She shook her head. She wasn’t sure if she was thinking about sneaking into the Snoddgrass house just now, or about all the things that had happened this year to her and Nipper…and Dennis and her parents and Uncle Paul…and even to Buffy.
Nipper stepped into the kitchen and looked around the room. A small table lined with spices in neat rows sat in the center, and along the back wall was an L-shaped counter with shelves above it filled with cans and boxes. A wood-paneled refrigerator hummed beside a shiny chrome oven. Colorful fruit hung in wire baskets.
Smelling the hot dogs and the pie at the front door had already made Nipper hungry. He was doing his best to stick to the script, but the delicious aroma of boss-level grilling and national-award-winning baking was a major distraction.
He took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly.
He was there to get the ring.
To get the ring, he had to find the ring.
To find the ring, he had to find the back porch without finding a parrot.
To find…
…himself alone in a kitchen now, surrounded by food, was distracting!
“Time…out,” he said, sounding a little like a sports announcer.
He was in a kitchen, all by himself. Snacks were everywhere. There was nothing to stop him, and there was nothing he wouldn’t consider eating.
“Pickled crabmeat with oysters,” said Nipper, reading words on a shiny copper can close to him on the counter.
Okay. Pickled crabmeat and oysters were some things he wouldn’t consider eating. Probably. At the very least, they wouldn’t be his first choice. He kept looking.
A thick paper bag with a clear plastic window rested on the counter. It was the kind of bag that usually had fresh-baked cookies inside. He read the label.
“Sea urchins?” said Nipper in surprise.
He shook his head and moved on to a row of big glass jars. One looked like it was full of powdered chocolate. The other looked like brown sugar.
“Hot chili…cumin,” said Nipper, reading the labels on the jars.
He shook his head.
“Nope. Not today,” he said to the jars, as if they could hear him.
Nipper crossed to the other side of the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator. Something flopped out onto the floor. It looked like the end of a fire hose. Nipper bent down to get a closer look. It was a long, gray, rubbery tube. One side was lined with rows of suction cups.
“A tentacle?” Nipper asked.
He rose to his feet and peered into the refrigerator. It was stuffed with a huge gray shape. Two basketball-sized spheres wobbled at eye level. They seemed to stare at Nipper like two big mysterious eyeballs.
They were eyeballs! A whole boiled giant squid filled the refrigerator!
“Ugh,” said Nipper, shaking his head.
There was no way—no way—he would ever consider eating that! He was pretty sure.
He closed the refrigerator, irritated. Where were the tasty snacks? Where was the food that not-double-triple super-evil kids liked to eat?
A flickering light caught Nipper’s attention. On the other side of the refrigerator, an old lightbulb dangled from the ceiling in a small walk-in pantry. The tiny room was lined with shelves, but they were empty…except for one shelf at Nipper’s eye level. In the center of the wooden shelf stood a single box, about the size of a cereal box. It showed photos of graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate chips. Purple dots sparkled on the surfaces of the crackers. Letters made out of candy canes spelled out the words:
PEPPERMINT S’MORES COOKIES
Lower down on the box, words appeared in a yellow burst:
…with Pop Rocks!
“That’s more like it,” said Nipper.
He smiled and picked up the box and shook it.
It was empty.
“That figures,” Nipper said.
Then, snap!
Somewhere inside the thick wooden shelf, there was a sound like a sprung mousetrap. Before he could say “Holy cow-a-bunga! What’s happening?” the whole pantry, with Nipper inside it, dropped like a bag of rock salt.
The pantry-elevator touched down. After such a sudden surprise drop, the landing was actually kind of gentle. Nipper stood, stunned, for a moment, facing the same shelves he’d been facing upstairs. Then he turned and peered out through the doorway.
A long corridor led away from the pantry-elevator. It was lined with metal cabinets. They looked a lot like the ones Nipper’s dad had in his office, where he kept all his lightbulb notes, charts, and diagrams. Nipper counted ten cabinets on each side of the hallway.
He tried to read the labels on one of the cabinets, but the writing was small, and the light in the hallway wasn’t very good. He reached for his hand lens, but then he remembered that Samantha had it.
The door at the other end of the hallway was half-open, and light streamed in from the space beyond. There was only one place to go, so he walked to the door and peeked through the opening.
The room seemed to be empty, so he pushed the door open and entered.
It was a tiny office. A desk, a floor lamp, and an old, wooden swivel chair were against the wall. Above the desk, two large, glossy photos were pinned to a bulletin board. Each one featured a smiling face. They were photos of Missy’s parents.
Nipper leaned in for a closer look. “Craig Zilch,” he read on the bottom of the photo of Missy’s dad.
He scratched his head. That was odd. He’d expect the man’s last name to be Snoddgrass. He inspected the second shiny photo.
“Lucinda Q. Blurglestein?” Nipper said.
He shook his head. Who were these people?
A folder on the desk was stuffed with papers. He opened it.
He gasped.
