Kelsey the Spy Read online

  “Tall, thin with brown hair.”

  “That could be a lot of guys. But I’ll check. Wait here.” She goes inside, and I tap my sneaker on the pavement, counting the taps until I get over two hundred and lose count. I’m up to seventy-three again when she returns.

  “Sorry.” She shakes her dinosaur head. “No Kyle inside.”

  “Drats,” I say with heavy disappointment.

  “You look thirsty so I brought you an orange soda.” She holds out a plastic cup. “By the way, I’m Talla.”

  “I’m Kelsey, and thank you.” I sip bubbly orange sweetness. “Getting this soda is the best thing that’s happened today.”

  “Not a great day?” Talla asks sympathetically.

  I grimace. “The worst!”

  “At least you’re not stuck in a hot costume,” she complains. “I’m glad my shift is almost over. I’m sweating like I’m wearing a sleeping bag on the hottest day of summer.”

  “So why work here?” I ask, then take another sip.

  She laughs. “Who wouldn’t want to get paid to be a dinosaur?”

  I nod, understanding. When I was little, I loved everything about dinosaurs and could pronounce even the longest, most complicated names.

  “Thanks again,” I say, gesturing to the drink. “I better go.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t help find your brother.”

  “He has a way of just vanishing.” I smile wryly. “At least I know where he didn’t go—not the sheriff, the pawnshop, or the pizza place.”

  “What about the law office?” Her tail flops with a thump as she turns to point to the remaining business.

  “I hope he’s not there because I never want to talk to that Ice Queen receptionist again.” I shiver. “Besides, Kyle doesn’t need a lawyer.”

  “Are you sure?” she asks. “The description of your brother matches this guy I’ve recognized from my high school—I don’t know his name—who’s gone to the law office at least three times this week.”

  “What high school?” My siblings all go to Sun Flower High, but some kids go to a private school, Creative Minds Academy.

  “Sun Flower High,” Talla says.

  “Did he ride a black bike?” I ask uneasily.

  “I didn’t notice.” She shrugs her dino shoulders. “All I know is that I’ve seen him at school hanging with some basketball players so he’s probably a jock.”

  Before my family lost their home and Kyle got obsessed with scholarship applications, he was on a basketball team.

  But why would my brother need a lawyer?

  - Chapter 18 -

  Tortoise Trouble

  Kyle doesn’t come home for dinner that night.

  “He’s with Jake,” Mom says cheerfully. “I’m so glad he’s finally getting out. It’s wonderful he’s seeing his friends again.”

  It would be if that were true.

  And I shudder at the memory of the scary law-office receptionist.

  My brain is on overload and it’s hard to go to sleep. I lie in bed, staring up at my ceiling where slivers of moonlight shift into puzzle pieces that don’t connect.

  Kyle + Lawyer = Trouble.

  I think of all the reasons someone might need a lawyer, but most of my ideas come from TV crime dramas. I’m pretty sure Kyle isn’t guilty of murder, kidnapping, grand larceny, identity theft, or assault with a deadly weapon. If it were illegal to get obsessed over applying for colleges, Kyle would be guilty.

  I fall asleep with images of Kyle riding his bicycle with a box that ticks like a bomb …

  The next day at school I wait for Becca by my locker, but she doesn’t show up. Will she bother coming to the Skunk Shack for our CCSC meeting after school? Both Becca and Leo have been so busy lately that I feel like I’m in a club of one.

  I find Becca in our homeroom, her dark ponytail sweeping across Chloe’s desk while they whisper. As I walk down the aisle, I frown at Sophia’s empty chair. Is she ever coming back to school?

  Sitting behind Becca, I wait for her to turn around but she’s too busy talking to Chloe. I thump my science book on my desk.

  Becca whirls to face me. “Oh, Kelsey. You’re here.”

  “I waited for you by my locker.” I try not to sound whiny.

  “I had to talk with Chloe.” She drops her voice so only I can hear. “We went to Sophia’s house last night, and she’s a mess. She won’t get out of bed and is faking sick to skip school. She thinks everyone hates her. That horrible Corning Comic destroyed her confidence.”

