The Fight for Kidsboro
The Fight for Kidsboro
Copyright © 2011 Focus on the Family
Cover illustration copyright © 2011 Focus on the Family
A Focus on the Family book published by
Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188
The books in this collection were previously published as:
Battle for Control,
copyright © 2008 Focus on the Family
The Creek War,
copyright © 2008 Focus on the Family
The Rise and Fall of the Kidsborian Empire,
copyright © 2008 Focus on the Family
The Risky Reunion,
copyright © 2008 Focus on the Family
Focus on the Family and Adventures in Odyssey and their accompanying logos and designs are federally registered trademarks of Focus on the Family, Colorado Springs, CO 80995.
TYNDALE
and Tyndale's quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the
Holy Bible, New International Version
®.
NIV
®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc. ⢠Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide (
www.zondervan.com
).
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwiseâwithout prior written permission of Focus on the Family.
The characters and events in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.
Editor: Kathy Davis
Cover illustration: Gary Locke
Cover design: Jacqueline L. Nuñez
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Younger, Marshal.
  The Fight for Kidsboro / Marshal Younger.
     p. cm. â (Kidsboro ; 1)
  At head of title: Adventures in Odyssey
  A Focus on the Family bookâT.p. verso.
  Previously published as: Battle for control, The creek war, The rise and fall of the Kidsborian empire, and The risky reunion.
  Summary: As mayor of Kidsboro, Ryan Cummings faces losing his office, a war against Max Darby's Bettertown, an economic crisis, the threat that a dangerous secret will be revealed, and citizens' concerns about taxes and the services they provide.
  Creek war.
  Rise and fall of the Kidsborian empire.
  Risky reunion.
  ISBN 978-1-58997-675-7 (alk. paper)
[1. Politics, PracticalâFiction. 2. Conduct of lifeâFiction. 3. Christian lifeâFiction. 4. WarâFiction. 5. HonestyâFiction. 6. SecretsâFiction. 7.Municipal financeâFiction.] I. Title. II. Title: Adventures in Odyssey. III. Title: Creek war. IV. Title: Rise and fall of the Kidsborian empire. V. Title: Risky reunion.
  PZ7.Y8943Bat 2011
  [Fic]âdc23
2011015568
Printed in the United States of America
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 /17 16 15 14 13 12 11
CONTENTS
BOOK 2
The Rise and Fall of the Kidsborian Empire
To Stephanie, who worked so hard to keep a roof over our heads while I sat at a computer and wrote a bunch of stuff that will never sell (and a couple of things that did).
PROLOGUE
THE BIRTH OF A CITY
C
AREER
D
AY WAS A BUST
. There were tables lined up end-to-end across the Odyssey Middle School gym, and as soon as our teachers let us loose, we all dashed around like 300 mice scrambling for six pieces of cheese, eager to sign up for the fun jobs. If we signed our names on the list fast enough, we had a good chance of working in whatever occupations we wanted for a day. Most everyone wanted exciting things like working at the fire department or police station. At one point, I saw Alice Funderburk, a rather large girl, shove people out of the way as she steamrolled to the police station table. The crowd of people parted for her like the Red Sea. She was the first one to sign up.
I didn't worry too much about getting on the list quickly, because I figured there weren't too many people interested in what I was interested inâpolitics. I wanted to be the mayor. I wanted so badly to meet with, work with, and
think
with the mayor of Odyssey. I strolled casually to my table, all the while watching people clamor and fight for their own tables, and sure enough, when I got there, no one had signed the sheet. I signed my name,
Ryan Cummings, age 12
. I could hardly wait to walk up the City Hall steps in the only suit I owned, ready to dazzle the mayor of Odyssey with my knowledge of government and politics.
It was not worth the wait.
When I got to City Hall later that morning, the mayor wasn't even around. The secretary showed me his office, and I sat at his desk. There were stacks of papers in front of me that I wasn't allowed to look through. I tried to answer the phone once and I got yelled at. I just sat there and waited for three hours, and when I finally met him, he shook my hand, had a picture taken of the two of us, and told me he was very sorry but he had a meeting to attend. I was dismissed shortly afterward. If all I had wanted was a photo, I could've posed with the cardboard cutout of himself that he still had in his office from his election campaign. I was bitterly disappointed. I wanted to work with him. I wanted to, for a few moments,
be
the mayor.
When I went to Whit's End that afternoon, I found some comfort in the fact that my friends had much the same experience I'd had. We all sat at the counter of the ice cream shop, complaining about our day. John Avery Whittaker, or “Whit” as most adults called him, was the owner and operator of the ice cream shop and discovery emporium and had the misfortune of having to listen to us whine.
Jill Segler had gone to the
Odyssey Times
to find out what it was really like to be a news reporter. She'd had dreams of uncovering some big business scandal.
“I went to Dale Jacobs's office,” she began, knowing everyone would recognize the name of the editor of the
Odyssey Times
, “and the first thing he tells me is, âIt may be a slow news day.' Come to find out, it was not a slow news day. It was a
no
news day. I ended up helping a guy write a story about how celery prices have risen 5 percent in the last two weeks.”
Mr. Whittaker chuckled.
Scott Sanchez, my best friend, had a similar experience. He had signed up to learn how to be a private detective. Unfortunately, his mentor was Harlow Doyle, a private eye in Odyssey who may have actually been a worse detective than Scott was.
“We spent two hours filling out my paperwork. All he had to do was sign the form to prove that I showed up. First he couldn't find a pen, then he couldn't decide whether he should sign his middle name, then he couldn't remember his middle name, and then he confused my name with his own. It was unbelievable.”
Alice Funderburk also had a frustrating story. She was angry that they didn't give her a gun when she checked in at the police station. She spent most of the morning riding around with a police officer and handing out parking tickets. But when Alice threw a jaywalker up against a wall, she was forced to go back to the police station and do paperwork for the rest of the day.
The only person who had a positive story was Nelson Swanson, who worked with Eugene Meltsner, an employee at Whit's End. Eugene was the resident genius, and Nelson was his protégé. Eugene had helped Nelson conceive and build some of his best inventions, of which he had many. Eugene and Nelson had spent the day building a solar-powered air conditioner. Everyone felt sorry for Nelson when he told this storyâuntil we realized that he had actually enjoyed doing it.
We all whined some more. I said, “How are we ever going to know if this is what we really want to do with our lives if we never get a real opportunity to try it?”
Mr. Whittaker didn't answer. Instead, he began to stare at nothing, which made us think that the wheels were turning inside his head.
“Mr. Whittaker?” Scott said, waving a hand in front of his face.
“You know what?” he said, breaking out of his trance. “If you really want practical experience at these jobs, there may be other ways of getting it.”
“How?”
“Why don't you create your own jobs?”
None of us knew what he was talking about, and maybe he didn't either, because he paused and stared into space again. “Better yet ⦠why don't you create your own
town
?”
Still, we weren't getting it. “I'll get you started,” he said. “You can form a community. Each of you would have a different jobâwhatever you want to be. It won't be exactly the same as real life, but it might give you a taste of what you're looking for.”
I nodded more and more as he went on explaining his idea. I loved it! We could create our own town!
And so Kidsboro was born. We started off with five of us: Jill Segler would start the
Kidsboro Chronicle
, a weekly newspaper. Alice Funderburk chose to be the chief of police. She had no police to be chief
of
, but no one was about to argue with her. Nelson wanted to be a small-business owner, selling his inventions. Scott wanted to be a private detective, though I couldn't imagine what kinds of cases he would be called on to solve in a town of, presently, five. And none of us were criminals.