Spy in the Alley by Melanie Jackson

Author:Melanie Jackson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV000000
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2002-01-08T16:00:00+00:00

An hour later, Pantelli and I were trudging down the alley with a gift intended to console Jack: a broccoli-and-cheese casserole, prepared by Mother. She believed everyone should be fed large amounts of broccoli, as often as possible. Especially people who had troubles.

Jack had lots of them, after the news footage of the spray-painted car and billboard. The head of GASP’s national organization had been interviewed, saying that the Vancouver branch of GASP would probably have to be shut down if the “mad spray-painter,” as she put it, continued defacing property.

“Well, gasp,” the newscaster had punned with a perky smile — and then turned to the weatherperson (also perky) for the next day’s forecasts.

Anyhow, balancing the casserole dish, I had to walk carefully. Since the dish was still hot, I was carrying it with oven mitts.

“Do not, do not, let it drop,” Mother had warned me, “or I shall have one of my rare displays of temper.”

Pantelli had found the hockey stick from last night. Pretending to be a Deathstalker, he waved it around like a sword. “Take that!” he shouted, aiming at my ankles.

“Stop it, you idiot,” I shouted back. As I dodged him, the lid clattered dangerously against the casserole dish. Boys being the lamebrains they are, he responded by trying to swipe at me again.

“You asked for it,” I said. I held the casserole dish aloft. “Do you realize, Pantelli Audia, that the sides of this are boiling hot? That I merely have to graze your skin to scald you for life?”

That got him. He backed away, looking frightened.

“It’s okay,” I assured him, mollified. “I will spare you this time.” I moved the dish farther away.

“Oh no, Dinah, don’t — ”

“I said I wasn’t going to,” I snapped. Talk about cowardly. “Here,” and, my eyes still on him, I shifted the dish even farther away.

“Dinah, don’t — ”

“YEEEOOWWW!!!”

I turned toward this deafening yell, which was still going on — or was that my eardrum ringing? Buzz Bewford stood there, rubbing an angry red spot on his cheek, where dish had met skin.

“Gosh, I’m really sorry … ” I stammered.

“You stupid little — ”

“Maybe some ice would help,” I suggested. “At home we have an ice pack you could borrow. Wait — dang, I forgot. I put it down Alicia Weatherwent’s back at my birthday party.” I smiled weakly at Buzz, whose face was transforming into the same color as the burn mark. “You know, to liven things up. Hmmm, I think Alicia cracked it, though. The ice pack,” I clarified, wondering why his face was growing even more mottled.

“You stupid little — ”

“Hey, what goes on?” demanded Jack. He emerged from the tomato stalks, interrupting what was getting to be a monotonous refrain by Buzz. “I heard yelling.”

“Oh, sorry about the noise pollution,” Buzz said sarcastically. “It just so happens that this runt-sized menace here attacked me.”

Jack regarded me curiously. I guess a chubby eleven-year-old with smudged glasses and a grimy T-shirt didn’t present that threatening a sight.

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