Mabel Opal Pear and the Rules for Spying

by Amanda Hosch

  “Mabel, this is a complicated situation.”

  “Speak slowly, and maybe my little brain can understand if you use small words.”

  Aunt Gertie shot me the don’t-be-rude glare. “Prue left the door unlocked so that I can use the restroom whenever I need to. I gave her my word that I would be here until this situation is resolved and I’m no longer under suspicion.”

  “Did you make a pinkie promise with the sheriff too?”

  “I won’t betray her trust.”

  “Who cares about Sheriff Baker? I need you.”

  “And I am right here.”

  “How am I going to get rid of Frankenstella without your help?”

  “Calm down and think about this for a minute, Mabel. If I leave this jail cell, where is the first place Sheriff Baker would search for me?”

  My best-laid plans crumbled like a sand castle at high tide. Obviously the sheriff would search my house, the Star’s Tale, and the Spoon for my aunt. “What am I gonna do?” I sounded just like Victoria whining to her mother.

  “Well, if you can’t call Ms. Bow Tie, you should call your special person and ask for assistance.”

  “He hung up on me. My parents are missing and no one cares.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “It must have been a glitch. Your parents are too valuable to the Agency.” Aunt Gertie reached through the bars to pat my shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, this is not the first time they’ve gone off the radar.”

  I could feel the heat from the red splotches as they grew on my cheeks and neck. “Why would I feel better knowing my parents have been lost before?”

  “Not lost, exactly. It’s just that some missions are so secret, the Agency doesn’t share the information even internally.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” I crossed my arms in frustration. “They aren’t doing a thing about it.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Mabel. I’ve no doubt they are working double time to make sure your parents are safe.” Aunt Gertie paced about in her cell for a few minutes, a sign she was thinking hard. She opened her cell door.

  I leaped into her arms. “Thank you for escaping from jail for me.”

  “Mabel, don’t be so dramatic. I’m just getting paper and a pencil.” Aunt Gertie walked over to the sheriff’s desk, grabbed a notebook and pencil, and jotted down a series of numbers. “Memorize this.” She handed the slip of paper to me and returned to her cell. “Then destroy it.”

  I repeated the phone number to myself until I felt sure I had it. I tore the paper into tiny shreds, dropping half into the garbage can and half into the recycling bin, as per the emergency disposal protocol. “Key, please.”

  Aunt Gertie patted her pockets but came up empty. She shook her head in annoyance. “I must have left them in the Star when Montgomery insisted that I go with him,” she said. “Use the spare key under the back doormat.”

  “Where’s your phone hidden?”

  “It’s in the spine of Breads of Europe by Anne Eleanor Johnson, on my bedroom bookshelf. Let it ring twice. Hang up. Call again. When Ms. Bow Tie answers, the password is ‘meatballs.’”

  “Victoria believes her parents are behind this.” I motioned to the jail cell. “I think she’s right. And…” I paused for dramatic effect. “I bet Montgomery is in cahoots with Frankenstella.”

  “Cahoots? You’ve been reading too many old-fashioned spy novels.” Aunt Gertie pulled her long gray hair into a ponytail.

  “But Montgomery said —”

  “Mabel.” Aunt Gertie lifted her hand to cut me off. “No more silly spy stuff. But whatever you do, don’t let my rat fink brother into the museum. Ever.”

  “Are you really afraid he’s going to sell all the silver spoons?”

  “I know your mother has let you play spy around the house writing those silly rules,” Aunt Gertie said, ignoring my question. “I don’t mean to be harsh, child, but this situation isn’t make-believe.” The squeaking of the front door stopped her from saying anything else. Footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. “Promise me you’ll just go to school and stay out of trouble.”

  “Dinnertime for Silverton’s favorite inmate!” The mouth-watering smell nearly knocked me off my feet. Sheriff Baker walked in and handed the food container to my aunt. “Mabel, I’m driving Stanley home. Can I give you a lift?”

  “I’ll walk,” I said. Her message was clear: visiting time was over.

