Bug Girl Page 8

  “Epic,” Vincent murmured, transfixed by the design. “Your grandfather is a genius.”

  Amanda nodded in agreement and handed her street clothes to Vincent. She made sure her old boots were laced up tight and double-knotted. Who knew what she was about to get herself into, and tripping over a loose lace would not be very superheroic at all.

  “Can you tell it’s me?” she asked, straightening up. It was essential that she not be recognized.

  Vincent shook his head. “Nope. Not if I didn’t know,” he said.

  Adjusting the mask slightly, Amanda caught a glimpse of herself in the glass panel covering the fire hose. Wearing a superhero costume, a REAL one, made her feel instantly empowered. Now she was ready for business.

  “Let’s see what this outfit’s made of.” Giving her friend a nod, Amanda dashed out of the corridor and into the middle of the mall. She disregarded the stares of shoppers and workers and zeroed in on the location that had triggered her innate sense of wrongdoing. Within seconds she found herself at the Diamond Factory.

  Behind the counter, two sales associates were frantically calling mall security while their manager, a little frazzled fellow, ran around waving his arms in the air as if he were trying to shoo away tsetse flies.

  “What’s the problem?” Amanda asked, announcing her arrival and demanding an update. (If she was going to be a superhero, she’d have to be assertive!)

  The salespeople turned, stunned to find a costumed hero in their midst. “Who are you? It’s not Halloween! We’ve had enough trouble here today!” shrieked the manager, still in a frenzy. Amanda fixed her gaze on the little red-faced man, and he turned and ran into the back room without waiting for a response.

  “We were just robbed,” one of the salespeople explained. “I’ve never been so scared in all my life,” she added, fighting back tears.

  “He took our Dynasty Collection wedding rings! They’re our best sellers! We’ll go out of business!” the other woman shouted, scared for her future.

  “Get the police here. Don’t worry—your Dynasty Collection will be fine!” Amanda reassured the women before stomping out of the store and into the mall.

  “But wait! Who are you?” the jewelers screamed, almost in unison. It was too late. Amanda had sprung into action.

  A large crowd had gathered in front of the Diamond Factory, drawn by the shrieking, but Amanda didn’t pay any attention to them. Her job was justice, and the curious public would just have to watch from afar.

  “He went that way!” someone in the crowd screamed.

  Amanda was already on it. Her antennae were feeding information into her frontal lobe, leading her through the parting throng toward the source of danger.

  Her quarry raced ahead of her, hopping planters and dodging benches. He scrambled around the spewing fountain and headed straight toward the food court. Shoppers around him screamed. A few cheered when they saw Amanda. The criminal glanced back, spotting his pursuer, and began to hurl obstacles into her path.

  “As if,” Amanda scoffed, righting baby strollers and waste receptacles without losing any time. “There’s nowhere to run, scumbag!” she shouted, still gaining.

  The thief looked back again. And this time Amanda was close enough to see fear and confusion written on his sweaty face. “Who are you?” he gasped before shoving a huge flavored-ice cart in her direction.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she shot back, catching the Shorty’s Shave Ice stand before it toppled down the escalator. She sent the tropical cart winging back toward the fleeing criminal. Shave ice and syrup spilled out onto the slick tile floor in rainbow hues. The thief fell and slid like an oversize hockey puck right into a table of chafing dishes at the entrance to Lou La Bonte’s Country Buffet. There were screams and a huge clash of metal as the carving station went down. The Dynasty Collection thief absorbed most of the impact and a considerable amount of hot au jus.

  “That oughta stop this French Dip,” Amanda quipped.

  But the sopping criminal struggled to his feet and disappeared into the dark interior of the all-you-can-eat restaurant.

  “Hey, you might as well give yourself up, mister, because you are totally trapped!” Amanda shouted. She was really getting into this whole being-assertive thing.

  Frightened diners waddled out of the food emporium, their gorging interrupted, as Amanda strode in. She jumped up onto a red leatherette booth to get a better view. Food stations were set up all over. There was a cupcake cart, a Belgian-waffle bar, and even a Hoagie Hutte with its own rustic cabin facade.

