by Wendy Mass
Her grandmother laughed. “Where did you hear that expression?”
“I’m like a sponge,” Daisy said proudly. “I absorb everything around me.”
“That’s what makes you such a good spy, my darling granddaughter.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll hand off the next case that requires a sixty-year-old silver-haired lady, I promise. You’re as relentless as your parents.”
“Thank you!” Daisy glowed. When your parents were two of the most sought-after spies in the world, any comparison to them was a good one. She couldn’t be prouder of their success, even if it meant that except for the rare times the three of them were on a case as a family, she saw her parents only a few times a month. Sometimes for only a few hours at a time. She would never ask them to change what they did on her account, though, and only partly because she knew they wouldn’t. But, hey, they never missed her birthday, and that said a lot.
Her grandmother glanced to the left at something Daisy couldn’t see. “I only have a minute or two,” she explained, “but I want to wish you luck on your mission today.”
“No worries, Grammy. Should be an easy job. Get in, get the secret ingredient, get out.”
“That’s why I wanted to wish you luck. It’s always—” her grandmother paused to step aside for a group of camera-wielding tourists. Lowering her voice, she said, “It’s always the easy ones that turn out to be the hardest. Have you read the file carefully?”
“Er, sure,” Daisy fibbed, glancing guiltily at the file waiting, unopened, on her desk. She had meant to go through it before bed but was too tired after spending the day riding Magpie. Daisy didn’t ride as gracefully as some of the other girls, or as sure-footedly, but she loved being on that horse’s back more than anything else in the world. Except for successfully completing her missions, of course. “Hey, if you’re away on another mission, who’s going to be my handler?”
Her grandmother adjusted her beret and winked. “You must know that, since you read the file so carefully.”
She should have known she couldn’t put anything over on that woman. “Oh, right!” Daisy said brightly. “I remember now!”
They both laughed.
“Love you, Grammy, be careful.”
“You, too, dear. Don’t give Mrs. Peterson a hard time. The last time I left her in charge, you convinced her that Magpie should eat supper in the dining room with all the girls.”
Daisy recalled the look of horror on the caretaker’s face when Magpie put her big head into the spaghetti bowl.
“And remember our motto,” her grandmother continued. “When in Rome, act like the Romans. When you’re a kid in a candy factory, act like a kid in a candy factory.”
Daisy smiled. “Does that mean I get to eat all the candy I want?”
“Of course! And give AJ my love.” The screen went blank.
AJ? AJ? Daisy jumped out of bed, tossing the book onto the pillows behind her. No, it couldn’t be. She ran over to the desk and picked up the orange folder with the day’s assignment in it. She skimmed through the paperwork outlining the mission until she came to the section marked HANDLER. And there it was, in bright red ink: AJ.
Every spy worth her salt had an arch-nemesis. AJ was hers. Five years older, ten times better-looking (or at least he thought so), and a constant thorn in her side. All the other girls lost a hundred IQ points when he walked by, but they hadn’t been at the mansion as long as she had. They didn’t remember when he was six years old, the youngest spy in the biz, and the only boy in the mansion. He bragged about both nonstop.
Well, to be honest, she didn’t quite remember that time either, since she was only a baby then, but she did remember when he was ten and she was five. They had to pretend to be brother and sister to infiltrate a traveling circus, and he told the ringmaster she was mute so she couldn’t say a single word for two weeks. He’d probably done it just so she couldn’t remind him that she was now the youngest working spy, beating his claim to fame by a full year.
She went into her bathroom to wash up. No use whining over it. She was a professional. She could work with anyone. Plus this assignment was short—only three days—and she figured she’d need only one day to get the secret ingredient. Once she had it, she’d make up some excuse to get out of the candy competition and leave. She could put up with AJ for one day, she decided, and pressed the intercom on the wall.
