Princess private eye, p.1
Princess Private Eye, page 1
Copyright © 2023 by Disney Enterprises, Inc.
All rights reserved. Published by Disney • Hyperion, an imprint of Buena Vista Books, Inc. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney • Hyperion, 77 West 66th Street,
New York, New York 10023.
First Edition, May 2023
Designed by Alice Moye-Honeyman
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Skye, Evelyn, author.
Title: Princess Private Eye / by Evelyn Skye.
Description: First edition. • Los Angeles : Hyperion, 2023. • Audience:
Ages 8–12. • Audience: Grades 4–6. • Summary: Twelve-year-old Gen, a
foster child living in New York, discovers she is a long-lost princess
of the Kingdom of Raldonia, and must solve the mystery
behind a threat to the crown.
Identifiers: LCCN 2022031362 (print) • LCCN 2022031363 (ebook)
ISBN 9781368078023 (hardcover) • ISBN 9781368096232 (ebk)
Subjects: CYAC: Foster children—Fiction. • Princesses—Fiction.
Detective and mystery stories. • LCGFT: Detective and
mystery fiction. Novels.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.S5845 Pr 2023 (print) • LCC PZ7.1.S5845 (ebook)
DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022031362
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022031363
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Good Detective Traits
1. Something's Fishy
2. Time to Rock 'n' Roll
3. Gen Has a Tail
4. Home Stink Home
5. The Way the Cracker Crumbles
6. Phishing for Clues
7. That's an Awful Lotta Names
8. We're the Good Guys, Honest!
9. Blood Is Thicker than Saliva
10. You Can't Wear a Baby Blankie
11. 2+2 = Trouble
12. One Sheep, Two Sheep, Three Sheep... Zzzzzz
13. A-Maze-ing
14. Heavy Is the Head that Wears the Curse, I Mean, the Crown
15. Is a Hacker without a Computer Even a Hacker Anymore?
16. Raldonian “ Bobsled" Team
17. Homework Is a Royal Pain
18. You've Got to Be Squidding Me
19. Smells Like Sabotage
20. Dressed to Krill
21. Orange You Glad I'm Here?
22. Not-So-Sly Fox
23. Talk Like a Princess
24. Lost in Time
25. Bugapalooza
26. Hurricane Gen
27. Today's Forecast: Foggy with a Chance of Coincidence
28. Shiverrr Me Timberrrs
29. Rapunzel's Tower, without All the Hair
30. Panning for Brass
31. Framed Family Portrait
32. Knock, Knock... Who's There?
33. Apologies Come in Pairs
34. Frosty the Grandma
35. The Apple Doesn't Fall Far from the Tree
36. Supernatural
37. Countdown till Crown Time
38. One Day till Crown Time
39. Head in the Cloud
40. Sewer Scum and Royal Rats
41. Good Detective Trait Number Eleven
42. Are You Ready to Paaaaarty?
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To Clark, Sylvia & Mabel—
May you always be clever and curious
Genevieve Sun limped into Frying Nemo on her crutches, sat down in the booth closest to the door, and picked up a menu like she was going to order. She didn’t have any money, and most waiters might ask a twelve-year-old where her mom was, but Gen had learned over many years of basically being on her own that if you acted like you belonged somewhere, people didn’t question you.
That’s how she snuck into movie theaters, carnivals, and zoos. You just found a group of kids or a big family and tagged along at the edges. Then you ducked deeper into the group so the usher didn’t realize you never had a ticket. The other method involved making a huge commotion and slipping in when all the grown-ups were distracted.
But that other method wouldn’t work today. The toy thieves were here in the restaurant, and Gen didn’t want them to notice her.
Kenneth Friedman, her eleven-year-old foster brother, sat down across from her and also picked up a menu, just like she’d told him to do.
She quickly took in their surroundings. That was Good Detective Trait Number One:
Know exactly who and what is around you.
At all times.
