Starring Jules (Super-Secret Spy Girl)

by Beth Ain

  E

  I close the laptop and look at my dad. “What’s stealth?” As soon as I ask this, I think he is going to tell me to figure it out myself, since this is what my dad is famous for, but for some reason, he doesn’t.

  Instead, he peeks around the curtain that divides my half of the bedroom from Big Henry’s, and then looks back at me, putting his finger to his lips in a shushing way. Then he gets down on his hands and knees and crawls slowly through the curtain and toward my brother, who is reading Hop on Pop to Ugly Otis in his bed. I follow my dad on tiptoes, trying not to laugh. My dad gets really close to Big Henry then, and pops his head up at my brother and says, “Boo!” Well, Big Henry practically leaps out of his pajamas, and I start to laugh so hard I barely notice that Ugly Otis has come over to drool on me.

  My dad stands up. “That’s stealth,” he says, and he walks out of the room. And Big Henry and Ugly Otis and I all laugh ourselves silly until bedtime.

  It takes us all morning to leave the city, even though my mom told us we had to get up at “the crack of dawn” so we could get a good start. Teddy and Big Henry and I all wait in the lobby of our building, sitting on top of loads of suitcases, waiting for the moms to arrive with our rental car.

  “Teddy, quick, behind the mail wall,” I say.

  Teddy pops off of the duffel bag he was sitting on and runs to hide behind the mail wall.

  “Hank,” I say, trying to get my brother to be part of our stealth mission.

  “What, Julth?” Big Henry whisper-yells.

  I look over at the mail wall Teddy is hiding behind. “I only answer to ‘Jules,’” I say, trying to get him to correct his lisp. I am worried that if he still has a lisp when he gets to kindergarten, he will be made fun of, and I do NOT want that to happen, so I am helping.

  It is silent for a minute.

  “What, Jules?” Big Henry says. Properly this time.

  “We are being spies. Come and practice,” I say.

  I hide behind the wall with them and we all crouch down, peeking around the corner. “What are we spying on?” Teddy asks.

  “We are on the lookout for a minivan,” I say.

  “Ah,” he says. “Should be another three to four minutes, according to my math.”

  I picture a minivan taxi pulling up with my mom as the taxi driver and a little TV in the back that tells us the weather and shows us celebrity interviews and Swish mouthwash commercials. And this makes me think about John McCarthy, the Swish boy, who also played my brother on Look at Us Now!, which makes me wonder if we will get to make more episodes since I loved being Sylvie and being with my sitcom siblings.

  Right now, my real-life sibling is climbing up my back for a good look at the curb. We are all in a huddle, trying to remain unseen like good spies. Suddenly, we see it. It is red, it has a racing stripe, and it is HUGE.

  “Oh . . . my . . .” Teddy says.

  I can tell what is about to happen, because when Big Henry sees a giant car with a racing stripe on the side, well —

  “Lemme out! Lemme through!” he says, pushing out of our little huddle so hard that we all go flying toward the entrance to our building, landing in a pile at my mom’s feet.

  “Well, well, well,” my mom says, looking at us and at Joe the doorman. “Looks like they’re excited after all.”

  I am laughing so hard I cannot stand up, and Big Henry is still trying to push his way over us and toward the big car, and with every one of his footsteps on my back I laugh harder and I can’t get up and all I can hear is Teddy saying “I can’t breathe!” from underneath me, but he is laughing, too.

  Finally, Big Henry makes his way to the sidewalk outside, and he starts jumping up and down, and finally, Teddy and I can stand up. My mom takes a picture of us as we recover from our collapse, and then she takes about a hundred more as we admire and explore our minivan — or, as I will now call it, our MAXI-van.

  “Told you it would be cool,” my mom says to me.

  I shake my head at her. She’s one of the craziest people I know!

  We say our good-byes to Joe, who helps get everything in the car, and we buckle up. “Bon voyage,” Joe says, and I cringe. This reminds me of Charlotte, and the fact that I have not practiced one word of French in days. I have also not practiced my lines for the movie or my spy acting, and we are three days away from filming. Here come the butterflies.

