by Luke Sharpe
Xavier looks at Drew. Drew backs away from the door. Xavier glares at Manny. He eyes the rope on the floor that was tied around Manny’s hands. He stares at me.
“Billy Sure, you’re one strange kid,” Xavier says, shaking his head.
“Xavier!” I yelp. “You’re here!”
Xavier’s brow furrows.
“Yeah,” he says. “I live here too.”
Who knew Xavier, my roommate, would be saving me from Drew, my former friend?
“I’ve got to take these blueprints to the lab and whip up a batch of Spy Dye,” I say. “Manny, can you find my mom? And make sure Drew doesn’t get into any more mischief!”
“Absolutely,” Manny says. “Drew, you’re going to do as we say. Xavier is a witness now too. Come with me!”
Xavier looks at Manny like he has no clue who he is, but shrugs. “As long as we’re not getting any more roommates,” he says, probably wondering why Manny is here in the first place.
Drew reluctantly follows Manny out the door.
Meanwhile, I scurry to the lab, where, thanks to my blueprints, it doesn’t take long to whip up a working batch of Spy Dye. I test it, and sure enough it allows me to read minds, hide devices, and project a personal force field. It also records conversations—which Mom didn’t request, but I figured might come in handy.
A short while later, Manny shows up at the lab with Mom.
“Here’s the Spy Dye, just like you ordered, Mom,” I say, handing a big batch of the inky liquid over to her. “Manny told you about Drew, right?”
“Oh yes, we’ll be keeping an eye on him,” says Mom. “And thanks, Billy. This is great work. I am sure we’ll have Agent Paul back in no time.”
I smile. I wish I could have spent more time with Mom, but at least I accomplished what she brought me here to do.
After giving Manny a tour of the complex, Mom, Manny, and I head to the cafeteria for dinner. Manny gets a kick out of the vanishing vanilla ice cream. Then Mom stands up from the staff table.
Cling! Cling! Cling! She taps on her glass three times.
“Excuse me, students,” Mom announces. “By now, you’ve likely heard that one of our best agents was caught by enemy spies. We have employed over one hundred agents for a rescue mission, aptly named the Big Rescue Mission.
“Tonight, I am happy to report that Agent Paul was brought home safely, thanks to the inventions of our lovely inventors. Everyone, please give a round of applause for Sylvia, with her Palm Power 5000; Xavier, with his Mini Candy and Humungo Candy; and Billy, with his Spy Dye!”
There’s a burst of applause. Manny makes me stand up. I really don’t like being in the spotlight, but it feels good knowing that everyone is safer now because of my invention!
After eating my last bite of flaming flan (my favorite), Mom swings by my seat.
“So, how was your time here?” she asks me. “Do you think maybe you’d like to stay here and be a student at SPY ACADEMY full-time?”
Mom’s offer is tempting. And, before my adventure here, it was exactly what I wanted. But you know what else? I miss my regular life: my schoolwork, my time with Philo, even Emily. Mostly, though, I miss working with Manny every day—Manny, who was the best spy all along!
“Thanks, Mom, but I think I’d like to go back home,” I say.
Mom nods. I can see she’s disappointed, but she understands, too. My home is back at our house, Manny’s garage, and Fillmore Middle School.
• • •
The next day Manny and I get into the same unmarked car Mom brought me in to go home.
“You know, Manny, since no one has really invented a time machine yet, the future is still a mystery,” I say. “But one thing that’s not a mystery is that I think the time has come for us to perfect a hovercraft.”
“It’s the Next Big Thing, for sure!” Manny replies. Then he looks around the car. “But, Billy, why is there an octopus in this car?”
I look over at the tank.
“Oh, that’s Paul,” I say, smiling. “My mom is really glad to have her partner back. And so am I.”
I’m Billy Sure—pizza lover, dog owner, and young inventor. I do a lot of different things, including talking to my mom over video chat. Why do I talk to her over video chat? Because my mom has a super-confidential, top-secret secret—she’s a spy, and she’s always off doing spy things!
Yup, that’s right, my mom is a spy, complete with coded messages, hidden documents, secret missions . . . you know, all the cool spy stuff.
So sometimes, when she’s away on secret missions, the only way I can talk to her is over video chat. Like now.
“I miss you, Billy,” Mom says from my laptop screen. “I can’t believe it’s been two weeks!”
“Me too,” I say. “Wow. Two weeks already!”
Okay, so backstory. I didn’t always know my mom is a spy. In fact, I only just found out a few weeks ago. Mom used to claim she was a scientist doing research for the government. I thought this was true until my thirteenth birthday, when she surprised me by sharing her real profession. And then she surprised me even more by taking me to her agency’s Spy Academy, where I took spy classes and built an invention to save secret agents on dangerous missions.
