Mabel Opal Pear and the Rules for Spying

by Amanda Hosch

  “Hello,” I whispered, since that seemed to be the right way to talk on a spy phone. “Can you hear me?”

  I heard breathing.

  “Do you know who I am?” I asked.

  I thought I heard an “mmmm.”

  I couldn’t start talking about the Agency because I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that this was a secure line, so I just asked, “Can you help me?”

  No reply. Then the sound of breathing dropped off. I had been disconnected.

  I dialed several more times, but it just rang and rang and rang.

  What kind of Agency couldn’t answer their phones? No wonder they’d lost my parents.

  21

  Always have a Plan B. And a Plan C. A Plan D would be good too.

  — Rule Number 16 from Rules for a Successful Life as an Undercover Secret Agent

  What was the point of having these cell phones if no one from the Agency answered them? I imagined Roy, Angry Woman, Ms. Bow Tie, and Unknown Breathing Person sitting around an office table at the Agency, staring at the ringing phones, saying, “I got the last emergency. Your turn,” while eating take-out Chinese food.

  After I put both phones in my pocket, I moved the laundry into the dryer. Looking through some of the other boxes, I couldn’t figure out a use for our inflatable Rudolph or life jackets. Then I went back to the original Valentine’s box and picked up the key — smaller than a normal door key — and slipped it into my sock. After hiding a bottle of water and a food packet behind the washer, I put the rest away just as I’d found it. I returned to the kitchen, which was cleaner than it had been since Sunday.

  There was still no sign of Frankenstella. I hadn’t yet had a chance to examine the new alarm system on Le Petit Musée of Antique Silver Spoons, and this seemed as good an opportunity as any.

  As I opened the back door, I heard an angry male voice.

  I popped my head out. The man, facing away from me, stood on the museum’s back porch next door — Inspector Montgomery. He was supposed to be on his way to Yakima with Aunt Gertie.

  He said, “The roadblock is holding.”

  I leaned against the back door, holding my breath.

  “Look harder. PNW Security has to exist somewhere.” Montgomery said each word very carefully, just like my teacher did when she was about to hold the whole class in from recess for misbehaving. “It’s either our shell, one of our competitors’, or theirs.”

  Shell? As in a fake company?

  “No sign of the red case yet, Jackson,” Montgomery said.

  Wrong, I thought. But I wasn’t going to point that out to the inspector.

  Montgomery’s footsteps reverberated on the back porch. “Not a lot of crime here. Town’s pretty much the same as it was thirty years ago. The sheriff is a rule follower, but she’s not stupid.” Montgomery kept talking as he walked closer to the Star’s Tale and out of my hearing range.

  I wanted to sneak after Montgomery, but the familiar whine of my mom’s car meant that Frankenstella had returned. I grabbed the broom and pretended I was still sweeping the kitchen floor. The car doors slammed, and a moment later Frankenstella thudded into the house.

  “Remember anything yet?” Stella asked, barreling into the kitchen.

  “No, ma’am.” I stood straight and didn’t fidget. “My mother never told me the alarm code.”

  Stella eyed my legs, and asked, “How did you get so filthy?”

  I looked down at my pink sweatpants, now brown and grubby. “I was doing laundry.” To cut off further questioning, I returned to the basement and waited until the dryer buzzed.

  As I was making my way into the kitchen with the clothes basket, Stella pursed her lips. “Take a shower before dinner.”

  “And hurry up,” Frank snapped as he dumped deli food onto serving plates.

  “Five minutes,” Stella added.

  Is five minutes the only time interval the woman knows?

  The aroma of rotisserie chicken caused my stomach to growl as I stomped out of the room and leapt up the stairs.

  Oh, joy. When I turned the corner at the top of the staircase, I could see that Victoria was already reclining on my bed. Her air mattress lay on the other side of the room. She had my glittery pumpkin next to her on my bedspread. I quickly looked around my room. The invisible Rules, the world map, the origami solar system, the fourteen plastic sunflowers — everything was in its proper place, except for the pumpkin. I picked it up and returned it to its rightful place on my dresser, next to the sunflowers.