Frying Nemo was a small diner that smelled like greasy seafood and potatoes. It had a counter with eight barstools and four booths along the window.
The restaurant was only a third full. From Gen’s seat near the front door, she had a clear view of the three other booths behind Kenneth.
Closest booth: empty.
Next booth: a group of teenagers with skateboards.
Farthest booth in the corner: three adults dressed up like the Hulk, Captain America, and Black Widow for the New York Comic Con that was starting later today.
Out of Gen’s peripheral vision, she could also watch the counter. The barstools had been empty until thirty seconds ago, when a man and woman wearing black suits came in. The woman looked queasy as she sat down, but the man didn’t seem to notice.
Gen caught a faint whiff of something out of place in a fish and chips restaurant.... Was that peanut butter, bacon, and pickles?
Weird.
“Which ones are the toy thieves?” Kenneth whispered, holding the menu over his mouth like he was a spy in a movie.
“You’re being too obvious,” Gen said, smiling while gently grabbing his wrist and lowering the menu back onto the counter. Good Detective Trait Number Two:
Never draw attention to yourself.
“Sorry,” Kenneth said. “I’m just really excited.”
Her eyes gleamed. Gen loved a good mystery, and this one had presented itself fifteen minutes ago, while she and Kenneth were in the nearby park. Gray-haired Mrs. Popper, who always pushed a dingy souvenir cart to try to sell Statue of Liberty keychains to tourists, had sprinted on wobbly knees toward them, the souvenirs on her cart jangling like alarms.
“Gen! Gen! We need your help! Some thieves just ran by. They knocked Jimmy’s crutches out from under him and stole some of the neighborhood boys’ backpacks full of action figures. The crooks were gone before we knew what happened, and the boys are crying, and I don’t know what to do!”
Which is how Gen and Kenneth ended up here at Frying Nemo. With Gen borrowing crutches she didn’t really need. Good Detective Trait Number Three:
If you’re going undercover, the best disguise
is one that the crooks will never suspect.
“The thieves are the skateboarders behind us,” Gen whispered.
“How do you know?” Kenneth asked.
“There were skateboard skid marks right next to where the action figures were stolen,” Gen said. “Then I noticed there were skateboard tracks in the dirt heading east. When we followed them, I saw flyers on the lampposts for Comic Con, so I deduced that the thieves stole the action figures to try to resell them at the convention.”
Kenneth frowned. “If it’s related to Comic Con, wouldn’t the bad guys be the people dressed up like the Hulk?”
Gen shook her head. “Those costumes are custom-made—way above normal Halloween quality—which means they’re superexpensive. The cosplayers don’t need extra money. But since we’ve been here, the skateboarders have been talking about how much they want to buy the new virtual reality system that’s coming out soon. That’s why they’re going to resell the action figures.” Good Detective Trait Number Four:
Remember—everything is a piece of the puzzle.
“How can you possibly listen to them and talk to me at the same time?” Kenneth’s eyes went wide as dinner plates, super-impressed. “And also, how’d you know the skateboarders would come here?”
“The flyers said the doors to Comic Con open at two. It’s only twelve thirty now.”
A waitress came by to take their order. Gen’s stomach growled.
But there were more important things to worry about right now, like getting those kids’ toys back to them. Grown-ups often thought of Gen as a girl who got into too much mischief, but she knew the truth—she was guided by her big heart, and if there was any injustice that Gen could fix, she would do it. Good Detective Trait Number Five:
Put others before yourself.
“We need more time to look at the menu,” she lied to the waitress.
The woman looked annoyed and grumbled under her breath, but she went away.
“So,” Gen said, continuing to answer Kenneth’s earlier question, “I figured the thieves would want to eat lunch before they headed over to the Comic Con. And there was a man on the last street corner holding a big wooden fish sign advertising fifty percent off meals for Comic Con ticket-holders. And voilà.” She nodded her head discreetly toward the skateboarders’ booth. “There they are.”
