Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Invite your archenemies over for tea and cookies. It will confuse them.
— Rule Number 27 from Rules for a Successful Life as an Undercover Secret Agent
Once inside my room, I did a quick visual check — sunflower cipher, Rules, world map, Abridged History textbook — all in their proper places. Rubbing my arm, I thought about Rule Number 11 for the second time today: Watch carefully for anyone who does special, unasked favors. Try to figure out what they might want from you. “Thanks for covering for me,” I said. “What were you doing on the floor in the dark?”
“You owe me,” Victoria said, not answering my question. “Where were you?”
Deny. Deny. Deny. “I needed some air. I’ve been locked up in the house all day.”
“You don’t fool me, Cousin Mabel.”
“I don’t?” I placed my hand over my jeans pocket to hide the bump of Aunt Gertie’s cell phone.
Victoria smirked. “I know what you were doing.”
Did Victoria follow me? I wondered. Could she have overheard me talking to Aunt Gertie?
“The mud on the cuffs of your jeans says it all.”
I followed her glance down to my ankles and asked, “My pants can talk?”
Victoria rolled her eyes.
“It’s damp outside,” I said. Hunger was definitely messing with my ability to come up with snappy replies.
Victoria smirked. “You were looking at the spoon museum, weren’t you?”
“I walked past it.”
“I knew it! You were there to see if we could break in, like I asked you to.”
“You’re right.” Relief flooded me. Victoria didn’t know I had broken into Aunt Gertie’s home or visited her in jail. “I guess I shouldn’t try to hide anything from you, Victoria.”
“You really are a terrible liar.” She plopped down on my bed.
“Please get off my bed. The air mattress is yours.”
She rolled her eyes again. “Do you have the key to the museum?”
Oh no. I’d forgotten to find and hide the spare key. I felt comforted knowing that since Frankenstella were checking for unlatched windows, they surely didn’t have it. “Nope.” I knew I had to get that spare key first thing tomorrow. I also had to hide the New Orleans Silver Spoon Historical Collection so that Frank didn’t sell it off.
“We should go back,” Victoria said. “Now. Let’s do it.”
I rummaged through the top dresser drawer, pulling out a fresh pair of pajamas. “Your parents would catch us tonight.”
“Are you afraid of getting caught?”
Yes. Yes, I was. But not by Frankenstella. The angry Agency women had sounded terrifying on the phone. I didn’t want to have to explain why I had gone against the strict orders I’d been given. I wasn’t going to share my reasoning with Victoria, so I simply said, “Don’t you need flashlights and stuff for lighting to record?”
“Yeah. Good point, Moppet.” Victoria looked at my baby pumpkin and then chuckled to herself.
“What?” I asked.
“Just thinking about something the HEGs said today at lunch.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re a ghoul.”
My blood froze in my veins. “A what?” I managed to croak.
“You were born on October thirty-first.” Victoria waved her fingers in the air. “Halloween. Ghost. Ghoul. Get it?”
“Yeah.” I exhaled. Ghoul was also a spy term for an agent who dealt with undercover names, obituaries, and cemeteries. Not a pleasant job.
“So are you going to have a party?”
“Probably not,” I said.
“Gosh, Moppet. You act like a birthday party would be torture. What is with you?” Victoria frowned at me. “Why does everyone call you Moppet, anyway?” she asked.
“Mop was my nickname when I was four years old.” I twirled a curl around my finger. “Mabel Opal Pear. M-O-P. Mop became Moppet. Get it?”
“Mabel’s a weird name, no offense.”
“It’s our granny’s name. And her granny’s name.” We have lots of silver jewelry with the name Mabel engraved on it. How many family pieces have Victoria engraved on them? None.
“Why did your parents name you after a musical instrument?”
My head ached from fatigue. “What are you talking about?”
“Oboe’s your middle name.” Victoria started making bellowing sounds.
“O-P-A-L. My birthstone.” My dad says that I’m just like an opal, milky white on the surface with flashes of green, but hidden inside are fiery reds waiting to explode like molten lava. I’m still not sure if that’s a compliment or if he’s trying to be funny.
I could see Victoria thinking of insults concerning my last name. Instead of waiting for the next put-down, I went on the attack. “Now do you have anything clever to say about Pear?”
“You don’t have to be so mean.” Victoria huffed, as if I’d hurt her feelings. “I was just trying to get to know you better.” She sniffled.
I suppressed a groan. I really wanted to call Aunt Gertie’s handler again so that someone in the Agency would do something, not ignore me like Roy and the angry woman. There was no way I could call in front of Victoria, so I said, “I’m getting ready for bed.”
“Good thinking, Moppet.”
I walked down the hallway to the bathroom. Once inside, I dialed Ms. Bow Tie’s number, going through the standard ritual of calling, letting it ring, and hanging up. I was waiting for Ms. Bow Tie to pick up when I realized that the light from the hallway that was shining under the door was being blocked by two feet.
I pushed the cell phone deep into my pocket. Quietly, I walked to the door and flung it open.
Victoria was unfazed. “You forgot these,” she said, handing me my black-and-red Hello Kitty pajamas. “What are you doing in there?”
“Using the bathroom.” I wanted to slam the door in her smirking face, but I knew all it would take was one wail for Stella to come to her defense.
“Typically one uses water in the bathroom,” Victoria said as she leaned against the doorjamb.
Ms. Bow Tie would have to wait another day.