  14

  Any operation can be terminated at any point. If something feels wrong, stop. Remove yourself from the situation.

  — Rule Number 9 from Rules for a Successful Life as an Undercover Secret Agent

  Built like the old Mount Rainier cabins of logs and stone, Gertie’s house looked like it had always been there. But while my house and the museum were both built in the 1890s, my aunt had designed and constructed her house just five years ago. Before that, she’d lived with us. The Star’s Tale took up the entire bottom floor, and Gertie lived upstairs.

  I tried both the front and back doors of the Star’s Tale, but the knobs wouldn’t turn. I looked under the back doormat — no key.

  As I was putting the mat back in place, a squish sounded nearby. It was like a footstep on wet leaves, and I panicked, darting around to the side of the house. I knew it could have been a coyote, raccoon, or even a deer this time of year, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I paused, pressing my back against the side of the building. Then came another squish. I walked up two steps of the outside staircase, then hesitated, listening for any sound louder than the beating of my heart. Ten seconds passed. Hearing nothing, I tiptoed to the top stair.

  Squish, squish. Now it was clear: someone — or something — was walking right below me, loud and careless. I hoped it was a black bear, hunting for one last snack before hibernation.

  I stood very still on the little landing outside Gertie’s door and attempted to shrink into the shadows. I tried the door — locked. My panicked breathing left fog on the glass pane.

  Down below, around the corner of the house, someone shook the shop’s front doorknob with enough force to rattle its glass panes. “Do you think she knows anything?” Frank’s gruff voice gave him away.

  “Not sure.” Stella’s voice had lost its edge. “Sometimes I think she’s cleverer than she looks, but then she goes and does something stupid.”

  Were they talking about me? I willed Frankenstella to not look up.

  “The Baies women — rocket scientists, all of them.” Frank guffawed as he walked around the outside of the café.

  “Because the Baies men are so brilliant?” Stella snorted. “All your schemes combined have gotten us nothing. The Baies women may not be geniuses, but they own this museum, the silver, and the map. You have nothing.”

  The map? I thought. What map?

  “Hush up, Stella.” Frank’s voice grew fainter. “Go see if any of the windows are unlocked on the other side.”

  As soon as the sound of squishing wet leaves grew softer, I tried jiggling the door handle again. Nope. I stared at the dark windows. I knew I had to get that cell phone, by any means necessary. I was sure Gertie wouldn’t call Sheriff Baker on me for breaking and entering, so I slipped my arm into my hoodie sleeve, bunching up the cloth around my fist. With as much strength as I could muster, I punched the glass pane in the front door. Nothing happened.

  Come on Sunflower, you can do this.

  I stepped sideways, twisted my torso, pulled my elbow back, and swung. Crack. The glass splintered. I stopped, waiting to see if Frankenstella would come rushing toward the noise.

  When they didn’t, I pushed against the growing lines until the glass fell inside. I carefully snaked my arm through the window, unlatched the door, and then opened it, stepping over the shards of glass. I snagged a banana from the fruit bowl sitting on the kitchen counter and gobbled it as I inche
d my way down the hall and into Gertie’s bedroom.

  I peered through a crack in the curtains, and seeing nothing suspicious in our joint backyards, parted the curtains to let in the moonlight. Stella cackled, but it sounded far away. I skimmed the bookshelf until I found Breads of Europe and pulled the phone out of its spine. The phone was just like mine with no screen.

  I dialed the number, and as soon as it rang twice, I hung up, then redialed. After ten or so rings, I tried again, sure that I had the right number, but no one answered. Did Ms. Bow Tie somehow know that whoever was calling wasn’t Aunt Gertie?

  Frank’s gruff voice was too low to make out his words. I went to stand by the window to eavesdrop.

  “If we want to get in, we’ll need Mabel Opal’s help.” Stella sounded as if she was right below the bedroom window.

  I shoved the cell phone into my jeans pocket.

  “You mean Moppet?” Frank asked.

  Stella chuckled. “What a terrible thing to call a child.”

