Bug Girl Page 4

  “But I’m telling the truth!” Amanda shouted. “And there’s another emergency, too,” she said quickly before the operator could hang up.

  Not surprisingly, after listening to the story about her missing mother, the operator informed her that an unexplained absence of less than twenty-four hours did not constitute an emergency, especially given Oyster Cove’s current dire situation. The very best advice he had for Amanda was to find a relative to stay with and to call back if her mom was gone longer than forty-eight hours.

  “Fiddlesticks!” Amanda fumed, slamming the phone down. “The police aren’t going to help at all! But I know my mother. She wouldn’t just leave. Something is wrong.”

  Vincent looked at her sympathetically. “All right. Let’s have a sit-down and review the facts. We have to be rational. But first, do you mind if I help myself to a beverage? All this excitement has made me parched!”

  Vincent tugged the refrigerator open while Amanda slumped onto the sofa in the living room. She heard a small gasp from the vicinity of the sink.

  “Um, Amanda?” Vincent called. When she got to the kitchen, Vincent was leaning on the counter and pointing into the fridge. There, along with the usual selection of healthy vegetable and fruit concoctions, was a note propped against a container of organic hemp milk. The envelope read “Sugar Beet.”

  “I think we might have a conversation starter for our discussion,” Vincent squeaked, plucking up the envelope and handing it to her.

  Amanda stared at it for a moment. There, in her mother’s handwriting, was one of the many, many pet names she called Amanda on a daily basis. If this note was waiting for her, her mother must have known something was going to happen.…

  She ripped open the top, pulled out the letter, and began to read aloud.

  “Peanut, if you are reading this, it is because I have been detained. Emily’s mom and I are planning something this evening we haven’t tried in a long time. If we were successful, you would never have known about it. But if we weren’t—which is why you’re reading this—then you’re going to have to be strong now and grow up a little faster than either of us might have wanted.

  “I’m so sorry, Sweet Pea, but there are things about me that I’ve kept from you for reasons you will soon understand.”

  Amanda turned to Vincent. “Wh-what the heck is going on here?” she stammered.

  “Keep reading!” Vincent ordered, pushing the paper toward Amanda’s face.

  “Please forgive me, Snickerdoodle. I cannot be explicit. For your own safety, and mine, you will need to figure out the following clues. I have faith you can do it quickly. And I know you’ll rise to the occasion. It’s in your blood. Just be strong, Dumpling, and we’ll be together soon, I promise. Now, here are the clues:

  Zephyr

  13

  180

  “Also, give Poppy a call. He’s on speed dial #1. He will come right away to stay with you. He’s been waiting for this call for a long time, and he can help, I promise.

  “Love you, Pumpkin. —Mom.”

  Amanda finished reading and stared at the note in disbelief. Her mother had not only left her, but she’d left her a puzzle—a puzzle that their safety depended upon!

  9

  Amanda let the paper fall to the ground. She was in shock. Her mother was “detained” (whatever that meant), and Poppy, who had been pretty old and out of it the last time she’d seen him (which was several years ago), was supposed to come be her guardian, and she had to figure out some crazy clues.

  Dang.

  This had been some day.

  But given the enormity of the situation, there was nothing for Amanda to do but follow instructions. Vincent handed her the phone—they were on the same page, as usual—and she hit speed dial #1. A cracking voice invited her to leave a message.

  “Hi, it’s Amanda, your granddaughter. Mom told me to call. She’s, uh … missing and said you’d be able to help.” There. Amanda hung up and threw up her hands. It was an odd message, but she hoped Poppy would get the point.

  Vincent was already bent over the note, looking at the clues. “Zephyr?” he asked.

  Zephyr was obvious. At least it was obvious to Amanda. Her mother was a notorious runner—it was a part of her health regimen. She ran every morning along the trail the city had installed from the beach up to the hills. She ran in marathons. She ran half marathons. She ran in her sleep. She also ran on a treadmill in the basement, and she had given the machine a nickname: Zephyr. Her mother had been smart—Zephyr was a name only she and Amanda knew. Every night she joked about visiting Zephyr before sprinting downstairs for her workout.

