Spy-in-Training Read Online Free Page A

inside the bag for a charger. Nothing. I get it. I’m going to have to endure a lecture about how the phone is not free, how I can’t call my friends in Zimbabwe, how I’ll have to agree to use it responsibly before Mom and Dad will activate it. So annoying. But still, I’ve got an awesome phone! And an envelope. I tear it open and find myself holding a card inviting me to a sale. A special invitation-only sale at a clothes store named Image Unlimited. Or, as it says on the card, IMAGE UNLTD. It promises me up to 50 percent off selected items. This must be Natalie’s caring and compassionate way of calling me a slob who slobs around in slobby tracksuits.
    What else is in my brown-and-pink treasure chest? Lip balm. A yellow tube of smoky pear–flavored lip balm. I try to pull the top off. It’s stuck fast. Thanks, Ryan. Thanks for keeping the family tradition of worthless joke gifts alive. Funny it’s the only tradition you remember to keep alive. But thanks, anyway. There’s more. Tic Tacs. Green Tic Tacs. My unfavorite candy. Dad. This is where Ryan gets his incredible sense of humor. And just to prove that I can take a joke, my first call on my new phone will be to Zimbabwe. And it’ll be an all-nighter. Ha!
    Is there more? There’s more. I pull out a glasses case, open it, and find a pair of glasses. Thick, severe, black-rimmed glasses. To make me look like even more of a dork and target for Brendan Chew’s abuse? Or to create the illusion that I am a smart person capable of deep thoughts? I think Mom might be behind this present. I remove my oval wire frames and slip the new glasses on. Everything’s a blur. These lenses aren’t my prescription. Yeah, that mother-daughter bond was totally a figment of my imagination. What else? A USB thumb drive. Who cares? Finally, I reach inside the bag and fish out . . . keys. A set of keys. I jangle them from my fingertip. A car? My mind races. A secondhand car they’re restoringin time for my sixteenth birthday? No way. But maybe.
    I think back to Christmas three years ago, when Dad was all gloomy and he said times were hard, the economy was in trouble, and we’d have to make sacrifices. And then he woke us up on Christmas Eve and drove us to the airport, where we got on a flight to Hawaii. Fantastic! And a total surprise. He completely faked us out. So I’m thinking: Are the icky green Tic Tacs this year’s hard times and tight belt? I think they are. At this moment, I could not love my devious dad more. And then I hear the low rumble of his voice from downstairs and I realize I’m wrong. I love him a lot more.
    I scramble from the bed and go hurtling downstairs. Dad’s in the kitchen talking on his Bluetooth, something about chasing down the crooks from Accounts. I pounce on him and wrap my arms tight around him. “I’ll play along.” I laugh. “I’ll pretend I’m mad that all you got me was Tic Tacs. But I know. I get it. And I can’t wait.” Dad looks down at me like I’m a candy wrapper a strong wind has whipped into his face. He mumbles, “I’ll talk to you later” into his headset and then untangles himself from me. He’s got this expression that’s halfway between surprise and annoyance. He’s keeping up the pretense he doesn’t know I know. “What’s goingon, Bridge?” he says. Oh, he’s good.
    â€œNothing much,” I shrug, playing along. “I guess I should stop expecting birthdays to be a big thing in this family. I guess I should just be grateful for a few green Tic Tacs.” He starts to pull off his jacket. Then he stops and looks at me. He looks at me exactly like Joanna did this morning. Except he doesn’t hide his surprise. His eyes widen. He turns to the calendar stuck on the fridge door. When he turns back to face me, his expression is mournful. “Oh, Bridget,” he sighs.
    â€œI’m