TITLE: THE SPIES WHO HATED ME
GENRE: YA mystery
My parents thought they won this trip to Paris in a contest, but then they believed I went to football camp the last two summers, not spy school.
Headquarters told me to watch for my contact when we arrived at Charles de Galle Airport. I'd been on the lookout since we got off the plane from New York.
When we stepped out into the drizzle and headed for a taxi, a lady screamed so loud, I dropped my luggage and stared in her direction.
“What’s happening?” In braids and full-cowgirl outfit, my eight-year-old sister banged into me with her suitcase.
A lady with a red face pointed at a kid about my age, running through the crowd. “Thief! Stop him! He’s got my purse!”
“Get back.” I pushed Ruthie behind me and wished I'd packed my spy gear, which I couldn't have chanced in case my parents saw the inside of my suitcase. It didn't matter anyway.
Spy Rule #11: The most important thing for a good spy is their training, not how many gadgets they have.
The thief wore scruffy clothes that bagged around his skinny body. He zigzagged down the sidewalk, jumped over luggage, and held his other arm out to push bystanders away.
“Stop him, somebody!” The lady shouted again.
When the thief ran by, I grabbed him around the shoulders. He struggled and tried to push me away, but I held on. We fell to the ground with a loud thud, and I yanked the purse out of his hands.