Three short flicks of light for S.
Flick, flick, flick.
She counted to three, then moved to the next letter.
A was one quick flick, followed by one long flash.
Flick, flash.
Her heart pounded out three more beats.
Then two long flashes for the M.
Flash, flash.
She rested the flashlight in her lap and counted ten Mississippis. Then she lifted her flashlight and repeated the patterns.
Flick, flick, flick.
Pause.
Flick, flash.
Pause.
Flash, flash.
Pause.
S. Pause. A. Pause. M. Pause.
Slowly and carefully, ten times in a row, Beatrice spelled out Sam’s name in light.
On her eleventh S, the blinds slid up.
On the eleventh A, the window lifted.
On the eleventh M, Sam stuck out her head.
Her arm blocked the beam of light shining at her face.
“Turn that thing off,” she said. “We do have a door, you know.”
Beatrice shrugged. “This seemed easier.”
Sam glanced through the open window, back into her house. The corner of her mouth lifted. “You might be right.”
She ducked inside her room.
When she reappeared, she was zipping a sweatshirt and pulling up the hood. “I’ve never been on the roof,” she admitted as she climbed over the windowsill.
Neither spoke for a few seconds.
Staring at Sam’s boots, Beatrice forgot all her well-rehearsed lines. Hopefully Lenny remembered to keep her fingers crossed.
Sam broke the silence first.
“Nice cape.”
“Thanks,” said Beatrice. “It’s my sister’s.” She pointed at Sam’s feet. “I like your boots.”
“They’re my brother’s,” said Sam.
“You have a brother?”
“I just said I did,” Sam snapped. Her face dared Beatrice to ask again.
Beatrice had never seen Sam’s brother—a mom and a grandmother, but not a brother.
Sam blew a lock of hair out of her face. “Is there a reason you’re on my roof in that outfit?”
All of Beatrice’s practiced dialogue came rushing back. She swung her backpack around and announced, “I have a delivery for you.”
“I don’t want one of your awards, Beatrice.”
“It’s not an award.”
Beatrice pulled Sam’s puppet from a zippered pocket and held it out to her.
“Here,” she offered.
“I already told you,” said Sam. “It’s not mine.”
Beatrice ignored her and said the words she came to say. “Inside the puppet you will find your mission, should you choose to accept it.”
Sam pushed her hair behind her ear. “You’re really into this spy thing, huh?”
Beatrice lifted her flashlight and flooded Sam’s face with light. “Are you in, or are you out?”
Sam squinted against the brightness.
“Seriously,” she said. “Turn that thing off.”
She shoved the flashlight out of her face.
Then she bent over her boots and fixed her laces. Upside down, she said, “If I were interested—and I’m not saying I am—how would I let you know?”
Beatrice held in a smile.
She slipped Sam’s puppet over her fingers.
Sam yanked the sock from Beatrice’s hand. Her fingers fished out a note, then stuffed the puppet into her sweatshirt pocket.
Beatrice watched Sam’s eyes trace the words she’d written earlier. At the bottom of the page, she didn’t look up. Instead, Sam rubbed a spot on her boot and asked, “How long do I have to decide?”
This was going better than Beatrice anticipated. “As long as you want?”
Sam pointed at her accusingly. “Do not smile about this,” she warned. “I’m not making any promises.”
“That’s okay,” said Beatrice. “I never make promises either.”
Beatrice wished Sam a good night, then hurried back to her bedroom window before anyone noticed her missing.
When her mom tucked her in and twisted the blinds for the night, Sam’s blinds were still open, and her light was still on. It looked like the house across the street had finally come to life.
Plan B had no guarantees, but Beatrice went to sleep smiling.
23
SAM’S ANSWER
Thursday came and went without word from Sam.
Whenever Beatrice tried to make eye contact in class, Sam looked away.
“Did you give her a deadline?” Lenny asked.
“Not really,” said Beatrice. “It was kind of open-ended.”
Lenny bit her thumbnail. “How long are we going to wait?”
“As long as it takes.”
“Wow,” said Lenny.
Beatrice shrugged.
“I have a good feeling about this.”
Sam’s answer came Friday night, just before bedtime. It was Kate who sounded the alarm.
“Beatrice!” she yelled down the stairs. “You need to come up here!”
Beatrice bounded up the steps, traveling so fast she tripped twice before reaching their room.
Her sister was at the window, peeking through the blinds. “There’s a light show going on across the street,” said Kate. “I have a feeling it has something to do with you.”
Beatrice leaned over Kate’s shoulder.
Sure enough, a beam of light flashed across the street. On and off it pulsed, lighting up the night.
After forty-eight hours of silence, Sam was finally talking.
Light flicked and flashed across the space between them like a song. Beatrice blinked her eyes, mesmerized by the beauty of it.
Flick.
Flick, flick, flick.
Flash, flick, flash, flash.
Flick, flash.
Flash, flick, flash, flash.
Beatrice watched as the letters cycled over and over, trying to make sense of them. They weren’t the letters she was expecting. Sam was supposed to signal her choice. IN or OUT.
But Sam was saying something else.
