by Duncan Ball
‘And we never would have discovered this,’ Malcolm said, patting the mouse. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘No one has,’ said the professor. ‘Today we’ve discovered a new kind of mouse. This is very exciting. And of course new mice need new names. Can anyone think of one?’
‘I know,’ said Malcolm. ‘Let’s name it after Emily.’
‘What a good idea,’ said Professor Mousefinder. ‘We’ll call it Mus emiliensis. That’s the scientific name for Emily’s Mouse. Soon scientists all over the world will know about Emily’s Mouse.’
‘It’s soooo cute,’ Emily said patting its tiny head. ‘What will you do with it?’
‘We’ll do what we always do. We’ll take its picture and then let it go,’ Malcolm Mousefinder explained. Suddenly Malcolm looked at Emily. ‘Hey, everybody, look! She’s got an eye on the end of her finger!’
‘All the better to rescue you with,’ Emily said, pointing it at him.
Everyone laughed except Malcolm, who looked a little bit frightened.
And that’s how a very rare mouse came to be named after Emily.
10.
Emily Eyefinger, Crook Catcher
One day Emily was in a bank with her mother when two masked men and a masked woman burst in. They had guns and they pointed them in every direction.
‘Get down on the floor!’ the woman screamed. ‘We’re the Bad Luck Gang and this is a holdup!’
‘What’s a holdup?’ Emily asked.
‘Shhh,’ her mother said. ‘We’d better do as they say, dear.’
Everyone had to lie facedown on the floor with their eyes closed, so they couldn’t see, and with their hands on their heads. Of course with her hands on top of her head, Emily could see everything with her eyefinger. She watched as the robbers took all the money and stuffed it into suitcases.
‘Now I know what a holdup is,’ Emily said to her mother. ‘It’s like robbing, isn’t it?’
‘Quiet!’ one of the robbers ordered. ‘No talking while we’re robbing!’
When the robbers were about to leave the bank, they told everyone to keep their eyes closed and count to six hundred. Then the robbers took their masks off and walked out of the bank whistling a tune. This was so that no one on the street would think they were bank robbers. No one outside even noticed them.
‘… eleven, twelve, thirteen …’ the people in the bank said all together.
‘You can stop counting and open your eyes,’ Emily said when she saw the bank robbers’ car drive away. ‘They’ve gone.’
‘How do you know?’ someone asked.
‘I peeked,’ Emily said, wiggling her eyefinger.
Everyone opened their eyes and got up off the floor.
‘My goodness,’ someone said. ‘That little girl has an eye on the end of her finger.’
‘And it’s very handy,’ Emily said with a laugh.
When the police heard that it was the Bad Luck Gang, they looked very glum.
‘Those people are too smart for us,’ the sergeant said. ‘I don’t think we’ll ever be able to catch the Bad Luck Gang. No one knows what they look like because they always wear masks when their doing their robbing.’
‘I know what they look like,’ Emily said. ‘I saw their faces.’
‘You what?’ the sergeant said.
‘I said, “I saw their faces.”’
‘But they had masks on.’
‘They took them off just before they left the bank,’ Emily explained.
‘But you said you were lying face down on the floor with your eyes closed. How could you possibly have seen them?’
Emily showed them her eyefinger.
‘With this,’ she said.
The sergeant looked surprised, just as Emily expected.
‘Why, you’ve got an eye right on the end of your finger,’ the sergeant said.
‘Yes, I’ve had it all my life,’ Emily said.
The other police officers gathered around her.
‘How can we get one too?’ one of them asked.
‘I’m afraid they don’t grow on trees,’ Emily said.
‘No, I’m sure they don’t.’
‘If you weren’t born with one,’ Emily explained. ‘I’m afraid you’ll never ever have one. Not a real one that works. That’s just the way it is.’
In a minute the police sergeant had Emily looking through a stack of photographs of bank robbing suspects. And in two minutes Emily had found pictures of the three people who called themselves the Bad Luck Gang.