  “Ready yet?” Victoria was furiously typing away on a tiny laptop.

  “No.” Was everyone in the Frankenstella family impatient all the time? “I have to shower first.”

  “Obviously.” She cast a disdainful glance in my direction. “Why won’t my web page load?”

  “The mountain,” I said.

  “What does that chunk of rock have to do with the Internet?”

  I skipped the lecture that Mount Rainier was actually considered one of the world’s most dangerous volcanoes, and at more than fourteen thousand feet high, it was way bigger than a chunk. “Some days it casts a weather shadow, and the Internet can’t get through,” I told her. A half-accurate answer, but I had five minutes to shower and I wasn’t going to waste any more of it. Besides, what would I say? In reality, my parents had high-tech shielding around the house that allowed cell phones to work, but screened all Internet traffic through a super-secret encoded transmission thingy. I obviously couldn’t tell Victoria that.

  “I need to show you what we’re going to do.” Victoria tried a different web address.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The audition for the show. All the rules are on their site.” She tried reloading the page, but nothing happened. “Silverton sucks.”

  “Four minutes.” Stella’s voice bellowed up from the first floor. She could count backward, I’ll give her that.

  “Later.” I grabbed some warm clothes from the laundry basket and ran into the bathroom.

  22

  Just be around a lot. The enemy will get so used to seeing you, they’ll no longer notice you.

  — Rule Number 2 from Rules for a Successful Life as an Undercover Secret Agent

  The dinner table conversation reminded me of dialogue from a bad sitcom. Frankenstella asked “Vicky-girl” about her day. She chatted cheerfully about all the supernice girls in class. I refrained from talking since I was busy stuffing my mouth. I never thought cold roasted chicken, congealing mashed potatoes, and soggy mixed veggies could taste so good.

  Just as I was wondering why I had been allowed to eat at the table like a regular person, the doorbell rang. Stella’s smile looked practiced as she said, “Vicky-girl, why don’t you see who’s visiting us at dinnertime?”

  Victoria exchanged a glance with her father that I could not decipher. He motioned with his hand for her to hurry up and answer the door.

  I kept shoveling chicken into my mouth, focusing on eating as much as possible while I was allowed a spot at the table. A memory struck me and I was ashamed. A few days ago, I got annoyed by Aunt Gertie’s homemade cinnamon buns. What I wouldn’t give to have her free and here with me now.

  When Victoria returned from the front door with a too-bright smile on her face, she was accompanied by Principal Baker.

  “Mr. Baker, what a pleasant surprise,” Stella’s voice was smooth and warm, yet her words rushed together. “We weren’t expecting company.” She grabbed a plate and silverware, which were sitting on the kitchen counter next to the Safeway deli containers. “We have more than enough to go around. Please join us.”

  Was this the same Stella Baies who had kicked the principal out of the house yesterday, slamming the door in his face?

  I stopped eating, thought about pointing out her inconsistencies, thought again about how that w
ould not work out well for me, and resumed eating.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner.” Principal Baker blushed beet red. “I just wanted to check on Mabel’s leg.”

  Oh, stupid me. I forgot my cover story. Get a hold of yourself, Sunflower. “It’s fine.”

  Frank stopped eating. “What happened to Mabel’s leg?”

  “She hurt it during the fire drill,” Victoria said. “She must have tripped over her own short legs trying to get away.”

  “During PE, actually.” I glared at my cousin.

  “You’re healthy now.” Stella sipped from her diet cola.

  “Must have just been a strained muscle,” I said. “The ice pack worked wonders.”

  “You seem awfully concerned about her.” Frank frowned at Principal Baker. “I don’t remember my elementary school principal ever making house calls. Much less two of them in as many days.”

