Incognito

by Shelley Johannes

  The schoolyard was thinning out as the buses filled up.

  Lenny pinned Beatrice in a sideways stare. “No offense—but look at you.”

  Lenny had a point.

  And Mrs. Tamarack looked at her constantly.

  “Get a good look now,” said Beatrice, suddenly knowing exactly what to do. To be safe, she would lie low for a day or two. “Tomorrow I’m going incognito.”

  Lenny wrinkled her nose.

  “What’s incognito?”

  “You’ll see,” said Beatrice. “Just wear one of your sparkly sweaters, and keep an eye out for me.”

  Operation Upside wasn’t over yet.

  Beatrice was more certain than ever.

  Instead of upside down, she just needed to go deeper undercover.

  5

  INCOGNITO

  The next morning, Beatrice’s sister marched out of their bedroom closet with a hanger on each hand. “What do you think?” Kate asked. “Should I wear this or this?”

  The choice was obvious, but before Beatrice could open her mouth, Kate was opening hers again.

  “Whoa,” she said, pointing at Beatrice’s outfit, “are you wearing all that pink on purpose?”

  “Wait a minute.” Kate stepped closer. “Are you wearing ninja pants under that dress?”

  Beatrice ignored her sister and marched to the window, binoculars in hand.

  The less Kate knew about her plans, the better.

  “Please don’t do anything crazy,” Kate begged. “Foreign Language Club starts today, remember?”

  It was impossible to forget.

  Kate was president of the Foreign Language Club at William Charles Elementary. She’d practiced her welcome speech late into the night, and had been pacing their bedroom floor, whispering in French, since the sun came up.

  Beatrice positioned her binoculars against the window. “Just a sec,” she told Kate. She squinted her eyes and twisted the dials, frowning.

  Everything was blurry.

  Dropping the binoculars, Beatrice wiped the window with her arm. Her nose pressed against the glass. “Wow,” she breathed.

  “Wow, what?” Kate wanted to know.

  There was nothing but fog in every direction. Clouds hovered over the street like cotton candy. It looked like the sky was upside down.

  Beatrice fitted the binoculars back to her face, squinting at the view. Scrappy, her neighbor’s cat, strolled out of the nothingness, right on cue. Scrappy’s red leash materialized out of the fog right behind her.

  Beatrice smiled, waiting to see her neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, appear on the other end. Beatrice always had a good day when she saw Mrs. Jenkins walking Scrappy.

  But Mrs. Jenkins didn’t step out of the fog.

  Instead—the fog produced a girl.

  Long dark hair and tendrils of fog blocked the girl’s face, but Beatrice still recognized her.

  It was Sam Darzi, the third-grader who lived in the house across the street.

  Her walk was unmistakable.

  She shuffled down the sidewalk with her head down, her shoulders slumped, and her too-big black boots scuffing against the pavement.

  They disappeared into the mist in the same order they appeared.

  First Scrappy.

  Then the leash.

  Then Sam Darzi.

  Beatrice squinched her face and turned the binocular dials, trying to make sense of what she’d seen. Where was Mrs. Jenkins? And why was Sam Darzi walking her cat?

  “It’s not raining, is it?” Kate edged closer, peeking over Beatrice’s shoulder.

  Beatrice dropped the blinds.

  “No,” she said, “but it’s very mysterious.” She pointed to the hanger on the right. “I’d go with the cape.”

  “Huh?” said Kate, confused. She looked at her hangers and heaved a sigh. “It’s not a cape, Beatrice—it’s a poncho.”

  Beatrice looped her binoculars over the bedpost. “Is poncho the French word for cape?”

  Kate huffed back to the closet, mumbling something Beatrice couldn’t hear.

  When her sister reappeared, the cape was missing. She was wearing a red blazer with a flowered scarf instead.

  Kate gestured toward the stairs. “Ready?”

  Though the day had started strangely—with Sam, and the fog, and missing Mrs. Jenkins—none of that changed Beatrice’s plan. She knew exactly what she needed to do.

  She hiked up her ninja pants, smoothed the hem of her skirt, and flashed a smile at her sister.

