Free Ruby Redfort Take Your Last Breath by Lauren Child

Run.”
    After class, Ruby and Clancy fetched their bikes and wheeled them out of the gates and along the sidewalk. Clancy didn’t have the energy to pedal; he was too depressed.
    “Oh, brother! What am I going to do about the swim meet? There’s no way I’m getting in that bay. No way.”
    “I’ll look out for you, Clance,” said Ruby.
    “Oh, yeah?” said Clancy. “There are gonna be like a hundred kids all swimming out there in the bay. No way you can keep an eye on me the whole time.”
    Ruby looked at him hard. “You can do this, Clance. It’s just mind over matter is all.”
    “That’s easy for you to say,” grumbled Clancy. “The water doesn’t bother you — nothing bothers you.”
    This wasn’t true of course. It was just that Ruby had spent a whole lot more time thinking about this stuff. She had a notebook full of rules, and one of them was RULE 12: ADJUST YOUR THINKING AND YOUR CHANCES IMPROVE. She had learned this from Mrs. Digby, a wise old buzzard if ever there was one.
    “All I’m saying, Clance, is your chances are better if you go into it in the right frame of mind.”
    “Don’t you get it, Rube? My chances are a whole lot better if I never get in that ocean in the first place. My chances of having a heart attack are greatly reduced if I don’t even get my feet wet.”
    Ruby gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “Your chances of suffering a lifetime of grief from Coach Newhart increase by about a thousand percent if you don’t.”
    “I know,” sighed Clancy mournfully.
    “Come on, let’s go get a fruit shake,” said Ruby, pulling him toward the Cherry Cup. “On me.”
    When they got to the Cherry Cup, they took the high stools at the counter and Ruby reached for the drink menu. Clancy was swiveling his seat distractedly and muttering to himself.
    “Hey there, you guys, what can I get you?” called Cherry.
    “I’ll take a Strawberry–Pineapple-Fiesta, and I reckon Clance could do with a tranquilizer.”
    Cherry looked hard at Clancy. “You all right, pal?” he inquired kindly. “You look kinda strung out.”
    Cherry was a man in his late fifties — graying hair and the sort of face that made people want to confide in him.
    Clancy spilled the beans about the swimathon while Cherry blended fruit.
    Meanwhile, Ruby thought about Spectrum. She was thinking about the briefing.
Is there a connection? Is there something in the deep blue ocean causing disruption to sea life? Possibly. Could it be caused by the moon, the tides, an earthquake on the other side of the world even? Possibly.
    But the shipping confusion? That has to be man-made. The question is, is it man-made by accident or man-made by design? If it isn’t an accident, then one can only conclude it has to be sinister.
    She was jolted from her musings by Clancy.
    “So have you been into Spectrum yet?”
    “Could you keep your voice down, buster? I’m not supposed to talk about this stuff,” hissed Ruby.
    Clancy looked around. “No one’s listening,” he said, pointing at Cherry’s busy establishment. Everyone was chatting or engrossed in their magazines or menus.
    “That’s what you think,” said Ruby. “How do you know that woman over there, the one with the little curly kid, isn’t keeping track of everything we say?”
    “I can tell,” said Clancy. “I mean, look at her — all she’s interested in is her baby.”
    “That’s how much you know,” said Ruby. “I happen to be aware that she is a sector seven agent and that old curly top is just a cover.”
    Clancy’s eyes grew to saucer size. “No way?” he said. “Really?”
    “No, not really, Clance, but don’t just assume that someone’s not listening just because they look like they’re not listening.”
    It was one of her rules, and an important one.
    RULE 9: THERE IS ALWAYS A CHANCE THAT SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE IS WATCHING YOU.
    Or, in this case, listening to you.
    Ruby had ignored the rule a few weeks ago and had ended up tied to a