by Sophie Bell
“It’s like she set up Develon, knowing that we’d stop her! I can’t believe I stressed so much about us coming out to the public”—Iris shook her head, her tendrils bouncing in all different directions—“only to have Mayor Blumesberry take credit for our, um . . .”
“Derring-dos?” Opal suggested.
“Yeah!” Scarlet slinked both hands above her head like a snake charmer. “Those!”
The diner’s door jingled, though the girls didn’t take much notice of it—until Opal realized the rest of the customers seemed distracted by something not on the screens and not them, either. Picking up the lingering stench of pungent cheese and bellybutton lint, she stifled a gasp. “Scarlet,” she tried to warn her friend, but it was already too late. In full choreography mode, Scarlet swung her arm out swiftly to one side—and supervogued Agent Jack Baxter square in the stomach.
Scarlet’s eyes popped open and she covered her mouth in shock, not sure whether to cry out or laugh. Jack doubled over in pain, never uttering a sound. Not an oof! nor an owie! nor an ergh! Behind him, Agent Sidney Bristow stood solemn as a bodyguard.
Both boys, head to toe, were coated in lilac.
Big Red’s frizzy flattop was like a powdered lilac wig. Lil’ Freckles’s freckles looked more like sequins, his previously salt-and-pepper hair an enchanting mix of dark grape with lavender highlights.
“Got caught in the shower, boys?” Candace said, struggling to keep a straight face.
“Now that,” Iris marveled, “is an extreme makeover.”
Leaping out of her seat and flashing the V sign in front of the stony-faced twosome, Cheri snapped some more selfies. “Should we start calling you the Lilac Swans?” she quipped. “Do you want to reclaim that name, too?”
Across the table, Scarlet shot Cheri a pleading glance to shut up. She couldn’t quite explain it—and she definitely couldn’t say it with him standing right there—but she sort of felt sorry for Jack. She’d watched him blow up the Gazebra with her own eyes. And yes, he’d tried to stop Cheri from priming the sludge with the Whoseewhatsit. But his mom, who was bat-poop bonkers to begin with, was probably going to jail. And, oh yeah, he was the color purple!
Jack and Sid tolerated the teasing stoically. Soon enough, Cheri felt guilty about it herself. The spy boys had been brats, but she knew it wasn’t gracious to gloat. She sat back down with the rest of the girls, waiting to hear what The Swans Formerly Known as Black had to say.
Recovered from the gut-punch, Jack stood military-straight. And held out a lilac hand to Scarlet.
Scarlet’s face flushed as red as the strawberries in the fruit pie. She could feel the eyes of all the other girls on her. This was so embarrassing! The gentle jab of Iris’s elbow nudged her in the side. Wrinkling her nose with doubt, she stuck out her hand, too.
“You are. A worthy. Adversary, Scarlet Jones,” Agent Jack said in that strange, stilted way of his, pumping her hand up and down with a firm grip. “Very. Impressive. The way you neutralized. Those mutants.”
Scarlet’s Ultra Violet instinct was to yank her hand back and hurl Jack across the diner like a shot put. It took all her powers of self-control not to do that, and to keep her arm noodly-limp instead. But she had no idea what she was supposed to say! Any second now her palm might start getting sweaty. Her bangs were in her face, and her nose had begun to itch, but she couldn’t do anything except stare back into Jack’s (thankfully not lilac but still) navy blue eyes. She searched them for an explanation. All she saw were tiny lilac flecks in his lashes.
“Why . . . ?” she stammered, but her voice came out as a rasp and she had to clear her throat. “I don’t understand why first you . . . and then you . . .” she tried again, but words failed her.
“Extenuating”—as Jack said it, Agent Sidney clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder—“circumstances. Beyond my control.”
“Okay, bro, you shook hands with your opponent—happy?” Big Lilac said. “Now let’s get out of here. After all night in the police station, I need to wash this purple stuff off! And that skunk stank, too!”