  “That would have been Mrs. Klebba, if I remember correctly.” Principal Baker stared right back at my uncle. “You probably spent enough time in her office that she didn’t need to.” After a beat, he turned his gaze to me. “Mabel, everything else OK?”

  “She’s upset about Gertrude’s arrest,” Stella answered before I could say anything. “I know I was being too softhearted, letting her stay home yesterday. I hope that wasn’t a problem for you.”

  Let me stay home. Ha! I didn’t know who was a better liar — Frank, Stella, or Victoria. But everyone was staring at me, so I meekly nodded.

  Principal Baker left soon after, since it was obvious I wasn’t going to say anything incriminating. Stella whisked my plate of food away as soon as he was out the door. No cold, factory-made apple pie with non-dairy whipped topping for me. Frankenstella sent Victoria and me to my room. I wondered what “Vicky-girl” had done to provoke her parents, but I had the feeling she wouldn’t share even if I asked.

  “Family fun time is over,” Victoria said, plopping onto my bed and opening her laptop. “At least Principal Baker’s visit scored us an almost complete meal.”

  “How did they know he was coming?” I asked.

  “My parents hear things. Sometimes they even listen. Sometimes.” Victoria clicked the back button on the Internet browser until she found a cached website. “Read this.”

  Two guys in their mid-twenties were in what looked like a cave. They had headlamps strapped to their foreheads and were standing in front of a yellow and black no trespassing sign with their thumbs up and stupid grins plastered on their grimy faces.

  The website, exploringlockedplaces.com, said, “We don’t recommend going where you don’t belong, especially if you’re under eighteen. However, if you do find yourself on the wrong side of a locked door, record your adventure, send it to us, and we might just make you famous. If you dare!”

  “That’s breaking and entering,” I said. “They’re encouraging kids to break the law. For entertainment. And the worst part is that the kids are supplying the evidence to be used against them.”

  “A kid might get community service,” Victoria said. “No big deal.”

  “The punishment doesn’t matter. It’s still illegal.”

  Victoria tapped her purple phone. “How illegal?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Illegal means it’s against the law. That pretty much sums it up.”

  A self-satisfied grin, so much like her mother’s, spread across Victoria’s face. “Like pulling a fire alarm and stealing something from the principal’s office? That type of illegal?” She waved her phone, keeping it far from my grasp.

  I’d have to find a way to erase yet another video from that evil device. I knew when I was beat. Or I at least knew to follow Rule Number 27: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Invite your archenemies over for tea and cookies. It will confuse them.

  Victoria and I may not be baking buddies, but I could at least go to her tea party. “What do you want from me?” I asked.

  “It’s three days till the thirty-first.”

  “I’m well aware of the countdown to Halloween.”

  “That’s the deadline to submit my adventure.” Victoria tapped her wrist with its nonexistent watch. “Since I’m obviously going to have to download and edit the video at school, far away from Mount Rainier’s shadow, we’ll need a few days to make sure we’ve got it right.”

  I twirled a curl behind my left ear. “What do I have to do?” I tried to keep my voice light and friendly, but my spy sense — and my common sense — were practically yelling at me to stop and think. I was going to ignore them again.

  “We break in,” Victoria said. “You film me the entire time so I get the credit and you don’t have to show your scaredy-cat face.”

  Small favor, but I’d take it. “And how will this convince your parents to move out of town?”

  “Once Exploring Locked Places chooses my video, I’ll be famous.”

  I still thought she had a better chance of being struck by lightning while Hula-Hooping at a Seahawks’ game, but I kept that to myself.

  “And then we’re off to Los Angeles,” Victoria said, pointing to California on the world map.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Plus, it will really tick off my parents if I get into the museum before they do.” Victoria’s eyes shone with excitement. “They will go ballistic.”

  They weren’t the only ones. I was pretty sure that angry woman from the Agency would have more than a few choice words for me.