They looked like legal papers.
“My Yankees?” Nipper asked breathlessly.
Could he have found his player contracts and the deed to Yankee Stadium?
He took a closer look.
No. They weren’t baseball player contracts. Nipper hung his head sadly until something on the paper caught his eye.
“Model Parent Release Form,” Nipper read. “Employment Agreement.”
He scanned the first document. The page was filled with a ton of fine print that he wasn’t interested in reading without his hand lens. He skipped to the bottom. In bigger print it said:
ROLE:
Jonathan Jacob Snoddgrass.
DESCRIPTION:
A friendly and mild-mannered father in his midforties.
Winner of several World’s Greatest Dad awards.
Alert, confident, eager to please. Boss-level griller.
Nipper picked up a second contract:
ROLE:
Rebecca Jane Snoddgrass
DESCRIPTION:
A cheerful and energetic mother, president of the PTA.
Kind, content, soft-spoken. Blueberry pie enthusiast.
Frilly apron wearer.
Nipper shook his head and closed the folder. He wasn’t interested in contracts that didn’t have anything to do with his Yankees.
He glanced sideways and noticed something on the wall to his right. An oil painting in a fancy gold frame.
The painting featured a boat—an old-fashioned sailing ship. A flag with a skull and eight bones sticking out of it flapped from the top of the main mast.
A pirate crew fired cannons and waved torches. Nipper counted ten…fifteen…twenty people on board.
Near the middle of the ship, a pirate captain waved his sword at some poor guy on a plank stretching out over the choppy water.
Nipper could swear the captain in the painting looked familiar. Nipper leaned forward to get a better look and gasped. It was Nathaniel, Buffy’s one-legged pirate assistant! The man
had attacked Nipper with a sword and probably would have killed him if a Komodo dragon hadn’t saved Nipper!
He squinted to try to make out the person on the plank.
Wait…a…minute…
It was him!
“What? Huh? Who?” Nipper spluttered.
In the painting, Jeremy Bernard Spinner stood on the edge of the plank, about to plunge into the dark, choppy sea. He was wrapped in mustard-yellow-colored string, with his hands pinned to his sides. Sharks splashed in the water below, eagerly looking up at their next meal.
Nipper turned his back on the painting.
“How incredibly…awful,” he said quietly, and shivered.
It really was awful. And alarming. And it probably was a big clue about really important things. He had to tell Sam!
Nipper left the room quickly.
“I bet this has something to do with the WIND,” he said as he reached the pantry. “When I tell Sam all about this, she’ll probably want to come back and explore…”
He spotted a box on one of the shelves.
“Peppermint s’mores cookies,” he read from the box.
He picked it up and shook it.
The box was empty.
“It figures,” said Nipper.
Snap!
ZOOM!
The pantry, with Nipper inside, shot upward.
Samantha entered the dining room. It was huge! It covered more than half the ground level of the Snoddgrass house.
A long, wooden table stretched across the room. Samantha counted ten…fifteen…twenty chairs. At the far end, she saw a set of sliding glass doors. Yellow polka-dot drapes covered them. A blinking green dot flashed through the fabric.
“The back porch,” said Samantha.
She heard a noise, and the house shook for a second.
“Nipper?” she asked.
Nothing. What was taking her brother so long?
Samantha spotted a big, framed map covering one wall. She went over to investigate.
“South Pacific Ocean,” she said, reading a banner along the top of the frame.
Most of the map was blue, with islands scattered about.
In the upper left corner, she recognized Japan.
“Domo arigato,” said Samantha.
Uncle Paul had taught her how to say Please, Thank you, and Where’s the tallest building? in Japanese. It was one of the eleven languages he’d taught her…before he’d started disappearing without telling her why, or where he was going.
Samantha’s eye was drawn to a large mark, about halfway down the map, directly under Japan.
A red X covered a tiny island in the Pacific Ocean.
“Yap,” said Samantha, reading the name beneath the spot on the map.
It sounded familiar, but Samantha couldn’t remember where she had heard it before. Maybe she’d read about it somewhere.
“Yap?” she said again.
Samantha didn’t think Uncle Paul had ever mentioned an island called Yap. Had she learned about it at school? Had she heard something about it in Buffy’s ridiculous gold-plated New York apartment?
She heard another noise. The house shook again. Then she heard footsteps.
Samantha stood up straight and turned to see who was coming.
It was Nipper.
“I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes,” she told him. “Where did you go?”
“It’s not important,” said Nipper, looking shaken up.
“The back porch is right here,” Samantha said, gesturing to the glass doors.
The little green dot was blinking through the curtains, and Nipper smiled.
“Ready?” she asked.
Nipper nodded and crossed the room. He grabbed one of the handles on the sliding glass door.
“Good,” she said, grabbing the other handle. “I’ve given up way too much of my afternoon for this goofy mission.”
Together they pulled the doors apart.