  “I don’t care what she’s called,” he said, “as long as she opens the museum for us.”

  Uh oh! Time to go, Sunflower! I dashed down the dark hallway and out the front door, only slowing down to close it. Then I rushed down the staircase. After checking to make sure that Frankenstella were not nearby, I raced in front of the Star and the Spoon. My lungs were on fire as I ran up the front steps of my house. Sixty-eight seconds in total, beating my old record of seventy seconds flat from Aunt Gertie’s to my house.

  Praying that no one had locked the door, I took a deep breath and tried the handle. Success. I darted into the front hall, my breath coming quick and shallow. The entire house was dark. Frankenstella were chattering as they approached the back door. I had to make it up the stairs, then I’d be home free.

  I sprinted across the floor toward the staircase, but just ten feet from the first step, my foot hit something and I wobbled. The something moved, sweeping my leg out from under me. Splat — down on my face I fell.

  Doors flung open, lights switched on, and suddenly I knew what that something was that I had tripped on. Victoria was lying on the floor, inches from where I’d landed.

  “What are you doing downstairs, Mabel?” Stella shrieked.

  “I — I — I…” I couldn’t think of a plausible lie.

  “Relax, Mom.” Victoria rolled over to face her parents. “She’s helping me with my homework.”

  “On the floor?” Frank asked, disbelief written all over his pudgy face. “In the dark?”

  “I told you guys at dinner.” Victoria went straight to whine mode. “The science teacher wanted us to try to use our senses feeling around in a dark room. Remember?”

  “Yes. Yes, I remember. Of course.” Frank shot a glance at his wife. “I didn’t think you were doing that tonight.”

  “You guys never listen to me.” Victoria’s pout could’ve been adorable — on a three-year-old. She stood up and crossed her arms. “It’s my first day at a new school, and I want to get everything right. To make you proud.”

  “Well, of course we’re proud of you.” Stella patted Victoria’s head like a puppy. “Did you get everything finished?”

  “Nooooo.” Victoria grabbed my arm and pulled me up, rougher than necessary. “Mabel and I have to quiz each other on vocabulary words now.” She started climbing the stairs. I followed, since I was mightily attached to my arm.

  “I want to talk to Mabel first,” Stella said.

  “Da-a-ad.” Victoria let loose. “I have homework and Mabel has to show me how the teacher likes it.”

  Frank put his hand on Stella’s shoulder and gave her the briefest shake of the head. “It can wait until tomorrow morning. Good night, girls.”

  15

  Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Invite your archenemies over for tea and cookies. It will confuse them.

  — Rule Number 27 from Rules for a Successful Life as an Undercover Secret Agent

  Once inside my room, I did a quick visual check — sunflower cipher, Rules, world map, Abridged History textbook — all in their proper places. Rubbing my arm, I thought about Rule Number 11 for the second time today: Watch carefully for anyone who does special, unasked favors. Try to figure out what they might want from you. “Thanks for covering for me,” I said. “What were you doing on the floor in the dark?”

  “You owe me,” Victoria said, not answering my question. “Where were you?”

  Deny. Deny. Deny. “I needed some air. I’ve been locked up in the house all day.”

  “You don’t fool me, Cousin Mabel.”

  “I don’t?” I placed my hand over my jeans pocket to hide the bump of Aunt Gertie’s cell phone.

  Victoria smirked. “I know what you were doing.”

  Did Victoria follow me? I wondered. Could she have overheard me talking to Aunt Gertie?

  “The mud on the cuffs of your jeans says it all.”

  I followed her glance down to my ankles and asked, “My pants can talk?”

  Victoria rolled her eyes.

  “It’s damp outside,” I said. Hunger was definitely messing with my ability to come up with snappy replies.

  Victoria smirked. “You were looking at the spoon museum, weren’t you?”

  “I walked past it.”

  “I knew it! You were there to see if we could break in, like I asked you to.”

