“Giraffes don’t live in the rain forest,” she told her. “Or in trees.”
“You’re my producer, not a zookeeper,” Buffy barked.
“Why didn’t you just get animals from the zoo?” Nipper asked.
“Nobody uses real animals on Broadway anymore,” she answered. “They can’t learn their lines, and they’re no good at standing still when an enormous wind machine starts blowing.
“Except for the Great Flingo,” Buffy added. “He’s a monkey, and a true professional.”
Samantha and Nipper looked at each other, alarmed.
“A monkey?” Nipper asked. “There was a monkey in the RAIN! In Seattle!”
“Sure, whatever,” said Buffy. “There’s always rain in Seattle. But Nate helped me find this monkey for my show. The monkey’s not much of a singer. He just screams ‘breep’ all the time. I have no idea what that’s about. But he sure can dance and use a Hula-Hoop. And he does tricks with throwing stars and a ninja sword.”
“Oh…my…gosh!” Samantha gasped, and looked at Nipper. “What else do you know about that monkey?”
“Well, he was in some kind of trouble with the law,” Buffy explained. “He was supposed to go to jail in France, but the U.S. doesn’t extradite animals to other countries.”
“The beast has to do sixty-two thousand hours of community service,” Nathaniel added. “The police agreed that being in a musical is an equal punishment.”
They reached the elevators.
“Wait, Buffy,” Samantha pleaded. “Where did Nathaniel find that monkey? How did he bring it here? Didn’t you hear that I helped capture a bunch of ninjas at the art museum in Volunteer Park and—”
“Oh, there you go again,” Buffy interrupted. “Rattling on about things you like to do in boring Seattle. Nate!”
Nathaniel walked over to them quickly. He pushed Samantha and Nipper away from the main elevator and tapped the freight elevator call button several times.
“But, Sis.” Nipper raised a hand and waved to get her attention as the doors creaked open. “We traveled to France and Egypt and—”
“Not remotely interested,” Buffy said.
Nathaniel shoved them both into the freight elevator and stepped inside.
The doors closed, leaving Buffy on the other side.
Samantha woke early in the morning to the smell of bananas and coconut. It was a pleasant, fruity smell. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Then she looked around the room and saw bales of pink hay, a sack of candy corn, and a pair of rainbow saddles.
“Ridiculous,” said Samantha as she shook her head. She didn’t have time to spare on her sister’s mythological-livestock problems, though. She got out of bed and woke her brother, and they left the stables.
She and Nipper headed to the dining room, where Nathaniel had prepared a thick, creamy breakfast. He served it in big bowls with rubber handles. Samantha suspected they were the type of bowl used for feeding horses…or unicorns.
“I don’t want to eat a giant slimy brain!” Nipper shouted.
“It’s fruit pudding, boy,” said Nathaniel, looking irritated.
Samantha was starving—and in a hurry to explore Central Park before Buffy found them and they’d have to hear more about her big Broadway show. She ate quickly, and so did Nipper.
“Yum,” said Nipper, scraping the bottom of the bowl with his spoon. “That tasted better than it looked.”
“If you be a-complimentin’ me, you’re welcome,” said Nathaniel.
After breakfast, they headed back down to the stables so Samantha could grab her purse. She checked to make sure her notes—and the purple sunglasses—were inside. Then she and Nipper rode the freight elevator down to the street and crossed into Central Park.
After only four minutes, it began.
“Are you sure you know what we’re looking for?” Nipper asked. “When do I get to go see Yankee Stadium? Maybe you shouldn’t have left the umbrella at home. Do you think you fixed it enough with the tape? Maybe we should have brought Dennis. When do we go see the Yankees?”
Samantha groaned. She’d thought she had at least ten minutes before her brother would get impatient.
He wore a New York Yankees T-shirt and a cap with the team’s emblem. A Babe Ruth bobblehead stuck out of his back pocket. It was a miracle that he was willing to accompany her to Cleopatra’s Needle at all.
“Just keep walking,” she said. “We’re looking for a little plaza near the back of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. We’re more than halfway there.”
She took out a page and unfolded it.
“I printed this out from Dad’s computer before we left,” she said, and handed it to Nipper.
It was an aerial photograph of the east side of the park. A cluster of shapes combined to form a rectangular building that hugged the street. To the west of the building sat patches of trees, open green spaces, and something that looked like a red octagon with a pole in the center.
“We’re headed here,” she said, pointing to the page.
He nodded. She took the paper from him, folded it up, and returned it to her pocket. They walked on. A pair of early-morning joggers passed them. Samantha and Nipper were getting close now. Excited, Samantha started to walk a little faster. She and Nipper dodged a woman pushing a baby carriage, walking three dogs, sipping coffee, and talking on a phone. They went through a brick-lined tunnel and reached a flight of wide stone steps. A monument rose high into the sky.
“Cleopatra’s Needle,” she sighed.
As they climbed the steps, Samantha squinted at the stone obelisk. Perched on a huge granite block, it towered over an octagonal red brick terrace. A black metal railing, about three feet high, surrounded the terrace. Closer in, another railing surrounded the obelisk itself.
