by Amanda Hosch
“I’m the one who sold the necklace,” I said. “Arrest me.”
“While your family might be breaking child labor laws, that’s not my domain,” Montgomery said.
“Gertrude can stay here,” the sheriff said. “At taxpayers’ expense.”
“Judge Pierre does not agree.” Montgomery’s eyes swept over the open jail cell. “I wonder what he’d think of you socializing with an accused criminal.”
“Gertrude owns a home, has a business, and is involved with the community,” Sheriff Baker said. “And she has strong family ties.”
“Two of whom have already fled overseas.” Montgomery motioned to the troopers. “Cuff her.”
18
Most people believe what they want to believe, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Don’t be most people.
— Rule Number 14 from Rules for a Successful Life as an Undercover Secret Agent
“Why didn’t you stop them?” I asked the sheriff. I felt tears well up, but I blinked them back.
“Montgomery had a judge’s order,” Sheriff Baker said. “I’m a lawman.”
“Lawwoman,” I muttered.
“I’ve sworn to uphold the law.” I guess the sheriff saw my quivering bottom lip, because she quickly added, “And I firmly believe in your aunt’s innocence. Can you tell me anything about why your parents left the country?”
Sure. If I wanted to betray them and the Agency, which I did not. “No.”
“I didn’t think so. You’re just like your aunt.” Sheriff Baker said as she grabbed a huge key ring from her desk. “That’s a compliment, you know.”
She handed me the transfer order. Gertie was being moved from Silverton’s jail to state custody in Yakima, three hours and a couple of mountains away — all because of a lousy necklace and my parents’ weird travel schedules. It was totally unfair.
“My parents didn’t leave because they feared being arrested.”
“Where are they?” she asked. “Don’t say Monaco. We both know that’s not true.”
I closed my mouth. Stretching the truth wouldn’t work this time.
“I’ve known your family since I married Ted and moved here to become sheriff. Gert was the first person to welcome me to Silverton. She’s a good friend.” Sheriff Baker looked at me with concern. “Mabel, if there is something I can do to help resolve this situation, would you tell me?”
“First, we should check out the alarm on the Spoon.”
“Agreed.”
Sheriff Baker was listening, really listening, to me. It had been weeks since anyone cared what I thought. I was tired of Victoria dragging me around and of Frankenstella trying to get intel out of me. Taking a minute to prioritize my thoughts, I said, “Then you should see if there is a criminal gang using state capitals as aliases.”
“Mabel, be serious.” Sheriff Baker shook her head.
“Montgomery, capital of Alabama; Raleigh, capital of North Carolina; Carson City, capital of Nevada. You don’t think it’s a strange coincidence?”
“No, Miss Pear, I do not. I think I’ll wait until Miss Little Rock or Mr. Baton Rouge appears on the inspector’s team before I start worrying about that. I do, however, have a sudden desire to bake a pear tart.” The sheriff’s mouth twitched upward.
“If you won’t look into the state capital names, we should at least go to Yakima and get Aunt Gertie out.”
“We can’t do that.” Sheriff Baker shook her head. “How about I take you to school after we inspect the museum? And then I’ll call my contacts in the state troopers?”
What to do, Sunflower? The sheriff was taking some of my suggestions seriously, and she wasn’t pressing me too hard about my parents. This seemed like the obvious place to compromise. “You’ll call me at school if you learn anything?” I asked.
“Bluewater-Silverton Elementary is first on my speed dial,” she said with a smile.
“Help! We need help!” a familiar voice called from the front room.
Sheriff Baker shot through the double doors in a flash. I followed, taking my time.
On the visitor’s side of the information desk, Frank and Stella stood, his flabby arm around her bony shoulders. Her face was red and splotchy and she seemed sad — a look I’d never seen on her before. “Our niece is missing,” Stella cried out. “Help us, please.”
“I’m here,” I said, wondering if it was too late to get myself arrested. Playing cards and eating take-out didn’t look like that bad of a deal.