  A crying child scuttled past holding a cone missing its ice cream—a total bummer—but Amanda paid little attention. Focus was key. There would still be time to find a pair of shoes if she could hurry this up.

  Checking in with her antennae, Amanda continued her survey of the dimly lit establishment. She could feel that the crook was lurking nearby, but she couldn’t pinpoint his exact location.

  Then there was a movement behind the Nacho Nosh table, and she heard the crack of a tortilla chip. Amanda launched herself off the leatherette and landed in front of a giant cauldron of orange goo. Her hand shot out, and she tipped the large vat, sending a tidal wave of melted cheddar cascading down the other side of the station.

  “Ow! That’s hot!” The thief leaped up, fanning himself with his hands to try to stop the burning.

  “And cheesy,” Amanda added.

  The crook looked like the trash can at a carnival, covered in brightly colored syrup, broth, and cheese. Worse than that, beneath the ooze he was wearing jogging pants with sandals … and socks. Vincent would have some choice words for this guy when he caught up.

  “Okay, crook, you’ve had your fun. Are you ready to give up and come with me?” Amanda asked, averting her eyes from the tacky footwear.

  “What are you, a reject from The Defenders of Space Sector Six?” the thief joked, not knowing that he had said something that would cost him dearly.

  “No.” Amanda wrinkled her nose at the reference to one of the worst live-action superhero shows on TV. Their neon outfits were pure trash, they were completely made up, and their plots were formulaic. “I’m just a girl who has taken a special interest in making sure justice is served,” Amanda seethed. “And if I were you, I’d cut the jokes and hand over the jewelry.”

  The thief didn’t take her advice. Instead, the greased-up bandit took off, sliding out of the restaurant and back into the mall.

  “Cripes, this guy is not the brightest bulb,” Amanda muttered. She followed him out and through the curious crowd, which was growing and blocking her way. Luckily the fluorescent-orange, congealing-drip trail was easy to follow and led her directly to Blast Off! Sugar Emporium—a candy-by-the-pound shop.

  The sweet smell wafted out of the retail space and into the mall in a cloud so thick you could practically taste it. Amanda stepped inside the sweet shop, marveling at the enormous clear tubes of every candy imaginable that reached from floor to ceiling like the trunks of trees in a high-calorie forest. There were greasy smudges on many of the confectionery columns, but the place was such a riot of color, Amanda couldn’t tell where the creep was hiding. And she was tired of chasing him.

  “Last chance, buster,” she called. When there was no answer, she gave the closest candy column a mighty shove. It toppled onto the Cinnamon Snippers column next to it … which shattered the Fairy Dust and the Cavity Cluster tubes beyond. One by one, the candy containers went over like dominoes, spilling sweets everywhere and creating a mist of sugar.

  The Dynasty Collection thief was the last thing standing. He was coated in brightly colored candy, and it was starting to harden on his cheesy underlayer.

  “Ew.” Amanda cringed as she neatly pinned the thief’s arms behind his back and tied them with a length of curling ribbon from the bag display. “I cannot believe you made me do that. Just look at my costume,” she added. There was a small tear in her leggings, and several Creme Volcanoes were stuck to her kn
ee.

  “You’re coming with me right now,” she said, sounding as bossy as possible. “We’re going back to the Diamond Factory, you’re going to tell them you’re sorry, and then you’re going to jail.”

  Locked in her grip, the crook panicked. “What are you doing? Who are you?” he asked again.

  “None of your business. I’m just here to let you know that crime doesn’t pay,” she snapped.

  When the shoppers saw Amanda emerge from Blast Off! with the robber in tow, they let out a cheer and marched with her all the way to the Diamond Factory. The police, who were already interviewing the frazzled manager, looked grateful as well.

  “Here you go,” she said to the officers.

  “Thank you very much for capturing this creep, miss,” said one of the officers. “With everything that’s been going on these last couple of days, crime has been on the rise. This guy has been on a spree.”

  “You’re welcome,” Amanda said, smiling demurely. She suddenly realized that if she didn’t get back to Vincent, these characters were going to start asking questions she didn’t want to answer—and she would never get her shoes. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got something important to attend to!” she said with a wave.

