“Well, we still have the boat. It’s at Tanya’s.”
“Well, I think technically it belongs to my mother now,” Tanya corrected. She looked at Grace and shrugged. “After Aunt Lourdes moved to New York, my mother offered to store it so when Aunt Lourdes came to visit she could use it. It’s been in our shed forever.”
“It’s perfect!” Alfie grinned.
Tanya shook her head. “Alfie. Get real. Who knows if it even runs anymore.”
“Well, let’s check it out then,” Alfie persisted.
“I’ll only let you guys near my shed on one condition,” said Tanya.
Grace cringed. “I’m scared to ask. What’s the condition?”
“I get to be part of Operation Silly Me too.”
“Operation Sally Mae, Tanya,” Alfie groaned. “You definitely can’t be part of the operation if you make fun of us.”
“Sorreee,” Tanya shrugged. “My bad.”
“I don’t know, Tanya. I feel funny enough having Alfie involved as it is.”
“Pleeeeease, Grace? You’ve got to let me do something,” pleaded Tanya.
Grace thought for a minute. “Okay, here’s the deal. You can be lookout from the shore.”
“That’s lame. Can’t I come on the boat?”
“No way.” Grace shook her head. “Lookout. Take it or leave it.”
Tanya sighed. “All right. But if anything else cool and spy-ish needs to happen, I get first dibs. Deal?”
“Deal.” Grace nodded. “And actually? I kinda like Silly Me. It keeps things secret. It’s like a code name.”
Tanya made a shrill squeaking noise that threatened to puncture Grace’s eardrum. The three conspirators agreed that they would head to Tanya’s after school the next day for the first phase of Operation Sally Mae. Or rather, the first phase of the appropriately re-named Operation Silly Me.
Grace walked to English class, wondering if this was the beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning. Either way it felt like she was plummeting, without brakes, fins, arms, or gills to stop the downward spiral.
Chapter Twenty Two: Here, Doggy Doggy
The next afternoon, Tanya’s mom greeted the trio at the front door. Everything about Beatriz Saturnino was soft—her cap of curly black hair streaked with gray, her plump cheeks, her pillowy body, and her easy smile. Bea wore a nondescript housedress and apron, flesh-colored stockings, and black oxford shoes. She smelled like lemons.
“Grace, this is my mom. Mamãe, this is Grace,” said Tanya.
“Boa tarde, Grace,” said Bea. “You like a brigadeiro?” She held a plate of fudge candies out to Grace.
“Thank you, Mrs. Saturnino.” Grace took a candy and popped it in her mouth. It was chewy, chocolate perfection. Oh, to have a mother who actually baked, thought Grace. Or, good enough, a mother who was just there.
Once again, Minerva had driven off after breakfast for her weekly trip to L.A. It was a good thing Grace had Operation Silly Me to focus on, otherwise her imagination might go wild, picturing Minerva beach-jogging in Malibu with some new arty L.A. friends, or eating fancy lobster salads for dinner with movie stars, while back at home it would be dinner with Dad—meaning mac and cheese from a box or pizza again.
Right then, a mother just like Beatriz seemed infinitely preferable. “Yummy,” Grace murmured between mouthfuls of sticky chocolate chews. “Thanks, Mrs. Saturnino.”
“My mother is like the Brazilian Martha Stewart,” said Tanya, grabbing her own chocolate fudge, “at least when it comes to food and housekeeping. My dad says that if she would just learn to speak better English, she could have her own cooking and home show. But my sister and I agree Mamãe needs to lose about fifty pounds and have a total makeover before anyone would even consider putting her on TV.”
“Tanya,” Grace exclaimed, shocked. “That’s not nice.”
“Don’t worry,” said Alfie. “Aunt Bea barely understands a word of English. Can you believe it? Seven years in this country and she still only knows how to say things like ‘Where’s the condensed milk?’ or ‘You drive too fast, Rodrigo.’”
Grace looked at Beatriz, who smiled enthusiastically at the kids as if they were discussing the fine weather. Alfie popped three brigadeiros in his mouth and rattled away with Beatriz in Portuguese as they all walked inside.
Grace had never seen a cleaner, more color-coordinated house in all her life. Framed photos and fresh flowers covered every available surface. Most of the photos were of Tanya and an older dark-haired girl.
