“He’s taking a picture!” KC said. “But he’s doing it when no one is looking at him. How sneaky!”
KC put her face close to Simon’s cell phone and stared at the screen. The green helmet had a plastic visor covering the eyes. KC tried, but she couldn’t see the face inside the helmet. Could that be Lauren? KC wondered.
Then she noticed something on one of the fake arms. It looked like writing.
KC put a finger on the picture. “Can you guys see those tiny black letters?” she asked.
“Where?” Marshall asked.
KC pointed. “See, on one of those arms.”
“Yeah, I see ‘em, but they’re too small to read,” Simon said.
“Wait a sec,” KC said. She yanked open a drawer where Yvonne kept a lot of stuff. She pulled out a magnifying glass and held it over the cell-phone screen.
“They look like letters,” Simon said. “The first one looks like a D or O, then W, S, and n. What’s that spell?”
“Nothing,” Marshall said.
“Weird,” KC said. “Look, the first three letters are capitals, but the n isn’t.”
“Maybe it’s part of someone’s name,” Simon suggested.
“Or a secret code!” Marshall added. “Maybe the green monster is really a spy who snuck into the party!”
Simon let out a laugh. “Or maybe he’s from outer space,” he said. “Maybe the guy’s a Martian who came down to see how earthlings celebrate Halloween!”
Marshall grinned. “Yeah, and when his trick-or-treat bag is filled with goodies, he’ll beam himself back up to Mars,” he said.
They looked through the rest of Simon’s pictures. There were a few more shots of the octopus holding a camera.
“I think the octopus took those pictures of the president, then changed them,” Simon said. “All he’d need is a computer with the right software to put them on the Internet.”
KC thought Simon was probably right. But what if he was just saying that to take the spotlight off himself?
“Anyway,” she said, “we need to tell the president about the octopus with the camera.”
KC and Marshall left the White House. KC knew the president was at campaign headquarters in the Washington Hotel. They hurried past the Treasury Department building and up the hotel steps.
KC led Marshall across the thick red carpeting of the lobby, past tall potted palm trees to a conference room around a corner.
“Oh my gosh,” Marshall said as they walked into the room.
It seemed like a hundred people were dashing around, speaking into cell phones or carrying files of papers. Nobody looked happy. The only smiles in the room were on the campaign posters showing President Thornton and Vice President Mary Kincaid.
Tables were jammed in wherever there was space. The tables held computers, telephones, bowls of campaign buttons, coffeepots, and trays of food. Men and women were using the computers and phones. The noise of dozens of voices filled the room.
KC counted six TV sets, all on. Each showed a different news channel. She recognized Donny Drum, but couldn’t hear what he was saying.
Red, white, and blue bunting hung from the table fronts. Balloons in the same colors clustered at the ceiling. On one table, a chart showed how President Thornton and Dr. Melrose Jury were doing in the polls today. The line for Dr. Jury was much higher than the one for Zachary Thornton.
“Can I help you kids?” a woman asked. Her hair looked as if she hadn’t combed it in a while. Dark circles under her eyes made her look tired.
“Hi, I’m KC Corcoran,” KC said. “Is the … is my stepfather here?”
The woman looked closely at KC. “Oh, of course,” she said. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you. This place is a madhouse today. He’s in that office.” The woman pointed across the wide room.
KC and Marshall walked around the tables, dodging volunteer workers and hopping over wires that lay on the floor like snakes.
The president sat at a desk speaking into a cell phone. His tie hung loose against his white shirt. As he talked, he was watching a small TV set. Like everyone else they’d seen, he had a grim expression on his face. Piles of pink message slips covered the top of the desk.
KC waited till he shut his cell phone, then she knocked on the door frame.
The president looked up. He smiled at his stepdaughter and Marshall. “Hey, come on in!” he said. “Got any good news? I could use some cheering up.”
KC told the president about the Halloween guest in the green octopus costume.
“Yes, I remember him,” the president said. “I thought he was some sort of sea monster.”
“Marshall thinks it was Lauren Tool inside the costume,” KC said. “He thinks she took those awful pictures of you.”
“Lauren?” the president said. “I don’t know, Marshall. I’ve known Lauren for a few years. In fact, I’ve hired her to take pictures in the White House before. I doubt she wishes me any harm.”
“I think it might have been Simon,” KC said. “He says he was taking pictures for a school report.”
“And you don’t believe him?” the president asked.
KC shrugged.
“I find it hard to believe that Yvonne’s nephew would do such a thing,” the president said. “I have a feeling that our camera culprit was inside that green costume. But I have no idea how he or she got past the marine guards and didn’t pass through the tent like everyone else.”
No one had an answer. Marshall told the president about the initials they saw on one of the octopus legs.
“D-W-S-N?” the president said.
“Or it might have been O-W-S-N, Marshall,” KC added.
The president shook his head. He tapped the telephone. “Know who that was?” he asked. “My campaign manager. Those two pictures on the Internet have cost me fifteen points. Melrose Jury is ahead. Phone calls are coming in here and at the White House, and they’re not very nice.”
He stood up and looked at the two kids. “I might be the first president in history to lose an election because I gave a Halloween party.”