VIKING

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York

  First published in the United States of America by Viking,

  an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2022

  Copyright © 2022 by Veronica Mang

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  Viking & colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Visit us online at penguinrandomhouse.com.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

  Ebook ISBN 9780593204399

  Cover illustrations © 2022 by Veronica Mang

  Cover design by Kate Renner

  Design by Kate Renner, adapted for ebook by Michelle Quintero

  The art for this book was made using graphite and gouache, and then colored digitally.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  About Virginia Hall

  About the Other Lady Spies

  About the Author

  To Serena,

  my first friend and closest confidante

  In a gloomy town filled with rain and snow, all was quiet and still. Dusk stretched slowly over the streets, while snow fell like powdered sugar over a donut. If you were a stranger passing through, you might assume that nothing out of the ordinary ever happened here. But if you looked closely—very closely—you might notice a tall, skinny house on a nondescript street. That house belonged to the Secret Spy Society. The curtains were drawn, but a warm light glowed inside, where three girls were about to stumble upon a new adventure.

  The Secret Spy Society was made up of the Lady Spies, notorious and accomplished secret agents. But there was also a special division called the Petite Private Eyes, which was made up of little girls named Peggy, Rita, and Dot. They were only spies in training but each had her own unique skills and accomplishments.

  Perhaps it was unusual for children their age to be studying espionage, but then again, Peggy, Rita, and Dot were not like most others. Tonight, the girls had visited the Lady Spies in the hopes of finding some adventure, but instead found themselves stuck with . . . homework. Spies must know the ins and outs of the world and that begins with social studies, reading, and math . . . or at least that’s what the Lady Spies told the girls whenever they complained about their schoolwork.

  Rita, who loved reading, thinking hard, and solving tricky problems, was staring intently at her paper and retracing her steps through a particularly puzzling bit of algebra.

  Dot, who loved action and making things with her hands, found herself drifting from her social studies homework and instead folding airplanes out of her notes. Occasionally she flung one across the room and sprinted after it.

  Peggy, who loved jokes, tricks, and sweet-talking, was not particularly excited about tedious equations and dreary literary classics. She had abandoned her homework entirely and was instead revisiting an earlier project. All was silent . . . until she raised two fingers to her lips and let out a glorious fwoooooot! that echoed around the room.

  A steady buh-dump, buh-dump began to drift from somewhere deeper inside the house. It grew louder and louder until . . .

  mrrrrow!

  A flurry of dots and fluff soared into the room and landed on the middle of the table, scattering pens and papers.

  It was Chiquita, Josephine Baker’s pet cheetah! Dot and Rita nearly toppled out of their chairs. They tried to look stern but broke into a fit of giggles.

  Chiquita looked very proud of herself. “Homework is important, but so are new tricks!” Peggy grinned.

  The girls’ laughs were interrupted by a sudden

  ding dong!

  at the front door.

  Miss Khan appeared from the shadows of the house, silent as the falling snow outside. She was the girls’ schoolteacher, and a few months ago they discovered that she was also part of the Secret Spy Society. They watched from the table as she crouched down and crept up to the door, looked through the peephole, and then sighed. She opened the door to reveal two women outside, looking very upset.

  It was the Fashion Twins, Josephine Baker’s longtime dress designers. They wore stylish clothes with bits of thread stuck to their stockings. Cece had big, beautiful curls, and Yuki kept a beret neatly perched upon her head. They both wore perfectly identical chic glasses, which is how they got their name.

  “Oh no. What happened to them?” Rita whispered.

  The girls often visited the Fashion Twins’ store to pick up dresses for Josephine, and the Fashion Twins were always cheerful and silly. But today was different: tears streaked their cheeks and their glasses were fogged from crying.

  “Something horrible has happened!” they cried.

  Peggy, Rita, and Dot watched wide-eyed as Miss Khan led the Fashion Twins to the living room, where some of the other spies were relaxing.

  She handed them a box of tissues. “Please—tell me what’s wrong,” she said kindly.

  “Well,” explained Yuki, “we were out for dinner—”

  “We came back to the shop—” Cece continued.

  “And the dresses were scattered all over the place—” Yuki added.

  “And there were footprints—” They gulped.

  “And mud—”

  “Someone stole one of our dresses!” the women cried in unison. Upon sharing this news, they burst into tears.

  Miss Khan and the other spies gathered around to listen intently.

  “Those dresses are our life’s work!” Cece cried, wiping the fog from her glasses.

  Up until this point, Peggy, Rita, and Dot had sat quietly at their table trying very hard to look busy but, like any good spies, were unable to keep themselves from eavesdropping. Stolen dresses? Mysterious footprints? Peggy couldn’t hold it in any longer. “We’ll help!” she exclaimed.

  The twins looked startled, as if to say, Is that even allowed?