“Let’s get the bug ring and go,” Samantha said as she pulled back the polka-dot drapes and stepped outside. “I need to head back and find Uncle—”
“Hello there, dumplings,” said a high, sweet voice.
An elderly woman with blue-gray hair in curlers sat in a rocking chair on the porch. She wore a flowery bathrobe and sensible black leather shoes. She gazed at Samantha and Nipper through incredibly thick-lensed glasses and smiled warmly. As she rocked back and forth, she knitted a scarf using green knitting needles.
There was no sign of an emerald scorpion ring.
As the woman knitted and rocked, the light from an overhead lamp reflected off her knitting needles. Every few seconds, the tips of the needles flashed a green light.
Samantha glanced over at Nipper. He stood still, staring at the needles. He looked stunned.
“I get so few visitors these days,” the woman said gently. “Come closer, sweet little boy, so I can pinch your cheeks.”
The woman put down her knitting and reached out. Nipper stopped staring at the needles and stared at the woman’s fingers. He took a step backward.
Samantha thought the woman’s hands looked remarkably large and powerful. And hairy?
The woman sighed and gave up on pinching. She returned to her knitting. The green needles flashed several more times.
“I do hope you sweet little munchkins stay for a while,” said the woman. “As soon as I finish this row, I’ll brew some tea and open a box of peppermint s’mores cookies.”
Samantha looked at Nipper. He stood frozen in place, watching the knitting needles.
“We’re sorry to bother you, ma’am,” said Samantha. “My brother and I were just passing through and…”
“Hello, Jeremy Bernard Spinner,” said a voice.
Samantha spun around. Missy Snoddgrass stood in the doorway, watching every move. Her yellow polka-dot blouse matched the drapes. The green emerald scorpion ring on her finger flashed.
“And sister,” Missy added. “I see you’ve met my grandmother.”
“Please,” said the woman. “Call me Nana.”
Nipper was silent. His eyes were locked on Missy’s ring.
“I’m surprised to see you here, Jeremy,” said Missy. “The Yankees have a double-header coming up. It could be their last game ever. I didn’t think you’d want to miss closing day.”
Her brother didn’t say anything. His hands were balled into tight fists, his whole body shaking. He looked as if his head were about to explode.
Samantha knew it was time to step in and help.
“Hey, Missy,” she called. “Can I show you what our uncle gave us?”
“Huh?” Missy grunted.
Samantha pulled the mitten from her back pocket, unrolled it, and held it out for Missy to inspect.
“This seems like an ordinary mitten, I know,” Samantha told Missy. “But it gives you extra protection. Let me show you.”
Missy looked at her suspiciously. Then, slowly, she stuck out her open hand.
Using both hands, Samantha slid the mitten over Missy’s fingers and pushed until it touched her wrist.
Missy stared at the mitten on her hand.
“Well?” asked Samantha.
“Well what?” Missy replied, still staring at the mitten.
Nipper watched Missy carefully. He didn’t move or say anything.
Samantha let out a big, dramatic sigh.
“Well…I guess that’s not a good look for you,” she said.
Missy nodded, leaving her hand out.
Samantha pulled the mitten off, rolled it up, and stuffed it into her back pocket again. As she did, she pulled out the fake plastic ring that Nipper had given her earlier.
Missy continued staring at her open hand.
“Whoopsy,” said Samantha, h
olding up the second ring. “You don’t want to lose this.”
Missy snatched the ring and slipped it onto her finger.
Samantha glanced at Nipper. He still hadn’t moved, but his eyes had grown wider. She thought she could make out a faint smile on his lips.
“Are…you going to stay for tea and cookies?” Nanna asked sweetly.
Samantha shook her head. “Thanks,” she said. “But we were just leaving. Come on, Nipper.”
“Exit through the porch, please,” said Missy quickly, pointing to her backyard.
Nipper suddenly looked alarmed.
“Don’t worry,” Missy told him. “I’ll make sure my parrot doesn’t bother you.”
She opened the screen door on the back of the porch with one hand and gestured with the other.
“For at least fifteen seconds,” she added. “Now go!”
“You can take off the wig now,” said Missy Snoddgrass. “They’re gone.”
“Arrrrrr…you sure?” asked Nathaniel.
“Yes,” she answered. “I just watched them hop over the bushes together.”
“Good,” he said, yanking from his head the frizzy hairpiece loaded with curlers. “These fake locks are as itchy as barnacle bloomers.”
The pirate tossed the blue-gray wig across the porch. Curlers clattered on the wood flooring. He kicked off one of his shoes, leaned back in the rocking chair, and returned to his knitting.
Missy sniffed the air twice.
“Is that really necessary?” she asked. “Your foot smells terrible.”
“If you had bought me a bigger shoe, I wouldn’t be in such a hurry to take it off,” Nathaniel answered.
“Sorry,” said Missy. “All the stores in the Pacific Northwest are sold out of size-ten ladies’ shoes…ever since Shoe Day.”
Samantha Spinner and the Perplexing Pants Page 8