  As she walked away, the bewildered crowd once again applauding, she couldn’t help bursting with pride. Fighting crime wasn’t so hard. It had turned out not only to be fun but also rewarding. And talking sass to these criminals truly was her pleasure. Her mother had always taught her to speak to adults with respect, but these lawbreakers deserved a tongue-lashing.

  Beside the fountain, Amanda found Vincent waiting for her and looking almost as proud as she felt. He was holding a large bag from Pablo’s Pumps-n-More Shoe Emporium. “Come on, hero. I think I saw Emily getting a decaf soy caramel frappé matcha-o-latta at the Swirling Bean. We better buzz out of here before she gets a load of you!”

  16

  Amanda’s day had been something like a roller-coaster ride, with lots of steep climbs and thrilling loops. Unfortunately, it now seemed to be heading downhill fast. The exhilaration of the mall showdown was over. The adrenaline rush had lasted long enough for her to don her tunic, adjust her headband mask, and get almost home on her bike. But just as she and Vincent started pumping their way up the last hill to Stubby Oaks, the shaking began again. Then came the sirens, flocks of green horror holograms, and something new: a prerecorded announcement from the mayor. The message blared from the Civil Distress System speakers mounted around the city, instructing everyone to go into their homes and “shelter in place” until further notice. Oyster Cove was on lockdown!

  “This is ridiculous!” Amanda huffed, dropping her bike on the lawn. “I’m going back down there to show people that these phantom phlegm globs are nothing for us to be afraid of!” She started to pull her headband down, but she was halted by a rough hand.

  “Sorry, Mandy,” Poppy clucked. Amanda hadn’t even heard him come out. “You heard the mayor. We have to get inside.” Then he looked from Amanda to Vincent and back. His eyes lingered on the small tear in Amanda’s leggings and then narrowed. “What have you been up to?”

  Amanda opened her mouth to explain. Vincent jumped in first.

  “Sir, it’s my fault. I needed help finding diodes for my Future Scientists Kiosk project. I don’t have much time before my big presentation on Oyster Cove Day, so I asked Amanda to go to the mall with me.” He flashed a grin at Poppy (who did not appear at all convinced) and then gave Amanda a look that said, Sorry, I tried, before turning his bike and pedaling away quickly.

  “Diodes indeed,” Poppy chuckled, keeping a hand on Amanda’s shoulder as they walked up the path to the house. He opened the door and waved her in first. As she passed, he huffed. “You two could have gotten into a whole heap of trouble,” he said.

  Once they were safe inside, Poppy held out his hand. “Now hand over those superbreeches, young lady. I see they need mending.” His expression softened, and he had a twinkle in his eye when he asked, “How’d the rest of it hold up?”

  “It was wonderful. It made me feel, well, like a hero. Thank you, Poppy. I had no idea you could do this!” Amanda burbled. “Where did you learn how to come up with such amazing creations?”

  Amanda knew that Poppy probably had a whole lecture prepared about rushing out into battle without thinking things through, but he couldn’t resist filling her in on more of his story. He waved her over and then patted the cushion next to where he had just sat on the sofa.

  “Now, I don’t know if you know this about me, but I was a costume designer for big-time Broadway productions in my day. Sewing was my life’s work. So when your ma became world-class, I designed her outfit! Yes, every bit of that jazzy Dragonfly number is my handiwork, and don’t let anybody tell you otherwise! That copycat Pierre of Bulgaria tried to take credit for it, but your ma set him straight, lickety-split.” Poppy fidgeted—thinking about his old couture nemesis seemed to agitate him.

  Amanda wanted to hear more. “Was it always so glamorous?” she asked, awed.

  “Heavens, no. You should have seen your ma’s first costume—before she went pro! Lime-green jogging pants tucked into cowboy boots.” Amanda and Poppy laughed at the same time. Poppy held up a hand and struggled to speak. “There’s more,” he gasped. “She wore swimming goggles to protect her eyes!”

  Amanda couldn’t picture it. Her mom, for at least as long as she could remember, always dressed simply. Her style tended to be a bit crunchy, but she always kept it tasteful. Goggles? And cowboy boots?