“Oh, thank the Lord.” Stella rushed around the desk and enveloped me in a suffocating hug. “We were so worried when you disappeared.” I pulled back as far as I could, which wasn’t that far. For such skinny arms, they were all muscle. On her left pinkie, a star ruby twinkled at me. No way! Stella was wearing my mom’s engagement ring. Mom couldn’t wear it on assignments because it was unique and, therefore, instantly recognizable.
Frank shook the sheriff’s hand vigorously. “I don’t know how you found her so quickly, but thank you.” He turned to me. “Don’t ever scare us again like that, Mabel Opal.”
What was going on? How did they know I’d gotten off the bus? Of course! I thought. Their little princess Vicky-girl must have ratted me out. I tried to speak, but Stella hugged me again, her bony arms threatening to cut off my air supply.
“We know you’re upset about Gertrude and your parents, but skipping school only hurts you.” Stella patted a tissue to her dry cheek. “I just didn’t know what we’d do if you had run away.”
I stole a glance at the sheriff, but her face was unreadable. “I am going to escort Mabel to school now,” she said.
“We can take her from here.” Frankenstella each grabbed on to one of my black-and-blue arms and pulled. I now knew where Victoria got her brute strength. Is it possible to die from bruising? I wondered as they dragged me out the front door.
“Sheriff, are you going to…” I couldn’t say what I wanted in front of Frankenstella. “Do the things we just talked about?”
“You do what you’re supposed to,” she said with a slight nod of her head. “And I’ll do my job.”
19
Everyone overlooks the quiet ones. Gather your ordinariness like an invisibility cloak and make some serious mischief.
— Rule Number 30 from Rules for a Successful Life as an Undercover Secret Agent
Frankenstella drove me to school and dropped me off without so much as an excuse note or a wave goodbye. In front of the L-shaped, three-story, two-toned gray school building was the entire Bluewater-Silverton Fire Department — three large ladder trucks and one small emergency vehicle. The fire chief had a stopwatch in one hand and a clipboard in another. He was laughing with Principal Baker, so I was pretty sure this was a drill.
Ms. Drysdale waved to me from our designated emergency meeting spot. “Mabel, where have you been?” She checked my name on her clipboard.
I shrugged, not wanting to explain myself. Thankfully, Ben threw a soccer ball at Doug’s head just a moment later, demanding her attention. I walked past everyone to my place at the front of the line. Being the shortest was the worst.
“Mabel, you OK?” Emma G. asked. “Why’d you run off the bus?”
“Didn’t you hear us calling you to come back?” Emma H. asked.
“Are you sad about your aunt?” Grace K. asked.
“My dad says the real crime is not having your aunt’s gluten-free blueberry scones in the morning,” Emma Z. said. “He says no one who bakes like Ms. Gertrude Baies could be a criminal.”
“It’s OK to cry,” Grace T. said, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I cried all day when my cat died.”
Victoria stood at the back of the line, chatting with the Hannahs.
“Is something else wrong, Mabel?” Grace L. chimed in. “Did you get motion sick? On car trips, my little brother h
as to sit next to a window, otherwise he just pukes everywhere.”
“I’m OK,” I said. “I just forgot something at home.” Like how to get Aunt Gertie out of prison while keeping my parents’ secret about the Great Reverse Heist under wraps. And, oh yeah, not telling anyone my parents are Cleaners off on a mission, which will probably help everyone on Earth, but no one can know about it. “No big deal.”
“When you’re feeling sad about your aunt, you can tell us,” Emma G. said. “My grandma always says if you share your troubles with your friends, your friendship will grow stronger and your troubles will grow smaller.”
“Thanks, Emma,” I said, knowing I could never share my troubles. I gave her the best smile I could. “But like I said, I just forgot something.”
Stanley stared at me, his eyebrows wiggling like mad, but his lips pressed tightly together as if it was taking a lot of self-control to keep his thoughts to himself. This wasn’t the time or place to talk.
“Hey, Moppet,” Grace K. said. “Is your spoon museum still open?”
“Not today,” I said.
“Tomorrow?” Grace K. asked.
“I don’t know. Why?”
