked. He was a little disappointed. He didn’t know what he had expected. A cheer, maybe? A party? Whatever it was, he wasn’t getting it.

  “That’s it,” muttered Arch.

  Iggy glanced around the treehouse. The Fighting Legends did not look as happy as he had imagined them being. They didn’t look like they were having the most fun ever. They didn’t look like they’d recently been laughing their heads off. Actually, they looked a little bored. “Okay!” said Iggy, hoping they would pep up. “What do we do now? Video games? Even if you don’t have Realms yet, we could still play Tracker Z, right?”

  Arch and Owen and Miles looked at Diego. Diego looked at the floor. “No video games,” said Owen. “We used up too much data on Tuesday.”

  “Dad got mad!” said Andrés. “Dad said they were a bunch of—”

  “Shut up,” groaned Diego.

  No video games? “Bummer,” said Iggy. What else was there? It was of course not midnight, so no midnight feasts. But—“What about snacks?” asked Iggy.

  Arch and Owen and Diego looked at Miles. Miles looked at the floor. “Miles drank all Mom’s oil!” reported Andrés. “So they can’t go in the kitchen anymore.”

  “You drank oil?” Iggy asked Miles.

  “I like oil,” said Miles. “Okay?”

  “It was Mom’s fancy truffle oil,” squeaked Andrés. “She only uses it at Christmas and it costs twenty-nine dollars and Diego had to buy more!”

  Iggy winced sympathetically. “Ooh, that’s worse than lipstick.”

  “And then these guys said I had to buy them snacks,” Diego said.

  “Great!” said Iggy. “Let’s eat!”

  “They already ate them. They ate everything in, like, two and a half minutes,” said Diego. “I didn’t get any. Even though I bought them.”

  “With our money,” said Arch, like he’d said it before. “Our membership fee.”

  “Still,” said Diego, like he’d said it before.

  Andrés said.

  “Shut up!” Diego groaned.

  “So . . . what have you guys been doing?” asked Iggy, even though he thought he knew the answer.

  “We don’t do anything,” said Miles, making a face at Diego.

  “Hey, I showed you that card trick,” said Diego.

  Nobody said anything. Iggy thought it probably hadn’t been a very good card trick. “Any crime fighting?” he asked hopefully.

  “Pffft,” said Arch, which meant No.

  Iggy began to feel a little bit cheated. “I just paid eleven dollars and sixty cents to sit around? I can sit around for free!”

  “Yeah,” said Miles. “I’m not getting any allowance for three weeks, and all we do is sit around.”

  “I was going to buy a pack of those huge Sharpies,” said Owen. “And now I can’t.”

  “No refunds,” said Diego.

  “Yeah! No refunds!” squalled Andrés. “He’s broke!”

  Iggy looked at his quarters. “I had to sell teeth to make that money,” he said.

  Everyone turned to look at him.

  “Open your mouth,” said Diego.

  “Not my teeth, you dweeb!” said Iggy. He pulled his bag of Mand. Prem. #2s from his backpack and showed the Legends. “Didn’t you guys wonder where I was for the past two days? I was selling teeth!”

  All ten of their eyebrows went up. They hadn’t wondered. They didn’t say anything for a moment. Finally Arch asked, “Where’d you get those teeth?”

  “I found them,” said Iggy.

  “You found a bag of teeth?” said Miles.

  “Yeah,” said Iggy. “And then I sold them.”

  “Sold them to who? Why would anyone buy teeth?” asked Diego, looking confused.

  “To kids! Duh! So they could say their teeth had fallen out and get tooth fairy money.” Iggy looked around at his friends. What didn’t they get? “I charged them a quarter.”

  “Wait,” said Arch. But he didn’t say anything afterward.

  They were like the third graders; Iggy had to explain. “Most kids get a dollar when they lose a tooth, right? So if they pay me a quarter, they still make seventy-five cents.”

  Arch whistled in admiration.

  “That’s genius,” said Miles. “You thought it up?”

  Iggy nodded. Now that he was telling them about it, he noticed that it was, actually, genius.

  “And you just found the bag?” asked Miles.

  Iggy nodded. He was pretty lucky, he noticed. Not many people found a bag of teeth.

  “How many do you have left?” asked Owen, looking at the bag enviously.

  Iggy shrugged. “A hundred, maybe? I didn’t count them.”

  “It was actually pretty fun, selling them,” Iggy said, remembering the good times. “The Russian girl bought thirteen.”

  “Dude,” said Arch. “You talked to the Russian girl?”

  Iggy nodded modestly. He knew what he saw. His friends thought selling teeth was cool. They thought he was cool for thinking of it. They wished they had thought of it. They wished they had found a bag of teeth. They wished they had talked to the Russian girl. They wished they had as much money (in teeth) as he did. They wished they were him.

  “You’re lucky,” said Miles. “We spent all that money, and we just sit around doing nothing.”

  “Oh, come on,” began Diego. “We will do stuff. We’ll do . . .” His voice trailed off. “Lots of stuff.”

  “Like what? We can’t play video games, and we don’t have snacks,” said Owen gloomily. “What else is there?”

  “And it’s not like there are any crimes,” sighed Arch.

  “Wish there were,” sighed Miles.

  Suddenly, there was a squeaking sound. It was coming from Andrés. He jumped up. “There is too!” he cried. “There is too a crime!” He pointed at Iggy. “That thing he’s doing? With the tooth fairy? It’s lying. It’s a crime.” He looked proudly aro
und the treehouse. “I’m going to call the police!”

  He started for the ladder.

  CHAPTER 11

  The Next Four Minutes

  The next four minutes were fun.

  The Fighting Legends, who only a moment before had felt so unhappy about their club that they were ready to quit, suddenly became full of club spirit. They were the Fighting Legends! They were united! Maybe they weren’t exactly united to fight crime, but who cares? They were united to fight little squealer brothers!

  Since Owen was sitting closest to the ladder, he tried to grab Andrés as he went by.

  Unfortunately, Owen was the slowest of the Fighting Legends, and Andrés got away, screaming, “Hey! Hey! Crime! There’s crime up here!”

  Andrés fell down the tree-trunk ladder and thumped into the trapdoor, which gave the rest of the Fighting Legends a chance to thunder down after him. But just as Diego—roaring, “Shut up, you little stinker!”—was on the verge of nabbing him, Andrés managed to pull the trapdoor up and scramble down into the lower house and out the little half-door.

  Seeing this, Iggy heroically jumped off the roof of the bottom house and began to chase Andrés around the yard. Miles, inspired by Iggy’s heroism, also jumped off the roof and began to chase Andrés. Arch and Diego popped out the lower door and joined the other Fighting Legends in chasing Andrés around the back yard until he tried to crawl under a chicken coop and Diego yanked him out by his ankles.

  Andrés screamed, “CRIME, CRIME, CRIME!”

  Diego dragged him around, yelling, “Shut up, you little poop!”