Roped into wacky attempts to break world records, imitate scenes from books, and other inspired ideas, Riley and Reed follow their fearless leader Henry into the wilderness, the bull-riding ring, a haunted house, cataclysmic collision with explosive life forms, and off the roof of a house on a bike. GARY PAULSEN is the distinguished author of many critically acclaimed books for young people. His most recent books are Flat Broke, Liar, Liar, Lawn Boy Returns, Woods Runner, Notes from the Dog, Mudshark, Lawn Boy, Molly McGinty Has a Really Good Day, The Time Hackers, and The Amazing Life of Birds (The Twenty Day Puberty Journal of Duane Homer Leech) . Visit him on the Web at GaryPaulsen.com.  “I’ve called you here today, men, because I have an important announcement. One that will change our lives.” Henry Mosley licked his finger and carefully flipped a page of densely scribbled notes on the yellow legal pad in front of him. He cleared his throat, looked up and made eye contact with his audience. Henry’s audience was small--just Reed Hamner and Riley Dolen, his best friends--and they were sitting at his kitchen table after school, but still, he knew that every good public speaker, not to mention every effective leader, understood the significance of Looking a Man in the Eye. Henry Mosley was twelve years old. He had recently watched a documentary about General Douglas MacArthur with his grandfather, an army veteran, during which he had been very impressed with Military Precision and Choosing Words Carefully, not to mention Examples of Bravery and Inventiveness. Earlier, at school, Henry had told Reed and Riley that he needed to speak with them regarding a Subject of the Utmost Importance and that they should meet at his house at precisely 1600 hours. Reed had been late, of course, because it took him a while to figure out what 1600 hours was, and he was always late because he got lost a lot, even though he only lived three streets over. Riley had not only been on time, but he had also brought granola bars and Ziploc bags of fresh vegetables and bottles of water for all three of them because he knew that meetings required snacks, and Riley was always prepared. Always. “I am proposing,” Henry continued, reading carefully from his notes, “that we Undertake and Implement a Series of Daring Experiences and Grand Adventures the likes of which the history of Western civilization has never seen, at least not from twelve-year-olds in suburban Cleveland.” Reed scratched his ear and looked confused. Reed frequently looked confused. Riley snapped a carrot stick in half and looked thoughtful--his usual expression. “Why?” Reed finally asked, a hint of panic in his voice. “Why are we underwhatsitting and implewhoositting?” “Henry’s got spring fever,” Riley explained, somewhat dismissively, Henry thought. “What I have in mind is so much bigger than that,” Henry said. “I’m working to create a series of tasks that will Prove Our Manhood and show us What We’re Made Of. And if we play our cards right, we just might Alter the Course of History a time or two. And, of course, Impress Girls and Get Them to Notice Us.” “What made you start thinking about things like experiences and adventures and bravery and what we’re made of?” Reed was chewing a fingernail and looking as if he had to go to the bathroom. Urgently. “English class.” “What happened during fifth period?” Riley asked. “And what got you talking so official-like and, I dunno, epic?” Henry had a way of always sounding like whatever he was currently reading or watching, and Riley racked his brains to remember whether their reading list lately had included any books about military history or Greek mythology. “Remember how we read Huckleberry Finn and Treasure Island and the book about how the kids tried to save their father from the space-time continuum thingie and that other book about the boy who got stuck in the woods after a plane crash? I got to thinking--what would our stories be like? What would an author write about us? Let’s face facts: We may be the most boring twelve-year olds on the planet.” “We’re not boring, Henry,” Reed said in a small voice. “Really? Because I’ve been thinking about our lives lately and perfect attendance does not count as exciting.” “Well, we don’t just go to school, we also, um, we, ah, well, there’s . . . and then, of course, er . . .” Reed looked to Riley for help, but Riley just shrugged. “Exactly,” Henry said. “Nothing interesting ever happens. Luckily, I have plenty of ideas.” “What kind of ideas?” “You leave the details to me.” Henry patted his legal pad confidently. “Does that mean you’re in charge? Like the boss or something?” Reed always cared about who was in charge. He was the only boy in his family--he had three older sisters and three younger sisters--and he never got his way at home. Never. Not ever. “Of course not. This is a democracy; we vote on everything.” “Then I vote no. I