When they reached the top of the stairs, she glanced around. It was still early on a Sunday morning. They were alone.
“Let’s get to work,” she said to Nipper.
Samantha reached into her purse for the sunglasses. She put them on, and the world turned purple.
“I’m going to look from a distance,” she told Nipper. “You search the Needle up close, and don’t miss anything.”
“You got it, Sam,” he said cheerfully, and sprang forward.
He climbed over the railing and began tapping and pressing everything. He shoved at corners and pushed in a dozen places. He poked at shapes and traced any carvings he could reach. Steadily, he worked his way around the monument.
Samantha smiled. It was satisfying to see her brother’s fidgeting, touching, and tampering skills put to good use. She took two big steps back and stared.
Cleopatra’s Needle is an ancient monument covered from top to bottom with carvings. Samantha had read that it had been moved to Central Park from Egypt more than a hundred years ago. Some of the carvings looked like birds and others like people. Most were Egyptian symbols that Samantha didn’t recognize. A few of the images were crisp and clear. Most were faint, worn away by years of wind, rain, and pollution.
She saw nothing unusual on the first side.
“Side two,” said Samantha as she walked to the next corner of the plaza.
She’d started to examine the Needle when she heard noises. She turned to see Nipper, hands flat against one corner of the huge granite base. He pushed at it, grunting as he shoved.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He stopped shoving.
“I’m trying to turn it,” he answered. “Maybe if I push hard enough the whole Needle will spin.”
Samantha looked at the massive stone monument.
“Why do you think it would do that?” she asked.
“Just a hunch,” he answered, and went back to shoving.
Samantha tuned out her noisy brother and went back to scanning the obelisk. She moved he
r head slowly, up and down, taking everything in. Nothing. She kept going, exploring all four sides. Still nothing.
“I give up,” she said, and stopped squinting at the obelisk.
“I’ll take a break, too,” said Nipper, sitting down on the railing.
“But only for a minute,” she added quickly.
“Sure, sure,” he said. “But we’re going to see the Yankees soon, right?”
He started kicking at a railing post with his heel.
“They need me,” he added, sounding serious.
Samantha noticed a change in her brother’s expression. He looked thoughtful for a moment. At least kid-brother thoughtful.
“They’re my team,” he said, still kicking at the post. “My mind is made up. I really, truly want them back.”
Samantha looked at Nipper, and then to the railing as he kicked, and…
“Stop!” she yelled. “Don’t move.”
Nipper froze.
Through her glasses, Samantha saw the railing by her brother’s foot blinking bright yellow.
“What do you see? Can I move?” Nipper asked.
“Yes, yes,” she answered. “Get out of the way.”
Samantha ran to the railing and crouched to inspect it. A section glowed exactly like the leg of the kitchen table at home. She reached out and pulled. It slid open—just like at home. Air rushed out.
“Whoa,” said Nipper. “These things are everywhere.”
“Maybe,” said Samantha.
Her brother reached into the railing and took out a piece of paper.
“And everyone’s writing to Uncle Paul,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” Samantha said. She snatched the paper from him and read it aloud.
“ ‘Paul/Horace:
“ ‘Where are you?’ ”
“That’s my note,” she said, exasperated.
Samantha heard voices approaching. She turned and saw a cluster of people talking to one another as they walked up the steps. Seconds later, a pack of skateboarders rolled onto the terrace. Samantha sighed. Her and Nipper’s time alone at the Needle had ended and still no Uncle Paul. She took off the glasses and put them in her purse along with the note.
“All right,” she said. “I guess we can go back to Buffy’s place.”
Samantha turned to leave, but Nipper was standing still again.
“No way!” he replied, crossing his arms. “We’re going to Yankee Stadium.”
“Oh, yeah,” Samantha said. “Let’s go.”
They crossed to the steps on the other side of the terrace. The path led past the museum and toward the east edge of the park. As they walked, Samantha wondered if there were any more clues in Buffy’s apartment. It wasn’t going to be easy to find out, with her sister whining and her weird helper Nathaniel watching.
She decided she’d help Buffy with her show. She could try to be a producer or something like that. It would keep her sister busy and give Nipper time to search for clues.
And who knows? Maybe she could even save the play and stop it from turning into a big, zany circus. Samantha had never cared about show business before. But maybe she had hidden talent.
She pictured her name in the program—beneath Scarlett Hydrangea in giant letters, of course. She might turn out to be a great producer. Maybe she could write her own play, or even start acting.
She heard Nipper shouting. While she had been thinking about the play, he had walked ahead to Fifth Avenue at the edge of the park.
“Come on, Sam,” he called. “My Yankees need me.”
Samantha and Nipper rode the number 4 subway north to Yankee Stadium. She watched the map to make sure they got off at the right station.
“Not like the magtrain at all, is it?” she asked Nipper.
He shook his head. He couldn’t hear her over the noise of the subway.
They were the only two passengers to exit at Yankee Stadium. They marched up from the subway onto a quiet, empty plaza. They saw a dark stadium. The ticket booths were shuttered and the gates were closed.
