Narwhal I'm Around by Aaron Reynolds

Author:Aaron Reynolds [REYNOLDS, AARON]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2021-05-04T00:00:00+00:00

28

I am invisible.

I am stealthy.

I am one with a recycling bin.

That’s because it is recess. And I am tailing the felonious Ms. Kincaid. Aka Trinity Bellingham. Aka the Flaming Hunter of the West.

My theory is brilliant in its simplicity:

1. Trinity Bellingham has a wall full of heads.

2. As a known killer of animals, she has been added as a prime suspect in the death of our narwhal.

3. Trinity Bellingham has flaming orange hair.

4. So does Ms. Kincaid.

Ergo… Trinity Bellingham, eccentric billionaire and world-famous hunter, IS Ms. Kincaid, humble recess monitor. In disguise.

Why? you may ask. Why is a filthy rich weirdo lurking around my school in such a transparent ruse?

The answer is obvious to anyone with half a brain: I have no earthly idea. But she is. The orange hair is a clear giveaway.

Now I just have to prove it.

Which is why I am invisible.

And stealthy.

And one with a recycling bin.

Which is exactly when Darvish blows my cover.

“Why are you wearing a fake mustache?” he asks.

“SHHH!” I hiss, yanking him behind the bin with me. “Miss Mary thinks I’ve grown facial hair. I have to keep up the charade when I’m on her turf.”

“Oh,” he says. “Why are you hiding behind a recycling bin?”

“I’m conducting surveillance on Ms. Kincaid!”

“What?” he cries. “I thought you were joking about that.”

Darvish is my very best friend. As such, he should know full well that I never joke about surveillance.

“Ms. Kincaid is not Trinity Bellingham in disguise,” he says.

“And how do you know that?” I ask accusingly.

“Because I saw a picture of Dimitri’s mom on the Internet,” he tells me. “And she looks nothing like Ms. Kincaid.”

I must admit… recess is almost over, and I have yet to witness any suspicious activities. Ms. Kincaid has blown her whistle four times. She has given two children Laffy Taffy. And when a stray dog ran onto the playground, she simply chased the dog away, rather than trying to mount its head upon her wall.

It is very disappointing. I turn to Darvish. “Where have you been?”

“Talking to Iggy and Danny,” he says. “I asked them if I could come back to M&M.”

“What did they say?” I inquire.

Darvish raises an eyebrow at me. “Iggy said I could come back only if you apologize to him.”

My jaw flies open at the affrontery. “For what?” I cry.

“Rex,” he sighs. “You jumped in his lap, flipped the table over, and threw his GM screen at Sami.”

Any fool could see that those acts were done in self-defense. I’m about to tell this to Darvish. But instead, I grab him and jump into the recycling bin.

“Silence!” I cry, removing a root beer can from my hair. “The suspect approaches!”

But as the lid to the recycling bin opens, I see the truth of Darvish’s words. There is no ruthlessness or cunning is Ms. Kincaid’s eyes as she peers down at us. Only heartfelt confusion.

“Fellas?” she says. “What is it with you and trash cans?”

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