“Are you practicing for your project?” Kate wanted to know.
“Hold on,” Beatrice said, squinting. “I need to concentrate.”
Beatrice grabbed her binoculars and focused on the blinking window. She translated dots and dashes for all the flicks and flashes.
Flick was E.
Flick, flick, flick was S.
Flash, flick, flash, flash was Y.
Flick, flash was A.
Flash, flick, flash, flash was another Y.
E-S-Y-A-Y
When Beatrice figured it out, her binoculars dropped to the floor. Sam was using Morse code to tell her YES in Pig Latin.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Kate waved a hand in front of Beatrice’s face. “Are you okay?”
Beatrice nodded her head and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Es-yay,” she told Kate. “I’m just really happy.”
For once, she understood Sam perfectly.
24
A NATURAL
Monday morning started like it always did.
Sam slipped into Classroom 3B just as the bell rang. As usual, she ignored Beatrice’s attempts at hello.
“Are you sure she was saying yes?” Lenny said.
“I’m positive,” said Beatrice.
Deep down, though, she was wondering the same thing, and by lunchtime, doubt had swallowed her appetite completely.
“If you don’t want your apple, I’ll take it,” offered Chloe. “Mine’s mushy.”
Beatrice handed it over, then passed Lenny her cookie. Across the cafeteria, Sam’s face was deep in her book.
She never even glanced in their direction.
At the very end of the day, Beatrice found a note stuffed in her mailbox. Her gasp of relief almost blew her cover.
Mrs. Tamarack looked over, scowli
ng. “Nose to sleeve when you sneeze, Beatrice!”
She lifted an elbow to her face in demonstration.
Beatrice stuffed the note into her pocket and smiled. “Got it!”
As the whole school flooded to the buses, Beatrice and Lenny dove for the bushes. They only had a few minutes to spare.
Beatrice quickly decoded the dots, dashes, and slashes while Lenny rushed to scribble them down.
Lenny stuck her pencil in her hair.
“I like her already,” she declared.
A satisfied smile spread across Beatrice’s face. “I know,” she said. “She’s a natural.”
At precisely 8:45 a.m. the next morning, concealed in the leafy cover of the designated tree, Beatrice and Lenny pulled out their binoculars and zoomed in on the front doors of William Charles Elementary.
Lenny spotted it first.
“Look!” she whispered, pointing. “Right by the planter.”
Seeing what Sam had done, Beatrice’s chest hurt. A part of her wished they’d planned to give Sam the UPSIDE all along.
She deserved it as much as anyone.
Sam’s house, blinds-up and bright, flashed through Beatrice’s mind. Maybe being included was as good as getting an award anyway.
Maybe it was even better.
“Do you think it’s safe down there?” Lenny pulled her binoculars from her face. “What if Wes is late and someone else finds it first?”
Questions were still coming out of Lenny’s mouth when Wes Carver wandered into view.
The package immediately caught his attention. Squatting down, he retrieved the award.
Confusion flickered across his features for a moment. Then he spun in a full circle, looking all around, happiness beaming from every part of his face.
“We don’t even need binoculars to see that smile,” said Beatrice.
“What are you guys doing up there?”
Chloe Llewelyn stood below them with a giant poster rolled under her arm. “You’re not being another weird animal, are you? I don’t have time to make new rules all day.”
“Hey, Chloe,” said Lenny. “You know what you need?” She stashed the binoculars and adjusted her position. “An assistant who can keep up with all Beatrice’s animals.”
Lenny nodded toward the front door.
“Like him.”
Chloe angled her head and studied Wes. He held his new award in one hand and the front door in the other.
His eyes were shining, and his morning greetings were more enthusiastic than ever….
But his T-shirt said it best.
Chloe pursed her lips, considering.
“Maybe …” she finally said. “He does know a lot about animals. And did you know his pink marker smells exactly like watermelon?”
Beatrice and Lenny exchanged a smile.
From Chloe, a maybe was a very good sign.
Three hours later, Sam slipped into the library and took a seat next to Beatrice. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she whispered.
Lenny and Chloe were in the middle of an impressive presentation about the Philippines. Chloe colored a detailed map, and Lenny showed a bunch of photos from her summer vacation.
They even taught everyone how to say hello and introduce themselves in Tagalog.
The best part was the banana-cue.
Lenny’s mom made a whole platter of the Filipino treat. It looked like barbecued chicken on a stick, but it was really a fried banana with a sticky sugar coating.
Beatrice raised her hand. “How do you say delicious in Tagalog?”
“Masarap!” said Lenny.
Everyone agreed. Banana-cue was very masarap.
Lenny and Chloe weren’t the only pair to bring snacks. Trying new food was so fun, Beatrice almost forgot she was missing another pizza day in the cafeteria.
After all the other presentations were finished, Beatrice and Sam walked up to the podium with their puppets tucked in their pockets.
It was time for their special project.
“We need just a minute to get ready,” Beatrice told the room.
Together they flipped the presentation table on its side and took their places behind their stage. Beatrice lifted her puppet above her head and began the show.
