Owen Foote, Super Spy Page 2

  "How about 'Let's get out of here,'" said Joseph.

  "Okay. One blink of the left eye means 'Let's get out of here.'" Owen and Joseph both wrote it down. "...And one blink of the right eye means 'Stop making so much noise.'"

  They scribbled some more.

  "And how about two dots and a dash of the left eye for 'Get off my foot,'" said Owen, picking up speed ... And two dots and a dash of the right eye for 'I think someone's coming.'"

  Joseph wrote feverishly to keep up with him. When Owen stopped, they inspected the series of dots and dashes on their papers.

  "What about 'I have to go to the bathroom'?" said Joseph. He saw Owen's face. "I can't help it. Sometimes I do."

  "I know, I know." Owen thought for a minute. "How about both eyes blinking once at the same time?"

  "Yeah, and lots of jiggling up and down."

  They laughed.

  "Wait a minute. We left out 'yes' and 'no,'" said Owen. "We should have done the simple ones first. Come on." He stood up and put his list in his pocket. "I told Anthony we'd be at his uncle's house by four o'clock. We'll have to work this out as we go along."

  Joseph jumped up and followed him down the stairs.

  "We're going to the Gallos'," Owen yelled.

  "Be home by five," came his mom's voice from the living room.

  "I just thought of something," Joseph said when they got out on the road. "When you say 'left eye,' do you mean the person's left eye who's blinking, or the eye that's on the left when you're looking at them?"

  "The left eye of the person who's blinking," said Owen.

  "So it's the right eye to the person who's looking at them."

  "Right."

  "That could get kind of confusing," Joseph said doubtfully. "You know Anthony. He had to wear a red rubber band around his left hand to remind him which one it was until last year."

  "We have to practice, that's all." Owen turned into Weathering Heights. It was a new neighborhood, filled with huge houses in tiny yards. The house Anthony's uncle was building was at the end of the road. "It wouldn't be much fun spying around here," said Owen, looking around. "All you'd have to do is look out your window."

  "Yeah. And even if you were just looking at some birds, everyone would think you were spying on them."

  "If that was my bedroom," Owen said, pointing to a window in the side of a white house they were passing, "and that was yours," he pointed to a window in the house across a narrow strip of land from it, "we could use our Morse code."

  "Cool," said Joseph. "At night, we could use flashlights."

  "Yeah, and the real Morse code."

  "Hey, you guys! Over here!" A hoarse whisper came from behind a house with a FOR SALE sign in front of it. It was Anthony. He beckoned to them madly.

  "My uncle's house is the next one over," he said excitedly when they crouched down next to him. "There's a Dumpster in the back yard we can hide behind."

  He was in camouflage from his head to his feet. He had on a camouflage hat, camouflage vest, camouflage pants—even his boots were camouflage. Professional camouflage, like you'd buy in a hunting store. His canteen was dappled green and brown, too. So were the binoculars he held up for them to see.

  "My mom and dad got me these for scoring the most goals on my hockey team," he said. "They're really powerful. Want to try them?"

  "Let's just get going," said Owen. "I have to be home in half an hour."

  "Okay. Follow me." Anthony started to creep along the back of the house.

  "Aren't you going to wear your camouflage?" Joseph asked Owen as they followed Anthony. Owen had put it in his pocket before they left the house.

  "Are you joking?" Owen said it loud enough for Anthony to hear. "It's ridiculous to wear camouflage around here. There aren't any trees."

  It really bugged him that Anthony always had the best equipment. Anthony acted like that was all it took to be good at something. But spying wasn't about equipment. It was about bravery and cunning.

  It was about using your head in a pinch.

  They reached the corner of the house. The Dumpster was straight ahead, about thirty feet away. They could hear loud hammering coming from inside the house. A table saw's shrill voice cried out from the garage. Somewhere, a radio was playing.

  The familiar surge of excitement Owen always felt when he was about to zero in on his target erased any thoughts of being angry.

  There was nothing between them and the Dumpster, overflowing with Sheetrock and scraps of lumber, except open space. Lots of open space. If anyone came out of the house before they reached cover, they were goners.