“My parents thought that my uncle would like to visit it. He used to live in Silverton a long time ago. He’s into history and old stuff. Could you let us in?” she asked. “Soon?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s sort of a bad time.”
Queen Bee Hannah was examining Victoria’s bracelets with loud oohs and ahhs when she started clapping her hands. “I have the best theme for the next sleepover. Listen up, everyone.”
“We already have a theme,” Emma G. said. “Halloween and Mabel’s birthday. And she really needs a party right now.” She turned to me, her smile bright. “Right? You promised you’d come.”
The two Hannahs, the two other Emmas, and the four Graces all stopped talking and stared at me.
Blood rushed to my cheeks. The weight of their stares increased. No one said a word. “Yeah, I did,” I said. I scrambled to think of an excuse — apparently, no one cared that my aunt was in jail. “But that was before Victoria came. It would be rude of me to leave her.” Even if an evening of goofing off does sound fun, I thought.
“Oh, silly Mabel,” Queen Bee Hannah laughed. “Of course Victoria is coming to the sleepover. Her bracelets are the theme’s inspiration. You’re coming, right?” she said, turning to my cousin.
“Why not?” Victoria said in a careless tone, but she didn’t fool me. She stood a little straighter, and her eyes sparkled. “What do you have in mind?”
“Well,” Princess Bee Hannah said. “First, we’ll trick-or-treat in Bluewater. Fortunately, this week’s host, Grace T., lives three blocks from Marmot Lane.”
“Every house on Marmot Lane gives full-sized candy bars,” Grace T. said. “And last year, there were two haunted houses. And my parents will let us walk there by ourselves. And —”
“And,” Princess Bee Hannah said the word with such emphasis, Grace T. stopped talking at once. “We’ll get to celebrate Mabel’s birthday with her.”
“This will be so great.” Emma G. hugged me, jumping up and down.
It would be great… if I knew where my parents were, I thought.
“My mom will make your costumes tonight,” Princess Bee Hannah said to Victoria and me.
“Our costumes?” Victoria asked.
Princess Bee Hannah eyed Victoria and me, marking something down on a notepad, probably our heights. “This year’s theme is a surprise, known only to me and Hannah.”
“We always dress as a group,” Emma G. said. “It’s going to be great. Aren’t you excited, Mabel?”
“Yeah, excitement,” I mumbled. “That’s what I need now. More excitement in my life.”
Just then, the fire chief blew his whistle, signaling the end of the fire drill.
“Good job,” Mr. Baker said over a megaphone. “You’ve earned an extra ten-minute recess, starting now.”
All craziness broke loose. Ben and Doug’s roughhousing entrapped more of the boys, plus a few soccer balls. As the HEGs continued discussing the upcoming sleepover, Stanley headed to the side yard where the little kids played.
Emma G. was distracted, so I took the opportunity to follow Stanley. He stopped once we were around the corner and out of sight from the big kids’ yard. Stanley leaned against the wall, looking straight ahead. “I wanted to show you my photos,” he said.
“Later, maybe?” I said. The trees could wait. “I have to get into Principal Baker’s office when he’s not there.”
“Too bad you missed this morning’s fire drills,” Stanley said. “During the first one, three first graders went out the wrong door and were waiting on the baseball fields. You would have had at least twenty minutes uninterrupted.”
“I can’t wait a month for the next drill.” I slouched against the cold wall. Buck up, Sunflower. You’re on a mission.
“I know,” Stanley said. I could tell he’d started thinking because his eyebrows were wiggling a mile a minute. “We do it at two for maximum payoff.”
“Do what at two?”
“Another fire drill would give you another chance to get into Mr. Baker’s office. I overhead the fire chief say he and the rest of the crew are doing avalanche rescue training on Mount Rainier at one this afternoon. By two o’clock, they should be high up on a glacier, way out of cell phone range.”
“Aren’t they supposed to leave someone at the fire station?”
“Yeah, but the guy who usually covers is out on vacation, so they’re rerouting all the calls to Enumclaw.”