  I distract myself by writing a “mission-kind-of-accomplished” e-mail to Elinor. Stealth has been practiced, I write. Ended up in a heap in the lobby of our building. Need more practice. Ready for next assignment. I hand my mom her phone and see that Teddy looks nervous.

  “Uh, Mom,” Teddy says, holding out both of his wrists.

  Andie looks at him and gasps. “Don’t worry, don’t worry — I’ve got ’em!” She is digging in her giganto purse for something. What could it be? I wonder. I see her pull out bags of chips, and then gum, and then DVDs, and chargers, and candy, and at last she hoists two little wristbands in the air.

  “Phew!” Teddy says, grabbing them from her. I stop spying and look straight at him.

  “What are those?” I ask.

  “Sea-Bands,” he says, like this is a perfectly normal thing to say. Like any old person would just know what these strange things are that he is putting on his wrists. “They keep me from feeling dizzy in the car.”

  “How do they do that?” I ask. I do not for one second believe that bracelets can keep a person from being dizzy.

  “They put acupressure on the points on your wrists that trigger nausea and vomiting,” he says.

  I do not understand one word of that.

  “Acupressure?” I ask. “Is that a science word?”

  “Kind of,” he says.

  I squint at him and notice that we are not even on the highway yet and Teddy is looking a little green. I look out the window and pray to the George Washington Bridge that the bands really do work.

  “Let’s watch Ramona and THE Beezus!” Big Henry says, and I snort so loud the whole car starts laughing.

  “What?” he asks, laughing anyway since Big Henry always likes to be in on the joke.

  “Nothing,” I say. I don’t want him to know that the movie is called Ramona and Beezus, and not Ramona and THE Beezus, because then he might correct it the way he corrects his lisp when I remind him. And I only ever want him to say it his way.

  We watch a movie in the maxi-van and ride a good long way before we have to stop for a bathroom break. When we get out, I stretch and shake out all the snack crumbs. Then I beg my mom to check my e-mail, and she does.

  “Here you go,” she says, handing me her very smart phone.

  SUPERSECRETSPYGIRL:

  Assignment: Be sure not to let on that you are a tourist. There is nothing that annoys people more than tourists — even in Plattsburgh. Come up with a reason why you might be spending the night in Plattsburgh, and especially on your birthday. This is your second spy mission. Mission: You Are Not a Tourist in Plattsburgh.

  Love,

  E

  P.S. It’s true that sometimes stealth missions end up in a heap.

  P.P.S. Happy birthday! I know it’s tomorrow, but I wanted to be first.

  I smile because I know she thinks our stealth heap was funny, and I smile because she remembered my birthday and because she didn’t say “Happy Fourth of July,” since she probably doesn’t think it’s a happy thing, being from England! I give my mom her phone back, then I prepare for Plattsburgh and the mission that lies ahead.

  We are in Plattsburgh. It was a terrible night. I missed the Fourth of July fireworks and I don’t even remember getting here. I just remember the bright lights of the lobby and too-loud elevator noises, and then I remember getting into a big double bed and my mom and Big Henry getting into another big double bed right next to mine. But H
ank did not stay put for one minute. He fell out of bed three hundred times, and I was so sad about waking up in Plattsburgh on my birthday, it took me forever to fall back to sleep every single time.

  I rub my eyes and see that it is 8:30 a.m., which might be the latest Hank and my mom have ever slept. They are morning people. I am a night owl, and so is my dad. There is a knock on the door and I don’t know if I should get it. My mom and Big Henry are still sound asleep. There is another knock, but this time there is a voice attached to the knock.

  “Is there an Eddie Bloom in there?” it says.

  My heart leaps! It’s Grandma Gilda! I fling open the door.

  “George!” I say, and I throw my arms around her waist. We stay like that for a good minute before Big Henry joins us.

  “Mommy!” he shouts. “Grandma Gilda is in Platthburgh.” He looks at me. “Plattsburgh.” I smile.

  “Did she give you the card?” my mom asks from the bed.