Agent Jack finally let go of Scarlet’s hand. It felt numb. And it was covered in lilac dust.
“Later, girls!” Big Lilac bellowed, wagging his tongue at the table. Then he leaned over Opal, who shrunk back in alarm. “Later, traitor!” he snarled just at her. And picked up the last piece of pie before steering Jack toward the jangling door.
You want to wash off the purple stuff? Opal bolted to her feet, furious, and thunder boomed inside the diner before she was even aware that she’d thought it. A milky film swam across her eyes, and her hair snapped to attention, each strand a live wire. Then get wet! With a twist of her fingers, a charcoal-colored cloud formed directly above the boys, and a sudden torrent of water rained down on them. It didn’t rinse away the lilac glitter. But it did drench their dirty suits. And soak their socks from heel to toe.
Agent Jack just gritted his teeth at this final indignity and squelched out of the diner. Agent Sidney stomped through the puddles behind him.
“Wait!” Cheri cast a nervous glance at electrified Opal as she shouted after the Swans, remembering too late again. “Which one of you sent the text?”
“The pie, c’est finit, mademoiselle?” came a voice over her shoulder. Cheri froze in place. Philippe had at last shown up at the table—and she found herself speechless. She just gaped at the charming busboy, who gave her a wink while he wiped down the table and loaded up a tray with their plates. “Ice cream for breakfast,” he observed, nodding his approval. “Very decadent.” Then he was gone.
Cheri released her breath with a faint whimper. She’d been holding it the whole time. “D’oh!” she blurted out to the other girls, and they collapsed into giggles. Even Opaline, whose storm had passed.
They were still giggling as the sassy waitress sashayed over to them. When she reached the booth, she made a big show of totaling up the bill on her notepad. Her Oreo bouffant quivered with every new addition. She finished with a grand flourish of her pen, ripped off the page, and slapped it facedown in front of Cheri.
“Because you’re the numbers gal—right, Red?” she said. Then, with a curtsy to Scarlet, she spun a single pirouette in her orthopedic sneakers before strutting away.
“Red?” Cheri uttered as she turned over the bill. Her green eyes lit up with surprise, and she passed it across the table. Scarlet stared at the smiley-face zero in the center of the page. And then at the note the waitress had scribbled beneath it:
Sorry about the Gazebra, girls! But thanks for saving the day!
“The sassy waitress?” Scarlet muttered as she and Cheri followed Candace, Iris, and Opal toward the exit. “She’s the one who sent us the anonymous text? And she knows ballet?”
Cheri was too busy looking over her shoulder for a busboy to respond.
• • •
Outside, in the purple-tinted light of day, the girls lingered a moment longer, not yet wanting to say good-bye.
“Back to the FLab this afternoon?” Cheri asked Candace, who was keying some code into her smartphone.
“Yes,” the junior scientist said. “I’m supposed to be analyzing the chemical composition of the lilac dust for your moms—ha-ha. But since, of course, I already know that, I plan to do a little spying on Mayor Blumesberry instead. I’m just setting the coordinates on the MAUVe drone for City Hall now. How about you all?”
The four girls exchanged glances, then chorused, “Power nap!”
“And I’ll probably do my nails after,” Cheri added, giving Darth one last hug as she prepared to pass him over to Iris to bring back home to Club Very. “Time for a new shade. I’m plum out of lilac!”
“If I can get one of my brothers to take me, I might go night-sledding in Chrysalis Park.” Scarlet kicked up a pile of the pale flakes. “Opal,” she said, tracing her toe in the powder, “do you want
to come with?”
“Really?” Opal clutched the cuffs of her dress to contain her excitement. “Um, sure, okay! How about you, Iris?”