  “And we — you and me, Cousin Mabel — will be the ones who outsmarted them.” Victoria kneeled on the floor and gathered her long red hair into a ponytail, just like Aunt Gertie often did. “It will be so much fun. Think of their reactions.”

  I shivered. I didn’t have to imagine — I knew. So much yelling. “What if we get caught?”

  “You and your boyfriend didn’t get caught today.”

  “Stanley is not my boyfriend.”

  “Whatever.” Victoria smirked. “What do you think will happen if I tell my parents that it was you and your boy, who is not a friend, who set off the fire alarm today and stole papers from the principal’s office?”

  The blood drained from my head. I didn’t care about myself, but Stanley shouldn’t have to pay for my choices. His mother, who was really strict, would not laugh it off as an adventure. Just for starters, he’d lose his camera and not be allowed to go on hikes for months. Plus, if Frankenstella knew about the papers, I wouldn’t be safe. “That’s blackmail.”

  “I like to think of it as persuasion,” Victoria said. She pointed to the website on the computer and then back to the purple menace. “This time I uploaded the video to my cloud account, so erasing it from my phone won’t help you.”

  “Why can’t you get famous in a normal way, like taking some singing or acting lessons and then going on YouTube?”

  “Look, I don’t care why you were in the principal’s office.” Victoria sighed dramatically as she plucked an invisible piece of lint from her jeans. “Or what you stole. But I think other people, like Principal Baker and my parents, might feel differently.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  Victoria took a flashlight out of her backpack. “You are so lucky, Mabel, and you don’t even see it.”

  My parents were missing. My aunt was in jail. I had broken the law — maybe twice. “You must have a different definition for luck in Alaska.”

  “Oh, come on. You are lucky. Every one of those girls at school asked me why you didn’t want to be friends with them anymore. They wondered what they had done to you. They’re worried about you. Don’t you like them?”

  “Of course I like them.”

  “They’re practically begging you to hang out with them, go to sleepovers, have fun together,” Victoria said, her finger waving in my face. “And you won’t. You act like it’s a terrible thing that they want
to celebrate your birthday.”

  She was right, but not for the reason she or the HEGs thought. The problem was that I couldn’t share my troubles. I couldn’t sleep over at their houses because I couldn’t risk having them come to mine when my parents might have to leave at a moment’s notice. Still, I hadn’t handled myself well with them at all. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. Flimsy, I know, but deny, deny, deny was the closest rule I could think of.

  “Whatever. It’s your stupid life,” Victoria said. “Are you in or not?”

  Rule Number 19 stated: If you’re working with a co-agent, never look for him/her. Never acknowledge the other agent unless it is appropriate to do so. When leaving an operation, never look back. I had to protect Stanley. But doing so would violate direct orders from the angry Agency woman. There was another reason for going into the Spoon, though. I needed to hide the New Orleans Silver Spoon Historical Collection from Frankenstella.

  If my parents found out I’d entered the principal’s office to retrieve sensitive documents, they would be… well, I wasn’t exactly sure how they’d feel. Maybe they’d be proud of me for figuring out Gertie’s clue and for liberating the map. Or perhaps they’d be furious with me for breaking the law. Either way, I knew they’d listen to my reasons. Stanley’s mom would not listen to him, and it wasn’t like he could give her a good reason why he pulled the fire alarm anyway. She’d be angry, and he would take his punishment, but that wasn’t fair.

  “Videotaping my adventure will be so much fun,” Victoria continued. “And so easy.” She got up, walked across the room, and shut the lights off. Then she clicked on the flashlight and waved it around the room. “Even a small town girl like you can do it.”

  My stomach dropped as I noticed purple dots glowing on the floor.

  “What are those?” Victoria asked.

  Think, Sunflower. “Chemicals from a science project,” I lied.

  Victoria continued waving the black light flashlight around. If that ultraviolet beam hit my Sunflower watercolor, the Rules for a Successful Life as an Undercover Secret Agent would be exposed. “This is boring,” she said. “I’m going to show my parents some videos.”