  “Ready,” she said.

  She was as ready as she’d ever be to wear a pink dress on purpose.

  6

  GIRL WITH A PLAN

  “Oh, Beatrice!” her mother, Nancy Zinker, cried from the kitchen doorway.

  Her hand flew to her heart.

  “You look adorable.”

  She elbowed her husband. “Doesn’t she look adorable, Pete?”

  Pete Zinker assessed his pink-clad daughter. “She looks like a girl with a plan,” he decided.

  He tossed Beatrice a granola bar, which she caught in the air.

  “I’m just lying low today,” Beatrice said, trying to play it cool.

  A swirl of red twirled in from the stair.

  “What about me?” said Kate. “How do I look?”

  “Spot-on,” her dad declared, doling out another granola bar. “Perfectly presidential.”

  “No big breakfast this morning, girls,” said Nancy Zinker, fussing over Kate. “We don’t want to risk ruining your outfit.” She rearranged Kate’s scarf until it was fluffed and knotted just like hers.

  “I couldn’t eat anyway,” said Kate. “I’m très nerveuse.”

  “There’s no need to be nervous,” said her mother. “You’ll be great!”

  Pete Zinker pulled out a chair at the table. “One more practice round?”

  Kate’s eyes lit up. “Oui!” she said, pulling out her flash cards. “Merci!”

  Beatrice scanned the room for an exit. “Has anyone seen Henry?”

  “He’s watching one of his shows,” said her dad. “Want to keep him company?”

  “Es-yay!” said Beatrice, as she made her escape.

  Beatrice found her baby brother on the living room rug, smiling at the television. On-screen, a furry creature was swinging upside down by its tail.

  Some babies love cartoons.

  Henry Zinker adored documentaries.

  Today’s starred the kinkajous of South America.

  “Oh!” said Beatrice, plopping next to him. “I love these guys!”

  She bit into her breakfast.

  “I wish I was a kinkajou,” she sighed.

  While Kate hung out in the kitchen, rehearsing with an audience of two, Beatrice and Henry flipped upside down and pretended to be kinkajous.

  Pete Zinker peeked into the living room as the rain forest faded and the credits started scrolling.

  A huge smile brightened his face.

  “There’s the Beatrice I know!” He laughed and then held up her backpack. “Time to go, Miss Lying Low.”

  Beatrice jumped to her feet and straightened her skirt.

  Her dad squashed her in a hug. “Keep that chin up, buttercup,” he said. “Whatever you’ve got planned.”

  “I will,” said Beatrice.

  Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she stepped into the morning fog. Incognito, in her pink dress, Beatrice felt more unstoppable than ever.

  7

  THE PERFECT CAMOUFLAGE

  Beatrice kept her chin up the whole bus ride.

  Instead of hopping off, like she usually did, she matched Kate’s careful steps into the slow-moving crowd.

  A sparkly sweater emerged from the haze. “Beatrice?”

  Lenny blinked at Beatrice through the fog.

  “Well,” said Beatrice, “what do you think?”

  “Wow,” Lenny replied. “That’s a lot of pink.”

  “My closet’s full of this stuff,” said Beatrice. “I could go inc
ognito for weeks, maybe months, and my mom wouldn’t even have to do laundry!”

  Curious heads turned in their direction.

  Lenny’s eyes darted around. “This way,” she said, angling off the path. “It’s dangerous out here.”

  “The bushes!” said Beatrice, diving for cover behind a row of hedges.

  Lenny crouched next to her and frowned at Beatrice’s pink ensemble. “This is your plan?”

  “This the backup plan,” Beatrice clarified. “It’s still possible Mrs. Tamarack is going to like her award. Once we see her happy smile, we can sneak Wes his award by the end of the day.”

  Beatrice paused for effect.

  “That’s the real plan.”

  Beatrice wasn’t sure she believed it herself anymore, but she had to hope.

  Lenny pulled a branch aside and they both peeked through the leaves. Wes Carver was standing at the door, just like yesterday, holding it politely as everyone walked inside.

  Lenny chewed her thumbnail.

