Nanny X Read online

  Nanny

  X

  Madelyn Rosenberg

  illustrations by Karen Donnelly

  Holiday House / New York

  Text copyright © 2014 by Madelyn Rosenberg

  Illustrations copyright © 2014 by Karen Donnelly

  All Rights Reserved

  HOLIDAY HOUSE is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.

  www.holidayhouse.com

  ISBN 978-0-8234-3251-6 (ebook)w

  ISBN 978-0-8234-3252-3 (ebook)r

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data

  Rosenberg, Madelyn, 1966–

  Nanny X / by Madelyn Rosenberg. — First edition.

  pages cm

  Summary: Ten-year-old Alison and eight-year-old Jake discover that their nanny is working undercover to catch criminals.

  ISBN 978-0-8234-3166-3 (hardcover : alk. paper) [1. Nannies—Fiction. 2. Brothers and sisters—Fiction. 3. Undercover operations—Fiction.]

  I. Title.

  PZ7.R71897Nan 2014

  [Fic]—dc23

  2013045487

  For Andrew, Melanie and Jules

  Acknowledgements

  HQ: Mary Cash and everyone at Holiday House

  The Usual Suspects: Anamaria Anderson, Tom Angleberger, Cece Bell, Mary Crockett, Marfé Ferguson Delano, Moira Rose Donohue, Marty Rhodes Figley, Anna Hebner, Carla Heymsfeld, Jacqueline Jules, Liz Macklin, Suzy McIntire, Laura Murray, Wendy Shang, Rachael Walker, the Deemers, the Lazorchaks, the Rosenbergs, the Striers, the Briers, the A-Team, the Girls and the Nuts.

  The Unusual Suspects: Kathryn Erskine, Laurel Snyder, Margie Myers-Culver, Jama Rattigan, Tamson Weston, Dana Cann, Jim Beane, Jim Mathews, Catherine Bell, Kathleen Wheaton, Carmelinda Blagg and Karen Donnelly.

  Secret Agents: Susan Cohen and Brianne Johnson.

  Special Agents: Graham and Karina Lazorchak, Cole Snavely and Ethan Burka.

  Special Ops: Butch Lazorchak and everyone who taste-tested the coconut smoothies and peanut butter and anchovy sandwiches.

  Contents

  1. Alison: Nanny X = Spooky

  2. Jake: Nanny X Strikes Out

  3. Alison: Nanny X Pitches

  4. Jake: Nanny X Gets Weirder

  5. Alison: Nanny X Asks the Questions

  6. Jake: Nanny X Drops a Bomb

  7. Alison: Nanny X Is a Certifiable Crazy Person

  8. Jake: Nanny X Takes on City Hall

  9. Alison: Nanny X Smells Something Rotten

  10. Jake: Nanny X Goes Bananas

  11. Alison: Nanny X Eavesdrops

  12. Jake: Nanny X Hides Out

  13. Alison: Nanny X Has a Plan

  14. Jake: Nanny X Gets Taken for a Ride

  15. Alison: Nanny X Is Missing

  16. Jake: Nanny X Stays Cool

  17. Alison: Nanny X Is a Bit Hung Up

  18. Jake: Nanny X Springs Into Action

  19. Alison: Nanny X’s Bag of Tricks

  20. Jake: Nanny X Lets Go of Her Hat

  21. Alison: Nanny X Calls It a Day

  How to Play Breakfast Cereal Baseball

  Nanny X’s Recipe for Peanut Butter and Anchovy Sandwiches

  How to Stop Biting Your Nails

  Big Adam’s Recipe for Coconut Smoothies

  1. Alison

  Nanny X = Spooky

  Someone pounded on our front door at 7:29 A.M.

  I didn’t answer, even though it would have been the helpful thing to do. My brother, Jake, didn’t answer, either, but not because he wasn’t being helpful; he’d just invented a game called Breakfast Cereal Baseball and he had a batter up. My father didn’t answer the door because he hadn’t had enough coffee yet. Eliza didn’t answer it because she’s not even two, and Yeti didn’t answer it because he’s a dog. Also, my parents had locked him in my bedroom.

  “Isn’t somebody going to get that?” my mother called from upstairs. I didn’t move. Jake flicked a Honey Berry Bomb across the table. It hit me in the neck.

