Mabel Opal Pear and the Rules for Spying

by Amanda Hosch

  “When Gert was baking cookies and cakes to sell, I’d sit and play with Jane.” He chuckled. “Your mom was very quick, even when she was just learning to walk.”

  “That’s so weird,” I said. “Why has no one told me about this before?”

  “Your mom probably doesn’t remember any of that time. She hadn’t started school yet, and Gert doesn’t like to talk about those sad years,” Principal Baker said. “I’m surprised your parents agreed to let them stay with you after everything Frank said and did.”

  “You’re surprised?” I snorted. “I’m the one who has to live with them.”

  “I want you to know, Mabel, that you can come to me for help, no matter what.”

  Rule Number 11 popped into my mind: Never trust anyone who works hard to befriend you. Watch carefully for anyone who does special, unasked favors. Try to figure out what they might want from you.

  “Why are you being so nice?” I asked, more bluntly than I should have.

  “As I said, Gert and I were friends in high school.”

  “So?”

  “Close friends.”

  Ugh. “Did you date my aunt?” I asked. Rule Number 11 didn’t cover the romantic lives of adults.

  Principal Baker sighed and looked out his side window. “We went steady for two years.”

  “Eww.” I never even thought of the principal outside of school, let alone dating my aunt. My curiosity got the better of me. “What happened?”

  “Gert decided to focus her energy on raising Jane and keeping the Spoon in the family.” He ran his fingers through his short hair. “When I came back from the University of Washington with my teaching degree, Prue came with me.”

  “Well, thanks for sharing,” I said, a bit sarcastically.

  “Mabel, what I mean is, Gert and I will always be friends. She trusts me.”

  “Good to know.” Was Principal Baker saying what I thought he was saying?

  “She knows I would never betray a confidence.” He opened his car door and got out.

  I did the same, wondering if that meant he knew my parents’ secret. I couldn’t ask him directly, of course, because asking him would betray the secret. This spy stuff was confusing. No wonder Mom liked working with old spoons in her spare time.

  From the driveway, my house looked the same as always — forest-green front door set into the rustic split-log exterior. Each summer, we’d apply a coat of water seal on the old logs and Dad would say, “They don’t build houses like this anymore.” With a smile, Mom would always counter, “Probably a reason for that.”

  Just before we walked in the front door, I whispered, “If I can get to my room without Frankenstella stopping me, I might be able to get some answers.”

  For once, an adult didn’t question my actions. Mr. Baker said, “I’ll run interference on the infamous Frank and Stella Baies.”

  As I reached for the knob, the door opened.

  “You’re in trouble.” Stella didn’t waste any breath greeting me. “How your parents manage you is a mystery.”

  I wanted to protest that nobody “managed” me, but I was on a mission to call Roy and I couldn’t let anything interfere. Stella had only opened the door about two feet, just wide enough for me to squeeze through sideways, as long as I ducked my head to avoid her bony elbow. She started to close it behind me, but Principal Baker stepped into the house with his right foot, preventing the door from being shut. I hoped he was wearing steel-toed shoes.

  “I’m Ted Baker, the principal of Bluewater-Silverton Unified Elementary School.” He leaned into the door with his right shoulder, opening it more.

  “Just how much trouble are you in, Mabel?” Stella asked me.

  “Oh, she’s not in trouble at all, Mrs. Baies.” Principal Baker extended his hand to my aunt, but she gave him an icy glare.

  “I know who you are.” Stella held the door firmly, as if she was deciding whether to slam it against him.

  “Is Frank here?”

  “No.”

  “We talked on the phone a few weeks ago about your daughter, Victoria,” Principal Baker said. Now both his feet were inside the house. “I’m also very good friends with your sister-in-law, Jane, and her husband, Fred.”

  Good friends? He’d just admitted to dating Aunt Gertie years and years ago, but he hadn’t said a word about my parents. Well, besides the whole babysitting thing. Maybe Mr. Baker is trying to use his principal powers to protect me, I thought.

