Owen Foote, Super Spy by Stephanie Greene

Author:Stephanie Greene
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

"Another pair?" said Mrs. Foote. "Your father's going to think I'm burying his boxer shorts in the same underwear cemetery where I bury his socks."

"These were in the garage. Dad was going to use them as a rag." Owen smoothed out the pair of boxer shorts on the coffee table. They had a large hole in the back. "I have to make a pair for Joseph. He's a nervous wreck he'll get caught."

Owen bit his lip, but it was too late.

"Caught?" said his mom. She looked alert, as if Owen had just sent up a flare. "Who are you spying on, that he's worried about getting caught? Do you think maybe you're getting a little carried away with all this spying, Owen?"

It was his dad who came to his rescue.

"If he is, it's genetic," he said, stooping to kiss his wife on the cheek. He put his briefcase on the couch. "His mother is a voyeur at heart."

"I know what that means," said Lydia. She looked up from her homework. Ever since she had started taking French in middle school, she acted as if she'd been born in France. "It means..." She frowned. "I forget."

"It means Mom's a spy," said Owen. "Like me.

"I am not," said his mom. "I like to see how other people live, that's all. I should have been an anthropologist."

"Do anthropologists give fake names to realtors at model homes?" said Owen.

"And do they drive around at night, hoping people have left their curtains open so they can see into their living room windows?" said Lydia.

Mr. Foote laughed. "Looks like they've got your number, honey."

"It's not spying," insisted Mrs. Foote. "I find it interesting, that's all. It's like looking at a play, or a painting."

"Face it, Mom. You're a spy," said Owen. He stood up. "You can sneak over to the Gallos' house with me sometime. You'll love it. Their garage is bigger than our whole house."

"She's getting interested," teased Mr. Foote. "I see that gleam in her eye."

"I do not sneak," said Mrs. Foote primly. She swatted Mr. Foote with the newspaper. "Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"The right side," said Owen. He started for the door.

"Where are you going?" said his mom. "It's your night to set the table."

"Not yet. I've got to get started on Joseph's camouflage."

"What's wrong?" said Lydia. "Doesn't Mr. Hobbs wear the right kind of underwear?"

"The right kind of underwear?" Mr. Foote looked from her to Owen. "What does Mr. Hobbs's underwear have to do with camouflage?"

"You don't want to know, Dad," Lydia said.

"Don't tell him," said Owen. "I want him to be surprised."

"Oh, he'll be surprised, all right," said Lydia. "It's whether he'll finally have you committed that I'm wondering about."

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