  “I didn’t mean to,” he said before I could call him a doofus. “Guess that’s an out.”

  Thud. Thud. Thud. The knocks came louder this time, like somebody shouting at us in Morse code. Then came the sound of my mother clomping down the stairs. You could tell it had been a long time since she’d worn high heels.

  We heard the front door open, then voices.

  “Kids? Richard?” my mother called. She sounded chirpy, like when she told us how much fun it would be to clean the toilets.

  “Ahm!” yelled Eliza as my dad lifted her up.

  “Come on, team,” he said. “You have a date with destiny.” Jake popped one last Berry Bomb into his mouth as we followed my dad to the front door.

  “Kids,” my mother said again. She sounded even chirpier, like she was going to lift up a sheet and reveal a shiny silver bicycle. Only she didn’t have a sheet. And she didn’t have a bicycle.

  What she had was a woman with silver-gray hair, a straw gardening hat with pink flowers, and no smile. She wore a black motorcycle jacket and a pair of mirrored sunglasses. She smelled like a combination of chicken soup and motor oil, and it looked like she had borrowed her shoes from a Pilgrim.

  “This is your new nanny!” my mother said. I could hear the ta-da in her voice, but I didn’t feel like I’d won anything.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Jake said, sticking out his hand like he was trying to win the “Most Polite Kid of the Year” award. The nanny shook it.

  I clamped my lips together so the word “hello” could not get through them. The nanny stood back and studied us through her sunglasses, though with the reflection it was hard to tell where her eyes were really looking. All I could see was my own face, also not smiling, staring back at her.

  “Yes,” she told my mother. “Yes, I think they’ll do.”

  Do? I thought. Do what?

  “Allow me to introduce myself,” the nanny continued, getting down to business. “I am Nanny X.”

  This time I did open my mouth. “That’s weird,” I said.

  “Alison Pringle,” said my mother.

  “But X isn’t even a real name!” I pointed out.

  “It is my chosen name,” said Nanny X. She spoke fast, like someone was timing her. “My given name is long and boring, and I’ve always felt sorry for the letter X. There aren’t enough words that begin with X.”

  I had to admit she was right. Eliza has about a thousand alphabet books, and in every single one, X stands for xylophone.

  “Not many names begin with Z, either,” said Jake. He is obsessed with initials.

  Nanny X smiled for the first time. Her face didn’t look half bad that way. “Ah, but your middle name begins with Z,” she said. “Zachary, am I right?” My mother must have told her a lot about us, if she knew Jake’s middle name. My middle name is Theresa, but the nanny didn’t mention it.

  “I think I should stick with X,” the nanny said.

  “Not many names begin with Y,” said Jake. I wondered if he was going to go through the whole alphabet.

  “But you have a dog, do you not?” Nanny X turned toward my father, who was still holding Eliza. “Yeti? How are his fleas?”

  “His fleas are much better, thank you,” my father said. He cleared his throat after he talked, instead of before.

  Yeti whimpered from my bedroom. My parents had put him there so he wouldn’t pounce on the nanny as soon as she came through the door.

  “Well,” the nanny said. “I can stand here like a schlump or I can make your lunches. To the kitchen! Away!” She snatched Eliza out of my father’s arms and walked toward the kitchen like she owned the place. Her mirrored glasses were still perched on her nose. Then she paused and turned. “Please note, Alison, that your lunch today will not contain any bubbl
e gum.”

  I could feel my face go red, like the time I tripped getting off the school bus and landed in dog poop. She knew! Somehow Nanny X knew that I had secretly chewed gum in Ms. Bertram’s class on Friday. She probably knew that I’d gotten caught and had to spend the rest of the day with gum on my nose. I hadn’t told my parents about it, or even my little brother. And why did a nanny know about Yeti’s fleas? Who mentions fleas during a nanny interview? Especially if you’re trying to get the nanny to take the job? Maybe Nanny X could read minds.

  My dad took another gulp of coffee and hurried off to his job at the Museum of Natural History. My mother went to grab her briefcase for her new job as a lawyer. I followed her.

  “Well, what do you think?” she asked.

  “She dresses funny,” I said.

  “Of course she does; she’s from New York.”

  “And she’s spooky,” I said.