  "Now!" he hissed.

  He lit out for the Dumpster. Anthony and Joseph were right behind him. They dove in behind it like baseball players sliding into second base. They fell against it, breathless.

  Owen rested his head against the Dumpster and waited for his heart to stop racing.

  "That was a close one," said Anthony.

  "Yeah," said Joseph. The three of them grinned at one another.

  They heard a man's voice inside the house, and then someone laughed. But no one came out. They sat there for a while, listening. Anthony took out his binoculars and started fiddling with the lenses. The radio changed from music to the news.

  Owen pulled his list out of his pocket.

  "We came up with a special code," he said. "Maybe we should practice it while we wait."

  Anthony gave it a quick glance. "How do you say, This is boring'?" he said. "All we're spying on is a house."

  "Okay, okay." Owen stuffed his list back into his pocket. "Let's get closer."

  "Closer?" said Joseph. "I kind of like it here."

  "You can stay, then," said Anthony. He was already on his feet. "I say let's go look in a window."

  "A window?" Joseph's voice was a yelp. "What window?"

  "Anthony's right," said Owen. "It's not really spying if we don't see anybody." He pulled Joseph to his feet. "We'll run up, look in a window, and leave. It'll be fine."

  "That window there," said Anthony. He pointed to a picture window next to the front door. "You guys ready?"

  "Ready," said Owen.

  "Not ready," said Joseph.

  "Go!"

  They dashed out from behind the Dumpster and headed for the window. Owen reached it first. He looked inside.

  A worker was standing with his back to them. He was so close Owen could have reached out and touched him. Owen ducked down. He motioned for Anthony and Joseph to do the same.

  But it was too late.

  "Hey, you kids!" shouted a deep voice above their heads. "Get out of here!"

  It was hard to tell who shrieked the loudest. Owen was halfway across the yard with Anthony and Joseph on his heels. He could hear their feet pounding the pavement as they raced down the street.

  He didn't stop running until he reached the entrance to Weathering Heights. Then he threw himself on the ground, exhausted. Anthony and Joseph fell in a heap next to him.

  It was a few minutes before any of them could talk.

  "Did you see how big that guy was?" Anthony said at last.

  "I thought he was coming after us." Joseph's face was bright red.

  "I thought I was going to have a heart attack when he yelled like that," Anthony said.

  "I couldn't believe it!" said Owen. "I could have tapped him on the shoulder, he was so close!"

  He sat up. The thing about spying was, the more terrified you were while you were doing it, the greater you felt when it was over. "That was so cool," he said.

  "Yeah." Anthony and Joseph looked at him and grinned.

  They slapped palms. "I better get going," Owen said. He stood up. "I have to be home by five."

  "I've got to go, too," said Anthony. His house was in the opposite direction. "Let's spy on someone in the woods next time, so I can use my gear. See ya."

  "That was a lot more exciting than spying on my parents," Joseph said as he and Owen walked along. His face was still red, but he
sounded happy. "I never knew I could run that fast."

  "It's like my dad says," said Owen. "You never know what you can do until you have to." He was thinking about what they'd done, what they should have done differently. "Next time, we have to remember to use our code. We didn't use it at all."

  "I guess when someone yells at you about two inches from your head, you don't really need to say, 'Let's get out of here,'" said Joseph. "At least, not in words."

  "You can say that again," said Owen.

  "I can see me now. I would have been standing there like an idiot, blinking my head off, with you and Anthony halfway down the street."

  Owen laughed. "Yeah. This huge guy is looming over you," he raised his arms in the air and moved toward Joseph like a monster, "and you're going blink-blink. Blink, blink, blink."

  "What's wrong, kid?" Joseph said in a deep voice. "Got something in your eye?"

  They cracked each other up until Joseph turned down his street. It was amazing how funny everything seemed when you'd just escaped incredible danger.

  "How did your camouflage work?" said Lydia. She had stopped in the door to Owen's room on her way back from her shower.

  "I didn't use it." Owen kept his head down and wrote carefully. Mr. Foote had said he would make copies of their code at work tomorrow. Owen had been trying since dinner to come up with more things to add.

