Nipper walked far ahead of Samantha. He had a special errand to run before they visited the mailbox. He marched up the driveway of their neighbor, Missy Snoddgrass. As he hopped over smashed toys, a Hula-Hoop, and several discarded balls of yarn, he started to wonder why there was always yarn around the side of Missy’s house. Then he looked up and saw her standing on the side porch, watching him.

“Hi, Missy,” he said. “Did you know I was coming?”

“Yes and no,” she answered. “I’m keeping an eye out for all kinds of suspicious characters.”

“Um, okay,” he said, stopping at the bottom of the stairs beneath the porch.

She was double-triple super-evil, so he didn’t want to get too close.

“I’m the new captain of our neighborhood watch,” she told him.

“Watch?” he asked nervously. “Captain?”

“We’ve been getting reports of strange activity around here,” she said.

Her eyes narrowed. She looked him up and down.

“I see you’re wearing some of my team’s official licensed merchandise,” she said.

Nipper looked down at his sweatshirt. It had a big New York Yankees logo on it.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, looking back up at her. “That’s the reason I’m here.”

He reached into his front pocket.

“I want my Yankees back,” he said. “I have a new trade for you.”

“I already told you,” she snapped. “No backsies. Besides, the team isn’t doing very well these days. It would be bad luck to change ownership midseason.”

Nipper pulled out a shiny golden sculpture. It was shaped like an egg, and crisscrossed by rows of red and white gems. It glistened in the sun.

Missy’s eyes widened. She looked excited, maybe even pleased.

“See?” Nipper said. “I knew you’d be interested in this.”

Her expression returned to its natural scowl. Then, slowly, it slid into an evil sneer. She leaned forward over the edge of the porch. Nipper noticed that she was still wearing the scorpion ring he had given her. Its emerald eyes flashed briefly.

“Interesting egg,” she said, scratching her chin. “From whom was it stolen?”

“Whom? What? Stolen?” said Nipper. “It’s not stolen.”

“Then how did you get it?” Missy asked. “Do you have any documentation or paperwork?”

“Paperwork?” he asked, getting nervous. “It was from my uncle.”

“Oh. Pajama Paul,” she said slowly. “And how do you suppose he got it?”

“Well, um, gee,” said Nipper. “I’m not sure. It was a present and—”

“Okay,” she said, cutting him off. “I’m willing to pretend this whole encounter didn’t happen.”

“Didn’t happen?” said Nipper, frustrated. “What do you mean? I’m here to talk about my baseball team.”

Missy reached into the pocket of her yellow polka-dot blouse and took out a small notebook. She jerked it open with one hand, raised a red pen with the other, and stared into his eyes.

“You don’t want me to write your name on this list, Jeremy Bernard Spinner,” she said without blinking. “Once somebody gets on it, they never get off.”

Missy was one of the few people who knew Nipper’s real name, and the only person who used it.

Nipper gulped.

“No. No, Missy,” he said quickly. “I don’t want that.”

He held up both hands.

Missy snatched the egg from him and placed it on a chair, far out of reach.

“Hey!” Nipper shouted. “That’s mine and—”

“Jeremy…Bern…,” she said slowly, starting to write in her notebook.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I don’t like eggs anyways.”

“Good,” she grunted.

Missy put down the notebook and raised a hand to shade her eyes.

“The SUN is really bothering me today,” she muttered.

“What did you just say?” asked Nipper.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, dropping her hand and pointing a thumb sideways. “Your sister’s waiting for you.”

Nipper turned and saw Samantha on the sidewalk. She waved at him and pointed toward the mailbox.

“I give up,” Nipper said. “For now.”

He stomped back down the driveway to join his sister.

“Sam!” he called. “I lost my egg!”