  “Spooky how?”

  “Knowing about Yeti’s fleas, and . . . other stuff.”

  “Look, I know you’re still angry, Alison, but this is okay, isn’t it? Me going back to work? Of course the biggest change is for Eliza. You and Jake will be in school all day. Anyway, you’ll like Nanny X. It’s just for a few weeks, until we find a permanent nanny. But the agency said she was special.”

  My mother was so busy getting ready for work, she didn’t even notice that I didn’t answer her. In the kitchen she gave the nanny a million last-minute instructions. Then she kissed all of us (except Nanny X). “Wish me luck,” she said. We did, and she left for stupid old Mathers and Mathers, where she was going to work even though she was not a Mathers.

  Nanny X was officially in charge.

  2. Jake

  Nanny X Strikes Out

  The sign on my sister’s door says Keep Out, and I am pretty sure she has the exact same sign hanging on her brain, because she acts like she doesn’t want anyone in there. Especially “pesky little brothers.” I am not pesky and I am almost as tall as she is, but she ignores me when I say that. My friend Ethan says that this is unsurprising because fifth grade is the year older sisters turn snotty. But Ali started off the year being kind of nice. It wasn’t until our mom started talking about the nanny thing that she turned into a Super Snot, which is what I decided to call her. But not out loud. I just call her that in the keep-out part of my own brain. Sometimes I just use initials.

  I decided that if Ali was going to ignore everything I say, then I could ignore the things she says. Like “keep out.” Anyway, I wasn’t really breaking her privacy, because Ali wasn’t even in her room, plus, it’s a stupid sign. Plus, I was mostly keeping out. I just wanted to set Yeti free.

  I cracked her door open. Swoosh. Yeti shot right out of there. He didn’t stop to lick my hand, but I could tell he was glad that I’d taken care of things.

  “Arf-arf-arf-arf-arf.” Yeti ran downstairs, straight for the kitchen and probably straight for Nanny X. He always jumps on strangers, and Nanny X was a pretty strange stranger—stranger than Mr. Frank, the mailman. Yeti always barks at Mr. Frank, who shouldn’t even be a stranger by now because he’s been coming to our house almost every day for five years.

  Yeti is named after the abominable snowman. He looks kind of like a polar bear, except he’s not as big. I read in Fantastically Freaky Animal Facts that even though polar bears look white, their fur is translucent. Yeti’s fur is white. I wished he could be in charge of us, like that dog in Peter Pan. Then the Super Snot could go back to acting the way she did in the good old days. If the new nanny was unconscious in the kitchen because Yeti jumped on her, maybe he’d get the chance to take over.

  But Nanny X was not lying on the floor. When I got to the kitchen, she was standing up. She had taken off her sunglasses, and she was staring right into Yeti’s eyes. I didn’t see laser beams, but Yeti stared back as if Nanny X was controlling him with her mind. If she looks away, I thought, he’ll jump on her for sure. But when she looked at me, Yeti kept looking at her, like she was the best thing since bacon-flavored dog treats.

  “Why don’t you get in a few minutes for your reading log before school?” Nanny X said. She didn’t say anything about mind control or about the Honey Berry Bombs on the floor. I thought maybe she was good at ignoring things, too. “Try the sports section,” she added. “It counts.”

  I was so happy that reading about the Nationals game counted for my reading log that I didn’t stop to wonder how she knew I had a reading log in the first place. I took the paper and went into the living room. I looked out the window, hoping to see a motorcycle that matched Nanny X’s jacket, maybe with a sidecar and some extra helmets or something. But I just saw a regular, boring minivan. Rats. I looked at the paper. Rats again—the Nats lost. But then my eyes found something that had nothing to do with the Nationals but still had lots to do with me.

  New Factory May Replace Old Park

  LOVETT—Rawlings Park, a favorite among Lovett youth, will close if the mayor has his way. The scenic park, which features a playground, a baseball diamond, and tall oaks, is in what Mayor John Osbourne calls a “prime business location.” Osbourne confirmed that the county is considering selling the land to make way for a factory. “It’s going to be big, big, big,” he said. A public meeting will be held in the park today at 2 p.m., in advance of the Lovett Planning Commission meeting.

  “They can’t do that.” I slammed the paper down like my dad does when he doesn’t agree with something.

