Hope you enjoyed Frank Einstein and the Antimatter Motor by Jon Scieszka. Keep reading for a sneak peek of the next book in the series Frank Einstein and the EvoBlaster Belt—available now!



An orange-and-black and white-spotted monarch butterfly (A) flaps its wings and . . .

. . . gets chomped in the jaws of a sticky-tongued green-and-black leopard frog (B) . . .

. . . that gets suddenly swallowed by a leaping largemouth bass (C) . . .

. . . that gets snagged by the sharp talons of a swooping red-tailed hawk (D) . . .

. . . that gets clawed by a jumping orange-and-white-striped house cat (E) . . .

. . . that gets chased through the woods by a barking hound dog (F) . . .

. . . that suddenly stops when it hears two humans yelling (G) . . .


“Head Butt!”

“Spin Kick!”

The hound dog stares at the two small humans battling each other in the meadow.

“Bear Hug!”

“Airplane Spin!”

The dog doesn’t smell any food. It wonders what the humans are fighting over.

“Butt Drop!”

“Leg Lock!”

A bigger human appears at the edge of the clearing.

“Frank! Watson!” calls Grampa Al. “How about a little help putting up the tents?”


“Awww,” says Frank Einstein.

“I totally had you pinned,” says his pal Watson.

Frank releases Watson from his headlock. Watson releases Frank from his leg lock.

“And let’s show some hustle!” calls Grampa Al. “Because Atomic Al wouldn’t want to have to take you down with his Nuclear Piledriver.” He bends forward, flexing his arms into a wrestling pose.

Watson looks at Frank in surprise. “Did he just say ‘Atomic Al’? Does that mean your Grampa Al used to wrestle?”

Frank brushes the dirt and grass off his pants. “I never asked. But I would not be surprised.”


The hound dog snorts and trots off into the woods.

The orange-and-white-striped house cat, sitting safely high in a maple tree, licks its right paw.

Frank gives Watson his hand and helps him up. Watson picks his flashy gold championship-wrestling belt off a nearby bush and flips it over one shoulder. “This championship match will be continued later,” says Watson.

Frank grabs the belt. “You were two seconds away from tapping out.” He raises the belt overhead. “Wooooooorld Chaaaaampion—FFFFFrrrrraaaaaank EINSTEIN!”

Watson karate chops Frank and takes back the belt. “No way! I had you right where I wanted you.”

The two guys laugh. They stop, stand in the middle of the meadow, and take in the sight of the sunlit clouds in a deep-blue sky overhead, the sound of a bee buzzing circles around the flowering clover, the smell of the pond behind them, and the trees all around them.

“How great is this?” says Watson. “Deep woods. Pure vacation. Nothing to do but goof around and relax.”

Frank looks at the bee, the flower, the hawk overhead, the cat perched up in the tree. He sees something different. “It’s relaxing for us. Because we are the top of the food chain. But look around, Watson. We forget that we are part of all this. Everything living is connected.

“And it’s kind of perfect this is Darwin State Park. Because it was scientist Charles Darwin who called life the Struggle for Existence. Every minute of every day—eat or be eaten.”

“OK, that’s depressing,” says Watson. “But at least we get a vacation from that sneaky T. Edison and his evil Mr. Chimp. And we get to go fishing.”

Frank whacks Watson’s championship belt. “Because we are kings of the food chain.”

“And it’s good to be the king.”

“And it’s good to relax for a change, and not have to fix emergencies . . .”

The guys walk through the meadow and hop the stream toward the tents.

A bang, splintering wood, a yell, a crash, the whoooop whoop whoop of a siren split the sunset calm of the woods.

“Spoke too soon,” says Frank.

He and Watson run for the tents.

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HUMANS. DEEP IN THE OLDEST JUNGLE. DENSE GREEN. BIRDCALLS echo. Wet earth smell. Mud squishes through toes. Air thick enough to taste. Following a skeleton hiker. That suddenly lights up a network of sparking nerves, feeding into a glowing brain. A clearing ahead. There—a dark figure, from the future, stands on a mound of sand, winds up, and fires a rock . . . fast, faster, fastest . . . dreams Janegoodall.


Candy. Sweet, sour, salty, bitter, hot, cold, glorious. Turbocharged candy. Pulsing, exploding super candy . . . dreams Watson.


The watery crash of ocean waves. Schools of . . . those fish . . . not really fish . . . what do you call those things? Bottlenose mammals leap out of the water in graceful arcs. The blue-green water covering Earth. The solar system of Mercury, Venus, Mars . . . and that next planet. Used to know them like my own name . . . dreams Grampa Al.


Purple storm clouds crashing over volcano lightning-bolt drumming heartbeat explosion. Grab that blue-white crackling electrical charge. Guide it into looping spiral. Multiply it through brain stem, to brain lobes in a beautiful, throbbing, golden network. Janegoodall cheers. Watson laughs. Grampa Al, but somehow ten-year-old Grampa Al, dances a funny little dance . . . dreams Frank Einstein.