  “I can destroy him,” I say carefully. “Want to know his name?”

  “Of course I do!” Her bracelets, silver like her Sparkler necklace, jangle as she gestures excitedly.

  “It’s Er—”

  “Becca!” Chloe calls out. “I just thought of a new plan to help Sophia.”

  With a shrug, Becca mouths, “Tell me at lunch,” and turns back to Chloe. They start whispering again.

  But Becca walks into the lunchroom with Chloe, so there’s no chance to talk to her alone. When the lunch bell rings and we leave the cafeteria, Becca pulls me toward her and whispers into my ear, “We’ll talk about the Corning Comic at our CCSC meeting. Afterward we can stop by my house to cuddle with our kittens, then bike around searching for lost pets.”

  I feel a little better and smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Exactly! See you then.” With a hand wave, Becca hurries to her next class.

  After school, Becca is waiting for me by the bike rack and Leo is with her. I walk with a skip in my step. The CCSC is together again. My club mates will be so surprised when I show them the ransom note and the wooden block.

  “Race you to the Skunk Shack,” I throw out as a challenge while I unlock my bike from the rack.

  “Um … I’m not going.” Leo frowns, and I notice he’s not carrying his gyro-board. “That’s what I came to tell you.”

  “If you say you have to help Frankie again, I’ll scream,” I warn through gritted teeth.

  “Don’t scream! I hate loud noises.” Leo looks panicked.

  “What do you care what I do? You’d rather be with Frankie than us.”

  “The play’s dress rehearsal is soon. Frankie needs my help.”

  “And of course only you can help him,” I spat back. “Well, your club needs you too!” I turn to Becca for support. “Tell him we’re sick of being ditched for Frankie all the time.”

  “Well … I would but—”

  “Becca, do not say you can’t come either,” I warn through clenched teeth.

  “I’ll be there—just a little late.” Becca twists her ponytail around her finger, her gaze drifting across a grassy lawn to the street where two girls stand with their bikes: Chloe and Tyla.

  “You’re going with them!” My hand shakes with anger as I point to the other two Sparkler girls.

  “It won’t take long,” Becca cries. “Sophia refuses to talk to Tyla or help at the fund-raiser and may even quit the play. We’re having an intervention at her house.”

  “I guess I’m not invited to this either?” I snap.

  “I’m sorry but they …” Becca spreads out her arms helplessly. “Tyla only wants me and Chloe. We won’t take long, and then I’ll hurry to the Skunk Shack.”

  “What’s the point? We can’t have a meeting without our covert technology strategist,” I say, giving Leo a furious look.

  “I could make more meetings if Frankie was a member,” Leo says. “Frankie would be an asset to the CCSC. He can create superior disguises that are much more effective than a hat or wig.”

  “My disguises work fine,” I argue.

  “Only at a distance. Frankie has turned actors into cats, robots, historical people, and more. It’s only logical to invite him into the CCSC. I even have a title for him: disguise expert.”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “We’ll vote on Frankie at our next meeting.”

  “Will you vote yes?” Leo tilts his head toward me.

  Inste
ad of answering, I shoot him a suspicious look. “Have you been avoiding our meetings because I won’t vote the way you want?”

  “That behavior would be childish, and I have never been childish. Not even when I was a child.” Leo looks down at his vest, smoothing a crease.

  “But is it true?” I persist.

  “According to my calculations, there’s only a 32 percent chance you’ll say yes. By giving you time to get to know Frankie, the odds improve to 48 percent.”

  Becca gasps. “You’ve been skipping our meetings on purpose?”

  “While that would be a logical strategy, I have been truthful about helping Frankie.” Leo looks hopefully at me. “Will you vote for him?”

  I shift my heavy backpack on my back as I consider my answer. I like Frankie, but something about him makes me uneasy.

  “My vote is still no,” I tell Leo. “Our club is perfect with just the three of us. We’ve solved three mysteries and get along great—at least when we work together.”

  “You won’t change your mind?” When I shake my head, Leo’s shoulders sag and he walks away without even saying good-bye.

  I feel guilty. But I won’t change my vote.