  I look at my grandma Gilda and she hands it to me.

  “Does he call me a crazy lady in that note?” George asks. “Lemme see!”

  “Nope,” I say. “It’s mine, all mine.”

  This is shaping up to be an okay birthday after all.

  We head downstairs and I remember immediately that I am not supposed to be acting like a tourist, so I walk with confidence (this is the kind of thing they write on movie scripts) over to the make-your-own waffle maker. They have a make-your-own waffle maker! I duck behind a counter to watch others make THEIR own waffles first, since I must look like I know what I am doing if I am going to look like I belong here.

  “Hi,” a little kid says to me while I’m still in ducking position. The little kid is not Big Henry.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “I am from Westchester,” he says. “Why are you hiding?”

  “I’m not hiding,” I say. “I’m tying my shoe.” Good one!

  “We are on our way to Canada. Where are you from?” he asks.

  “I’m from right here in Plattsburgh,” I lie. I mean, I pretend.

  “Then why are you staying in a hotel?” he asks. Here it is, my big moment.

  “Oh, well, it’s my birthday today so we’re having my celebration luncheon here at the hotel — what with the make-your-own waffles and all.”

  “Oh,” he says, and then he shuffles off to his parents.

  I did it! He definitely believes me.

  Big Henry meets me at the waffle maker and I scoop out some batter like I saw the other people do. I see Big Henry’s eyes get big and wide and I glop it onto the griddle thing. I put some extra batter in then, since I like how Big Henry is looking at me and I want to make his eyes get even wider. I am a very good make-your-own-waffle maker.

  Then I say, “Do you want to do the honors, Big Henry?” This is what my dad says when we cook together and he lets me turn on a mixer or something.

  “Yes!” he says. I hoist him up a little and he slams the top griddle thingy onto the bottom griddle thingy, and we both end up with a whole lot of batter all over our faces.

  “Batter splatter!” I say, and we crack up while we wait for the waffles to be ready.

  “What’s all the cackling about?” Grandma Gilda asks. She is suddenly at our level, all scrunched down into a squat. We are face-to-face with George. She takes a finger to Big Henry’s face and wipes the batter off. Then she licks her finger!

  “Mmmm,” she says. “I love batter splatter.” Then we laugh all over again, and finally our waffles are ready and we sit down to eat my birthday breakfast in Plattsburgh.

  “Julesium,” Teddy says from the other side of the table, “is this your birthday party?”

  “I guess so,” I say.

  “So I am the only friend who was invited?” he asks, smiling.

  “Yep,” I say. I guess he is.

  “You can have a friend party later in the summer, Julesie. Maybe even at BLOOM!” my mom says as she and Andie join us at the table.

  “Ooooh,” I say. I didn’t even think of that. We will have our own restaurant when we get home. Then this makes me miss my dad, thinking of him working while we’re here eating waffles and road-tripping.

  Big Henry interrupts my sad thought to give me a present. It is wrapped in a hand towel from the hotel bathroom. I open it up and before my eyes I see Big Henry’s most prized possession. It is a rubber duckie with a mask on.

  “You’re giving me Bat Duck?” I ask. Hank has one million rubber duckies, but this one is his favorite. I look at my mom and she shrugs.

  “Yeth,” he says. “Well, you can just borrow him for your birthday.”

  I am relieved. “Thanks, Hank,” I say.

  It is a rainy Fifth of July, and it turns out there isn’t much to do in Plattsburgh, so we decide to go for a swim in the rooftop indoor swimming pool! We are going to try to teach Big Henry to swim.

  I bring Bat Duck, thinking this will help Hank feel more confident. And it smells like a nice warm bath in the pool area, so that should help, too. Teddy and I both cannonball into the deep end and then we swim back to the shallow end, where Big Henry is in his swim vest and his goggles, clinging to the wall. I stand a little bit apart from him and tell him to swim to Bat Duck and me.

  “Bat Duck is waiting for you!” I say.