  Stella relaxed her hold on the door and stepped into the living room. “If Moppet is not in trouble, why are you bringing her home from school at eleven in the morning?” She remained standing, even though there were two sofas and a chair less than six inches from her… and five feet away from their rightful places.

  Suddenly I realized that nothing was where it had been this morning. The bookshelves were empty. Piles of books dotted the floor. Framed family photos were missing from the walls. Two pieces of red pottery caught my eye, shards from the little bowl I’d made for my mother in first grade. I picked them up, pricking my finger in the process. I couldn’t find the rest of it or my dad’s matching blue bowl. “What did you do to my house?”

  “Don’t raise your voice to me, young lady.”

  “Principal Baker, look.” I pointed around the room, too many messes to count.

  He squeezed my shoulder. “Mabel, polite manners are one of a young lady’s greatest assets.”

  Oh yeah. Try to be pleasant to the enemy (Rule Number 10). Focus, Sunflower. I nodded.

  Stella turned her back to me. “Thank you for your concerns. I’ll handle Mabel Opal from here.” She still didn’t sit.

  “Can we talk privately? Without Mabel?” Principal Baker sat on the nearest sofa, acting as though my house was not in total disarray. “It’s a delicate matter.”

  I flew up the stairs before my aunt could object.

  10

  If your contact doesn’t make contact at the agreed upon time, assume the worst. Go immediately to Plan B. Or Plan C. Or whatever is the next plan. Just go.

  — Rule Number 20 from Rules for a Successful Life as an Undercover Secret Agent

  When I pushed open the door to my bedroom, I was relieved to find that it seemed untouched. After closing the door, I checked the sunflower cipher to see if I had somehow missed Vietnam. Nope, the eleventh petal on the fourteenth flower (light violet) was straight with no creases. Rats! Where were my parents?

  I walked to the other side of the room and stood in front of the tall, skinny bookshelf. Skimming my fingers along the spines of the Harry Potter series, Madeleine L’Engle’s Time Quintet, The Fulton Sisters’ Adventures series, and Mom’s ancient Nancy Drew mysteries, I came across An Abridged History of the United States. The pages of the old high school textbook stuck together. Gently, I opened the back cover to reveal a hiding spot. Inside the carved out pages was a super thin silver cell phone.

  Unlike a regular cell phone, this one had no display or memory, so the secret number could not be discovered. My fingers shook as I dialed Roy. It rang four times. I hung up, as I was supposed to, then dialed again. I let it ring three times, hung up again, then rang twice and hung up one last time, per protocol. I dialed it the last time, praying that Roy would pick up on the first ring.

  “Tweedledee.” Roy’s familiar voice sounded in my ear.

  “Tweedledum,” I answered.

  “You’re not supposed to call this number, Sunflower,” Roy said. “Except for when the Uhms are —”

  “But they are,” I interrupted.

  “No.” Roy didn’t say anything for what seemed like an eternity. “They returned to home base Saturday, midmorning, filed reports, and are currently off-duty.”

  “They left again.”

  “I’ll double-check. Sometimes headquarters forgets that the peons in the field need curre
nt intel in order to do our jobs.” The click-click of typing filled the silence. “Sunflower, are you sure they didn’t just step out for a little while?”

  “Where would they go?”

  “Maybe they went for a drive and got held up in traffic?”

  The image of my parents being held up by one of Silverton’s two stoplights infuriated me. Did the Agency think I’d panic if I was left alone for five minutes? I sucked in a big gulp of air so I wouldn’t scream in frustration. “They’ve been gone since Saturday, when they got a call during dinner. They left on a new mission.”

  “According to their status updates, the Uhms are not on duty at the current time.” Roy’s normally calm, deep voice was strained. “That’s why I didn’t call you last night.”

  I felt as if I had been punched in the stomach. “The Uhms left forty-two hours ago. Supposedly on a flight to Vietnam.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  Could one of the bent petals on the sunflower cipher represent my parents’ actual destination? “Would New Zealand, Suriname, or Liechtenstein be possibilities? Definitely not Monaco, right?”