“Ready for prep,” she announced, wondering who would show up. Whoever wasn’t on active duty got assigned to help prep the others. Last week she had prepped ten-year-old Janel, whose mission was to infiltrate the Buttons and Bows Junior Miss Pageant. Daisy had dressed her in lots of poofy skirts and curled her hair until she looked like a poodle. A very puffy poodle. It took almost a whole can of hair spray to keep her hair that way. Very messy business, the whole prepping thing. Daisy much preferred being on a case than prepping someone else.
She picked up the folder and leafed through the thin stack of pages again. The research department had found grainy surveillance pictures of both the inside and the outside of the Life Is Sweet candy factory.
A small photo clipped to the top page had the words “Logan, the Candymaker’s son” scribbled across the bottom. The picture showed a boy of about four or five with olive skin and blond hair. A butterfly sat on the tip of his nose, making his eyes look slightly crossed. His expression was one of pure astonishment and glee. Daisy had to admire the skill of the photographer in capturing both the boy and the butterfly without being seen by either.
A note from the background checker explained that the factory interior shots were from a very old data-gathering trip, as was the photo of the boy. There had been no time to update the records. The upcoming contest provided the best opportunity for someone to be in the factory unescorted, and the research team had worked day and night to get Daisy enrolled as a contestant.
She had just begun to read the notes about the factory’s founder when Clarissa and her twin, Marissa, barged in, way too bright-eyed for so early in the morning. Once again, Daisy had to remind herself that she was a professional and could work with anyone.
Being an identical twin was a great asset when it came to spying. Clarissa and Marissa could essentially be in two places at once, a very handy trick when you’re trying not to be seen in the wrong place. Relentlessly perky and armed with a fashion sense much keener than the typical fifteen-year-old’s, they were never suspected of having a devious thought in their heads. That’s what made them such good spies.
“I thought you guys were on a case,” Daisy said, holding out the folder. Clarissa grabbed it and flipped it open, scattering the pictures on the rug. Marissa bent down to pick them up.
“Sorry!” Clarissa squealed.
“We finished the town-hall job yesterday,” Marissa said, tossing the photos on the bed. “Got the plans for the new water tunnels with no problem. So we’re all yours!”
“Swell,” Daisy muttered.
The twins huddled together and skimmed the file. Then, with a nod, Clarissa swung open the door to the walk-in closet and stepped in. Marissa clapped her hands with excitement. “This is going to be a fun one!”
The two of them pulled out dress after dress until Clarissa said, “Got it!” and held up a short yellow dress so bright Daisy had to shield her eyes.
“You’re kidding me,” she said, pretty sure they weren’t. “Why that one? Can’t I wear something more, I don’t know, sophisticated?”
“We think your personality for this mission should be fun and cheery. What says fun and cheery better than this?” She held the dress up high.
“And these?” Marissa asked with a giggle, holding up two socks—one pink and one blue with polka dots.
Daisy sighed. She knew they were right. The twins were the best preppers in the mansion. “All right, let’s do this.”
They marched her into the bathroom, where they poured a whole bottle of Sunshine Blond on her natural
ly light brown hair. It stung her scalp, but she didn’t complain. Daisy actually preferred looking like a different person on the job. It helped her get inside the character. Twenty minutes later, the dye had done its job, and Clarissa blew her hair dry.
On to the outfit. The twins twirled and giggled as they dressed her. Marissa whipped out her needle and thread to make some tiny adjustments to a seam, which somehow made the dress fit perfectly. Clarissa got to work on her hair, pulling it into a ponytail so tight Daisy cried out. “I’m not a ballerina, ya know!”
“Sorry!” Clarissa loosened it a bit and then twirled the end around her finger to form a curl. On went the mismatched socks and white sneakers and a dab of pink blush, which they swore would “wake up her face.” When they were done, they turned her toward the mirror. Well, she definitely looked the part of “fun and cheery contestant,” and that’s all that mattered.