“That’s Gisela,” said Tanya when she noticed Grace looking at one of the photos. “Drop-dead gorgeous, right? She’s off at UC Santa Barbara. Thank God. I love her, but talk about a hard act to follow...Come on, let’s go.”
After finishing the last of the chocolates, Grace and Alfie followed Tanya outside to the storage shed, which looked like a little playhouse, with blue shutters and flower boxes blooming with sprawling yellow lantana. The inside, however, was another story. A broken lawn mower and rusty tools were piled in one corner, while a precarious tower of broken cardboard boxes threatened to topple from the opposite side. There was a one-eyed teddy bear, with stuffing poking out of a hole in its tummy, sitting atop a scooter that was missing one of its wheels. Everything was dusty and covered with cobwebs. The boat, taking up most of the remaining space, sat on a rusty boat trailer and looked as if it had been repainted a hundred times, covering a multitude of dings and badly patched holes. Party On, Gisela was scrawled in marker across one side of the boat, and G.S. and J.K. 4ever was written inside a lopsided heart on the bow.
“It looks like it was used for target practice or something,” said Grace dubiously.
Tanya walked over and examined the graffiti. “G.S. and J.K. 4 ever. Gisela and Josh Kramer, forever? Yeah, right. They were together for, like, a nanosecond.”
Unsnapping the motor cover, Alfie pulled it off and peered at the inner workings, fiddling with loose wires and poking at nuts and bolts.
“That thing looks like an exploded brain,” Grace observed.
“It’s not as bad as it seems. I think I just need to tighten a few things and give it a nice spritz of motor oil. Then it’ll be good to go.”
While Alfie fiddled with the motor, Grace wandered over to the window and peeked outside. A shiny silver SUV with dark-tinted windows pulled up in Tanya’s driveway. “Hey, Tanya. Expecting company?” she asked.
“I can’t believe her,” Tanya groaned, peering over Grace’s shoulder. “What is her problem?”
The passenger door of the SUV opened and Christi slid out. She had that blotchy-around-the-eyes, sniffly look that suggested she’d been crying. Christi opened the rear hatch and pulled out a big box filled with what looked like clothes, books, stuffed animals, and framed photos. Dumping the box at the front door of Tanya’s house, she ran back to the car, but before Christi got back in, the passenger seat window lowered. A woman with bright blonde hair, wearing enormous sunglasses, leaned across the front seat and spoke to her.
“Christi, hon,” she said. “Maybe you should just talk to Tanya.”
“Mother! Please…” Christi groaned.
“I just think that—”
“Enough already! Don’t tell me what to do!” Christi barked.
Suddenly a loud roar filled the garage. Startled, Grace and Tanya turned to see Alfie, face streaked with black grease, beaming as he pointed to a whirling, purring boat engine.
“See? Told you I could do it,” he yelled proudly.
Outside, Christi stared suspiciously at the shed.
“Cut the motor, Alfie! Now!” hissed Grace. “And get behind the boat!”
The motor sputtered out as Alfie shut it off and dove to the far side of the boat. As Christi came bounding toward the shed, Grace grabbed Tanya and pulled her down and out of view. Grace spotted an old blanket
on the floor and quickly threw it over them both. They huddled as close together as possible, barely breathing. All was silent, except for the sound of Christi’s footsteps crunching on the gravel. When the footsteps stopped, Grace imagined Christi on tiptoe, with her nose pressed against the window, straining to see what was going on inside the shed. Excruciating seconds passed before Grace heard Christi’s retreating footsteps, the sound of a car door slamming, and an SUV backing out of the driveway. Emerging from beneath the blanket, Grace glanced at Tanya, who looked as if she had been shaken in a blender.
“That was close,” sighed Grace.
“To…totally,” Tanya coughed.
“Can I come out now?” Alfie called.
“Yeah,” Grace replied. “The coast is clear.”
Alfie’s head appeared over the side of the boat. “What’s going on?”
“Operation Silly Me was almost ruined by none other than Christi Worthington,” said Tanya. “But now everything’s cool.”
“Worthington?” asked Alfie. “Wow. I’m glad I missed that.”