“That’s thirty minutes away,” I said. “If there’s no traffic.”
“Exactly. They’ll only come if it’s a real emergency.” Stanley nodded. “The chief was thanking Principal Baker for being flexible. Our monthly fire drill was scheduled for this afternoon, but the principal changed it as a favor to the chief.”
“So, maybe they’ll double-check before sending a truck and ladder out?” I couldn’t believe I was going to break the law again. “You know, Stanley, it’s illegal to pull the fire alarm without cause.”
“I know.” Stanley paused. His eyes darted around. “It’s Tuesday. PE is in the afternoon today. There’s an alarm near the gym water fountain that’s out of everyone’s sight. If someone were to pull it, no one would see.”
My cheeks flushed just thinking about it. “We’ll get in big trouble.”
Stanley shook his head. “Only if we get caught.”
* * *
A school day has never lasted so long. Ms. Drysdale taught American history as if it were the most fascinating subject on Earth. Today I just couldn’t care that William Taft was the first president to have a car at the White House, or the first president to play golf, or the first president to throw out a baseball on Opening Day. His picture reminded me of Frank, only happier looking, better dressed, and with an impressive handlebar mustache.
At lunchtime, Victoria sat at the head of the table with Queen Bee Hannah and Princess Bee Hannah. The other HEGs clustered around her, paying homage to the new princess. She passed out her bracelets, letting everyone try them on, as if the bracelets in Washington were subpar to the ones from Alaska. Emma G. sat next to me, going on and on about how much fun my birthday was going to be. I tried to sound interested, but it was hard to care about what color hair ribbon we should wear to mark my eleventh birthday when my parents were missing.
In PE, we played kickball. I had just struck out and was sitting on the sidelines when I looked at the clock. 1:58. Stanley stepped into the path of an oncoming ball and he was already jogging toward the water fountain when Coach Wilson yelled, “Out!”
My mouth grew dry and my palms sweaty and my stomach heaved itself into my throat. It’s go time, Sunflower!
Stanley bent over the water founta
in, his right hand on the button. From my side of the gym, it looked like he was just getting a drink of water. Come on, Stanley, I thought. Pull the alarm, already. His body tilted toward the left a few inches. The screeching of the fire alarm caught everyone by surprise. Well, everyone except Stanley and me.
I took advantage of the confusion and ran out of the gym toward the main hallway. Kids poured out of their classes and headed for the exits, looking thrilled. Teachers looked exasperated. Following Stanley’s advice, I ducked into our pre-arranged meeting spot: the downstairs boys’ restroom.
The restroom’s heavy wooden door was propped open, probably to let in fresh air. I huddled in the last stall until Stanley showed up a couple minutes later.
In the hallway, Ms. Jones, the office secretary, was rushing everyone out of the building. Principal Baker followed, saying, “It was still on the schedule. Who was supposed to cancel it?”
I counted to ten silently, then motioned for Stanley to follow me. His job was to stand guard outside Principal Baker’s office. We had come up with a signal. If Stanley was spotted, he would break out in a coughing fit. We sneaked down the hallway, looking left and right. The screeching of the fire alarm echoed through the empty building. The door to the administrative offices was ajar.
Stanley sat on the bench outside. He smiled and gave me two thumbs up. I pushed the door open slightly, just enough to squeeze through. When I got through, though, the door to the principal’s office was shut. My heart sank. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I walked over to it and tried the knob. It turned. I was in.
Wasting no time, I went directly to my painting of the sunflower, which hung on the lower left side of the wall. It had three thumbtacks holding it up. The others only had one.
That’s because they weren’t as heavy.
I lifted the paper and found a medium-sized Ziploc bag taped to the back of my sunflower painting. I carefully removed the tape and opened the bag to find several papers inside. I unfolded them. First was a sketch of a room. It was empty of all furniture, but I felt I had seen this place before. It looked big with a low ceiling. Second was a blueprint — the type architects use for buildings. The third had seemingly random sets of letters and numbers. There were several more pages, which I flicked through quickly, until suddenly, the shrieking alarm stopped.
