No Girls Allowed (Dogs Okay) (7 page)

“I know.” He's right. Not all of my inventions are brilliant. Okay, most of them are disasters. But you can't give up. I learned that after I read about an American engineer named Richard James. He was working with springs, trying to design a meter for battleships. Mr. James accidentally dropped one of the springs on the floor and saw that it kept moving on its own. Tada! The Slinky was born. Who knows? Maybe someday one of my accidents will turn out to be something important.

I see pink! It's Isabelle, all right. She is sitting on the bottom step of the orchestra portable. Her head is bent over her notebook. Bug spit! I am too late. She is already writing her news report. Super Spy has struck again.

I shove the spray bottle at Doyle. “Take this. I'll be right back.”

“Okay.”

“Keep it out of sight. And don't talk to anybody. Not even Will.” He'll want to know all the details. I'm not ready to share my invention quite yet, even with my second best friend.

“Okay.”

“I mean it, Doyle.” My best friend has a problem keeping secrets.

“I said okay.”

I sneak up on my sister. “Hi, Izzy.”

She slaps the notebook to her chest. “I told you—”

“Is-a-belle, what are you writing?”

“Nothing.” She looks guilty.

“If it's another report about me—”

“It's not.” She narrows her eyes. “Why? What did you do?”

Now it's my turn to say, “Nothing,” and look guilty. It's strange to see Isabelle alone. At recess my sister is usually glued to her two best friends, Kendall Peters and Laura Ling. The girls are still fourth graders, but all the upper grades have the same recess. “So if you're not writing Scab News, why are you over here by yourself?”

“Okay, okay.” Isabelle makes a big X on the page with a red felt-tip pen. “I guess I can forget it
this
time. But . . . uh . . . stop . . . throwing away your orange at lunch.” She shuts her notebook.

Now I
am
confused. Isabelle
never
forgets anything, especially when it comes to my behavior. But I don't have time to ask her what's going on. Doyle, Will, Lewis, Alec, and Henry are coming this way. My stomach knots up. I need to get rid of my spying sister. Fast!

“Don't you have anyone to play with?” I ask
Isabelle, still wondering why Laura and Kendall haven't shown up. Even girls don't take this long to go to the bathroom.

“Oh, sure. Sure I do.” She checks her watch. “Uh . . . I almost forgot. I told Jenna Lucas and Libby Miles I'd play foursquare. I . . . uh . . . I'd better get going.”

“Bye.” I shoo her along as the guys close in.

Alec slaps me on the back. “That's a mighty pukey spray you got there, Scab.”

“Thanks.” I glare at Doyle. Two seconds. I leave the guy alone for two seconds.

“My little brother is always stealing my model airplane paint,” Alec says. “This will teach him to keep his slimy mitts off my stuff.”

“Mine gets into my baseball cards,” says Will.

“I have to share a room with my baby sister,” pipes Henry Mapanoo. “She's three.”

Everybody groans.

“So what's in it?” asks Will.

I shrink back. I knew it. He wants the scoop, of
course. He's always interested in my inventions, which is one reason why I like him. But now is not the time. “Just some stuff,” I say. “A little of this and a little of that.” I signal him that I will share more later. I don't want to say too much in front of the other guys.

Lewis Pigford punches me. “So what do you want for it, Scab?”

“Want?”

He starts digging in the pocket of his jeans. “Yeah, how much?”

I didn't plan on selling my sister repellant, especially to a gooberhead like Lewis.

Doyle elbows me. I can tell by the way his eyebrows are going up and down that he thinks I should do it. I scan the playground for a fluffy pink coat. I don't
see it. What I
do
see is Lewis holding out several crumpled dollar bills. At first I think it's play money, but it's real, all right. Everyone's looking at me.

I bite my lip. “Three bucks?”

Lewis hands me three one-dollar bills. Bug spit! I should have said five.

Doyle gives him the bottle.

“Spray once,” I warn Lewis. “It's strong stuff.”

“Got it.”

“Don't spray it at school. If a teacher catches you with it—”

“Relax, McNally. I can handle teachers.”

“What about the rest of us?” asks Will.

I have to spit-swear with Will, Alec, and Henry that I'll bring a bottle for each of them tomorrow. By the time I am done swearing, I have no saliva left.

“Four orders.” Doyle whistles. “That's twelve bucks.”

It's more than twelve bucks. It's one fifth of a new dog. Sweet!

“You guys coming to play kickball?” calls Will.

Doyle and I race to the soccer field. I'm going to kick that ball to the moon, that's how great I feel. We run past Jenna, Libby, and their friends playing foursquare. I don't see a fluffy pink coat anywhere, which is weird. You know what's weirder? I didn't have an orange in my lunch today. Or yesterday. Or the day before that. It's not like Isabelle to make such a big mistake. My sister never makes mistakes. Trust me.

S
cab?” My mom is knocking on my lab door. “Do you have my blender in there?”