  Peggy batted her eyes. “Well, after all, you Lady Spies are very busy with your other projects, and our schedule is wide open!”

  Dot and Rita sprung from the table. “Homework can wait!” they cheered, dashing for their coats.

  Cece was baffled. “Now?” she said. “It’s getting dark and it’s snowing!”

  Rita nodded. “Evidence only lasts for so long, and it’s important that we start our investigation immediately.”

  The Fashion Twins looked to Miss Khan, who shrugged. “It’s true,” she said, pausing to think. “Take Chiquita! She’ll keep you safe, and she’s excellent at tracking!”

  The girls walked over to shake the Fashion Twins’ hands.

  “Petite Private Eyes, at your service!”

  One by one, Peggy, Rita, Dot, and Chiquita piled into the Fashion Twins’ car and headed to the shop. When they arrived, it was obvious why Cece and Yuki were upset. All around them, spools of thread were littered on the floor and odds and ends of fabric were scattered around the room.

  Yuki held up a dress. “This one is torn!”

  Cece laid out another. “This one is covered in muddy footprints!”

  Yuki laid out one more. “And this one is all smeared with . . .”

  Peggy, Rita, and Dot gathered around. “What is that?” Rita asked with disgust.

  Dot, ever the adventurer, stepped forward. She sniffed, scooped a glob onto her finger, sniffed again. And then . . .

  Peggy and Rita shrieked, “Ewww!”

  Dot licked the pink-something off of her finger. Then she giggled. “It’s jelly!”

  “Jelly?” echoed the Fashion Twins.

  The girls were mystified. How odd, and how . . . sticky.

  “We need more clues,” said Rita.

  They looked under the sewing machine.

  They looked inside the thread drawer.

  They looked inside the storage closet.

  They even looked under a big taffeta gown.

  Dot sighed, slouching against the windowsill.

  “This feels pointless. Clearly, whoever did this was a real pro.” She rubbed her face in exhaustion.

  Peggy and Rita giggled. “Dot, your face is covered in . . . glitter!”

  Dot looked at her hands, which were twinkling. “Ah-ha!” The windowsill in front of her was covered in a layer of glittering rhinestones and twinkling sequins. She cracked the window open and began to

climb out. “Let’s go!”

  The Fashion Twins looked baffled.

  “Is this safe?” Yuki and Cece asked in perfect synchronization.

  “Don’t worry,” said Dot, one foot out of the window. “We have Chiquita! And besides, we’re professionals!”

  Outside, snow fell around them as glitter flashed under the streetlights.

  “Quick!” huffed Dot. “We need to pick up the pace—the snow is covering the trail!”

  Chiquita understood. She dashed ahead playfully.

  “Not too fast!” giggled Rita. “We’re not cheetahs!”

  The twinkling trail led them through town, and they followed through darkness and snow until they reached the back of a shadowy house. All sorts of strange noises were coming from inside—hooting, hollering, laughing, yelling.

  “What is this place?” asked Peggy with wide eyes.

  Dot looked determined. “Only one way to find out.” She approached a low basement window and peered inside.

  “Are those . . . scouts?” Children were bouncing off of furniture, and a few very frustrated-looking children were trying to work, occasionally shushing.

  “This can’t be the right place,” whispered Rita. “Why would these scouts be stealing Yuki and Cece’s beautiful dresses?”

  “Beats me,” whispered Dot. “We must have made a mistake. It happens to the best of spies.” But then she gasped. “Is that . . . jelly?”

  In the middle of the room, one scout was sitting, happily eating a big, drippy, sticky, messy . . . jelly donut. “Just like the jelly on the dress!” hissed Peggy.

  The girls moved away from the window.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” said Dot.

  “We need more intel,” said Rita, shaking her head. “Wait a second. This sounds like the perfect time for a stakeout!”

  “Sure,” said Peggy. “But I’m freezing. Let’s go home!” Chiquita’s nose was dripping, and her fur was powdered with snow. They hurried home and slept deeply, with dreams of glitter and donuts and raucous children.

  * * *

  * * *

  The following day, the girls met at their own clubhouse, which happened to be in Rita’s attic. Although they liked to spend time at the Secret Spy Society, their clubhouse was perfect for board games and sleepovers and preparing for last-minute operations.

  “A stakeout,” said Peggy with a sly grin. The girls were packing Rita’s handy bag. “What do we need?” She pulled out a suitcase from under the bed. It was stuffed to the brim with old accessories from Rita’s mother, and a strange assortment of Halloween costumes.

  “Nothing much,” said Rita. “Binoculars, sunglasses—”

  “A steak?” said Dot with a giggle.

  “Maybe, with your appetite!” Rita shot back with a giggle. Dot was a notorious snacker and was currently munching on a prehistoric sandwich she had unearthed from Rita’s bag.

