Free The Caped 6th Grader by Zoe Quinn

questions: Why had she looked through my personal stuff? It wasn't as if she had needed to search the bag for ID, like when you find a lost wallet and want to return it. So what was the point of snooping? And what could she possibly have thought when she saw the scrapbook? Even someone who wrote about superheroes for a living would have to be at least a little bit shocked to learn that superpowered heroes really did exist, not to mention the fact that the one in question, Zip/Zack, happened to be one of her oldest acquaintances.
    It was just too much. I felt sad and angry and generally freaked out all at once.
    Suddenly, all I wanted to do was go home.

    I found Howie waiting for me on the front porch.
    “Well, if it isn't Officer Howie Hunt,” I said, grinning and throwing a friendly non-Super punch to his shoulder. “What are you doing here? Am I under arrest?”
    “I was wondering if you'd help me out with something,” said Howie.
    “Sure.”
    “I think Miss Bettancourt's in trouble. It's not her fault, but I think she's been unknowingly conducting business with an underground counterfeiting ring.”
    For a second or two I just stood there with my mouth hangingopen from shock, partly because it was unthinkable that Miss Bettancourt—knowingly or unknowingly—could ever be involved in anything illegal, and partly because I couldn't believe that this was actually Howie speaking. He sounded so official, so professional.
    “What do you mean?” I asked at last.
    “Have you ever heard of R.A.D. BAGS?”
    Hah. It seemed as if over the past few days I'd heard of nothing else. Emily, Electra, Megan and her sidekicks. “What about them?”
    “I've been doing some research down at the station house. You know, on the Internet. I found out that thousands of fake R.A.D. BAGS—the police call them knockoffs—have been manufactured and are being sold all over the country. Well, I managed to piece together a pattern, and it looks like maybe they've reached this part of the country. So maybe the ones Miss B has been selling are actually phony. I want to go down there and get a good look at them.”
    I thought back to what Megan had said about the bags' being seventy percent off. If they were fakes, that would certainly explain the discount—not that I could imagine a sweet old lady like Miss Bettancourt being part of an interstate counterfeiting business. “Howie, I think you might actually be on to something.” I filled him in on what I'd heard about R.A.D. BAGS in the last few days—from Emily, Electra, and Megan. “How can I help?”
    “Well, I was hoping you'd come downtown with me to check out the boutique. I'd go myself, but I think it would look less suspicious if we went together. You can keep Miss B busy while I look around for evidence.”
    “I don't know …,” I said. “Is my dad okay with this?”
    “Um … sure. He's completely okay.”
    “All right. Let's go.”

    On our way to the store, we decided our cover would be that Howie was shopping for a gift for his mother and I had come along to help him pick out something nice. We arrived at the boutique about twenty minutes before closing time. No one was in the store except Miss Bettancourt.
    “Oh, I've had such a busy day!” she exclaimed when we entered. “Those new designer bags are selling like crazy. I guess everyone loves a bargain.” She paused to push some strands of silver hair off her forehead. “Now, how can I help you?”
    “I need a gift for my mom,” Howie stated, as if reading from a script. “I think she'd like one of these cool bags.”
    “Well, we've sold out of most of the styles,” Miss B said. “But as luck would have it, I'm expecting a delivery this evening. The truck should be arriving just after I close up shop. So if you don't see anything you like tonight, you can come back when I open in the morning and have first crack at it.” She pointed us toward the selection of R.A.D. BAGS. “You just holler if you have