Indeed, two small backpacks lay in the aisle, on top of skateboards. The backpacks were exactly like Mrs. Popper described—bright red and covere
“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” Kenneth said. (His grandma was Southern and he was always saying random things like that.) “You’re brilliant.”
Gen grinned. “I know.” That’s one thing the foster care system had gotten right. Her case file description said, “Genevieve Sun is very smart but has a bit of a problem following rules because she thinks she can make better ones.” (Gen had snuck a peek at her file once, when a social worker from Child Protective Services came to visit one of her foster families. During the meeting, Gen purposely burned some toast to set off the smoke alarm, and when the adults evacuated the apartment, she stole her file and had fifteen minutes alone with it on the fire escape before the firefighters said it was fine for everyone to go back inside. Gen snuck it back onto the coffee table, and the social worker never knew any better.)
“Okay,” Kenneth said. “We found the thieves. What do we do next?”
Gen picked up her menu, leaned across the table, and began whispering the plan she’d hatched within the last few minutes, all while pointing at the menu to pretend that was what they were discussing.
When she was finished, Kenneth practically bounced on the vinyl seat of the booth in anticipation. Gen glanced at the four souvenir shopping bags she’d gotten from Mrs. Popper—two empty, two full—and she smiled at Kenneth.
“Now we spring the trap,” Gen said. “It’s time for Operation Rock ’n’ Roll.”
Kenneth ran past the thieves’ table to the last booth, where the trio dressed up like the Hulk, Captain America, and Black Widow had just received their lunches.
“Whoa!” Kenneth shouted, throwing his arms in the air and making a commotion, just like Gen had instructed. “You’re the Wrecking Ball Three, aren’t you?”
The Hulk looked up with his face pinched. “The what?”
“From YouTube! The video game streamers with, like, twenty million followers. Oh man, I almost didn’t recognize you with those costumes on!”
(There was no such thing as the Wrecking Ball Three, but Gen figured having celebrities in their midst was a great distraction. Plus, the skateboarding thieves had been talking about a virtual reality system, so they were obviously interested in video games.)
In fact, the thieves had already turned around at Kenneth’s fanboy yelling. Then, after he mentioned “twenty million followers,” the nearest thieves hung over the seats and the farther ones leaned against their table to get closer to the supposed YouTube stars.
“Uh, sorry, kid,” the woman dressed up as Black Widow said. “I think you got us mixed up with someone else.”
“Oooooh.” Kenneth put his index finger in front of his lips. “I get it. You don’t want to get crushed by fans. Don’t worry, we’ll keep your identities on the down low, right?” He turned to the skateboarders, who started nodding vehemently.
As one of the middle children in his family, Kenneth was really good at talking about nothing for a long time, because that was the only way he could get attention.
As a foster child, Gen, on the other hand, had more experience with stealth. When you’re an orphan whose life is in the hands of others, you learn how to move silently and hide in plain sight, becoming virtually invisible. That’s how you eavesdrop on what the grown-ups have planned for you. Good Detective Traits Numbers Six and Seven:
Gather as much information as possible, and Be as invisible as a ghost.
Now Gen used those honed skills to slip soundlessly into the booth next to the thieves, with Mrs. Popper’s souvenir bags carefully cradled to her chest and the crutches in her other hand.
“Can I get your autograph?” Kenneth was saying to the Wrecking Ball Three. “It doesn’t have to be fancy. Like, on that napkin is fine. Even though it’s dirty. I mean, what am I saying? I would be honored to have your ketchup stains on an autograph! So what do you say? Yes? Autographs for all of us?” He fired questions like he was at a shooting gallery at Coney Island, but Kenneth didn’t give the costumed trio even a second to answer. He just kept talking. Very loudly.
Which is exactly what Gen needed. Using Kenneth’s voice as cover, she reached out with one of the crutches, planted it on top of the closest skateboard, and rolled it (with the first backpack) along the aisle until it was next to her.