  Now it was Amanda’s turn to sprint downstairs. She and Vincent faced Zephyr in its sleek glory in the far corner of the semifinished basement. Next to the treadmill were a television and a small stereo.

  “Say, while we’re puzzling over that letter, let’s turn on the news and see if there are any developments,” Vincent suggested. He tuned in to channel 44, WTOC, and the two friends listened as they examined the treadmill. From the sound of it, the attack was over and reporters were getting reactions. None of them pleasant.

  “Citizens of Oyster Cove are outraged,” Councilman Lester Shrimpfax said into a microphone that had been thrust in his face. “Megawoman and Dragonfly swore to protect us from all elements of evil. They took an oath! Right here in front of this very statue! While it’s true we have not needed their help in some time, we needed them tonight, and they were not here!” Shrimpfax glared into the camera while the reporter reminded him of the boatload of good the heroes had already done in years past. “Well … but”—the flustered councilman’s face took on a nasty bruised hue—“that doesn’t excuse them from pitching in when they’re needed. Look around! This place is trashed. And these shenanigans had better be taken care of before the Oyster Cove Day celebration or heads will roll!”

  Oyster Cove Day. Somehow the town’s largest event seemed less important in light of what was happening now.

  “Why isn’t anyone worried about the heroes?” Amanda screamed at the TV, still angry that the police hadn’t taken her story seriously. “They’re in trouble!”

  The news report rolled on. “Just look what happened to my date palm,” Oyster Cove resident Madge Flimmerman seethed to an on-the-scene reporter. “My lawn’s been ruined. Those dames really let us down tonight.”

  Amanda shook her head. “Typical.”

  “While no one can be certain where tonight’s invaders came from, or even what they were, we are glad to report that there have been no fatalities or serious injuries,” the newscaster continued. “The worst that can be reported is severe property damage and a once peaceful evening turned upside down. Stay tuned to WTOC for updates. In the meantime, stay safe.”

  “Duh. They’re holograms.” Amanda swallowed her frustration with the townsfolk and refocused her efforts on Zephyr. It wasn’t her fault that everyone panicked and the police wouldn’t believe her. She had other work to do. Her mother’s clues weren’t going to solve themselves.

  “Vinnie, turn that off and help me,” she ordered. Her irritation made the request come out bossier than usual. Luckily, Vincent totally got her.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He saluted, skipping over to the TV before returning to the mysterious treadmill. The two studied the gadgets on the machine’s upper panel. One screen was for counting calories (though her mother told her that one was useless), another was for the level, and yet another was a timer.

  Vincent pointed at the one in the middle. “I bet you need to activate this contraption and set it here.” He poked at the highest level: thirteen—Olympian Goddess.

  “No way! That’s the toughest one! No one can do that level,” Amanda scoffed. “Especially not me.… You’ve seen me in gym. One lap takes me four weeks.”

  “Right,” Vincent countered. “But that was the old you. Didn’t you say you were sprinting all up and down this town like a shot?”

  “Well, I was prett
y impressed with myself,” Amanda admitted. “I guess I can see if I’ve still got the juice.” Amanda started jogging slowly at first. She had only used Zephyr once before and had gotten off it after three seconds. She’d found the experience boring. Now that her mother’s life might depend on her, though, she was less skeptical about the treadmill’s importance.

  “It’s on five right now,” Vincent stated. “I’m going to turn it up to ten.” Amanda picked up her pace. After another minute, she gave Vincent the thumbs-up, and he dialed it all the way to Olympian Goddess.

  “Thirteen, here we come,” Vincent trilled as he worked the panel, taking the treadmill—and Amanda—to speeds she hadn’t thought possible. Startled by the velocity, Amanda started to puff a little but quickly realized she was doing just fine. Great, even. This was cake!

  “Okay,” she breathed. “We’ve got thirteen down. Now what’s the one-eighty?”