This is all 100 percent real. Mom asked me to help her because she was so impressed with all the inventions my company, Sure Things, Inc., has produced. Our inventions include the All Ball, which turns into any sports ball; the Sibling Silencer, which, uh, silences your siblings; and the Stink Spectacular, which smells super gross but tastes super great. We’re also the company that created Gross-to-Good Powder, which makes gross food taste delicious. (If you eat in my school cafeteria, you’re welcome!) Our latest invention is the No-Trouble Bubble, an impenetrable bubble where nothing can get to you. (Not even those silenced siblings!)
But it’s been a while since Sure Things, Inc. has come out with a new product, what with my being away inventing at Spy Academy. That was a lot of fun, but I realized that I’m not cut out to be a full-fledged secret agent. I also missed my best friend and Sure Things, Inc.’s CFO, Manny Reyes. So I decided to come home, even if it meant going back to boring “normal” school and dealing with Emily, my boring “normal” older sister.
Like Mom said, it’s been two weeks since I got home from Spy Academy, and this video chat is the first time I get to catch up with her. Seeing her face is really nice. I can almost forget that she isn’t safe and sound at home, rather than fighting dangerous katana-wielding Ninjas in—well, who knows where the lair of dangerous katana-wielding Ninjas is!
“It feels like I was just at Spy Academy,” I tell Mom, “although I’ve been pretty busy. That’s because I told everyone I was on vacation in Barbados, and I had to do a whole report on my trip in social studies class. Thankfully, Manny helped me with that research.”
Mom laughs.
“Sorry about the extra assignment. Has the rest of school been all right?” she asks.
“It’s been okay. When I was away, the Fillmore Middle School Inventors Club elected a temporary president. Do you remember Clayton Harris?”
“Of course!” Mom says. “He was, um—”
“Not super cool, yeah,” I say. “His favorite activity is going to the dentist. Well, he was elected club president, and I decided to let him keep that position. I still want to help the club, but I don’t have time to run the day-to-day details anymore. Besides, Clayton has done really well as the president. He’s found his place. He’s made new friends, he’s a good leader of the club, and he’s even become kind of popular—or at least less unpopular.”
Mom smiles widely. “That is wonderful!” she says. “Who knows, maybe Clayton will be President of the country someday, all thanks to your club!”
I try to imagine Clayton running for President or nestled into Mount Rushmore or kissing babies, but all I can picture is the same kid who blew chocolate milk out of his nose at my birthday party.
“And how are things at Sure Things, Inc
.? Is Emily still helping out?” Mom asks.
“Sure Things, Inc. is okay,” I say. “Manny and I are working on something really big—a hovercraft. And now we’re feeling the pressure to get this invention out as our Next Big Thing.” Just to fill you in, our hovercraft is going to be the coolest invention ever. It’ll really fly and it’ll change the face of transportation as we know it. There’s just one little problem. We haven’t quite figured out how to make it fly. Manny is waiting on some “quality winged materials” to arrive from overseas. I’m not sure exactly what that means, but Manny says they’re the latest in hover technology.
“As for Emily, she and Manny got along okay while I was away, but she’s been in a pretty grumpy mood ever since I got home.”
“What now?” asks Mom. “I talked to her on her birthday a few days ago and she seemed perfectly happy.”
Right—Emily’s fifteenth birthday. She might have been all smiles on her video chat with Mom, but the day was anything but fun for me and Dad.
It began like this: Emily woke up and started whining for Dad to take her to get her learner permit. Honestly, I didn’t see why the permit was such a big deal. All it does is allow her to take a driver’s test next year when she’s sixteen—or to drive with an instructor now. It’s not like she can pick up her friends and go to the mall.
But anyway, Emily kept complaining.
Dad tried to remind her that it was a weekend, so the drivers office was closed.
“It’s not fair,” she sniffed. “Mom took Billy on a trip for his birthday! No one’s offered me a trip. I want to go somewhere. And I can’t even get my stupid driver’s permit.”
“Actually, I was working the whole time I was at Spy Academy,” I tried to remind her, but Emily ignored me. Emily usually ignores things I say when they don’t support her argument. So she complained all day until the next morning when Dad took her to the driver’s office first thing. Then Emily started pestering Dad about when he would take her out to learn to drive.
I tell Mom all of this and watch her expression change to a frown.
“I wish I could be there to teach her how to drive,” she says. “I always feel so guilty that work keeps me away from you kids.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “Dad will totally teach Emily how to drive, but he’s just a little busy right now. His artwork was accepted to an art gallery.”
My dad is an artist, and a pretty good one—if you consider close-ups of my dog Philo’s toenails “pretty good.” He has a studio in the backyard—a converted garden shed, actually, but he likes it. He can spend days at a time out there painting and be perfectly happy. I’ll never understand why a gallery is interested in his wacky portraits, but I’m proud of him anyway.
Mom must be thinking the same thing I am because she starts to laugh, which makes me laugh. In a few seconds we’re both roaring to the point of tears, imagining Dad at an art gallery showing fancy art-lovers some portraits of Philo’s butt!
“So what’s going on over at Spy Academy?” I ask when I stop laughing long enough to catch my breath. “How’s Agent Paul?”
Agent Paul is my mom’s partner on her spy missions. And oh yeah, he just happens to be an octopus.