  Peggy tossed sunglasses at the other girls. “Let’s roll.”

  As soon as they were finished with school the next day, the girls retraced their steps from the night before and were surprised to find a lavish house waiting for them in the daylight. A fence stood guard in front of a manicured lawn, and immaculately trimmed shrubbery traced the sidewalk. The girls kept their distance and lingered at a café down the block. (“Perfect for stakeout snacks!” Dot said.) Rita dug through her bag, which was loaded with odds and ends that most children would never think of: tape measures, markers that could write in invisible ink, even a windup toy. (“For creating diversions!” Rita always said.) She pulled out binoculars and peered through as they assumed position: hats pulled down, scarves hiked up, snacks at the ready, and a notebook poised for note-taking in Peggy’s lap.

  “Something’s happening!” hissed Rita.

  “What do you see?” Peggy elbowed Rita and grabbed for the binoculars.

  “Shhh! This is a stakeout!” Rita muttered, elbowing back. “There’s kids outside. Mowing the lawn. Another one is trimming the bushes. And a different scout is cleaning the windows.” Peggy took notes at a ferocious speed.

  “Wait . . . These are the kids from last night!” said Rita. Dot almost choked on her pizza. “I see someone inside. A lady. She’s instructing them from the window. Who is she?”

  They peeked through the binoculars one by one.

  “Why are they doing chores?” mumbled Dot through cheesy bites.

  At that moment, the lady in the house looked up and seemed to stare right back at them.

  “Eeeeek!” shrieked Dot. “Time to go!” They brushed the crumbs off of their jackets and hurried around the corner, out of sight.

  The girls retreated to the Secret Spy Society, feeling very defeated. They were greeted by the Lady Spies, who were gathered around the living room sipping hot coffees and reading books. The girls collapsed on the sofa in a huff.

  “Hello, girls!” Miss Khan waved cheerfully. “Fancy a snack?”

  Peggy took a cookie and munched glumly as she explained the situation. “We’re no closer to figuring out what happened to the missing dress!”

  Rita sighed. “We’re at a dead end.”

  Odette Hallowes leaned forward. “Don’t fret, girls. It happens to the best of us!”

  Violette Szabo nodded. “Sometimes you just need a new angle.”

  Miss Khan sat up a bit straighter. “Ah-ha!” she exclaimed, hopping from her seat and extending a hand to pull the girls out of their slump. “I know just the person to help!”

  She led them up the winding staircase into a part of the house they had never been to before. A door was tucked neatly at the end of the hall. Miss Khan knocked, and it opened.

  Sitting in a chair was an elegant woman. She had been hunched over a book, deep in thought, but she glanced up as the girls entered. She gave them a big smile, and a twinkle danced in her eyes.

  “Dindy!” cheered Peggy, Rita, and Dot.

  It was Virginia Hall, or “Dindy,” as her fellow Lady Spies called her. She always had a joke to tell and a trick up her sleeve. Virginia made everything a grand adventure and seemed to be filled with endless energy. She was usually on a covert mission to some top-secret location. But today . . .

  “You’re back!” the girls cheered. Virginia rose from her desk as the girls dashed forward to surround her in a bundle of hugs.

  “Hello, girls! What sort of mischief are you up to now?” she said with a sly grin.

  “We’re totally stuck on our latest case,” explained Dot.

  Peggy nodded vigorously. “Something fishy is going on inside that house.”

  Virginia thought for a moment. “It sounds like someone is hiding something.” She raised an eyebrow, pivoted on her heel, and turned to a bookcase behind her. With a mischievous grin, she pulled a nondescript book from the bottom of the shelf. At first nothing happened, but suddenly there was a loud guh-bonk! and the bookcase swung away from the wall to reveal a hidden door!

  “One of the most useful skills for a spy is the ability to go undercover!” Virginia stood up and pulled a few hangers from the hidden closet. “Who wants to go first?”

  They tried fancy costumes.

  Cool costumes.

  Ill-fitting costumes.

  And costumes that were just all wrong.

  Finally, at the back of the closet, they found them. “My old sporting uniforms!” Virginia cheered in delight. “I knew they would be useful someday!”

  The girls tried them on and then stepped out for their grand reveal.

  “We look just like those scouts!” Peggy squealed, and did a little dance to show off her new uniform, while Rita did a celebratory twirl and Dot tumbled into a cartwheel.

  “Costumes are great, but there are even more techniques for going undercover. For example”—Virginia sat up straight, pursed her lips, and began to talk in a very high, scrunched-up voice—“like this! You can draw attention to something very specific, like a unique speaking style or a strange laugh, which can distract from your true identity.” The girls gave it a try. Rita sounded gruff, Dot sounded sleepy, and Peggy worked her voice into a rich, pleasant drawl that made her sound like she was from somewhere very far away.

 

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