‘She was one of them and the other two are here and here,’ Emily said, pointing to the photographs.
‘Right!’ the sergeant said. ‘Let’s get them!’
And in a little more than three minutes the robbers were caught and put in jail.
‘Do you know that that little girl actually has an eye on the end of her finger?’ the woman bank robber said later to the two men bank robbers. ‘That was bad luck for us. I guess we really are the Bad Luck Gang.’
‘You mean we were the Bad Luck Gang,’ one of the men bank robbers said with a tear in his eye. ‘We’re not even a gang anymore. We’re just three bad luck prisoners.’
The police were so pleased with Emily that they gave her a special medal. They asked if they could ring her when they needed her help.
‘Of course,’ Emily said, rubbing the medal to make it shiny. ‘I’m always happy to help.’
And so Emily grew and grew. She got used to being different although it wasn’t always easy. Having an eye on the end of her finger did have its problems.
Every now and then her parents would ask, ‘Do you still like having that eye on your finger? Or do you want to have the doctor to take it off?’
Then Emily would smile and hold up both hands.
‘On the one hand, I like it,’ Emily said looking at the hand with her eyefinger. Then she’d look at the other and say, ‘But on the other hand, I don’t.’
Emily’s joke was an old joke now but everyone still laughed, including Emily. And when they finished laughing, they laughed some more.
Emily Eyefinger, Secret Agent
Duncan Ball
Dedication
To Callum
Contents—Emily Eyefinger, Secret Agent
Title Page
Dedication
1. Emily First Hand
2. Emily and the Tree that Squeaked
3. Emily Acts
4. Emily’s Expedition
5. Emily Eyefinger, Mouseologist
6. Emily’s Frenemy
7. Emily Eyefinger, Spyfinger
8. Emily and the Case of the Missing Secrets
1.
Emily First Hand
It wasn’t easy being the only little girl who had an eye on the end of her finger. It certainly wasn’t Emily’s fault that she was born that way. It was nobody’s fault, really. It just happened, the way things sometimes just happen.
Emily had two normal eyes just like everyone else. So she had no problem seeing. And it’s true that having the extra eye could be fun. She used it to see around corners and through cracks in the floor or holes in the wall. She could look behind her when she was walking without even turning her head. At school she could face her teacher and still look out the window with her finger.
When people asked her if she liked having an eye on her finger, she would say, ‘On the one hand I like it. But on the other hand I don’t.’
Emily could do many things with her eyefinger. But sometimes she was sad because there were things that everyone else could do but she couldn’t.
One day Emily was watching her parents fix up their bathroom. Her father was hammering. Her mother was squeezing sticky stuff around the bathtub to keep the water from going down behind. The work was almost done.
‘I’m sick and tired of my eyefinger,’ Emily said suddenly. ‘Would you mind if I asked the doctor to take it off?’
Her father stopped hammering. Her mother stopped squeezing.
‘You want to get rid of your eyefinger?’ Mr Eyefinger asked.
‘Yes,’ Emily said, ‘I do.’
‘But I thought you liked having it,’ Mrs Eyefinger said. ‘How about your little joke? Remember? “On the one hand I like it and on the other hand I don’t?”’
‘It’s not funny anymore,’ Emily said. ‘The doctor said that he’d take it off if I wanted him to.’
‘Just remember,’ Mrs Eyefinger warned, ‘he can’t put it back on again. Once it’s gone, it’s gone forever.’
‘That’s okay with me,’ Emily said.
‘And you won’t be the only girl in the world with an eye on her finger anymore,’ her father said.
‘That’s okay, too,’ Emily said. ‘I’m tired of being different.’
Her parents looked at each other. Emily went to the new basin and started brushing her teeth.
‘Emily,’ her father said, ‘can we talk about this some more?’
Emily nodded.
‘It’s true that sometimes you get dirt in your eye when you’re playing. I know that’s not much fun.’