  "Why not? I'm sure the workers could have used a good laugh."

  "There weren't any trees." Owen finished copying the last symbol and looked up. "Anthony had on professional camouflage from his head to his feet. I bet his underwear was camouflage."

  "Wait till you get to middle school." Lydia came into his room and perched on the end of his bed. "There are tons of kids like Anthony. Everyone has designer labels on their clothing, their shoes, their hats, their watches..."

  "Maybe I'll skip middle school," said Owen. "Anthony drives me crazy."

  "Remember Amanda Fuller? The one I went to camp with in fifth grade? She was like that." Lydia took the towel hanging around her neck and rubbed her wet hair. "You're lucky. Boys just brag about their stuff. Girls cut you out of their group if you don't have the right things."

  "You probably don't want to be part of their group, anyway, do you?"

  "No. But you don't want them to make the decision for you."

  "Anthony's parents give him money for good grades," said Owen. "He has his own computer and his own VCR. They just gave him a pair of binoculars for scoring the most goals in hockey." It felt good to be able to talk to Lydia about Anthony. She didn't lecture him like his mom would have.

  "His parents are jerks," said Lydia. "I remember his father standing on the sidelines, screaming at the poor kid, when you guys played soccer in kindergarten. Kindergarten, for pete's sake. And all his mother does is work."

  "It would be nice to get five dollars for A's, though, wouldn't it?" Owen said. "You and I would clean up."

  "Maybe. But then you never would have invented your underwear mask. Or any of your other crazy inventions," she said, standing up. "You'd be as boring as Anthony."

  "If you really like it, I could make you one," said Owen. "I'd sell it to you for five dollars."

  "Dream on, Owen," Lydia said. She headed down the hall toward her room.

  "Two dollars!" Owen shouted.

  Lydia's door closed.

  Darn! He could have used that money to buy some wire for the human battery experiment he wanted to try. Just in case the Morse code didn't catch on.

  Owen took his spy journal off his desk and flopped down on his bed. Lydia thought Anthony was boring. Owen could tell she thought he, Owen, was interesting, even though she didn't say so. She liked his inventions, too.

  He tapped his pencil against the page. Spying on the Gallos' house had been kind of boring until that man yelled at them. Then it became terrifying.

  Therefore, the scarier the person they spied on, the more exciting it would be. Who did they know who would be really scary?

  Later that night, the answer woke him up out of a sound sleep. Owen sat straight up in his bed and stared into the dark as if he had seen a ghost.

  Mr. Mahoney. The principal of Chesterfield School.

  Just thinking about spying on Mr. Mahoney sent a shiver down his spine.

  Mr. Mahoney was awesome. He used to be in the Marines. He still was, one weekend a month. From the muscles in his chest and arms, Owen bet he lifted weights on the other weekends.

  Owen liked Mr. Mahoney a lot. Most of the kids did. But they were scared of him, too.

  He lay slowly back down and pulled the covers up to his chin.

  Spying on Mr. Mahoney would be the ultimate spy test. The one that separated the spies with nerves of steel from all the rest.

  He could hardly wait to tell Joseph and Anthony about it tomorrow. He could hardly wait to see their faces.

  3. What Does Underwear Have to Do with Camouflage?

  "Mr. Mahoney?" said Anthony. "Are you crazy?"

  "Shhh." Owen put his finger to his lips and looked back over his shoulder. "Not so loud."

  Anthony leaned toward him across the cafeteria table. "You're nuts, Owen," he whispered.

  "I don't know." Joseph's eyes were enormous. "I don't think Mr. Mahoney would like kids spying on him."

  "That's the whole point, Joseph. I realized it after the Gallos' house yesterday," Owen said. He pried open his carton of milk. "We're too experienced to keep on spying on normal people. We've got to raise the stakes. Add a little danger." He paused. "Mr. Mahoney would be the ultimate spy test.”

  Owen leaned heavily on each word, watching them. He wished he had x-ray eyes. He would have loved to watch his words sinking into their brains. Sending off a tiny burst of flame as each one hit home.

