Free Project Jackalope by Emily Ecton Page B

building.
You’re being watched.
”

10.
Agatha and I Entertain Tourists
    You know those horror movies where people move into a fancy old house and then the house goes “GET OUT” and the people go, “My, what a strange sound! I’ll just unpack the china now.” And they don’t get out?
    We got out.
    I don’t even know if I hung up the phone, that’s how fast we were moving. Agatha was downstairs with that suitcase zipped before Jack even realized he was back inside. Our feet were like the Road Runner’s feet when he really gets going, just spinny wheels. I was going so fast I almost hadn’t caught the last few words Twitchett whispered into the phone. The ones I hadn’t told Agatha about yet.
    Theoretically, getting out was the right thing to do. We definitely couldn’t stay there, not if we were being watched. But once we were out on the street dragging the jackalope behind us in the Dora the Explorer suitcase, we were stuck. We didn’t have any place to go.
    “Well, home’s out, school’s out. The lab? Maybe Bob could help?” Agatha looked up hopefully.
    “Yeah, right. The hair tousler? I don’t think so.” I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something about that guy still bugged me. Besides, I think if Twitchett had intended us to go to Bob, he would’ve said something along the lines of “Go to Bob.” And that’s not what he said.
    “Well, wandering around isn’t doing us any good. We need to make a plan.” Agatha plunked down abruptly on the curb and started rooting around in her book bag. I sat down next to her. She was right. It felt like we’d been walking forever, and I didn’t want to be the kind of guy who wanders the streets with a pink cartoon character suitcase. (I know, too late, right?)
    Agatha pulled out a spiral notebook and started tapping her pencil thoughtfully against her teeth. “We need someplace to go where nobody’s going to bug us. Someplace where we won’t stand out.”
    “And someplace where a jackalope can get a little breathing space,” I said, watching the fabric on the Dora suitcase ripple. You could see the prongs of the jackalope’s antlers almost poking through in the corners. Just call him Quality Inspector Number Four.
    Agatha stopped tapping for a second and frowned. “Right. Breathing space.”
    I hoped she was better at coming up with ideas than I was, because I was totally drawing a blank. Even someplace like the mall would be too risky for us, what with the high-tech teenage sensors they seem to have down there. Those guards are always giving me grief, and that’s when I’m just hanging out, not carrying a top-secret imaginary killer in my wussy suitcase.
    Agatha started tapping again. Apparently tapping is a big part of her brainstorming process. I watched a white van turn onto our street up the block. That tapping was starting to get on my nerves.
    “Any ideas?”
    Agatha stopped tapping and suddenly grinned an evil grin. “Oh yeah. I know just the thing.”
    I was impressed. “Cool, so what do you think?”
    “Okay, this is what we do. We—” Agatha stood up abruptly and grabbed me by the arm. “Get the suitcase and come on.”
    She started walking briskly down the street, looking straight ahead. I scrambled to my feet and hurried after her.
    “What? What’s the deal? We what?”
    “We get out of here, that’s what. That white van has driven by three times.” Agatha didn’t even turn her head, but of course I whipped my head around like an idiot just in time to see the white van driving off down the block. Slowly.
    Since I was already rubbernecking, I tried to get a look inside, but windows were tinted or something. Which is never a good sign.
    “Why is it always a white van?” Agatha said through gritted teeth. “Don’t criminals have any imagination?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “It’s always a stupid white van! Every time! Read the newspaper sometime, Einstein.”
    The white van turned the corner up ahead. Agatha