“She left all the stuff I’ve ever given her on my doorstep,” Tanya said.
“I’m sorry you and Christi aren’t friends anymore,” Grace began. “I feel kind of responsible. Maybe you guys should talk.”
Tanya shook her head vehemently. “Listen, Grace. I’m really glad about this, okay? Trust me. She’s been horrible lately. Maybe it has something to do with her parents fighting all the time and her father never being home. But whatever it is, it doesn’t give her the right to act like a dictator.”
“Hey, guys, look what I found while I was hiding.” Alfie held up two orange life-preservers, an anchor line, and an emergency alarm horn. “All my mom’s old stuff. Still in perfect condition. And guess what else?” Alfie walked over to Tanya and handed her an ancient-looking walkie-talkie. “Remember these?”
“Omigod!” Tanya cried. “We used to have so much fun with these when we were little!” She brought her walkie-talkie up to her mouth and said, “Hey, Agent A, do you copy?”
“I copy, Agent T.,” Alfie replied into his radio.
“Oh, great,” groaned Grace. “If those things actually work, can you please just talk like normal people?”
“Roger, mon capitan,” Alfie said in a deep voice. “All these babies need are some new batteries and they’re good for up to a fifteen-mile range.”
“Operation Silly Me slated to begin Saturday at O-whatever hour,” said Tanya. “Over and out.”
Grace hid her face in her hands and sighed. Secretly she prayed for lousy weather on Saturday. Maybe then she could call the whole thing off.
Chapter Twenty Three: Row, Row, Row Your Silly Me
When Saturday rolled around, it became clear to Grace that there would be no getting out of Operation Silly Me. The weather was perfect. The sky, just before dawn, was crisp and clear, without a wisp of cloud or even a hint of wind. Grace had stashed her father’s new scuba gear in a black trash bag, which she had tied to her bicycle basket. At quarter past four that morning, she was racing down the deserted streets of La Toya, the trash bag flapping wildly in her basket. Remembering her father’s excitement over his new scuba equipment the night before, Grace felt a pang of guilt. Poor Walter, Grace thought. He has no idea of the schemes that percolate in his devious daughter’s mind.
Alfie and Tanya were waiting impatiently in front of the Saturninos’ garage when Grace pulled up on her bike.
“AAACCCCHHHOOO!” Alfie let out a huge sneeze as Grace climbed off her bike. Reaching into the outer pocket of his backpack, he fished out a crumpled tissue and swiped at his nose.
“Good morning to you too,” whispered Grace as she leaned her bike against the garage. “What are you made up to be?” she asked Tanya, who wore dark pants, a black turtleneck sweater pulled high around her chin, and a black knit cap pulled low over her curls.
“Secret Agent Girl,” answered Tanya with a grin. “I love this look, don’t you?”
“Sure,” Grace said with a grin. “I guess it pays to have style, even when you’re about to do something potentially dangerous and really stupid.”
“Um, thanks,” Tanya hesitated. “I think.”
“Come on. Let’s get the boat,” Grace said as she walked to the shed. She stopped short before the door, where a giant padlock now hung. “Tanya, tell me you know where the key to this lock is.”
“What lock? This door is never locked.” Tanya reached into the waistband of her spandex spy pants and pulled out a slick black penlight. “A Secret Agent Girl is always prepared,” she said as she shone the light on the padlock.
Grace and Alfie crouched to get a better view of the words embossed on the padlock. “PROPERTY OF WORTHINGTON INDUSTRIES. NO TRESPASSING,” Grace read. “Since when is your shed the property of Christi’s family?”
“It’s not,” Tanya said. “Mr. W. gave my father a bunch of those padlocks to use in his landscaping business. I have no idea why my dad would lock the shed. He keeps all that gardening stuff at the warehouse. But no worries. I know where his keys are.” Tanya ran back to her house.
“No worries?” Grace sighed. “I’m super-worried. I think this is a sign.”
Alfie fumbled nervously with the zipper of his windbreaker until Tanya returned with a ring of keys. Grace held the penlight steady while Tanya tried key after key. Not a single one worked.
“Well, this sucks,” Tanya said.
“Christi,” Alfie moaned as he slumped to the grass and buried his face in his knees. “I am such an idiot.”