  Doubt filled her eyes.

  “Don’t worry, though,” Beatrice assured her.

  “No matter what, I’ll be the picture of lying low.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible for you,” said Lenny, laughing. “Without a major miracle or something!”

  Beatrice hopped to her feet and dusted herself off. “Anything’s possible with the right costume.”

  She looped her sleeve through Lenny’s and popped out of the bushes to prove her point. “Pink is the perfect camouflage.”

  Arm in arm, they bounded down the busy sidewalk. “See?” said Beatrice. “I’m practically invisible.”

  “Beatrice!” a voice shouted across the plaza. “Lenny!” it yelled. “Wait up!”

  Chloe Llewelyn strolled out of the fog, flagging them down. Her smile beamed through the haze as she skipped to their side. “Are you guys excited for lunch?”

  Lenny’s hand flew to her mouth. “I almost forgot!”

  “You never forget stuffed-crust pizza day,” said Beatrice.

  Stuffed-crust pizza day was their favorite.

  “I wasn’t talking about pizza,” said Chloe. She lifted her monogrammed lunch bag. “I meant Foreign Language Club—it starts at lunch today!”

  Beatrice peeked into her backpack. Her own lunch bag was tucked up front, where her mother always put it. No one had told her Kate’s club meant missing her favorite lunch.

  “Je suis impatiente!” Chloe exclaimed, clapping with excitement. A ring of flash cards dangled from her finger. “That means I can’t wait in French. I’ve been practicing.”

  It was eerie.

  Kate and Chloe were practically twins.

  Chloe pointed at Beatrice. “I see you dressed up for it. Like moi.”

  Beatrice stared at her own dress, then stared back at Chloe’s.

  Lenny laughed, way too delighted. “You’re twins!”

  “Jumelles!” Chloe said, crushing

  Beatrice in a hug.

  This was not part of the plan.

  It was not part of the backup plan either.

  Maybe Lenny was right, and she did need a miracle today.

  Beatrice crossed her fingers for luck as they ducked past Wes and went inside. Hopefully yesterday’s UPSIDE had already worked its magic, and the miracle of Mrs. Tamarack’s happy smile would greet them at the door.

  8

  A WANTED CRIMINAL

  Just before the bell, the pink-dress parade entered Classroom 3B, with Chloe leading the way. Sam Darzi slipped through the door right behind them.

  Mrs. Tamarack and her miraculous smile were nowhere in sight.

  “Guys!” Parvati shouted across the room. “Look what we have today!”

  Beatrice didn’t have time to see the veterinary prop-of-the-day.

  Her mysterious cat-walking neighbor required her full attention.

  Sam Darzi was heading for the coat closet. A worn yellow backpack slouched down her shoulder as her boots scuffed across the carpet. Long black laces dragged behind her.

  Beatrice hadn’t given Sam much thought before today. But after spying her in the fog with Mrs. Jenkins’s cat, she had so many questions.

  The Darzi family moved in almost a year ago. Sam enrolled at William Charles Elementary a few weeks into second grade, but even now, no one knew much about her.

  Not even Lenny.

  And Lenny knew everyone.

  Without warning, the classroom door slammed. Mrs. Tamarack stood in the doorway, tote bag in hand. “Seats, everyone! Seats!”

  Lenny rushed past and plopped into her desk by the door. Beatrice hurried to her front-row seat and dropped her bag on the floor.

  Evelyn Tamarack was not smiling.

  “One, two, three—eyes on me!”

  Everyone faced forward as Mrs. Tamarack planted herself at the center of the room and snapped her fingers at the boys in the back. Then she raised her voice and addressed the class.

  “Apparently, someone thought they were being funny yesterday.”

  Her palm slapped a piece of paper onto Beatrice’s desk. Just inches away, trapped under Mrs. Tamarack’s hand, was her UPSIDE award. The words MOST STRICT peeked between her fingers.

  “Needless to say—I was not amused.” Mrs. Tamarack suspended the award in her fingertips, like a piece of litter she didn’t want to touch. “Not amused at all.”

  Beatrice wasn’t trying to be funny.

