Chapter One
 
“One hundred forty- one! One hundred forty- one!”
Sitting on the steps to his uncle’s apartment over the garage, Nipper had thought he was far enough away from Sammy the parrot to not hear it screeching.
“Three games to go! Three games to go!”
He wasn’t.
Somewhere behind his neighbor’s house, Missy Snoddgrass’s double- triple super- awful pet bird squawked and blabbed. Nipper’s Yankees were in big trouble, and the parrot made sure he knew it.
“Did you hear that?” said Mr. Spinner. “One hundred forty- one plus three is one hundred and forty- four.”
Nipper turned to see his dad. He stood a few feet away, smiling, and waving a yellow-mitten-covered hand. In his other hand he was holding up a fresh, steaming waffle with a pair of tongs.
“That’s a gross, Son,” said Mr. Spinner. “Remember?”
“Yeah, Dad. I remember,” said Nipper. “A dozen dozens is one gross. That rotten bird is squawking about a gross of games.”
Ever since Missy had stolen his baseball team, the Yankees had been on an endless losing streak. It was a major-league catastrophe.
“Cheer up, Son,” said his dad, waving the waffle tongs in front of him. “I’ve made you breakfast.”
Nipper caught a whiff of the fresh waffle. It smelled delicious. The aroma was soothing. He would love a waffle. He would have two . . . maybe three . . . three . . . waffles . . . three . . .
Nipper snapped out of it.
Three more games! His Yankees only had three games left!
He looked over to the Snoddgrass yard. He squinted and tried to spot Sammy the parrot. He kept looking, until his gaze fell on the back of the Snoddgrass house.
Nipper watched a green dot flickering on the covered porch.
“Come back inside with me,” said Mr. Spinner. “When waffles get cold, the flavor decreases.”
Nipper turned back to face his dad. In the four months since Mr. Spinner had taken over as the family’s official breakfast maker, he had become a breakfast perfectionist. Nipper’s dad applied science and math towaffle making. Normally that was awesome. But today it was just a distraction.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Nipper said.
He watched his father walk back across the pavement and disappear into the kitchen. Then he looked again toward his neighbor’s house.
“A gross of games,” he repeated.
Nipper felt like he was caught in a gross game.
The New York Yankees had just lost their one hundred forty-first game in a row. If they lost three more times, they’d be finished. Gone. No more. According to rule thirteen hundred thirteen, section thirteen, any baseball team that loses one hundred four-four games in a season gets kicked out of the league. Their bats are chopped into firewood, and their uniforms donated to community musical theater groups.
He couldn’t let it happen. Not musical theater. Not his Yankees. His precious, super-awesome Yankees!
Nipper eyed the paper bag in his hand. He had been carrying it with him ever since he and his sister had escaped from the Clandestine League of Unstoppable Daredevils, a band of skateboarders, surfers, and gymnasts also known as the CLOUD. He uncurled the top and peeked inside.
Good. The special thing inside the bag was still there. He was going to need it . . . if he was going to save his team.
 
Chapter Two
 
Samantha’s eyes snapped open.
“Where’s Uncle Paul?” she shouted.
She looked around. She was in her room, alone.
She sniffed.
The scent of fresh baked waffles filled the air.
Had Uncle Paul made breakfast?
No. It was her father downstairs in the kitchen. Of course it wasn’t her uncle.
Uncle Paul was missing . . . again.
A little over a week ago, Samantha had found her uncle. She’d had to defeat ninjas, clowns, and daredevils to do it. Then, when she hadn’t been around— the moment she’d turned her back— Uncle Paul had gotten taken . . . again!
It was Nipper’s fault, and her father’s fault, too.
She’d literally just gone upstairs, and a bunch of men and women in white coats, bright white sneakers, and green visors had showed up at the house . . . and Nipper and her father had let them take her uncle away.
Again!
Nipper had said they were the “math police.” But Uncle Paul had left behind an old, worn mitten and a note that said, Watch out for the SNOW!
Samantha didn’t know much more than that. The only thing she had learned from what had happened was that her brother and her father weren’t much help at all, especially when it came to not losing Uncle Paul.
She sat up in bed and wiped sweat from her forehead.
Why was it so hot in the house?
She took in her surroundings. Her red umbrella rested against the side of her desk. She hadn’t touched it for a week, not since her embarrassing fainting spell.
Samantha had blacked out right after Uncle Paul had been taken away. The doctor said it was due to travel stress, plus a severe attack of coulrophobia, a fear of clowns.
Samantha thought that was a bunch of hooey. She loved to travel. She had also defeated the Society of Universal Nonsense. That proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she wasn’t afraid of clowns.
Her mother said Samantha’s blackout could also have been caused by the shock of seeing Buffy in a photo with a cute new boyfriend. And it was true that Samantha had been shocked. Her sister was completely awful. It didn’t make sense that the boy who had saved Samantha and Nipper in Africa had suddenly shown up in California. And it made even less sense that he was there with Buffy.
But what did her mother know about those things, anyway? Dr. Spinner was a doctor, but all her patients were rodents and lizards.
It didn’t matter. Samantha had slept, rested, and thought about missing uncles, annoying brothers, unhelpful fathers, and ridiculous selfish older sisters for a solid week. It was time to make new plans. And time to find Uncle Paul once and for all.
But that was hard to do when it was so hot in the house.
She got up and went to the window. She pulled it open, and a cool, fresh, Seattle summertime breeze wafted into her room.
Much better.
Samantha saw her brother in the backyard, making his way to the house. They hadn’t spoken much to each other in the past seven days. At first it was because Samantha had fainted and stayed in bed for a day and a half. Then it was because he wouldn’t apologize for letting the people in white coats take Uncle Paul away.
“Watch out for the SNOW,” she repeated now.
Was the SNOW the people who had taken her uncle away? Who could they be, and why had they done it?
She had spent enough time resting, and moping. It was time to figure things out. She got dressed and opened her bedroom door. A gust of warm air rolled in from the rest of the house.
Breakfast smelled delicious. And she was ready to talk to Nipper again, even without his apology. She would let him rattle on about his baseball team, and then they could start making plans to save their uncle from the SNOW.