I tried to forget that my little sister could be wearing a buttbomb. She wiggled around just like normal, and lifted her arms up to be held when we parked the stroller at City Hall. Nanny X carried her right up to the mayor’s office.
“Hello?” she called.
“Yes? Who’s there?” the mayor answered from a room in the back.
We went in. “Nanny X,” our nanny said. She pulled out a badge and flashed it. The mayor looked at it for a second while holding an ice pack up against his head. He started to hand the badge back, but Ali intercepted it. She held it to the light. Then she closed one eye and studied it. If she’d had a magnifying glass, I’ll bet she would have used that, too.
“I want to see,” I whispered, but she ignored me.
“So this is what NAP is doing with its time these days, is it?” asked Mayor Osbourne. I elbowed Ali in the ribs. Now my S.S. sister would have to believe our nanny was a member of NAP. The mayor did. Ali elbowed me back.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Nanny X said.
“There was an assassination attempt,” the mayor said. “Involving a juvenile. But the culprit has been captured. We don’t need the involvement of a secret organization.”
“I beg to differ, Mr. Mayor,” said Nanny X. “I believe the culprit, as you call him, is an innocent eleven-year-old boy. And, excuse me, ‘assassination attempt’? I think we’re dealing with something else here altogether.”
“Such as?”
“We’re still trying to find that out.”
Ali rolled her eyes again, even though she’d seen the badge.
Just then the mayor’s secretary came in. “Your smoothie, sir,” she said, leaving it on his desk.
I loved smoothies. The empty space in my stomach, which had only been filled by one apple and exactly zero bites of peanut butter and anchovy sandwich, rumbled.
“Cheers.” The mayor took the ice pack off his head, and we could see a purple goose egg where he’d been hit by the coconut. He gulped some smoothie through an extra-large straw, making a slurping sound even though the cup wasn’t empty.
“That hits the spot,” he said.
Yeti licked his lips. I licked mine. Eliza made a sound sort of like Yeti makes when he’s locked in the bedroom, so Nanny X pulled a bottle out of the diaper bag and handed it to her.
“I’m sorry, children,” the mayor said, gulping and slurping. “I’d offer to share, but . . . germs.”
“Is it chocolate?” I asked.
“Ha,” he said. “No, this was just delivered to me by the company that wants to set up a new business here in Lovett. The very subject of the park meeting, in fact. I know I shouldn’t show any favoritism by drinking it, but it seems a small compensation for the injuries I sustained. And it’s just so darned good.”
“Strawberry?” asked Ali. She looked at him the way she looks at me when she knows I’ve been in her room.
“Nope,” said the mayor. “Actually, it’s coconut.”
“Coconut!” I said.
“Coconut,” Ali whispered, and I could tell that she was finally starting to believe.
The mayor’s eyes got sort of darkish. “Is there something wrong with coconut?”
“No but we—” I began, but Nanny X looked at me and I stopped.
“We just all like coconut, I guess,” Ali said. “The coconut kids, that’s what they call us. And, um, the coconut nanny.”
“Not many children have a taste for coconut,” said the mayor.
“Ah, but these children are extraordinary,” Nanny X said.
“Then I’ll let you in on a secret,” said the mayor. “The company I’m talking about wants to set up a coconut processing and distribution center, right here, if we can get the zoning for it. Think about it: Lovett, Virginia, could be the coconut hub of the entire eastern seaboard. We could have a new slogan: The Coconut Capital!”
“Lovett already has a slogan,” I said. Our slogan is You’ll Love It in Lovett. It’s on lots of bumper stickers.
“We could have coconut stands on every corner,” said the mayor. “We could build a coconut monument and add ourselves to the D.C. monument tour. Think of the tourism! We could serve coconut ice cream. That’ll get the kids liking coconut! We could host a Coconut Ball! On Easter we could send hundreds of coconuts to the president. They could roll coconuts instead of eggs on the White House lawn!” He took another sip of his smoothie, then rubbed his hands together.
And we’d thought our nanny was crazy. The mayor was nuts. Coconuts.
“What’s the name of this coconut distributor?” Nanny X asked, kind of casually. But I knew the answer was important.
“Big Adam’s Distribution,” he said. “This smoothie came from Big Adam himself.”
“And you get along with this Big Adam?” asked Nanny X. “He wouldn’t try to harm you?”
“Harm? Say, what is this? Of course we get along.”
“Just making sure,” said Nanny X. “I know that you believe the, er, attempt on your life came from that young boy, but I have other suspicions. I just want to make sure you’ve checked out Big Adam thoroughly, that you’re sure he’s a legitimate business operator.”
“Of course I’m sure,” the mayor blustered, which is another reading connection word. “He gave me a full PowerPoint presentation. A PowerPoint.”
“I see,” Nanny X said. “Is there anything else you can tell us that will help our investigation? Anything at all?”
“Sure,” the mayor said. He was really angry now. “Why don’t you go investigate why birds fly south in the winter? Or why Nolan’s Market was out of bananas this morning? Why don’t you investigate that? Big Adam’s Distribution is a legitimate company, and my guess is they’ll be breaking ground for a new headquarters in that park by the beginning of May.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it.” Nanny X was angry, too. She moved out of the room so fast that the flowers on her hat looked like they were blowing in the wind.