  She was trying to be a force for good.

  Her teacher marched across the room and taped the award above the pencil sharpener. “If anyone has any information, I trust you’ll follow the instructions and do the right thing.”

  Beatrice snuck a glance at Lenny, whose eyes narrowed accusingly.

  Her face was bright pink.

  During the long morning that followed, Lenny spent her spare time staring at the ominous poster above the pencil sharpener.

  Beatrice spent her morning trying to look on the upside instead.

  Mrs. Tamarack’s reaction wasn’t the best-case scenario.

  But it also wasn’t the worst.

  Despite the WANTED sign, the identity of Operation Upside was still a secret. Mrs. Tamarack had no idea who was responsible for her award. And Beatrice would make sure she never would. She was going to be on her best, pink-dressed behavior.

  Being a wanted criminal was very motivating.

  It might even be the miracle she needed.

  9

  RULES ARE RULES

  Beatrice stayed under Mrs. Tamarack’s radar all morning.

  When her knee itched, she didn’t scratch.

  When she had a question, she didn’t ask.

  When she knew an answer, she didn’t interrupt. When she dropped her pencil, she let it roll all the way down the aisle, where Wes Carver kindly picked it up.

  No matter how many good ideas popped into her head, Beatrice didn’t share them.

  She didn’t cough.

  She didn’t sneeze.

  She didn’t do a thing when her legs fell asleep.

  By the time the door swung open for recess, she felt like a prisoner set free. Beatrice hurried to the back of the playground, into the branches of her favorite tree. Hanging from its familiar limbs, she could finally breathe.

  It was perfect recess weather.

  Fog hovered over the playground like a ghost.

  There were endless games to play in the morning mist. Beatrice had so many ideas, she made a list.

  “Should I sign you up, Beatrice?” Chloe came out of the haze with Parvati at her side. A clipboard was balanced in the crook of her arm. “Are you playing today?”

  While Chloe flipped open her patient list, Beatrice looked over her own. “Want to play Zombie Apocalypse?” Beatrice asked.

  Chloe cringed. “Zombies eat brains.”

  Parvati held up a fuzzy gray headband. “We could use another cat.”

  Beatrice wrinkled her nose.

  “I was a cat on Friday,” she said. �
�I could be a kinkajou….”

  “I’ve never even heard of that,” said Chloe. Her pen tapped the clipboard. “It’s not another bat, is it?”

  Last time Beatrice was a bat, recess ended with a bloody nose—and Chloe almost passed out. For a veterinarian, Chloe was surprisingly squeamish.

  “It’s not a bat,” Beatrice told her. “It’s related to the raccoon, but I think it looks more like a mongoose.”

  Chloe grimaced. “Raccoons eat garbage.”

  “Kinkajous just eat fruit,” Beatrice informed her. “Sometimes birds and bugs—but mostly fruit.”

  Chloe paled and pointed at the posters behind her.

  “Sorry, Beatrice …”

  Beatrice shrugged.

  “That’s okay—I won’t need a vet anyway. Kinkajous are very hardy animals. Did you know they can turn their feet backward to escape danger?”

  A hint of green splotched Chloe’s cheeks.

  “I’d better go,” she said, already turning around. She rushed into the clinic, walking forward as fast as her feet would take her. Parvati hurried after her, waving good-bye.

  Lenny came out of the clinic as Chloe and Parvati went in. She was just who Beatrice was hoping to see.

  “Lenny!” she exclaimed. Beatrice extended her arms and groaned convincingly. “Want to play Zombie Apocalypse with me?”

  When Lenny didn’t respond, Beatrice tried again. “Capture the flag?”

  “There’s a ‘Wanted’ poster, Beatrice! You’re supposed to be lying low.”

  “I am,” said Beatrice.

  “This is how kinkajous lie low.”

  “Come play vet with me,” Lenny begged.

  “Please? There’s safety in numbers, and blending in with Chloe is the perfect cover. You could

  be our new assistant!”

  “Don’t worry,” Beatrice told her. “I’ll be as boring as possible out here on this branch. I’ll blend in

  with the trees.”