  “Bat Duck is drowning,” Teddy says now. Then he dunks Bat Duck under the water and lets him go flying into the air. I laugh as Bat Duck flies over our heads and think this is a good idea Teddy has.

  Hank does NOT agree. “Hey!” he says. “Stop it.”

  “Sorry,” Teddy says. “I was just trying to get you to save him. I’ll go get him.” Teddy swims away and I walk toward Big Henry.

  “Come on,” I say. “I’ll hold your hands just like Daddy does.”

  “Stop being bossy!” Big Henry says to me. “I won’t swim till Daddy comes.”

  “Hank,” I say, annoyed that he called me bossy, “won’t it be fun to surprise Daddy when he gets to Mont-Tremblant?”

  “No,” he says. He will not let go of that wall. His little fingers hang on tight. I give up, which makes me feel like a big old failure on my eighth birthday.

  We dry off after a while and head back to our rooms. “Jules,” Teddy whispers at me in the elevator, “I couldn’t find Bat Duck.”

  I whip my head around and stare at him. Then I put my finger to my lips. We cannot let Big Henry find out. Our moms want us all to get showered and ready to go when we get back to the rooms, so I have to think fast. My mom and Big Henry get bath stuff together and I hear them turn the water on in the bathroom.

  “George,” I whisper once I don’t think they can hear, “we have a problem.”

  “Every problem has a solution, Eddie.” This is one of George’s positive affirmations.

  I tell her about Bat Duck. “Doesn’t he have a million of those ducks?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I say, “but only one Bat Duck.”

  “Give me a black marker and a duck,” she says. I laugh at this and so does George. I get her the black marker quickly and feel more like a spy than ever. I can’t wait to tell Elinor.

  I watch George draw a bat mask across the face of one of Hank’s rubber ducks, then we nod at each other. It is done. I sneak past my mom and Hank at the sink and toss it into the pile of duckies sitting by the bathtub, and then we wait.

  “This is not Bat Duck,” Big Henry says from the bath.

  “Jules!” my mom yells.

  I look at George and she shrugs. “Make it a good story,” she says. “An adventure.”

  I tell my mom and Hank what happened, and my brother takes the news pretty well. Especially since my mom promises to ask the woman at the hotel desk to send Bat Duck to us if they find him.

  “WHEN they find him,” I remind her. I feel terrible.

  In the lo
bby, we sit on our suitcases again until Andie pulls the car around. I am sad because I haven’t heard from Elinor or my dad.

  “Check this out,” Grandma Gilda says. She is holding one of her gossipy Hollywood magazines, and the one and only Emma Saxony is on the cover. She is wearing big sunglasses. I look away.

  “What is it?” George asks.

  “Nothing,” I say. I don’t want to say that Emma makes me nervous, which she does.

  “I can see why you’re nervous,” Teddy says. “She’s beautiful. Like, science beautiful.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask. “And I’m not nervous.”

  “It means it’s a fact,” he says.

  “Says here she is releasing her first song this week,” George reports.

  “Great,” I say. She can sing, too.

  “That could be you one day, Eddie,” she says. “Isn’t that crazy?”

  “Mom,” my mom says, “stop.” I love when my mom calls George “Mom.” I sometimes forget that she’s her mom’s kid.

  “Fine,” George says. “Just saying . . .”

  We all pile in the car, where we drive and drive, and then where we sit and sit and sit at the border. For hours.

  Things That Make It Better to Sit at the Border:

  1.My dad calls and sings “Happy Birthday” and says he and Teddy’s dad will meet us in Mont-Tremblant in two days, which seems like a long time from now, but it still cheers me up.

  2.I write Elinor a loooong e-mail about waffles in Plattsburgh, losing Bat Duck, and then painting another duck’s face and sneaking around.

  3.Teddy and I tell Big Henry a story called “The Adventures of Bat Duck,” which begins when Bat Duck goes flying out of the indoor pool in Plattsburgh. Turns out, he landed on the roof of a truck headed for Canada and he’s getting into all kinds of trouble along the way. Even George and Andie and my mom chime in, and Big Henry loves every second of it.