aliens around, she’d dive in and analyze every detail about every person in their lives until she knew for sure who was earthling and who was intergalactic. It’d be just like the time
Gabby found the anonymous “I love you, Gabby Duran” letter in her fifth-grade locker, and Zee went full forensics, dissecting speech patterns, gestures, habits, and daily routines of
everyone who had even the remotest contact with Gabby, including some who might have sent the note as a prank. When the culprit turned out to be Wally Ramone, a fourth-grade trumpet player whose
lips were always pursed into playing position, Gabby’s disappointment was completely overshadowed by her awe of Zee’s skills. The clue that closed the case? Turkey jerky. It was
Wally’s favorite snack. He ate it constantly, and both he and the letter carried its distinctive odor.
Zee would love Gabby’s latest mystery even more, but Gabby realized there was no way she could tell her. She’d promised Edwina. If she spilled, she broke the rules, and she
wouldn’t be allowed to babysit for A.L.I.E.N. No sitting, no money, no helping her family, no R.A.M.A. Plus, kids like Philip would go back to being “Unsittable.”
Gabby stopped the call before she even finished dialing. She rolled onto her stomach and screamed into her comforter.
This was impossible. She needed something to distract her.
Could she call Satchel? Even though his mom and Alice had drifted apart a little since their maternity ward roommate days, years of shared playdates, shared birthday parties, and
embarrassing-to-look-at-the-videos-now shared baths had sealed their deal. Gabby and Satchel were one hundred percent brother and sister, even if they did have different houses and different
parents. Gabby knew him as well as she knew herself, and knew exactly what he’d be doing right now. It was nine at night on a Sunday, so he’d have just finished making bike deliveries
for his uncle Gio’s restaurant. He’d answer if Gabby called, and there’d be no danger of her talking about A.L.I.E.N. because, unlike Zee, he’d lose it and Gabby would never
freak him out that way. But what else could Gabby talk about? A.L.I.E.N. was the only thing on her mind.
She turned off her phone and plugged it in. Better to just go to sleep and deal with everything in the morning. She got ready for bed, crawled under the covers…
…and didn’t wake up until she felt the oozing drool of a strange alien beast dripping onto her face.
“Philip!” she cried as she bolted upright in bed.
It wasn’t Philip. It wasn’t even an alien. It was that Zee-rigged pitcher of water that doused Gabby every time she pressed the snooze button a third time. As always, she gathered
her soaking sheets for the dryer, then got dressed and ready for school and joined Alice and Carmen in the kitchen. Both of them were well into plates of chicken tikka masala, left over from
yesterday’s brunch. Gabby stared at the heap of chunky yellow-orange goo in front of her own chair and wondered, Could her own mother be an alien? It would explain her penchant for serving
decidedly un-breakfasty foods at breakfast.
“Not in the mood for leftovers?” Alice said. “I can make you something else.”
“No, it’s not that,” Gabby said quickly, shaking off the ridiculous idea. “This looks great. I was just thinking about stuff. What’s my schedule like this week,
Car?”
Between bites, Carmen opened one of her black binders. “Today the Graces, tomorrow the Hayses, Wednesday the Vitaris twins, Thursday the Hayses again,” she rattled off. “Friday
we left open for the concert.”
Interesting. All regulars. Nothing that sounded like code for Edwina.
Then again, Gabby had only been named Sitter to the Unsittables yesterday. It was crazy to think she’d be booked already.
Except John and Lisa seemed like they’d have hired Gabby immediately.
“Do we have anyone unusual coming up in the next few weeks?”
Gabby found the anonymous “I love you, Gabby Duran” letter in her fifth-grade locker, and Zee went full forensics, dissecting speech patterns, gestures, habits, and daily routines of
everyone who had even the remotest contact with Gabby, including some who might have sent the note as a prank. When the culprit turned out to be Wally Ramone, a fourth-grade trumpet player whose
lips were always pursed into playing position, Gabby’s disappointment was completely overshadowed by her awe of Zee’s skills. The clue that closed the case? Turkey jerky. It was
Wally’s favorite snack. He ate it constantly, and both he and the letter carried its distinctive odor.
Zee would love Gabby’s latest mystery even more, but Gabby realized there was no way she could tell her. She’d promised Edwina. If she spilled, she broke the rules, and she
wouldn’t be allowed to babysit for A.L.I.E.N. No sitting, no money, no helping her family, no R.A.M.A. Plus, kids like Philip would go back to being “Unsittable.”
Gabby stopped the call before she even finished dialing. She rolled onto her stomach and screamed into her comforter.
This was impossible. She needed something to distract her.
Could she call Satchel? Even though his mom and Alice had drifted apart a little since their maternity ward roommate days, years of shared playdates, shared birthday parties, and
embarrassing-to-look-at-the-videos-now shared baths had sealed their deal. Gabby and Satchel were one hundred percent brother and sister, even if they did have different houses and different
parents. Gabby knew him as well as she knew herself, and knew exactly what he’d be doing right now. It was nine at night on a Sunday, so he’d have just finished making bike deliveries
for his uncle Gio’s restaurant. He’d answer if Gabby called, and there’d be no danger of her talking about A.L.I.E.N. because, unlike Zee, he’d lose it and Gabby would never
freak him out that way. But what else could Gabby talk about? A.L.I.E.N. was the only thing on her mind.
She turned off her phone and plugged it in. Better to just go to sleep and deal with everything in the morning. She got ready for bed, crawled under the covers…
…and didn’t wake up until she felt the oozing drool of a strange alien beast dripping onto her face.
“Philip!” she cried as she bolted upright in bed.
It wasn’t Philip. It wasn’t even an alien. It was that Zee-rigged pitcher of water that doused Gabby every time she pressed the snooze button a third time. As always, she gathered
her soaking sheets for the dryer, then got dressed and ready for school and joined Alice and Carmen in the kitchen. Both of them were well into plates of chicken tikka masala, left over from
yesterday’s brunch. Gabby stared at the heap of chunky yellow-orange goo in front of her own chair and wondered, Could her own mother be an alien? It would explain her penchant for serving
decidedly un-breakfasty foods at breakfast.
“Not in the mood for leftovers?” Alice said. “I can make you something else.”
“No, it’s not that,” Gabby said quickly, shaking off the ridiculous idea. “This looks great. I was just thinking about stuff. What’s my schedule like this week,
Car?”
Between bites, Carmen opened one of her black binders. “Today the Graces, tomorrow the Hayses, Wednesday the Vitaris twins, Thursday the Hayses again,” she rattled off. “Friday
we left open for the concert.”
Interesting. All regulars. Nothing that sounded like code for Edwina.
Then again, Gabby had only been named Sitter to the Unsittables yesterday. It was crazy to think she’d be booked already.
Except John and Lisa seemed like they’d have hired Gabby immediately.
“Do we have anyone unusual coming up in the next few weeks?”
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