Her wall screen blinked on, and AJ’s face appeared, one hand covering his eyes. “Everyone decent?”
The twins beamed and Daisy glared. “Just barely! Don’t you ever knock?”
AJ lowered his hand and made a big show of pretending to knock on the screen. The twins shrieked with laughter.
“Nice outfit, Oopsa,” he said with a grin. “Did a piece of you break off from the sun?”
“Ha ha,” she said, wishing she could have thought of something more clever. She hated it when he called her Oopsa, short for Oopsa Daisy. Refusing to let him get to her so soon, she straightened up, smoothed down her dress, and said, “Let’s get this show on the road. I’ve got a lotta candy to eat.”
Ten minutes later, she sat behind AJ, clutching the edges of his black-and-silver moped for dear life. Her pocketbook, complete with a handful of gadgets and her fake romance novel, banged hard against her hip as AJ managed to hit each pothole on the dirt road that led from their estate out to the main road.
“Can’t you go any less than a hundred miles per hour?” she yelled into the wind.
In response AJ leaned into a corner, sending the ground swimming up toward Daisy’s face. She closed her eyes. The next time her parents showed up, they’d get an earful from her about this.
After a fifteen-minute ride that felt eternal, AJ screeched to a halt at the edge of the factory’s long driveway. Daisy hopped off and waited for her pulse to return to normal. She knew that if she complained again it would make him drive twice as fast when he picked her up. Instead she ripped off her helmet and stuck it on the end of the handlebar.
“Okay,” AJ said, unsnapping his helmet strap but leaving it on his head. “Let’s go over last-minute stuff. You are Daisy Carpenter. You’re fun—”
“Carpenter?” she interrupted. “Why’d you choose that name?”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. She didn’t want him to know that the one time she’d actually made a friend during a mission—a real friend—the girl’s name had been Rebecca Carpenter. But it didn’t really matter. Names were things spies took on and off like clothes. She’d had more last names than she could remember. Truth be told, she didn’t even know her real one. None of the kids living at the mansion did. It was for their own protection in case they slipped up and blew their cover. She’d learn it when she turned eighteen.
“May I continue?” he asked. Not waiting, he said, “You are fun, cheery, excited to be here, and ready to win. You get along with everyone. They need to like you and trust you if you’re going to get the job done.”
“Got it,” she said. “This isn’t my first time, you know.”
He crossed his arms over his leather driving jacket. “Then of course you’ve read the file.”
She smiled innocently. “Isn’t that what handlers are for?”
He narrowed his eyes at her and sighed. “I’ve set your earpiece frequency to my own. I’ll alert you if you need to know something.”
“Just keep your yakking to a minimum,” she instructed, fixing her ponytail, which had come loose during the ride. “I won’t be able to concentrate on my job with you going on about sports or video games or whatever it is guys talk about.”
He pretended to look insulted. “Is that what you think of me? I actually have some very highbrow interests, you know.”
“Like what?” Daisy asked, glancing up the driveway. The smell of chocolate had just made its way out to the street. She felt her pulse quicken. She loved chocolate.
“That’s for you to find out,” AJ said. He hopped back onto the bike, saluted once, and took off with a screech.
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” she muttered under her breath.
“I heard that!” AJ’s voice came through her earpiece, clearer than if he were still beside her.
Daisy kicked at the ground. What she wouldn’t give for privacy every once in a while. At least no one could read her thoughts. Not yet anyway! No doubt the tech department was working on it. She began the long walk up the driveway. When she reached the front entrance, she quickly surmised that not much, if anything, had changed since the photos she had seen were taken. The smell of chocolate was even stronger, and her stomach growled. If her grandmother had been home, she never would have let Daisy leave without drinking her breakfast goop. She debated whether to knock on the door, but it was so heavy she knew no one would hear her. Ringing the doorbell seemed rude, somehow, so she sat on the stoop to wait.