  “You’re right.” Relief flooded me. Victoria didn’t know I had broken into Aunt Gertie’s home or visited her in jail. “I guess I shouldn’t try to hide anything from you, Victoria.”

  “You really are a terrible liar.” She plopped down on my bed.

  “Please get off my bed. The air mattress is yours.”

  She rolled her eyes again. “Do you have the key to the museum?”

  Oh no. I’d forgotten to find and hide the spare key. I felt comforted knowing that since Frankenstella were checking for unlatched windows, they surely didn’t have it. “Nope.” I knew I had to get that spare key first thing tomorrow. I also had to hide the New Orleans Silver Spoon Historical Collection so that Frank didn’t sell it off.

  “We should go back,” Victoria said. “Now. Let’s do it.”

  I rummaged through the top dresser drawer, pulling out a fresh pair of pajamas. “Your parents would catch us tonight.”

  “Are you afraid of getting caught?”

  Yes. Yes, I was. But not by Frankenstella. The angry Agency women had sounded terrifying on the phone. I didn’t want to have to explain why I had gone against the strict orders I’d been given. I wasn’t going to share my reasoning with Victoria, so I simply said, “Don’t you need flashlights and stuff for lighting to record?”

  “Yeah. Good point, Moppet.” Victoria looked at my baby pumpkin and then chuckled to herself.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Just thinking about something the HEGs said today at lunch.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re a ghoul.”

  My blood froze in my veins. “A what?” I managed to croak.

  “You were born on October thirty-first.” Victoria waved her fingers in the air. “Halloween. Ghost. Ghoul. Get it?”

  “Yeah.” I exhaled. Ghoul was also a spy term for an agent who dealt with undercover names, obituaries, and cemeteries. Not a pleasant job.

  “So are you going to have a party?”

  “Probably not,” I said.

  “Gosh, Moppet. You act like a birthday party would be torture. What is with you?” Victoria frowned at me. “Why does everyone call you Moppet, anyway?” she asked.

  “Mop was my nickname when I was four years old.” I twirled a curl around my finger. “Mabel Opal Pear. M-O-P. Mop became Moppet. Get it?”

  “Mabel’s a weird name, no offense.”

  “It’s our granny’s name. And her granny’
s name.” We have lots of silver jewelry with the name Mabel engraved on it. How many family pieces have Victoria engraved on them? None.

  “Why did your parents name you after a musical instrument?”

  My head ached from fatigue. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oboe’s your middle name.” Victoria started making bellowing sounds.

  “O-P-A-L. My birthstone.” My dad says that I’m just like an opal, milky white on the surface with flashes of green, but hidden inside are fiery reds waiting to explode like molten lava. I’m still not sure if that’s a compliment or if he’s trying to be funny.

  I could see Victoria thinking of insults concerning my last name. Instead of waiting for the next put-down, I went on the attack. “Now do you have anything clever to say about Pear?”

  “You don’t have to be so mean.” Victoria huffed, as if I’d hurt her feelings. “I was just trying to get to know you better.” She sniffled.

  I suppressed a groan. I really wanted to call Aunt Gertie’s handler again so that someone in the Agency would do something, not ignore me like Roy and the angry woman. There was no way I could call in front of Victoria, so I said, “I’m getting ready for bed.”

  “Good thinking, Moppet.”

  I walked down the hallway to the bathroom. Once inside, I dialed Ms. Bow Tie’s number, going through the standard ritual of calling, letting it ring, and hanging up. I was waiting for Ms. Bow Tie to pick up when I realized that the light from the hallway that was shining under the door was being blocked by two feet.

  I pushed the cell phone deep into my pocket. Quietly, I walked to the door and flung it open.

  Victoria was unfazed. “You forgot these,” she said, handing me my black-and-red Hello Kitty pajamas. “What are you doing in there?”

  “Using the bathroom.” I wanted to slam the door in her smirking face, but I knew all it would take was one wail for Stella to come to her defense.

  “Typically one uses water in the bathroom,” Victoria said as she leaned against the doorjamb.

  Ms. Bow Tie would have to wait another day.