Spy to the Rescue Read Free

child—me!—struggling for attention in a busy family where the effortless overachiever sister and the trouble-magnet brother soaked up every ounce of parental energy. Spool made me feel special. He decked me out with surveillance gadgets and a lip balm that fired laser beams. He gave me a technologically altered tracksuit and sneakers. He made me believe my biological father wanted me to apprentice in the spy world so we’d have common ground when we finally got to spend time together.
    It was all a lie. Section 23 wanted Carter Strike in captivity. They used me to get to him. But together Strike and I brought Section 23 to its knees and put Spool permanently out of commission. (Ironically, I helped bring about that last bit with the laser lip balm Spool gave me.)
    I hoped, now that Strike was back in my life and my family had accepted him, we’d go on more secret spy adventures, that he’d teach me everything he learned during his years in the field. But when I actually spoke the words “Teach me everything you learned during your years in the spy field,” Strike’s reply was “Forget any of this ever happened. Don’t dwell on it. Move on. Take it from an old burned-out spy, this is not the life you want. Be normal, stay normal. That’s the best advice I can give you.”
    That was horrible advice and the last thing I wanted to hear. But Strike thought he was doing the right thing. If I persisted in my demands, there was a chance Strike would see his presence in my life as doing more harm than good. He might disappear again, this time maybe permanently.
    So I don’t try to talk to him about gadgets or surveillance or double agents anymore. When I visit him in his new condo in Suntop Hills, a strip mall–dominated area a few miles from my family’s house, he tries out new recipes he learned from the Food Network. Other times, we play his PGA Tour video game, and there are dark moments when he insists on making me suffer through this horrific old country song called “If I Could Only Win Your Love” that sounds like two geese being strangled. Sometimes we talk about school and what colleges I might want to attend and sometimes, awkwardly, boys.
    But not one particular boy. Not Dale Tookey, the double agent Strike assigned to monitor me at Reindeer Crescent Middle School. The genius hacker who helped me save my little sister, Natalie, from the boss of Section 23 when he drugged and abducted her. The same Dale Tookey I kissed twice and then watched drive away (in a Smart Car programmed to talk with my voice). I don’t know where he is. I don’t know who he’s workingfor. I don’t know if he’s still alive. Strike, who recruited and trained him, only ever answers my questions with a shrug. “Don’t dwell on it,” he repeats. “Move on.”
    It’s been six months since Strike nailed the coffin lid shut on his old life and contented himself with getting to know me and making up for all the time we were denied each other. Having him around has only strengthened my relationship with my mom and dad, with my brother, Ryan, and with Natalie. I feel complete and sure of myself in a way I never did before. In time, I’ll forget I was ever any kind of spy.
    But not today.
    Someone’s trying to set me up. Trying to make me take the fall for selling cheerleading secrets. Pushing all the right buttons. I suddenly find I’m tingling with excitement. Like I’m a spy again!

CHAPTER THREE
Blabby
    â€œW ho do you think it is?” asks my friend Joanna. “Brendan Chew?”
    Brendan Chew, my former nemesis and one-time class clown, simmers with resentment every time our paths cross. The fool who used to take huge pleasure in calling me Midget Wilder is still bitter over the definitive way I shut down his shenanigans. (Let’s remember together: I pulled back an arm as if to hit him. Chew flinched. I said,