  But he didn't need x-ray eyes. Their faces told him they knew he was right.

  "There's no telling what we might see him doing," he said enticingly. "Crushing stones, doing about a million push-ups." He took a swig of milk. "We might even see him scaling the side of his house. I bet he does, to stay in shape."

  "His house?" Anthony's mouth fell open. Owen could see pale yellow lumps of egg salad. "You mean, not at school?"

  "What's there to see at school?" said Owen. "All he does is walk around the halls."

  "But on his own personal property?" Joseph asked. For once, Joseph was siding with Anthony, not him. "Spying's one thing, Owen. Trespassing's another."

  "What do you think real spies do?" said Owen. "Sneak around their own property, watching their own family all the time?"

  "That's what I do," said Anthony.

  "Me, too," said Joseph.

  "I do, too," said Owen impatiently. "But it's getting boring. My parents don't do anything, and all Lydia does is talk on the phone or read. And what about yesterday? Yesterday was boring until that guy yelled at us."

  He leaned forward so he could talk in a lower voice. "We wouldn't have to go on the Mahoneys' property, Joseph. My dad goes jogging on the paths in the woods behind their house all the time. The woods belong to the town. They aren't private property."

  "What's not private property?" Ben Carter tossed his lunch bag on the table next to Joseph and sat down. "What are you guys talking about?"

  "Nothing." Owen quickly picked up his sandwich and took a bite. He shot Joseph and Anthony a warning look. "Right, guys?"

  "Right," said Joseph.

  But Anthony couldn't stop himself. He was jiggling around in his seat like a Mexican jumping bean, he was so excited. "We're going to spy on Mr. Mahoney," he said in a loud whisper. "At his house."

  "Cool." Ben looked impressed. "Can I come?"

  "Owen's kind of in charge," Joseph said. "It was his idea."

  Ben turned to him. "Can I?"

  "I don't know," Owen said slowly. He took another bite of his sandwich to stall for time. He wasn't sure about Ben. Ben had been in Owen's class since the first grade, but he wasn't really Owen's friend.

  Not the way Joseph wa
s. Or even Anthony.

  Ben used to make fun of Owen because he was small for his age. But then Owen stood up for him in front of the school nurse on height and weight chart day.

  Ben never gave him a hard time again.

  Still, Owen wasn't sure he could trust Ben. He was always bragging about something. Either about how strong he was or about how cool his two older brothers were. About the wild things they did. The trouble they got into.

  Letting a kid like Ben in on their plans made Owen uneasy.

  He swallowed his sandwich and took another swig of his milk. "It takes a lot of practice to be a spy," he said finally. "Joseph and Anthony and me have a lot of experience."

  "I do, too," said Ben. "My brothers taught me how to spy when I was about two. We spy on this old lady who lives next door all the time. Come on, you guys. I can bring my brothers' walkie-talkies."

  "Walkie-talkies?" Anthony's eyes lit up. "My parents said that if do a good job on the end-of-grade test, they'll buy me a set. They're so cool. Come on, Owen. Let him come."

  He should have known Anthony would go for the walkie-talkies, Owen thought with disgust. He looked at Joseph. He didn't need Morse code to know that Joseph felt the same way he did.

  But they both knew it was too late to keep Ben out.

  "It might be fun," Joseph said to him hopefully. "We could be in teams. You and me, and Anthony and Ben. We could have one walkie-talkie and they could have the other one."

  "Okay," Owen said. "You can come. But you can't tell anyone else. No one can. If anyone blabs, they're out."

  He held up his hand with the pinkie stuck out. "Deal?"

  Joseph, Anthony, and Ben locked their pinkies over his.

  "Deal," they said solemnly.

  "This Saturday?"

  "This Saturday."

  A feeling of excitement ran through them like an electric current. Then a heavy hand clamped down on Owen's shoulder.

  A familiar voice said, "You boys look very serious."

  Joseph looked as if he'd been caught with his hand on the lock to a Wells Fargo truck. Anthony jerked back in his chair as if someone had shoved him. Ben stopped chewing. He lowered his sandwich to the table with his eyes glued to the space above Owen's head.