‘And soap in my eye when I wash my hands,’ Emily reminded him. ‘Even when I close my eyelid soap sometimes gets in. And it stings!’
‘But you have that nice plastic bubble that Daddy made to protect it,’ Mrs Eyefinger said. ‘You just have to remember to put it on when you’re playing or washing your hands.’
‘There are lots and lots of things I still can’t do,’ Emily said. ‘Daddy won’t even let me hammer in nails.’
‘That’s because you might hit your eye,’ Mr Eyefinger explained. ‘That bubble wouldn’t protect you from a hammer.’
‘Maybe I want to be a carpenter when I grow up,’ Emily said. ‘You said I could have the eye taken off if I wanted to.’
‘Of course you can,’ Mr Eyefinger said. ‘We just want to make sure you really really want to and that you’re not going to change your mind when it’s too late.’
‘I really really really want to,’ said Emily.
Emily started brushing her teeth again.
‘Is someone picking on you at school?’ her mother asked.
‘Nope,’ Emily said (but it sounded more like ‘oke’ because of the toothbrush in her mouth).
‘Are people staring at you and making you embarrassed? You can always put your hand in your pocket,’ Mr Eyefinger said. ‘When you do that you look like any other little girl.’
‘That’s not it,’ Emily said.
‘Think of the wonderful help you’ve been,’ Mrs Eyefinger said. ‘You rescued that Mousefinder boy when he was stuck down a hole — and all because of your eyefinger. I’ll bet he wants you to keep it.’
‘He doesn’t have to have it on his finger,’ Emily said.
‘And you found that lost snake at the zoo,’ Mr Eyefinger said. ‘Your picture was in the newspaper. You even helped the police catch those bank robbers.’
‘Those were fun but maybe things like that will never happen again,’ said Emily.
‘Maybe they will,’ said Mr Eyefinger. ‘You can’t tell.’
He watched as Emily brushed her teeth some more.
‘Look at the way you do that,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’ Emily asked.
‘You brush for a while and then you put your eyefinger right in your mouth.’
‘That way I can see if I’ve missed anything.’
‘We can’t do that,’ said her mother. ‘We have to look in the mirror and we still can’t see the backs of our teeth. No wonder you have the cleanest teeth in the family.’
Emily suddenly looked angry.
‘Swimming,’ she said. And then she yelled out: ‘Swimming! Swimming! Swimming!’
‘What about swimming?’ Mrs Eyefinger asked.
‘We just started swimming lessons at school and the water keeps getting into my finger bubble. I have to keep emptying it out.’
‘Well then,’ her mother said. ‘I think I have just the thing. Give me that finger bubble and I’ll put some of this sticky stuff around the edge. It’ll keep the water out.’
‘It won’t stick to my finger, will it?’
‘Wait a few minutes till it dries. Then slip it over your finger again and it’ll be nice and tight and the water can’t get in.’
Which is exactly what happened.
‘Now I feel better about my eyefinger,’ Emily admitted.
‘Did you really want it taken off?’ her mother asked.
‘Well sort of,’ Emily said. ‘No, I guess not.’
‘Oh, you …’ her father said, giving her a big hug.
‘On the one hand I like it,’ Emily said holding up the hand with the eyefinger. Then she held up the other hand. ‘But on the other hand I don’t. I guess I’ll keep my eyefinger a little bit longer and see what happens.’
2.
Emily and the Tree that Squeaked
Emily was lying on the lounge reading a book called Sarah Spy, Secret Agent. The book was about the youngest person ever to join the secret service. Emily was almost at the end of the story. Sarah was following a spy and getting closer and closer to his hideout. Step by step through the dark streets she went. There was danger around every corner. It was so exciting that Emily could hardly stand it. Suddenly there was a knock at Emily’s door. She dropped the book and sat up straight.
‘Who is it?’ she called.
‘Emily, come quickly! There’s a tree that’s squeaking!’