“He’s doing swimmingly,” Mom replies, chuckling at her own silly joke, one I’m sure she’s made a hundred times before.
“But seriously,” she continues, “I’ve been keeping a very close eye on Drew. So far, at least, he seems to be behaving. He even helped us catch another online scam artist.”
I frown at the mention of Drew. At Spy Academy I became very close friends with him, but then Manny found out my new friend is actually the nephew of Sure Things, Inc.’s arch nemesis, Alistair Swiped, CEO of Swiped Stuff, Inc. That wouldn’t have been a problem, except Drew was trying to sabotage my inventions the whole time! Like uncle, like nephew, I guess. I let Mom know, but she thought it was best for Drew to stay at Spy Academy. Maybe some of his evil genius can be tamed under careful supervision.
Now that I stop to think about it, it really is amazing how much has gone on in the couple of weeks since I got back. Just talking about all of it makes me tired . . . which reminds me that I’ve got a busy day of school and inventing ahead tomorrow.
“I think I’m going to go to sleep, Mom,” I say. “Lots to do tomorrow. We’ve really got to get this hovercraft out ASAP.”
“Okay, honey, get some sleep. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom,” I say.
My monitor goes blank.
I’m always a little sad at the end of a video chat with Mom, but somehow, knowing the truth about her makes it all a bit easier. My mom is off saving people. And that’s pretty cool.
The next morning I slide into my chair at the breakfast table. Emily is already sitting at the table, sulking, her face buried in her phone. Dad stands at the griddle, flipping something round, red, and gooey. (No way can those gooey things be pancakes.)
“It’s a pancake morning,” Dad announces, sliding a stack off the griddle and onto a big platter. I guess I was wrong. “Tomato pancakes to be exact.”
Emily groans but doesn’t say anything. My dad isn’t exactly a world-class chef, but he thinks he is. He’s always coming up with crazy meals and making us force them down. He’s actually more like a mad scientist of food, and his dishes are his monsters!
I do eat tomatoes in omelets sometime, so maybe tomatoes in pancakes won’t be too bad. Still, I glance over at the Gross-to-Good Powder in the salt shaker on the table, glad that it’s always there.
“Pancakes, not waffles, huh?” I say to Dad. “I guess this means that Mom isn’t coming home anytime soon.”
One of the many things I learned during my time at Spy Academy was that some of Dad’s crazy food concoctions are actually secret coded messages from my mom. Because she’s a spy, her e-mails are always in danger of being hacked, so she and Dad worked out a system. For example, waffles mean that Mom will be coming home soon, and different ingredients in the waffles stand for other information. Dad doesn’t have to make the dishes, but he usually does anyway. Tomato pancakes mean . . . well, I’m not exactly sure what tomato pancakes mean.
“Nope, your mother is off on assignment,” Dad says, confirming what I thought. “I picked pancakes to make, specifically tomato pancakes, because I thought they’d make an excellent subject for my next painting.”
“Of course Mom’s not coming home,” Emily chimes in, finally taking her eyes off of her phone. “Why should she come home? After all, if my fifteenth birthday wasn’t important enough to come home for, why should she come home now?”
I want to remind Emily that she and Mom video-chatted on her birthday, but I think better of it. We’re probably going to have to hear about how Mom didn’t come home for Emily’s fifteenth birthday all the way up until she turns sixteen. And worse, she’s just getting started.
“Not only didn’t I get a visit, but I’m not getting a birthday beach trip,” Emily continues as Dad places a stack of tomato pancakes on the table.
I consider bringing up the point once again that I didn’t exactly get a birthday beach vacation either. And that my “vacation” was working, going to school, and foiling a dastardly plot by an evil genius. But if there’s anything I know about my older sister, it’s that talking to her when she’s grumpy leads to bad news. I shove a pancake into my mouth and pretend to concentrate really hard on chewing.
Glug! Uh-oh. I should not have crammed the entire pancake into my mouth. Now it’s too late to sprinkle Gross-to-Good Powder on it, and let’s just say: tomato pancakes? Not delicious.
LUKE SHARPE is not a millionaire, but he has been trying to invent a machine that can teleport people anywhere in the world since he was eight years old. He has so far been unsuccessful but he has vowed never to give up. When he isn’t working, Luke enjoys Hawaiian pizza and skateboarding. He lives near Chicago with his wife and son (named Billy, of course), their gecko, Eddie, and their aquarium full of exotic fish.<
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GRAHAM ROSS has grand plans for world domination through his illustrated inventions. Right now he’s having a “ball” hanging out with Billy Sure, the next sure thing! Graham lives in a little log home in the woods with his inventive family, just outside of Merrickville, Canada.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SIMON SPOTLIGHT
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
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This Simon Spotlight edition March 2016
Copyright © 2016 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. Text by Michael Teitelbaum.
Illustrations by Graham Ross. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
SIMON SPOTLIGHT and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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Designed by Jay Colvin
The text of this book was set in Minya Nouvelle.
