Samantha Spinner and the Perplexing Pants

by Russell Ginns

  Samantha shrugged. “Not really,” she answered. “I’ve never actually met her.”

  “Does she live in Seattle?” asked Lainey.

  “Maybe,” said Samantha. “I’m not sure what happened to her. I’ve been pretty focused on trying to find my uncle these days. And if I can’t figure out that plaid pattern, then I’m stuck.”

  Lainey looked at Samantha for a moment. She seemed to be thinking things over.

  “Is your little brother home?” she asked.

  “Probably,” said Samantha. “He’s got a big problem of his own he’s working on.”

  “Have you considered helping him with his problem, so he can help you with yours?” Lainey asked.

  “I knew you were going to say that!” Samantha snapped. “The answer is…no! He’s completely ridiculous. And super-annoying.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Lainey. “It was just a suggestion.”

  “And besides,” Samantha continued, “he doesn’t know any information that I don’t already have!”

  She realized she was shouting at her friend and stopped. She took a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry, Lainey,” said Samantha. “I’m just disappointed that my plans here got…”

  “Shredded?” Lainey suggested.

  “Yeah,” said Samantha, smirking just a little.

  They reached the corner where their paths split.

  “Promise you won’t forget about my party this Saturday,” said Lainey.

  “I won’t,” said Samantha.

  She was glad Lainey had reminded her. She had been so focused on her plaid problem that she had almost forgotten about the party invitation. And it was good to hear that Lainey still wanted her to come, even though Samantha had just yelled at her.

  “Hold on,” said Lainey. “I’ve got it.”

  “What?” asked Samantha. “The plaid pattern?”

  “No,” Lainey replied. “I’ve invented a word to describe your sister.”

  Samantha waited.

  “She’s your neme-sister,” said Lainey.

  Samantha smiled, but only a little. She would have rather learned the answer to the plaid.

  “Good luck with your puzzle pattern,” said Lainey.

  She headed across the street.

  Samantha turned in the other direction and headed home.

  “The final score is Los Angeles, eighty-seven, Yankees…zero.

  “And with this incredible defeat, folks, the New York Yankees are almost—”

  Nipper switched off the radio and sat down on the edge of his bed.

  Game one hundred forty-five was over. His Yankees were in big, big trouble, and nobody was willing to help.

  He flopped backward and stared up at the slowly rotating blades of his ceiling fan.

  “Two games left,” he said softly. “Only two games left.”

  Tomorrow his New York Yankees were scheduled to play a doubleheader against Boston. His Yankees were going to lose their final five games to the Red Sox. What could be worse?

  The light in the center of the fan hurt his eyes, so he let his gaze drift down to a shelf above his desk. There, a dozen graphic novels lay in a stack.

  “Someday I’m going to make a graphic novel about my life,” Nipper sighed. “And when I do, I’m gonna call this part of the story ‘It wasn’t—’ ”

  Something caught his eye. He sat up straight.

  On the shelf, between the stack of graphic novels and a Mickey Mantle bobblehead, it had been sitting there all along.

  He got up from the bed and went to take a closer look.

  Nipper smiled.

  He saw something…that could save his Yankees!

  He walked over to his bedroom window and looked down. He spotted his sister, shuffling along the sidewalk. Her head drooped and she walked slowly, dragging her umbrella on the ground. She looked disappointed.

  “Good,” said Nipper. “My Yankees need me, and so does Sam.”

  He headed downstairs and waited for her to come back into the house.

  As Samantha walked back to her house, she wrestled with a decision. She could head up to her room and write a gloomy poem in her journal or…she could flop onto the couch and power mope.

  “Poem,” she said grimly.

  As she opened the front door, she had already started composing in her head:

  Where, oh where did my uncle go?

  And why did he say “Watch out for the—

  “So!” Nipper called cheerfully the moment she stepped through the front door. “You want to figure out the plaid pattern, do you?”

  Samantha ignored him. She wasn’t interested in whatever ridiculous thing he was going to say. She headed to the stairs.

  “I said…,” Nipper continued, “you’d like to see Uncle Paul’s plaid. Right?”

  “Is that really a question?” she replied.

  “Well, today is a lucky day,” said Nipper.

  “Ugh,” said Samantha. “Not another one of your lucky days. Don’t you remember what happened last time you—”

  “Not my lucky day,” said Nipper. “Today is your lucky day.”

  Her brother bounced up and down on his toes. He seemed really excited.

  “Don’t you want to know the pattern in the plaid?” he asked.

  “Okay,” she said. “Right. I do.”

  “Perfect,” he said, “because I’ve discovered the secret.”

  “Secret?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “The secret to Uncle Paul’s perplexing pants!”

  Nipper stopped bouncing suddenly.

  “Of course, before I share it with you,” he said, pointing a finger at her, “you are going to help me do something…about this!”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny object.

  “A coin?” asked Samantha.

  Nipper looked at his hand. He was holding out a silver-colored object.

  “Whoops,” he said. “That’s an old penny from Uncle Paul. Wrong pocket.”