In the front row, Kate cleared her throat.
Sam jumped in to help.
Beatrice picked it back up again.
“Languages can be really confusing. Sometimes you have no idea what someone is saying. Or you think someone is saying one thing, but they’re actually saying something else.”
Kate cleared her throat again.
“Last week, Sam and I didn’t understand each other at all,” Beatrice continued. “Now I know some Morse code, and Sam knows some Pig Latin.”
For a moment, all the faces in the library faded away. All Beatrice saw was Sam’s window, flickering with light, saying YES in both their languages.
Behind the table, Beatrice smiled at Sam.
Sam smiled right back.
“And it turns out,” Sam’s puppet told the crowd, “we both speak Puppet.”
After that, the presentation was a blur.
Beatrice forgot to mention all the cool facts she’d memorized about Morse code, or why she loved Pig Latin so much. No one seemed to notice. When she and Sam bowed at the end, the entire room was laughing and clapping—including Kate.
Best of all, Sam was smiling with her whole face, in front of everyone.
While they packed up, Beatrice passed Sam a folded scrap of paper. Sam opened the note and scanned the invitation.
Without glancing at Beatrice, Sam creased the message closed. Her fingers continued working, pleating the paper into a gum-sized rectangle. She folded the top-secret information into her cheek and began to chew.
Beatrice lifted her eyebrows.
That was one way to hide confidential information.
Beatrice couldn’t wait to tell Lenny.
“Save room for dessert,” she told Sam. “The password is ice cream.”
Sam remained silent, but the corner of her mouth quirked up. Her jaw was still hard at work, destroying their secret communication. With a little wave, she headed into the hall, her eyes gleaming and her mouth full of secrets.
Most things about Sam remained a mystery, but one thing was certain. Sam Darzi was meant for Operation Upside.
25
BRAVO ZULU
Friday night, when all three girls had whispered the password and settled onto Sam’s roof, Beatrice brought the meeting to order.
Sam looked at Lenny. “Is she always like this?”
“Pretty much,” Lenny laughed.
Beatrice’s puppet called out the first name. “Echo Sierra?”
“Here!” said Lenny.
“Sierra Delta?”
“Here,” Sam muttered.
“Bravo Zulu?” the sock called out.
“Here!” Beatrice confirmed.
Lenny pointed to three bowls perched on the windowsill. “Now that we’re all here, can we eat the ice cream?”
“Good idea,” said Beatrice. “Before it gets too melty.”
Lenny doled out the ice cream while Beatrice passed out spoons.
Sam balanced her bowl on her knee. “If it’s okay,” she started, bouncing her boots nervously, “there’s something I want to say.” She reached through her bedroom window and grabbed her yellow backpack.
Beatrice and Lenny waited, their full attention on Sam as she unzipped the bag.
“My brother’s in the navy,” she confided. “He writes me a lot of letters.” She held up a handful of worn envelopes. “They’re always in code.”
She paused and pushed her hair behind her ear.
“Last week, he sent one in Morse.”
“Oh …” said Beatrice. The library envelope was from Sam’s brother. “That’s why you checked out the Morse code book?”
Sam nodded.
“Learning Morse was more fun than I expected—but naval flags are my
favorite secret language.”
Her arm slipped into her backpack.
She lifted up a tiny paper flag wrapped around a toothpick and waved it back and forth.
“There’s one flag for every letter of the alphabet. They all mean something specific.”
Beatrice touched the blue-and-yellow patch sewn onto Sam’s backpack. “Is that one?”
“That’s K.” Sam smiled. “KILO.”
“What’s it mean?” asked Lenny, leaning forward for a better look.
“It means I wish to communicate with you.” Sam stared at the envelopes in her lap. “My brother sent it in his first letter.”
Her hand disappeared into her bag again. “Here—I made some for you.”
She lifted a red-and-white flag in her right hand. “This one’s BRAVO.” She raised a multi-colored flag in her left. “And this one’s ZULU.”
Sam leaned over and stuck two flags into Beatrice’s ice cream. Then she did the same for Lenny.
Beatrice and Lenny looked down at their ice cream, then back at Sam, waiting for a translation.
“You guys really don’t know what BRAVO ZULU means?”
“It’s Beatrice’s code name,” said Lenny. “That’s all I know.”
Sam checked with Beatrice. “You don’t know either?”
Beatrice shook her head.
“I can’t believe I get to be the one to tell you.”
Clearing her throat, Sam lifted a miniature version of each flag. “Flown together these flags are a celebration,” she explained, wiggling the toothpicks. “BRAVO ZULU means well done.”
Beatrice stared at Sam with her mouth open. “Is that true?”
Sam held out a book from her bag. A grid of flags decorated the cover. “You can look it up later.”
Beatrice took the book. She’d seen it once before—in Mrs. Jenkins’s hands, topped with a yellow bow.
Lenny bumped her shoulder.
“Bravo Zulu, Beatrice,” she said. “I don’t know how you did it. You recruited Sam, we made Wes’s week, and so far”—she crossed her fingers—“Mrs. Tamarack hasn’t shut us down.”
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