Free Cloudy with a Chance of Boys by Megan McDonald

Stevie.
Stevie:
I don’t know, Joey. It might be kind of interesting to, I don’t know, hear what it’s like when they ki — I mean, hear what they say. Think of it like a mystery. And you’re spying to try to solve a mystery.
Joey:
Mystery? What mystery? The mystery of boys. Bluck.
Me:
Look. All
you
have to do is take the baby monitor over there and hide it. You don’t even have to listen if you don’t want to.
Joey:
But what if they see me? What do I say I’m doing? Or what if Dad finds it and gets mad about spying or something?
Me:
He won’t. Not if you hide it. Besides, there’s so many props and stuff over there, how’s he going to know? C’mon, Duck. Please? I’ll do anything. Just name it.
Joey:
Oh, okay.
Me:
You mean it? You’ll do it?
Joey:
Yes. But only if you promise to really call me Her Royal Spyness for one whole entire day.
And
give me twenty-five dollars.
Me:
Deal! Except for the twenty-five dollars part.

Alex and I were kneeling on my bed with our faces pressed to the second-story window. “Stop breathing so much,” I told her. “You’re fogging up the window and I can’t see.”
    I wiped the altocumulus cloud Alex had made on the window with the side of my fist. “There she is!” Alex pointed at Joey, a.k.a. Her Royal Spyness, sneaking up on the side of the Raven Theater next door to our house.
    “What’s she wearing?” Alex asked, craning her neck.
    “A raincoat?” I said, straining to see.
    “But it’s not even raining, for once.” The sky was overcast, but the drizzle had stopped.
    “Don’t you get it? It’s a spy thing.” We watched Joey reach into her pocket. She put on a pair of dark sunglasses. And a Sherlock Holmes houndstooth hat with earflaps from Dad’s props trunk. “All she needs now is a pipe.”
    “Um, wrong century, Joey,” Alex pretended to call out, even though Joey couldn’t hear her. “I don’t think Shakespeare spies knew about Sherlock Holmes.”
    “Never mind. Joey gets to be a spy. And you get to eavesdrop on Scott Towel. It’s win-win.” I grinned at my sister. It’s not like I’m into kissing — I felt pretty much like Joey did about it, high up on the Grossometer. But I have to admit, I was a little curious. It’s not every day you get to spy on two people when they’re going to kiss. A strange prickle set the hairs on the back of my neck on end.
    “Yeah, but now if anybody sees her they’re going to know she’s a spy.”
    Just then, Joey bent down and duckwalked along the side of the building, hunching beneath the windows. The monitor crackled. “Testing. Testing. I’m outside the theater. I’m almost to the back door.”
    Just then her hat fell off.
    “Let it go, Joey. Just let it go,” Alex willed her out loud.
    Joey disappeared around the back of the theater until we couldn’t see her any more.
    “What’s that sound?” I asked.
    “It’s probably just the creaking of the back steps.”
    “I’m on the back stairs,” Joey reported.
    “She’s in!” I said proudly.
    “She better stop reporting her every move. They’ll hear her. And I’ll be busted before I even get to spy on Scott and Jayden.”
    “Shh. Who’s that?” I asked, motioning for my sister to be quiet.
    Dad.
    “Hi, honey.” Rustle, rustle. “Everything okay?” Clank, clank, clank. “I’m just sorting through a bunch of old props for Romeo and Juliet. I have swords, a dagger, a vial of poison, a bunch of grapes . . . but I can’t find that dozen roses with the dew on it, and this wedding cake, I think, will have to be painted.” Crackle, crackle. “It’s looking a bit shabby, don’t you think?”
    “Sure, Dad.”
    “So, what brings you over?”
    “Um . . . I am here . . . um . . . because . . .”
    “Just say anything, Joey,” my sister urged, even though Joey couldn’t hear her. “It doesn’t matter if it’s lame. Say something.”
    “I’m not spying or anything,” said Joey.
    “Joey!” Alex put her head in her hand. “I