  “Wait. What are you talking about, Sunflower?” Roy was speaking faster than I’ve ever heard him. “How would you know where they went, if they’d gone somewhere?”

  I couldn’t tell Roy about the sunflower cipher. It was against the Agency’s rules, and I didn’t want to get my parents in trouble. “I’m just guessing,” I lied.

  “Never mind. Hang on.” I heard Roy talking to someone. The only words I could make out were “unusual” and “potential problem.” He cleared his throat with a loud cough. “Sunflower, it’s probably just a glitch, but have Starfish call her handler.” Starfish was Aunt Gertie’s code name.

  “Can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s in jail.”

  “Back up, Sunflower.” I heard other people breathing on our phone line. “Did you just say Starfish is in jail and your Uhms are out on… you know?” Roy’s voice was higher pitched than usual.

  This was bad. Really, really bad. Now the only potentially normal thing about this day — my parents being gone on a mission — was definitely a huge problem. “You don’t know where they are?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Roy said.

  “Yeah. You did.”

  “Hang on.” Roy muted the phone for what seemed like forever. The murmur of voices from downstairs came through the heating vent. Roy came back on the line. “Why is Starfish in jail?”

  I repeated what Principal Baker and Inspector Montgomery told me.

  “Are you alone?” Roy asked.

  “No.” Frankenstella and Victoria didn’t have code names but I knew to not use their real names. “Remember our unpleasant summer visitors?”

  “The ones who were interested in the museum?”

  “Exactly,” I whispered. “The female searched our living room for something. Everything is on the floor in a huge mess. And there’s an anti-smuggling inspector. He was checking out the museum on Saturday. He says the Uhms and Starfish are smugglers.”

  “Sir,” Roy said, sounding a little bit away from the phone, “the living room has been ransacked.”

  “What?” An unknown woman’s voice screamed into my ear. “Do not. I repeat, do not tell them anything.”

  “I know.”

  “Have they gone into the museum?” Roy asked.

  Gertie was locked up, my house was being torn apart, and my food eaten, and all the Agency cared about was some old spoons? “I don’t think so.”

  “Do not let them enter the museum,” the angry woman said.

  “Why not?” I asked. “There’s nothing in there.”

  Silence was the only reply. I’d been cut off.

  I went through the whole dial, ring, and hang-up rigmarole again, practically shouting “Tweedledum” over Roy’s “Tweedledee.”

  “Roy, what is going on?”

  “I will call you tomorrow at our scheduled time with an update.”

  “What update?” I asked. “You haven’t told me one thing yet.”

  “Sunflower,” the woman interrupted. She didn’t sound angry now. “I know you feel anxious, agitated, and quite possibly disconcerted. Those are appropriate emotions to have at this time. But there is no need to become overwrought. This situation is just a puzzle waiting to be solved. Don’t upset yourself.”

  “Upset?” I was glad this wasn’t a video call. The blood rushed to my cheeks, betraying my temper. “I’m freaking out. My Uhms got sent somewhere, but you don’t know anything about it. The border patrol guy, who Mom agreed is an odd sock, thinks the Uhms are —”

  “Your parents are fine,” Roy interrupted.

  “Fine? If you don’t even know where they are, how do you know they’re fine?”

  “Instinct,” Roy said. “Your parents are the best Cleaners. I trust in them and in their abilities. Just like they trust in you.”

  Roy’s soothing voice made me feel better. Maybe even he didn’t know the details of the operation because it was super-super-super top secret.

  “Your job, Sunflower, is to go about your day in a regular manner,” the woman said. “And remain calm. Panicking leads to disaster.”

  “I’m not the one screaming at a girl whose Uhms have been lost. By you.”

  “I apologize for my earlier outburst,” the woman said. “You may rest assured that we will investigate the situation and enumerate the probabilities until we have exhausted all channels.”

  Apparently, my parents forgot to mention that the Rules would need a spy-to-normal-person translation guide. “English, please.”

