they tussled in the dirt. âYou girls better make up your weirdo minds before you start whaling on me again!â
Beside the tangled, brawling knot of Artie, Cheryl and Tweedâall flailing limbs and flaring tempersâPilot dropped lightly to the ground from his perch up in the tree. He kicked at the broken branch that had held the âdescender wireâ rope the girls had used to get over the fence.
âNext time Iâd suggest a more thorough equipment check,â Pilot observed dryly.
Tweed squirmed free of Cheryl and Artie and climbed to her feet, brushing off the knees of her black stockings. âNever mind that now. Weâre in. The mission is still a go. Repeat: the mission is still a go.â
âTell them that,â Pilot nodded toward the still-tussling twosome. âIf they donât cut it out, weâre gonna get busted.â
âCheck. Iâll handle it. Heads up, Codename Cee!â Tweed barked. âEyes on the prize! Focus power!â she said and several other catchy phrases designed to make Cheryl stop fighting with Artie.
Cheryl grudgingly let Artie back up onto his feet, eyeing him with suspicion. âWere you spying on us, Artie Bartleby?â She stood, hands on hips, pigtails askew.
âHow did you get in here?â
âYeah! How did you get in here, Shrimpcake?â Tweed asked pointedly.
Artie ignored the dig with an air of sudden superiority, somewhat undermined as he vigorously shook a pant leg in an attempt to empty the sand that heâd acquired in the brawl out of his undies. âI walked in,â he said. âThrough the front gate. Like a normal person.â He went and stood next to Pilot. âWasnât locked or nuthinâ. Geesh. Girls , huh, Armbruster?â he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
Pilot just frowned down at him. He wasnât about to take sides with Artie. Not against the twins, certainly. Although he did glance down at the broken branch at his feet and wonder fleetingly why he hadnât suggested they use the main gate. Then again, he supposed, that wouldnât have really been âspying,â now, would it?
âAnyway,â Artie was on a roll, âIâm the one who should be askinâ the questions here! Likeâwhy the honkinâ heck are you sneakinâ over the fence to get in here? Or is breaking and entering a new hobby of yours?â
He took a half-step back as Cheryl advanced menacingly toward him.
âIf thereâs any breaking to be done â¦â She trailed off ominously.
âOh, yeah?â Artie gamely put up his fists and hopped around like a boxer, but Pilot stepped between the two of them before another skirmish erupted.
âHey now!â he interrupted, glancing over his shoulder. âI think we might want to look for some coverâpronto. Thereâs a whole buncha carnival folk headed in this direction.â
Cheryl and Tweed instantly took off running in a weaving pattern across the grounds toward the nearest tent, waving their complex military-style hand gestures at each other. Pilot rolled his eyes and grabbed Artie by the collar of his shirt, dragging him along as they ran to catch up with the twins.
âWhat are we runninâ for?â Artie sputtered in a choked voice.
Pilot looked down and saw that Artieâs face had turned bright crimson. He let go of his collar and the little guy let out a gasp, waving weakly in the direction from which theyâd bolted.
âThey look harmless enough!â he said. âAll they want is to bring us wonders, and rides, and upset stomachs . Thereâs nuthinâ sinister about it!â
âSays you.â Tweed rounded on him. âWe happen to have reliable intel that indicates to the contrary.â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âIt means we know stuff.â Cheryl pulled him behind a sandwich board, garishly painted with a
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