  He tucked the silver-colored penny away, reached into a different pocket, and took out the green plastic scorpion ring.

  Samantha sighed.

  “And why exactly am I going to help you now?” she asked.

  “Because,” said Nipper, “I have the answer to your plaid puzzle.”

  He crossed his arms and flashed a big smile.

  Samantha thought about it for a moment. Her brother seemed really excited and very certain that he knew something useful. He could be completely wrong, of course.

  But she had reached a dead end.

  “Okay,” she told him. “What do I have to do?”

  He handed her the fake plastic ring.

  “You’re going to help me steal the real scorpion ring from Missy Snoddgrass,” he said.

  “I don’t really approve of stealing things,” Samantha said.

  “Are you kidding!” Nipper said. “Missy steals everything from me!”

  He started marching around the room.

  “She took my Yankees! She took my big blue diamond!” he shouted, waving his hands in the air. “Do you remember that gold, gem-covered egg sculpture that Uncle Paul gave me?”

  Samantha nodded.

  “She took that, too!” Nipper shouted. “And I used to have a trombone, and some cool round glasses, and a really old baseball card.”

  “I’m pretty sure you lost some of those all by yourself,” Samantha said.

  “It doesn’t matter. And we’re really trading, more than stealing,” Nipper said.

  He pointed out through the side window of the living room.

  “If you can get us to Missy’s back porch and help me get that ring, then I’ll show you the pattern in the plaid.”

 
Samantha looked out the window to their neighbor’s house.

  “All right,” she said.

  “Yes!” Nipper said, punching a fist happily at the air.

  “Hold on,” Samantha said.

  She stuffed the plastic ring into her pocket.

  “How exactly am I supposed to help get you the ring?” she asked.

  “That’s your job,” said Nipper. “Do I have to figure out everything?”

  “What’s with the clipboard?” Nipper asked Samantha as they walked across their backyard.

  “It’s a prop,” she answered. “I borrowed it from Mom. Now let me have your hand lens.”

  “Where’s your umbrella?” he asked.

  “I left it at home,” said Samantha. “We won’t need it.”

  Samantha hoped that was true. It had saved her life on more than one occasion. Finding secret passageways, fighting ninjas. But right now she just wanted to help her brother get his silly ring and then get back to finding her uncle.

  Nipper took the magnifier from his pocket and handed it to her.

  “Good,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  Together they hopped over the bushes and landed on the Snoddgrass driveway.

  “See?” her brother told her. “It’s a lot easier to get here this way, isn’t it?”

  “We went this way because we don’t want anyone on the porch to see us,” Samantha replied. “Just do as I say, and you’ll get the ring.”

  “Sure, sure,” said Nipper. “But that was a perfectly acceptable way to go between houses, am I right?”

  Samantha didn’t answer. She led him across the driveway. When they reached the side of the Snoddgrass house, just past the front porch, they crouched out of sight…and waited.

  * * *

  —

  “If nobody touches my things…then nobody’s bones will get broken!”

  It was Missy, shouting back into the house as she stepped onto the front porch. The horrible little girl slammed the door behind her and marched down the steps. This was good. Samantha would be able to help her brother without having to worry about another Missy-versus-Nipper adventure.

  They watched as Missy reached the sidewalk, turned, and disappeared in the direction of downtown Capitol Hill.

  “You’ve memorized your script, right?” Samantha asked her brother.

  “Yes,” Nipper said. “Word for word.”

  “Fine,” Samantha said. “Don’t change anything, and I’ll get us inside.”

  Nipper gave her a thumbs-up.

  They walked around the front porch and up the steps. Nipper leaned flat against the house to the right of the door and out of sight.

  Samantha rang the doorbell.

  “Do you really think this will work, Sam?” Nipper whispered.

  “Shhhh,” she replied. “Just stick to the script.”

  The heavy door opened. A man and a woman stood behind the screen door, smiling.

  Samantha was pretty sure they were Missy’s parents. She’d encountered them the last time she’d gone to Missy’s house. Of course, every time she went to this house, things were kind of strange. There always seemed to be something going on in this place that she couldn’t quite figure out.

  The man wore a chef’s hat and a sparkling clean apron with the words BOSS-LEVEL GRILLER on it. In one hand, he held a long pair of metal tongs. A roasted hot dog dangled from them.

  The woman wore a frilly apron. She cradled a blueberry pie. A toothpick stuck into the crust held a small blue ribbon with the words FIRST PRIZE. NATIONAL BAKING COMPETITION. The woman also had a blue ribbon pinned to her frock. That ribbon said AWARD-WINNING BAKER OF NATIONAL BAKING COMPETITION. FIRST-PLACE WINNER.

  Yep, thought Samantha. Kind of strange.

  Samantha could see Nipper out of the corner of her eye. He was leaning against the wall, with his eyes closed, sucking in long, deep breaths of the hot dog and blueberry pie scents wafting out of the home.

  “Stick to the script,” she whispered.

  He opened his eyes and nodded.