Before she picked up the backpack, Gen double-checked that no one was watching. The skateboarders were all begging for autographs and selfies with the Wrecking Ball Three. The waitress was talking to the man in the suit at the counter, and the suited woman was still trying not to puke. Kenneth kept blabbering.
Excellent.
Gen unzipped the backpack.
Jackpot! It was filled to the brim with action figures, just like Mrs. Popper had said. Gen quickly transferred the toys into one of the empty souvenir bags, then put a different souvenir bag—this one full of small rocks—into the backpack.
At the far booth, one of the faux celebrities finally managed to interrupt Kenneth’s monologue. “Look, kid, I don’t know what to tell you, but we’re not the Wrecking Ball Three. So if you don’t mind, we’re trying to eat our lunch, okay?”
Shoot. Gen had better hurry. Kenneth could probably talk for another minute before the skateboarders stopped believing him, but once that time was up, she would be left without any cover. She still had another backpack full of toys to replace with rocks, plus she had to get the skateboards back where they belonged.
“Oh, yeah, I totally get it,” Kenneth said. “I was thinking about getting some lunch, too. Gotta power up for Comic Con and all your fans, huh? What do you guys recommend? Are the fish and chips good? Or maybe fish sticks? Or maybe something more adventurous, like the Fried Squid Tentacle Delight. I mean, I’ve never been here before, so...”
Gen used the crutch to roll the second skateboard and backpack over to her table. She poured the action figures from that backpack into another empty souvenir bag, crammed the last bag of rocks into the backpack, and just finished zipping it when the man dressed as Captain America said to Kenneth, “Move, kid. I have to pee.” He tried to slide out of the booth, but Kenneth threw himself in his path and shouted, “Please give me an autograph first and then I won’t bother you anymore!”
Yikes! Gen had fifteen seconds, at best. She rushed to set the rock-filled backpacks onto their skateboards.
With the closest crutch, she pushed them one at a time back down the aisle. The first one rolled too far and bumped into Kenneth’s ankle bone, and he winced a little when it hit him.
He nudged it back toward the thieves’ table.
Gen held her breath. Would the skateboarders notice?
Luckily, they seemed more focused on whether Captain America was going to give Kenneth an autograph.
Whew, that was close. Too close.
“Seriously, kid,” the Hulk said. “Beat it!”
Gen scooted out of the booth and back into the one closest to the door, bringing the crutches and souvenir bags of action figures with her. Then she pretended to yawn and stretched her arms far over her head.
That was her “Time to Go” signal. Good Detective Trait Number Eight:
Always establish clear, nonverbal signals with your squad
in case you can’t talk to each other during an operation.
Kenneth saw her signal out of the corner of his eye.
“You’re right,” he said loudly to the Hulk. “The Wrecking Ball Three is way nicer to their fans than you are. You know what? Now I’m not even hungry anymore. Thanks a lot for ruining a kid’s day.”
The skateboarders grumbled, too, disappointed as they settled back into their booth.
Kenneth pretended to sulk as he returned to his and Gen’s original table, and together they slipped out of Frying Nemo.
“Stellar performance!” Gen said, high-fiving Kenneth when they were a block away.
He beamed. “Did you get the action figures?”
“Of course,” Gen said, holding up the two souvenir bags proudly while carrying the crutches in her other arm. “Those con artists weren’t going to foil me.”
Kenneth frowned. “They weren’t con artists. They were just grab-and-run thieves... Ohhh,” he said, suddenly understanding Gen’s play on words. “I get it. Comic Con, and con artist. Good one, Gen.”
She was very pleased with how Operation Rock ’n’ Roll had gone, but she felt even better when she returned the action figures to the boys at the park and saw the huge smiles on their faces. Jimmy and a couple others were foster kids like her, and Gen had an extra soft spot for anyone in the system. You just got bounced around a lot, and sometimes, all you really had were the few possessions you got to carry from place to place.