At the front door were two children who lived nearby. They were Damian and Beth Young and they were both younger than Emily.
‘What are you talking about?’ Emily asked.
‘It’s squeaking and they’re chopping it down!’ Damian said. ‘You’ve got to make them stop!’
Damian’s little sister, Beth, stood next to him with her thumb in her mouth. She had a small piece of blanket pressed to the side of her face. Her big, sad eyes looked up at Emily.
‘Who’s cutting down the tree?’ Emily asked.
‘Come with us,’ Damian said. ‘We’ll show you.’
Emily could see in their faces that something was very wrong. She wanted to finish reading her book, but their problem seemed more important.
Around the corner they went. In front of Damian and Beth’s house were two workers. A woman was up in a cherry-picker cutting off the top branches of a tree with a chainsaw. A man was standing on the ground nearby. Under the tree were piles of branches.
The man stepped forward when he saw the children coming. The noise of the chainsaw was deafening.
‘Out of the way, kids!’ he shouted. ‘This is dangerous!’
The children pointed to the tree. They were all talking at once.
‘Stay back!’ the man yelled. ‘I’m sorry if you don’t want the tree cut down. We have to do it. It’s been dead for a long time. We have to cut it down so it won’t fall on someone.’
‘They say they heard it squeaking,’ Emily yelled.
‘What?’ the man shouted back.
‘It was squeaking!’
‘Peaking?’
‘No, squeaking!’
‘Leaking?’
Emily shook her head.
‘Stop for a minute, Vicky,’ the man yelled. ‘I want to have a word with the kids.’
One more branch came crashing down and then the chainsaw stopped.
‘What’s this about a leaping tree?’ he said.
‘It’s not leaping, it’s squeaking,’ Damian said. ‘Listen.’
They were all quiet for a minute. Everyone was listening.
‘I don’t hear a thing,’ the man said.
‘My sister did,’ Damian said, pointing to Beth. ‘She heard it squeaking just before you started cutting.’
‘Is that right, little girl?’
Beth nodded. She didn’t say anything. She still had her thumb deep in her mouth.
‘Old trees sometimes creak, especially when the wind blows.’
‘No!’ Bet
h screamed.
‘All right, all right. Settle down, kid. What sort of squeak did it make?’
Beth thought for a minute and then made some squeaking sounds in a tiny voice. ‘Eeeeek eeeeek eeeeek,’ she said. Then she put her thumb back in her mouth.
‘What do you make of that, Vicky?’ the man yelled up the tree.
‘Beats me,’ Vicky answered.
‘Does your little friend think that trees can talk?’ the man asked Emily. ‘Maybe she’s got a lively imagination.’
Beth narrowed her eyes and gave him her dirtiest look.
‘She thinks there’s something inside the tree,’ Emily explained. ‘Something that goes squeak.’
‘You mean like a bird?’ the man said.
‘Yes. Just look up there,’ Emily said, pointing to a hole halfway up the trunk. ‘There may be a nest in that hole.’
Vicky moved the cherry-picker down to look in the hole.
‘I can’t see a thing,’ she said. ‘It’s too small. I can’t get my head in and look down. Anybody in there?’ she yelled in the hole.
The man on the ground said, ‘Okay, kids. Off you go.’
‘No! No!’ Beth yelled at him.
‘Sorry, little girl, but we have work to do. If there’s anything in the hole we’ll find it when we cut the tree down. But I don’t think there’s anything in there.’
Little Beth pointed to Emily.
‘Why is she doing that?’ the man asked Emily.
‘She wants me to look in the hole with my eyefinger,’ Emily explained.
‘Your what?’
‘You see I … I have this … this …’ Emily started to explain. She had her left hand deep in her pocket. ‘I mean, most people just have fingernails on the ends of their fingers — but not me. I guess you might say that I’m different. Boy, am I different!’
‘What are you talking about?’ the man asked.
‘Here, have a look,’ Emily said showing him her finger and making the eyelid blink so he’d know it was real.