  “I’m guessing it’s seconds,” Vincent replied. He was smart, and Amanda trusted him. “Keep going for two more minutes and we’ll be up to one-eighty!”

  Amanda ran and ran. The seconds ticked by.

  178 … 179 … 180. The magic number!

  When she passed the three-minute mark on the treadmill, racing at Olympian Goddess speed, there was a hissing noise, like exhaust from a braking bus, and a dark portal opened in the wall before them.

  “Whoa,” Vincent gasped. “Supersecret spy stuff!”

  Amanda, too taken aback to realize what she was doing, stopped in midrun. The treadmill, still racing at Olympian Goddess, whipped her up into an aerial tumble. She hit the back wall and crashed down with a thud.

  “Oof.” The air rushed out of her, and she gave a rap on her hip. “Well, at least we know this hard shell is protective. I barely felt a thing!” Standing up, she dusted herself off a bit. And then she shuddered.

  A secret entrance to a secret something loomed before her. A something her mother had never dared tell her about before, or even hint at. Her mother ran, had jars with various bean sprouts lining her kitchen windowsills, made her own tofu, ate lots of fiber, and refused to buy water in plastic bottles. She was a fitness freak and a hippie! What could be lurking beyond this ominous doorway?

  There was only one way to find out.

  “You’re coming with me,” Amanda ordered her friend.

  “You’re darn right I am,” he snapped back. “You think I’d miss out on this? Let’s go. You first.”

  Amanda shrugged. Of course she would go first. After all, she was the one with the newfangled protective gear. Plus, it was her mom—and her mom’s secret.

  The two crept down into the darkness, feeling their way slowly and carefully along a steep staircase, until they noticed a red glow ahead. The light grew more intense as they descended until at last they were standing on flat ground. Amanda could see that the glow was coming from some sort of computer.

  “A light switch!” Vincent called, after fumbling along the walls for a moment. “Brace yourself, I’m turning it on!”

  The fluorescent overhead flickered on as Amanda and Vincent gazed in wonder at some sort of high-tech communications center lining the far wall of the large room.

  “Whoa!” Vincent called, after turning to his right. “Amanda, your mom isn’t just missing.…”

  Amanda turned to see what Vincent was talking about. What she saw rendered her speechless.

  “She’s been kidnapped,” her friend added.

  Displayed on the side wall was an impressive collection of newspaper articles, awards, banners, photographs, and in the center, a tall Plexiglas case. Resting within that case was a pristine costume that belonged to the world-famous Dragonfly. Its green and black fabrics shimmered in the obnoxious lighting with the same majestic sparkles that must have shone when the hero was still battling bad guys. The cape was short, its gold lamé exterior complemented by a deep-red metallic lining. The mask was a glittering onyx that covered the nose and eyes. It was beautiful. And what it meant was incredible.

  “Your mom … she’s Dragonfly … and that makes you … Oyster Cove royalty!” Vincent sputtered, unable to contain himself. “I’m going to need a minute.”

  “You and me both,” Amanda said, shaking her head. She was in shock. She knew her mom was pretty fit, but … this was harder to believe than sprouting antennae! And yet believing it made so many other things make sense (like, for example, the sprouting antennae).

  Amanda stared at the wall, absorbing as much as she could. Newspaper clippings boasted of Megawoman and Dragonfly’s heroic exploits.

  Amanda examined everything closely. Mixed in with the articles and swirling psychedelic decor were photos of Dragonfly and Megawoman when they were young. She squinted at Dragonfly. She’d never noticed the resemblance before, but confronted with the evidence, it was clear. Dragonfly was definitely her mother. And Megawoman … was also oddly familiar. “Vincent, look! It’s Emily’s mom. Mrs. Battfield is Megawoman!”

  Vincent was practically vibrating with amazement. In a minute Amanda was going to have to fetch him a cold compress to dab on his temples if he didn’t calm down.