  I roll my bike from the rack and swing my leg over to sit on my seat. “Becca, I’ll see you at the Skunk Shack.”

  “Since you’ll get there before me, could you go check on Albert? Mom says he hasn’t been eating and she’s worried about him.”

  “He misses Reggie,” I guess with a sigh. “Sure, I’ll check on him.”

  “Thanks. Albert has to start eating soon, or Mom will give him away. And since you’re going to check on Albert, could you try to feed him too? There are carrots in the fridge for him. If he eats, Mom won’t be in such a hurry to find him a new home.”

  I nod, willing to do anything to help Albert.

  I kick off my bike and ride alone to Wild Oaks Sanctuary.

  Since I’m going to Becca’s house first, I pass by the gated back entrance that trails through thick brush to the Skunk Shack. Riding under the arched front entrance into Wild Oaks, I wind down the graveled driveway to Becca’s ranch-style home.

  Mrs. Morales welcomes me with a hug. “It’s wonderful to see you, Kelsey. But where’s Becca?”

  Good question, I think bitterly.

  “She’s helping a friend but will be here soon. She asked me to feed Albert.”

  “If you can get Albert to eat, that would be amazing!”

  Mrs. Morales goes into the kitchen, two ferrets on her heels. Becca calls them the Fur Bros. I hear a mew and look down to see a whirl of orange. Bending down, I scoop Honey into my arms. She purrs and rubs her furry head against me. She’s so sweet, and I wish so much I could bring her home.

  When Becca’s kitten, Chris, scampers by, Honey wiggles out of my arms and bounds after him.

  “Here’s a fresh bunch of carrots,” Mrs. Morales says when she returns holding carrots that have a rough, natural look like they were just plucked from the ground. “Take these to Albert.”

  “Thanks,” I say, reaching out.

  “I hope you can get that big fellow to eat,” Mrs. Morales says as she follows me to the door. “I’ve been on the phone with Abigail DeSesa from the CTTC—the California Turtle & Tortoise Club—and she says it’s common for tortoises to bond with their owners and get depressed when they’re gone. I’ve tried all kinds of foods to tempt Albert, but he won’t eat.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I promise.

  Albert doesn’t even lift his wrinkly neck when I come up to him and wave a carrot. He looks the same to me … but different. His eyes don’t shine as brightly. And he ignores the carrot, even when I put it up to his mouth.

  “Oh, Albert,” I whisper, finding a rock that’s not splattered with bird poo to sit on. “Please, eat something.”

  He sinks into his shell until all I can see is the top of his head.

  “You miss Reggie,” I say softly. “You’re sad because you’re lonely. Well, I’ll tell you a secret … I feel lonely too.”

  Albert doesn’t move but I know he’s listening.

  “My friends are cool most of the time.” I suck in a deep breath, then blow it out. “But lately they’re always going off with other friends and leaving me behind. Becca says I’m a Sparkler—at least until the fund-raiser on Saturday—but the Sparklers only include me when they want my help. And Leo would rather hang out with Frankie.”

  Albert stretches his neck and looks at me.

  “Being alone sucks,” I say.

  The tortoise bobs his head.

  “Yeah, I understand. I want to be with Becca and Leo, and you want to be with Reggie.”

  We sit awhile in silence: twelve-year-old girl and hundred-thirty-year-old tortoise. Different species yet we have something in common: we both miss our friends.

  I keep trying to convince Albert to eat. He won’t even look at me, so I come up with an idea. I lift one of the raw carrots and spin it like a baton in my fingers. He still isn’t interested, so I bring the carrot to my mouth and take a big crunchy bite.

  “Albert, try the yummy carrots,” I say through chews.

  His black eyes watch the carrot. I take another bite, then hold out the carrot. He stretches his wrinkly neck and sniffs. Finally! He’s going to eat!

  Only he droops his head and withdraws under his shell.

  The carrots hang heavy in my hand as I turn away.

  A short time later, I’m on my way to the Skunk Shack. As I near the tree-shrouded building, I hear laughter coming from inside. I park my bike by the large table-sized stump, then hurry into the shack.