  “What are you even talking about?” I hadn’t heard my sister come into the living room, but there she was, grabbing the newspaper away from me without even asking.

  “The mayor closing the park,” I said. In my head I added: Super Snot.

  My baseball team practices at that park. Half of our games are there. Plus, the playground has a blue slide that looks like an intestine. According to Fantastically Freaky Facts about the Human Body, the small intestine is about twenty feet long, but the large intestine is only five feet long. It’s wider, which is how it got its name.

  “Maybe I could handcuff myself to home plate,” I said.

  “There’s no place to attach the handcuffs,” Ali said.

  “I could lie down on top of it.” I pictured myself on the news, surrounded by a bunch of construction dudes who couldn’t turn on their bulldozers because of me.

  “Two minutes until the bus,” Nanny X called. “Jake, Brush your teeth.”

  “I already did,” I called back.

  “Yes, but you forgot your tongue,” she said. I went to brush again while Ali finished reading the article.

  On the way to the bus, my Super Snot sister walked the length of a small intestine in front of the rest of us. Yeti trotted beside me with half a Honey Berry Bomb on his lip, which meant that he’d helped clean up the kitchen. Actually, “trotted” is not the right word; Nanny X was too slow for trotting. She didn’t look like she could pitch, either, which is something I’d been hoping I would get in a new nanny. But between staying on her feet when Yeti jumped on her and figuring out that the sports section counted on my reading log, which always came back marked “More variety, please,” her batting average seemed okay.

  It dropped at lunch.

  Dead fish is not the smell you want coming out of your lunch box, but it was coming out of mine. Nanny X had packed me a peanut butter and anchovy sandwich. The smell was so bad I couldn’t get past it to see if she had packed me anything else. The smell was so bad Ethan moved to the peanut-free table to get away from me. I threw the sandwich in the trash, but the smell did not go in the trash with it. It lingered, which is one of my reading connection words. The definition is: when a dead-fermented-fishy smell won’t go away and you have to bury your lunch box.

  Nanny X just struck out, I thought. But I found out later that the game hadn’t started yet.

  3. Alison

  Nanny X Pitches

  So to answer my mother’s question: It was not okay.

  My mother going back to work was
not okay.

  My lunch was not okay.

  The mayor closing the park was not okay.

  And being taken care of by an unsmiling nanny who knew way too much about us was not okay, either. I hoped she didn’t go snooping around my bedroom while I was stuck in the classroom, listening to Ms. Bertram teach us the names for different foods in Spanish. Her idea of the day was to have us draw pictures of food with their proper Spanish names, and then trade them with friends, like Yu-Gi-Oh cards.

  I started by drawing a pack of gum, chicle, for my friend Ellie, who had to spend the day with chicle on her nose. I knew how she felt, which is why I gave her the drawing.

  Ellie smiled. Ms. Bertram did not. “Señorita Pringle,” she said. She only uses our last names during Spanish, which I’m good at because I can roll my R’s. Most of the kids just make gargling noises in their throats. “Do we swallow gum? No. Therefore I do not count it as a food source. Make another choice.”

  I looked around to make sure Nanny X hadn’t suddenly appeared outside the window and overheard all of this, but all I could see was the green field where we had recess and, beyond that, a creek where we collected specimens to look at under the microscope. I took out another piece of paper and drew a fish, un pescado. Nobody wanted to trade for it, probably because they’d smelled my lunch. Or possibly because I’d made the fish look as angry as I felt. Finally I traded it to my friend Stinky Malloy for a friendly-looking carrot, una zanahoria.

  “As long as it isn’t lentils, I’ll take it,” he said. Stinky has had the same nanny, Boris, since he was two or three years old. Except for an obsession with lentils, Boris actually seemed kind of cool. He also had a real name, unlike another nanny I knew.

  The clock ticked toward early release. To make the time go faster, I practiced tying knots in my shoelaces with a pencil. I’ve been trying to learn different ones, like the figure eight and the cow hitch. It would help if I decided to try mountain climbing or cattle rustling, but mostly, tying knots kept me from biting my fingernails. I’d done pretty well with not biting them this week, until the new nanny showed up. By lunch I’d chewed off every fingernail except for my right thumb and left pinky.