Iris smiled at her three best friends, together again. She smiled at Candace, their trusty teenius. She smiled up at the sun, her favorite star, and her pupils got so small that her eyes appeared pure blue. “That would be so fun,” she said. “But I have a super-important art project I want to get started on right away. A brand-new pair of vitanium-crystal wings to make. I’m thinking the colors will be pearly white and fiery orange. How does that sound, Opaline?”
Opal was so thrilled by the thought of her very own set of hummingbird wings that her hair stood on end again.
“Sounds viomazing!” Scarlet answered for her, springing into a joyous split. “Sounds like . . .”
Iris, Cheri, Opaline, and Candace all gathered around the smallest Ultra Violet, who grinned back at them gleefully as she said, “. . . like it’s time for a dance!”
Candace switched from her drone program to her camera phone as the four girls lined up on the sidewalk in front of Tom’s Diner. Opal didn’t really know the words yet, or the steps, but they were easy enough, so she did her best to follow along as Cheri started them off with, “Ultra Violets ready and . . .”
“Pinkie touch, lip gloss, rock the grapevine,
Harlem shake, hip bump, V’s across your eyes!
Mashed potato, pretty pony, we so fine,
fireworks, fist pump, V’s to the sky!”
And with that, the latest variation of their secret handshake danced, the Ultra Violets each took a bow, to the applause of Candace, the sassy waitress behind the diner window, and a few lucky passers-by.
Then they went their separate ways, off into Sync City, sparkling embers of lilac alight at their feet.
Darlings, Danke Schoen
{Acknowledgments}
Coated in sequins of purple and gold, with barely the suggestion of DIY hummingbird wings to show for it, the original Sophie Bell blows the smoke from her scorching hot glue gun, holstering it for the moment. The susurrating fringe of her grass skirt falls silent as she balances statue-still atop her fuchsia unicycle and stops to stare at the hypnotic filaments of her own private plasma orb, willing it to reveal a hint of the future. While she waits, her mind wanders to those she thanks for this present:
The team at Razorbill/Penguin who supports the Ultra Violets, in particular Ben Schrank, Becca Kilman, and Vivian Kirklin, for their patience, and Kristin Smith for her creativity and commitment.
Ethen Beavers, to whom is due many a pitcher of butterbeer, served alongside the pie of his choosing.
Honorary thanks, still, to Jocelyn Davies, Micol Ostow, and Chris Battle, each instrumental in different ways to the launch of the series.
Aimee Friedman, who never gets knots in her hair and doesn’t even need robotic wings because she is a natural-born birdie. The sagacious Jazan Higgins, as good as a crystal ball, for her clear-sightedness and counsel. And for finding the exact shade of lipstick (Stila Gemma {pink violet} 09) just in time. V is for vraiment grand merci to both for humoring my endless anxieties, c’est très true bleu of you.
Lucy Christopher, who held my hand through Sleep No More, even though she was right, it wasn’t that scary after all.
Barry Cunningham, for auld lang syne.
The wild-eyed Wolfman, whose sporadic presence proved a maddening distraction, if nothing more. Consider this acknowledgment. Thanks? Not so much!
The tribe: Bridget, who doesn’t quit. Cornelius, of course. Kevin, holding down the home front. Brendan, rightly comparing being a writer to being in a band—or at least a solo act. Justine: She’s crafty, and that’s a fact. Fiona, Eila, and Niamh (that’s how I spell it!), because girls rule the world.
And finally, to Siobhán McGowan: Keep Feeling Fascination.
SOPHIE BELL is a writer—like you didn’t already know! Her favorite color is purple, which you probably guessed by now, too. Stop by and say hey to her on Facebook, Google+, and Twitter @UVSophieBell.
ETHEN BEAVERS grew up in Oregon and currently lives in California. He was about thirty years old when he entered the professional artist field (it’s never too late to try). He works in comic books and children’s publishing and is the regular artist for the New York Times bestselling series NERDS. He likes fly fishing for trout and root beer. And cartoons. He’s married to a wonderful gal and is the second of seven children.