  “Once we perfected it, though, Dragonfly’s official costume was such a smash hit with the hero community that crime busters everywhere begged to know who had created her outfit. It was battle-ready and totally runway-worthy all at once. It was, if I do say so, divine.”

  Poppy’s pride was obvious, and it made Amanda feel proud, too. Her grandfather had turned his costuming career from the theater to the world stage. Heroes such as Buckskin Ronald (famous for tackling the Turducken Goblin) and Hyperia Haiku the Weaver of Poem Power had come to Poppy to update their looks—they would accept no one else.

  Of course, Poppy reassured Amanda, he only designed for other heroes of the world when he wasn’t busy with his first and most important duty—assisting his daring daughter Dragonfly. From his sewing nook in the underground lair, he tracked sinister plots, did background checks on would-be overthrowers of the free world, created a global union of hero helpers, and even designed a gadget or two—whatever it took to help Dragonfly defeat evil.

  Amanda listened, openmouthed and staring.

  “Ever hear of the Gelatin Wand?” Poppy asked.

  “Have I heard of it?” Amanda blurted out. “It’s only the weapon that took down Morbiddia le Poeuf and her Ghost Commandos by trapping them in a giant block of cherry-flavored Jell-O!” She was practically clapping.

  “That was me,” Poppy boasted. “I made that.”

  It seemed like Poppy could talk about the old days forever, but suddenly he snapped out of his nostalgic reverie. Shaking his head, he sighed and then gave his granddaughter a stern look. Amanda’s smile faded as they both remembered that she was in big trouble.

  “As fun as all this talk has been, tonight could have ended a lot differently. Use your noodle, Mandy!”

  Amanda squirmed as the fun trip down memory lane quickly descended into a guilt trip of epic proportions. She felt trapped like a moth in a jar as Poppy lectured her about the importance of her training. (He had as much to say on that topic as he did about vintage hero fashion.)

  “Now, young lady, I warned you about rushing into things. I was worried sick, just like I used to be about your mother before she teamed up with Megawoman.” He waved a finger at her. “You need to listen to me. I’ve had lots of experience with these goings-on.”

  “But, Poppy, I trusted my instincts, I used my skills, I was superassertive, and my costume was fantastic. Nobody had any idea who I was!” Amanda insisted. She’d felt
great and proud. She wanted Poppy to be proud, too.

  “But you went without a partner. That’s dangerous.”

  Amanda’s assertiveness began to drain. “I had Vincent,” she said softly.

  “A sidekick is useful, but not a partner.” Poppy shook his head. “Don’t you worry too much, though. You learned your lesson, and you’re home safe.” Poppy’s cheerful self returned once he’d given his granddaughter an earful. He smiled. “Just don’t do it again!”

  Amanda tried to return Poppy’s smile. But the partner reminder was giving her a pain. She sat quietly as Poppy began to stitch her damaged costume.

  Sewing seemed to soothe her grandpa. And it also put him to sleep. Before long, Poppy was snoring loudly, and Amanda was on her way to her room to check on her bug menagerie. That’s when things got really weird.

  17

  The doorbell rang.

  In the distance, air-raid sirens still blared, and Amanda wondered who would be ringing the doorbell when they were all supposed to be locked in their homes. She hesitated. Poppy kept snoring. Perhaps Vincent had forgotten something. Only … No. This didn’t feel like a visit from Vincent.… Slowly she walked back down the stairs and opened the door.

  There on the porch was the last person Amanda expected to see: Emily. Amanda nearly choked.

  Only a few hours ago, Emily had been threatening to demean her in the showers. It was tempting to slam the door in her face, but … there had been a change. She did not look as mean. Yes, she still had her trademark lip curl, but she wasn’t quite so … smug. And she had come to see Amanda.

  “Who’s your friend?” Poppy was up and suddenly standing behind Amanda.

  “This is Emily,” Amanda told him. “She’s Megawoman’s daughter.”

  Amanda kept her eyes locked on Emily’s face, but Emily did not deny it. Something had changed.

  “Oh, ho!” Poppy cackled. “Little Miss Battfield. Now we’re cooking with gas! The two of you will have this solved in no time. No time at all. What we need is ice cream.”