  Amanda was feeling a little dizzy herself. Dragonfly and Megawoman. Her mom and Emily’s. The two were close friends, and had been for, well, forever. And now, looking at all this, Amanda realized exactly why her mother had been so insistent about Emily. If Amanda was destined to follow in her mother’s footsteps—and this hard shell she’d grown, along with her new ability to stop thieves in their tracks using buglike powers, made it seem like she was—then it made sense that Emily would be carrying on her own mother’s legacy. Which meant that Amanda would probably be doomed not only to talk to but also work with Emily for the rest of her life. With a sigh, Amanda decided to think about that situation later. Because before she could contemplate any sort of future, she had to find (and rescue) her mom.

  With renewed resolve, Amanda began a thorough search of the lair while Vincent marveled over the intricacies of Dragonfly’s costume. “Look at this stitching!” he burbled, but Amanda really didn’t have time for that. Her mother had said she was attempting something. She had known something was going to happen. Something big enough to get her to reveal her secret. Something big enough to get her pulled underground.

  The central computer at Amanda’s mother’s workstation was on but in sleep mode. When she tapped the keyboard, the computer woke up.

  “Greetings, Dragonfly,” the computer droned. “Initiate retina scan.”

  “Lean in!” Vincent said. “It wants to scan your eyeball. You know, to make sure you’re authentic.”

  “Okay, here goes,” Amanda said tentatively. She leaned in, and a red beam scanned her face once and then twice. The computer blinked and thought for a moment, and then announced that for security purposes, it would be shutting down. The machine warned that if anyone other than Dragonfly made a second attempt to access information, it would self-destruct.

  “Cripes, I blew it,” Amanda said. “Now what?”

  “No pouting,” Vincent said, wagging a finger. “We’ve got plenty to go on. Let’s just find another place to start.”

  Shelves stuffed with file folders that looked similar to a doctor’s medical charts flanked the desk. Opening a few, Amanda discovered that each was dedicated to a particular villain or case, and they were overflowing with clippings, photos, data sheets, and police reports. Her mom was not messing around.

  Then Amanda saw a pile of folders stacked on the desk, ready for business. On top of them was a sticky note that read Here we go again. Top suspects. Along with a recipe for a spirulina shake. It also had a date—yesterday’s. Amanda scanned the labels: Calamity Coven; Porcine Sisters; Dark Tarsier; and The Exterminator—a baddie so awful he boasted a folder thicker than a grilled-cheese sandwich with triple cheddar.

  Amanda drew a mental picture of a tireless dung beetle. The shiny bugs worked ceaselessly, backward and upside down, to cut and sculpt and roll life-sustaining balls of nastiness t
hree times their size to their burrows, fighting off competitors all along the way. Those little beetles just put their heads down and kept rolling. And that was what Amanda needed to do now, too.

  DUNG BEETLE

  Fun Bug Fact: Dung beetles can push around poop balls that are more than fifty times their own weight. Dung beetles have specific tastes—different species have different preferences as to which poop they eat, and they like their food fresh. They also use the stars to navigate.

  10

  It was nearly morning when a soft knock on the door startled Amanda awake. She hadn’t gone to bed—the day had been too strange for her to feel right about doing anything as normal as crawling into her pajamas and cuddling under the covers—but she had dozed off on the couch once she’d sent Vincent home. She blinked slowly and gave a big yawn as she staggered toward the soft but insistent knocking. She was exhausted.

  Rubbing her eyes, Amanda noted that her skin had returned to normal (thank goodness). She wasn’t sure how or why that had happened, or if her nifty coating would come back, but she’d have to think about that later. Groggy, she opened the door and stared at the old man standing on her stoop.

  The slightly hunched man spread his arms and wrapped her in an awkward hug.

  “Mandy, don’t you remember your old Poppy?” he asked when she shrugged out of the hold.

  “Poppy?” Amanda rubbed her eyes some more. She had not seen her grandfather in several years, and the version standing before her did not exactly match the one in her memory.

  “I’m here to take care of you,” Poppy exclaimed, clapping his hands together. Amanda realized she was glad he had arrived. It was nice not to be alone, and she was going to need as much help as she could get. Relieved and more awake, Amanda gave her grandfather a proper hug and led him into the house.