  Leo and Becca sit at the lopsided table, sipping juice drinks with a few papers spread out between them.

  My brows rise with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  “A rather obvious question,” Leo says. “We’re waiting for you so we can start our CCSC meeting.”

  “But I didn’t think you were coming.”

  “I was surprised to see Leo too,” Becca admits. “And pleased.”

  Leo lifts his stylus from his tablet, then taps it on the table like a gavel. “I hereby call our CCSC meeting to order.”

  “I second that,” Becca says cheerfully.

  They turn to me and I’m so happy we’re all here that I can’t stop smiling. The CCSC is back together.

  “I third the motion,” I say as I sit beside them at the table.

  Once Leo gets past his treasurer’s report and other boring topics, I announce that I have news to share.

  I unzip my backpack and hold out the wooden block and the ransom note.

  “Is this another spy game challenge?” Becca asks.

  “No,” I say, remembering the challenges I gave them when we first formed the club. Becca pieced together a ripped spy message, and Leo escaped from locked handcuffs.

  “Not a game—the real thing.” I explain how I found both in my locker.

  “So the ransom note led you to that missing dog you found?” Leo asks, wrinkling his brow so deeply he reminds me a little of Albert.

  “It was great finding the dog, but I still don’t have my notebook.” I point to the wooden block. “And now all I have is this—whatever it is.”

  “It appears to be a Japanese puzzle box.” Leo turns it over in his hands. “Usually I can open them quickly by moving sliding panels.”

  “I don’t see any panels.” I crane my neck forward to watch as Leo runs his fingers over the smooth wood.

  Leo frowns. “The level of difficulty is high.”

  “Let me try,” Becca says.

  “While other toddlers stacked toy blocks, I assembled Lego robotics and solved complex puzzles,” he says in his annoying superior tone. “Ah! I found a crevice … Apply pressure here and push this tiny wood panel, then—”

  Click.

  A popsicle-stick-like wood slat pops up, revealing a secret compartment.

  When Leo flips the box over and shakes it, a strip of paper—like you find in a
fortune cookie—flutters out.

  I catch the paper.

  And read.

  - Chapter 19 -

  Cryptic Clue

  At least, I try to read the message.

  “It’s starts off with W-E, but then the rest is jumbled letters and numbers that don’t make any sense,” I say, wrinkling my brow.

  “They could form acronyms,” Leo guesses. “Each letter represents a word.”

  “Like CCSC.” Becca smiles. “Or maybe it’s another language.”

  Leo shakes his blond head. “Not any language I know.”

  I snap my fingers. “Spy language!”

  “There is no such thing.” Leo scoffs.

  “Spies communicate in code. I’ve studied common codes that spies use. Some are so complex that only a computer can solve them.”

  “Let’s go to my house and decipher the code on my computer,” Leo says.

  “Not necessary.” I stare down at the tiny print, recognizing a familiar pattern. “I can figure it out. It’s an easy letter-substitution code.”

  “A cryptogram,” Leo says with a nod. “I prefer sudoku puzzles, but I’ve solved many cryptograms.”

  I take the paper over to the table and smooth it out.

  WE MJP GQLS SJ EWLB MJPA NZUAZSN, IJJV WL IJUVZA 299

  “Is it weird to have numbers mixed in with letters?” Becca scoots in beside me and points to the paper.

  “Not weird at all,” I say, then take out paper and a pencil from my backpack. I copy the code down in large print, then write the alphabet across the top of the page.

  While I prefer to figure things out on paper, Leo consults his tablet.

  “Each letter represents another letter,” I explain to Becca while I scan the paper in search of a starting place.

  “Or it could be more complicated where you have to count down from each corresponding letter to match the code with the correct letter,” Leo says.

  “Huh?” Becca blinks at him.

  Leave it to Leo to make something simple sound like advanced algebra. While Leo taps away on his device, I explain to Becca, “Becca, see these two Js together?”

  She nods.

  “That means it’s a double vowel or consonant. And the most commonly doubled letters are d, e, f, g, l, m, n, o … Oh, I think I know!” I write the letter O beneath the letter J on my alphabet list. “It’s the word ‘look!’”