  “Leave this to the professionals,” she said. “Roy will contact you at the usual time tomorrow. And remember, no one is to enter the museum until proper clearance has been granted.”

  “Hang in there, Sunflower,” Roy said before he hung up on me. Again.

  11

  Try to be pleasant to the enemy. Don’t be rude. Use polite manners.

  — Rule Number 10 from Rules for a Successful Life as an Undercover Secret Agent

  I performed the crazy phone routine three more times, but Roy never picked up. I was on my own, like a real secret agent behind enemy lines. I knew that spies had to cover their tracks to remain undetected, so the first thing I did was return the cell phone to its hiding spot.

  We spies also have to be prepared for anything, so I rummaged around in my sock drawer until I found my super-secret pocketknife. OK, it was a regular pocketknife, except for the fact that Dad had burned my initials, MOP, into one of the wooden sides. The other side had a big “A” for Agent. But even a regular pocketknife could come in handy for some spy activities, such as picking locks.

  By now, Stella’s bellows could be heard all over Silverton. I went downstairs to investigate, which I immediately recognized was a big mistake. My newest least favorite person had joined the party. Perched on our hideous coffee-stained brown and beige flower print sofa, Montgomery smirked.

  If any of the so-called grown-ups were dismayed by the state of the house, they sure hid it well. Mom, on the other hand, would’ve been furious if she’d seen it in this state. Suddenly I had a horrible thought: what if it hadn’t been Mom who’d moved the auction catalog and took out the trash in my room the other day? I tried to remember what had been in my wastepaper basket. Math homework that I’d messed up and had to redo, copies of the spelling words I missed on the pretest, and some doodles. I think I had torn up the list of possible Great Reverse Heist items from the auction catalog and put it in the kitchen wastebasket.

  “I need a copy of this guardianship decree for Mabel’s school records,” Principal Baker said, interrupting my thoughts. He glanced at something in his hands. “The process moved rather fast, don’t you think?”

  Stella snatched the paper out of P
rincipal Baker’s hand. “It’s really not any of your business.” She stood next to the open front door, her message clear.

  “My students are my business, Mrs. Baies.” Principal Baker walked outside. “Mabel, let’s go. School’s a-waiting.”

  “No.” Stella shook her floppy red mane. “You’ll have to excuse Moppet for the rest of today. Family issues.”

  “Mabel has a big history test coming up.” Principal Baker winked at me. “I’ll have your cousin bring your homework to you. I trust you to do it all.”

  Great. I couldn’t even get a free pass today. I managed to wave goodbye before Stella slammed the door in his face.

  I bit my bottom lip. It was the only way to keep from blabbering before I had a chance to think through the situation. I had to be polite, according to the Rules. “Aunt Stella.” My smile was so large and fake it hurt my cheeks. “What can I do to help you?”

  Stella wagged her finger in my face, a too-common occurrence today. “Do what the good inspector tells you.”

  “Sit.” Montgomery pointed to the sofa facing him.

  I pasted on another super-wide grin and took a seat. “I’m sitting. Anything else?”

  “I’ll ask the questions,” he said. “You provide the answers.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude,” I said in the sweetest voice I could muster. “But didn’t Principal Baker say it was illegal to question me without my parents present?”

  Montgomery flipped open his little notebook and held the tip of his pen just above the surface of the page. “Your uncle and aunt are your legal guardians now, according to the State of Washington.”

  “What?” I twirled a curl behind my left ear.

  Stella shoved the piece of paper at me and grinned that freaky smirk of hers. “Hot off the presses.”

  “A guardian is an adult who has legal power over another person. Like a parent. The guardian makes decisions in the best interest of the minor. In this case, you,” Montgomery said. “It comes from the word ‘guard.’ To protect.”

  “I’m not stupid.” Now I sounded like the angry woman on the phone. Shouldn’t someone have asked me if I wanted Frankenstella as my guardians? “What I want to know is how did that happen?” This seemed like an important question since they sure weren’t acting in my best interest.