  Samantha cleared her throat and leaned in to speak to the adults through the screen door.

  “Cookie delivery,” said Samantha.

  “Cookies?” asked the man.

  He pushed open the screen door and stepped forward. Nipper stood pinned between the door and the wall.

  “Tell us about these cookies,” he said.

  The screen was pressed against Nipper’s face, and the man waved his barbecue tongs in the air, dangling a hot dog two inches from Nipper’s nose.

  Samantha pretended to review information on the clipboard.

  “It says…here,” she said, “Missy ordered ten thousand boxes of cookies to help send me to detective train camp.”

  “Detective train camp?” asked the man.

  “Ten…thousand…cookies?” asked the woman, stepping out of the house.

  She looked past Samantha, out to the sidewalk, then up and down the street.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “I’m just the advance cookie delivery scout, ma’am,” said Samantha politely. “Before the trucks can unload, I have to make sure the porch is safe.”

  “Safe?” the man and woman both asked at the same time.

  “It has to support the weight of all the boxes,” said Samantha.

  She knelt down and pretended to inspect the floorboards through Nipper’s hand lens.

  “Take a close look at this porch,” she said, gesturing with the clipboard for them to come join her.

  The man let go of the door, and he and the woman both knelt down to peek at the wood through the lens of the magnifying glass. While they stared, Samantha waved to Nipper. He crept from behind the door and tiptoed into the house.

  As soon as Nipper was out of sight, Samantha stood up.

  “Excellent carpentry,” she announced.

  “That’s good news,” said the man.

  Both of the strange adults got to their feet.

  “And the cookies?” asked the woman.

  “The truck should be here in five business days,” said Samantha, pretending to read from the clipboard again. “Sometime between five a.m. and midnight.”

  The man and woman smiled, nodded, and walked back into the house.

  Samantha watched the door swing shut behind them.

  She hoped her brother would stick to the script.

  Nipper stood in the center of the Snoddgrasses’ foyer and waited. When the strange man and woman turned to reenter the house, he started jumping up and down. The two adults froze.

  “I’m so glad I found you in time!” said Nipper.

  “Wait. What? Who are you?” asked the man.

  “In time for what?” said the woman.

  “The cookies are ready!” Nipper said excitedly. “They’re being unloaded in the park!”

  “In the park?” asked the man, looking confused. “Why not in front of this house?”

  “There were too many,” said Nipper. “They’re stacking them up in front of the art museum. You’ve got to go get them before it rains.”

  The man and the woman stared at him.

  “You don’t want to have to tell Missy that her cookies got soggy…and it was all your fault, do you?”

  The two adults both gulped nervously.

  “I bet that would make her really mad,” he said. “And I mean really, really, really, really, really—”

  They turned and ran onto the porch. The door slammed behind them. Nipper counted to ten. Then he opened the door again.

  Samantha entered.

  “Good job,” she said, pulling the door closed behind her. “This mission is going exactly as planned.”

  “Not exactly,” said Nipper.

  “Why do you say that?
” she asked.

  “As long as you were tricking people, you could have tricked them into leaving us the hot dog,” said Nipper longingly. “Or that blueberry pie.”

  “Hush,” said Samantha. “And come on.”

  She left the foyer, with Nipper on her heels, and walked into a living room…sort of.

  Dozens of fancy picture frames hung on the walls, but none of them held any pictures. They were all empty.

  A large grandfather clock stood between two doorways, not ticking.

  A framed needlepoint banner rested on a coffee table, with a message in needlepoint letters:

  The floor was littered with knitting needles, crochet hooks, and balls of yarn. There were half a dozen rocking chairs, scattered about the room, plus a dog carrier. But there was no sign that any people had actually spent any time here. And there didn’t seem to be any traces of a dog, either.

  “I wonder what kind of ‘living’ takes place in this room,” Samantha said to Nipper.

  He shrugged.

  “Let’s just grab your bug ring and get out of here,” Samantha said.

  “Arachnid,” Nipper said. “Which way is the back porch?”

  Samantha looked around. Two doorways led out of the room. Through one opening, she saw a stove and a refrigerator. She could see a table and chairs through the other doorway.

  “Let’s split up,” she said, pointing to the left. “You check out the kitchen.”

  “I’m on it,” said Nipper.

  She watched him head to the kitchen, but before he reached the doorway, he stopped and turned back to her.

  “Sam?” he called.

  “Yes,” she replied, annoyed. “What now?”

  “I just want to say thank you,” he told her. “Thanks for helping. It means a lot to me.”

  Samantha smiled.

  “And if my Yankees were here,” he continued, “I’m sure they’d all want to thank you, too. And—”

  “Hurry up,” she said, cutting him off. “Just go and come back quickly!”

  Nipper turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

  She listened to his footsteps fade, and then she headed to the next room.

  Samantha thought about this silly “mission.” She and her brother were on yet another adventure, and once again, things were getting strange. As always, she and her brother seemed entangled in something bigger and weirder than they could ever have imagined.