A poster on a ticket booth displayed the team’s schedule for the month of May. The Yankees were currently playing a three-game series against the Nationals in Washington, D.C.
“Don’t trust a Nat,” Nipper said quietly.
“Oh, come on,” said Samantha, exasperated. “Couldn’t you have checked the schedule before you dragged me all the way up here?”
She looked up at the empty stadium.
“The ride was a big waste,” she grumbled. “And we don’t have much time left in New York.”
Nipper had already turned and bounded up the stairs. He poked his head through a closed entrance gate. He gripped a metal bar with each hand and peered around the grounds, standing up on his toes to get a better view.
A vendor pushing a squeaky cart stacked with T-shirts and hats made his way along the sidewalk. He flashed a hopeful smile. Then he saw that Nipper already had a bobblehead and the complete Yankees wardrobe. The man lost some of his enthusiasm.
“That’s my team and my stadium,” Nipper told the vendor.
“Your team?” the man said, chuckling a little. “I hope you didn’t pay a lot for it.”
Nipper noticed a sign on the vendor’s cart.
LOSING STREAK SPECIAL
90% OFF
Nipper was about to say something to the vendor about his Yankees, how they were going to turn it around, and the magical World Series ring he would wear someday. But the man was already walking away.
“I wouldn’t pay three hundred bucks for those bums,” the vendor said as he rolled his creaking cart away down the sidewalk.
Samantha let her brother pace around the outside of the empty stadium for a few more minutes. Then she led him back to the subway and they headed to Buffy’s castle in the sky.
Samantha sat across from her sister at the ornate dining room table. Together, they reviewed scripts and set designs.
“Nate’s in the kitchen,” said Buffy. “He says he wants us to get ready for a ‘Polynesian Surprise.’ ”
Samantha wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but her sister’s grouchy assistant sure was a good cook. The food would probably be delicious.
After a frustrating day, she was starting to feel better. While Samantha helped Buffy with the play, Nipper borrowed the purple sunglasses from her and snooped for clues about Uncle Paul. Samantha had to admit, she was actually looking forward to becoming a producer. Maybe she could help her sister turn the play around. And then, who knew where it could lead?
“What’s up with the monster trucks and the fog machines?” she asked Buffy.
A blueprint on the table showed a big propeller inside a cage.
“And what’s that?” she added. “A big fan?”
“Horace Temple told me it was very important to have all these things,” said Buffy.
Samantha nodded, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. Were these clues? Did they have something to do with watching out for the SUN? Or was Uncle Paul just pretending to think like a Broadway producer, so Buffy would keep him around?
“The bagpipes and the giraffes were my idea,” Buffy said proudly. “And the fireworks.”
“Stop,” said Samantha, gesturing with both hands. “Never cause an explosion in a theater. That violates a dozen safety codes and regulations.”
Buffy frowned.
“I have some ideas for the opening number,” Samantha said. “But first we have to talk about the unicorns.”
“What about them?” Buffy asked quickly.
“Face it,” said Samantha. “There aren’t any unicorns. So I don’t think we should plan the whole production around them.”
“What?” Buffy asked, much louder.
Nipper tapped Samantha on the shoulder.
“Hey,
Sam,” he whispered. “I think I found some clues.”
“Hold on one minute,” she told Buffy, and turned to her brother.
Nipper handed her four Word Whammy! cards.
“A, L, I, and M,” he said. “They were on the floor in a hallway.”
Samantha looked at the cards.
“Did you find them in this order?” she asked.
“Mmmm—maybe,” he replied.
He shrugged his shoulders and looked like he had no idea.
“Samantha…I’m waiting,” said Buffy.
Nipper handed the glasses back to Samantha and shrugged again.
“Are these the only letters?” she asked quickly. “Were there any other cards around?”
“I dunno. Probably.” He shrugged. “I was in a hurry and I didn’t really—”
“You didn’t really pay attention, did you,” Samantha snapped.
“Sammy!” Buffy called.
Samantha hated it when people called her “Sammy.” She turned back to the table to see Buffy scowling at her.
“Okay, okay,” said Samantha. “Let’s talk about these mermaids.”
She pointed to the drawing of a big cave. Huge letters above the entrance spelled out Hydrangea!
“I don’t think ancient Egyptians had anything that looked like—”
“You’re fired!” said Buffy.
“What?” Samantha asked.
“Go home. Now.”
Samantha sat quietly in her double-triple super-economy class seat. The plane hit a bump and the seat flushed, but she ignored the sound of rushing air and water. The whole weekend had been a disappointment.
“We never got that Polynesian Surprise, Sam!” Nipper shouted from his cabin. “Missing dessert violates a dozen of my personal codes and regulations!”
Samantha didn’t answer him. She looked down at the four cards in her hands and flipped through them twice.
“A-L-I-M,” she said quietly. “M-A-I-L.”
Maybe it was meant to spell mail. They could certainly go back and check the magtrain mailbox again. But what if her brother had missed some letters? She couldn’t be sure.
Samantha Spinner and the Spectacular Specs Page 5