A minute later, her pocketbook beeped, and she scrambled to pull out her book. Flipping it open, she immediately switched it to vibrate so it wouldn’t give her away later. At first all she could see on the screen was a lot of white fuzz. It slowly cleared to reveal her mom’s face, nearly completely covered with a ski hat, scarf, and goggles. Where could her mom be skiing in late June? She must be literally on the other side of the world.
“Hi, honey!” her mom said through blueish lips. “Hope you’re warmer than I am right now!”
Daisy held the screen away and pointed the camera at her outfit.
Her mom laughed. “Is that your dress or the sun?”
In her ear she heard a muffled chuckle from AJ.
Ignoring both, she asked, “Where are you, Mom? Is Dad with you?”
“Can’t tell you, honey, you know that. But we’re fine. We miss you.”
“How come you always know my missions, but I don’t know yours?”
“When you turn eighteen we won’t know yours either. Assuming, of course, that you want to continue this life.”
“Of course I do!” Daisy said, shocked. What other life was there?
Her mom smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. Have fun today.”
She frowned. “I’m here to do a job, not to have fun.”
Snow began gently falling around her mother’s face. “Lighten up, honey. You’re twelve. You’re allowed to have fun at a candy factory. In fact, I order you to.”
“Me, too,” AJ’s voice said.
“This is a private conversation!” Daisy snapped, her hand reaching up to her ear.
“Daisy!” her mom admonished. “That’s no way to talk to your grandmother, even through an earpiece.”
“It’s not Grammy, Mom. It’s AJ. Grammy abandoned me to go on a mission to Paris!”
The snow was falling more heavily now. “She did, eh? I’ll have another talk with her. At her age, she should be—”
“Don’t mean to interrupt,” AJ’s voice cut in, “but is that a car I hear?”
Daisy looked up in time to see a short boy climbing out of a rather beat-up blue sedan, not ten feet away from her. She usually didn’t allow herself to get so distracted. She’d have to be more careful. Daisy quickly shut the book without saying goodbye. Her mom would understand.
“Okay,” AJ’s voice said. “It’s show time.”
Daisy planted a smile on her face and jumped up. Fun and cheery, she told herself, channeling her inner Clarissa and Marissa as she introduced herself. She could tell it was working, because Miles—who had looked a little shell-shocked when he got out of the car—was now
relaxed and smiling.
“Are you twirling?” AJ’s voice teased a minute later. “I hear your hair whipping around. That might be overkill.”
She stopped twirling.
Then Miles asked her a question about how many kids were in the contest and said something snarky like “Don’t you know?” and instantly felt bad. But she didn’t want to admit she didn’t know, either. All she could do was wait for AJ to come to the rescue. She heard pages being turned frantically. Seconds passed, and she began to squirm. Miles looked uncomfortable, too.
“There are four of you,” AJ’s voice finally said. He listed the names, telling her his bet was on Logan.
She repeated the information to Miles, hoping he hadn’t wondered about her hesitation. Grammy always warned the girls that it was usually some very small thing that broke a spy’s cover. She couldn’t risk blowing this assignment. Not with her parents and Grammy away and with AJ living inside her head.
A sleek, shiny black limo pulled up in front of them, reminding Daisy of Magpie. If Magpie had wheels instead of legs. She figured the Candymaker himself would get out of the limo, but instead, a tall boy in a suit and tie stepped out and walked toward them, head held high with self-importance. Daisy’s eyes widened. She didn’t know his name, but she’d know him anywhere. The only time she’d had to be replaced on a job, it was because of him.
She’d been hired a few years back to investigate a claim of cheating at the regional spelling bee, held at a local elementary school. She had pretended to be a student at the school, sneaking around the building during classes and blending in when kids filled the hallways. After only a few hours, she located the supply room where the judges kept the index cards with the words for the final round of the bee. She suspected they had two stacks, one with difficult words and one with easier ones and were putting certain kids through to higher rounds by giving them the easy words.