01010111 01001000 01011001 00100000 01000011 01001000 01001001 01000011 01001011 01000101 01001110 00100000 01010111 01001000 01011001 00111111 . . . dreams Klink.







































THE HUMAN BODY IS AMAZING,” SAYS FRANK EINSTEIN, TO WATSON, in the visitors’ dugout of the Midville baseball diamond, watching Janegoodall on the pitcher’s mound.

Frank thumbs the joystick on the remote control for his mini FrankenDrone. The little quadcopter swoops into position above the mound and starts beaming pictures back to Frank’s display.

Janegoodall turns sideways to home plate.

“There is the whole system of bones making up the skeleton,” marvels Frank.

She folds her arms close to her chest, lifting her left leg in a windup.


“The whole muscular system moving the bones . . . ,” Frank continues.

Janegoodall strides forward.


“The digestive system producing energy for the muscles . . .”

She pushes off the mound with her right leg.


“The heart and blood circulatory system delivering that energy . . .”

Unfolding her arms, turning her body, extending and windmilling her right arm.


“And the nervous system controlling everything . . . Amazing.”

Releasing the baseball from her right hand.


“Mmm-hmm,” agrees Watson, thoughtfully sucking a sour lemon candy.

The ball flies from the tips of Janegoodall’s fingers and across the forty-six feet to home plate in just over half a second.

Klank swings his bat and misses.

Poom! The ball hits Klink’s catcher’s mitt.

“Strike one,” announces Klink. “Projectile speed, fifty-five miles per hour.”

Frank studies the drone pictures and the diagrams of the human body systems on his laptop display. “So all we have to do to help Janegoodall is come up with an invention to make the human body just a bit more amazing.”

Watson follows his sour lemon with a sweet cherry candy. “That’s all? Oh, simple! Just make the human body better than it already is . . . the day before tryouts! Are you crazy?”

“Of course not,” says Frank Einstein, bringing the FrankenDrone into the dugout for a perfect landing. “I have some ideas I’ve already been working on.”

Watson pops a hot-cinnamon ball into his mouth. “That’s like me saying I’m going to invent a candy that tastes more like candy than it already does.”

“Exactly,” says Frank.

Klink shoots the baseball back to Janegoodall with his mechanical arm. “Your projectile speed is not bad . . . for a human.”

Janegoodall catches the ball, ignores Klink’s wisecrack, and walks around the pitcher’s mound, giving herself a pep talk. “But I must be faster for the tryouts.”

“Put one over the plate,” beeps Klank at bat. “I almost had that one!”

Klink rolls his webcam eye. “You were not even close.”

Frank outlines his thoughts in his human-body lab notebook:

OBSERVATION: Pitching uses many systems of the human body.

Janegoodall winds up.

HYPOTHESIS: Improve even one system, improve pitching results.

Janegoodall throws.

Klank swings a mighty arc.


“Strike two. Fifty-six miles per hour,” says catcher Klink, tossing the ball back to the pitcher’s mound.

EXPERIMENT: Find way to improve skeleton, muscles, digestion, circulation . . . ?

Watson pops a sunflower seed into his mouth. “I should invent a candy that has all the tastes—sour, sweet, salty . . .”


Frank nudges the remote joystick to relaunch the FrankenDrone. “That might actually be a good idea, Watson.”

Janegoodall winds up and throws.

“Hmmm,” says Watson. “I could call my candy EveryTaste.”

Klank closes his eyes and swings so hard, he spins around like a giant top.


The baseball hits the bat and rockets off. It arches high, higher, up over the left-field wall . . .

Klank twirls. “I hit it! I hit it! I hit it!”

“Hardly possible,” calculates Klink. “But yes, you did, somehow, hit it.”

The ball disappears completely out of Midville Menlo Park.

“Wow,” says Frank.

Tsssssssh! There is a sound of breaking glass—from right where the ball disappeared.

“Uh-oh,” says Watson, jumping to his feet.


THE HUMAN BODY IS WEAK,” SAYS T. EDISON, TO MR. CHIMP, IN THE middle of his fancy new T. Edison Laboratories building on Menlo Street, connecting the final electrical power wire to the stem of an enormous glass brain.

Mr. Chimp looks up from his crossword puzzle and nods in agreement.

T. Edison connects the wire. “Human body parts wear out, fall apart, and die.”

Mr. Chimp taps his pencil.

“So you know what I am doing?” asks T. Edison.

Mr. Chimp taps his pencil again and pretends he is thinking. He rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and signs:


“Of course you have no idea. Because I am the genius inventor and I have all the ideas.”

T. Edison turns his invention a bit to set it firmly in its base. “I am making a brain that is faster, more powerful, and better than any human brain.”

T. Edison flips the power switch. The glass brain glows with lines and pulses of colored light.

“I am making a brain that will not weaken or fall apart. A brain that will allow me to control other brains . . .”

T. Edison spreads his arms out and yells in his squeaky voice. “I give you—the T. Edison SuperBrain!”