“Alfie?” Grace asked. “What does Christi have to do with this?”
“Christi saw me,” he admitted despairingly. “In the shed the other day.”
“Excuse me?” Tanya hissed.
“And I gave her the finger.”
“You what?” Grace and Tanya said together.
“I couldn’t control myself. You ordered me to dive behind the boat. I wanted to know why, so I poked my head up and I saw Worthington peering in the window. She looked at me like I was a mucus ball. My finger just rose on its own. Like, instinctively.”
“That’s just great, Alfie,” Tanya snapped. “If Christi is really behind this lock-up, which I’m sure she is, Operation Silly Me is totally messed up, thanks to your instinct.”
“It’s even worse than that,” Alfie said, beginning to shake. “I think she saw you guys, too.”
“What?” Grace hissed.
“She looked down through the window toward the tops of your heads before you got that blanket all the way up and over yourselves. Then she saw me looking at her. That’s when she gave me the evil eye and my finger rose in reply.”
“Unbelievable,” Tanya groaned. “It would be nice to have been told this before, Alfie.”
“I thought maybe it wasn’t such a big deal,” Alfie tried. “And I guess I was scared you guys would freak out and cancel OpSM.”
“Oh,” Tanya said. “So not only did you lie, but you thought of a new stupid name for our Operation. I am beyond peeved at you right now.” She turned to Grace and said, “Christi has a bunch of these locks also. On her mini-Vespa, her jewelry box, even her bedroom door. She is so all over this.”
Pockmarked Pete and the Pirate Princesses, thought Grace. You didn’t have to be the daughter of a shrink to figure out why Christi would pull such a stunt. She felt excluded, pushed away and replaced by the nerdy new girl—none other than Grace herself. So while not exactly sympathetic, Grace did understand. “It’s over, guys,” she sighed. Despite her nervousness the night before, Grace was surprisingly disappointed that Operation Silly Me was over. She had thought that she would be relieved, had even hoped for rain, but she was as bummed as her friends. “Come on, let’s all just go back home.”
As Tanya and Grace turned back toward the driveway, they heard a loud crack and spun
around to see Alfie with a rock in his hand. There was now a gaping hole where the latch and padlock used to be.
“Are you completely and totally demented?” Tanya cried as she ran back to the shed.
“Really, Alfie,” Grace added. “That was beyond stupid. That was psychotic.”
Alfie shrugged. “No one ever comes back here, right? I mean, when was the last time Uncle Rodrigo set foot in his own backyard? I’ll fix it later today, after we’re done with OpSM.”
Grace and Tanya looked at each other. Finally, Tanya acknowledged, “It would be a drag to have gotten all dressed up like Secret Agent Girl for no reason.”
Grace shook her head.
Alfie took Grace’s hand. “I will love you forever if you say yes.”
“Ew, yuck, Alfie,” Grace protested.
“Not that way. Love you forever like a friend,” Alfie added, his eyes giant yearning moons behind his thick glasses.
That did it. “All right,” Grace nodded. “OpSM. Operation Silly Me, or whatever you wanna call it, is back on.”
Grace tossed the bag of scuba equipment into the boat. After some tricky maneuvers around an old tricycle and an ancient television set, they managed to get the rowboat and trailer out of the shed. As quietly as they could, with Grace and Tanya pulling and Alfie pushing from behind, they maneuvered the boat down the Saturninos’ driveway for the five-block walk to the beach.
“I’m so excited I could die,” Alfie squealed as they turned on to Ocean Vista Drive.
“Shhh!” Tanya hissed over her shoulder.
“Not another word until we get to the beach, got it?” Grace whispered urgently, glaring at him from around the curve of the bow.
Alfie nodded in excited agreement, but Grace could tell from his extra bugged-out eyes and twitching mouth that he was going to find silence very challenging.
The streets were deserted but for the occasional cat out prowling for an unsuspecting bird or squirrel. Every so often a yellow glow lit up a window or two of the houses they passed. Grace made sure to give Alfie a glowering stare, reinforcing the silence-is-golden mandate and the you’ll-be-sorry-if-you-talk rule.
The Tantalizing Tale of Grace Minnaugh Page 13
