Tom's First Spy Adventure

By Clare Durand

Ten-year-old Tom Smith's obsession with spies turns a dull summer day at the mall into an adventure he'll never forget.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clare Durand
• Release date: Jul 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301555130

Clare Durand

Clare Durand has been making up spy stories since she was a child. Repeated encouragement from friends and family to write them down has finally been successful. Authors she read growing up who have influenced her include Clifford B. Hicks, Edgar Rice Burroughs, and Alistair MacLean. When she is not dreaming up new Tom Adventures, Clare works as a high school math teacher and competes in the sport of orienteering.

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Tom's First Spy Adventure

Clare Durand

Copyright 2012 Clare Durand

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DEDICATION

To Beverly, the Jim and Lynda to my Tom.

CHAPTER 1

Summertime in Southern California is hot and dry, so if you go outside and run around you get all dirty and sweaty. Tom Smith loved summertime. As he ran along a trail through the hills in the neighborhood, the heat of the morning made him feel like he’d really accomplished something. When he finished, he grabbed the front yard hose and gave himself a good dousing to cool off. He shook his soaked dark hair like a wet dog, sending droplets flying across the yard, and began to guzzle all the water that he could.

Hey Tom, where’ve you been? I thought we were going to the mall today.

Tom looked up to see Jim Jeffries straddling his bicycle. Jim had been Tom’s best friend for as long as he could remember. Living just a few houses apart, they had literally grown up together. All year they had been talking about how this summer would be the best. They had finished elementary school and would be starting middle school in the fall. That made it their first summer without an adult chaperone. Tom had envisioned an adventurous summer with Jim. With their new freedom they could ride around town to see movies or go to the park. Plus, they could spend all the time they wanted adventuring in the hills. But it wasn’t turning out that way. Tom’s intense interest in spies was getting on Jim’s nerves.

I was out running, Tom answered. A spy’s got to be fast in case of a foot chase. It’s part of my training.

Yeah, right. Jim put his hand in front of his mouth, pretending he was announcing into a microphone. Ten year old Tom Smith, as part of his international spy training, won twelve gold medals in the Olympics this summer.

Jim put his hand down and pleaded with Tom, Can’t you just spend a few hours not talking about spies? Kids don’t do spy stuff. Those books and movies you collect are all just made-up stories. Real spies hang out in more interesting places than Oaktown. I’ll bet there isn’t a spy within a hundred miles of here. Now get your bike and let’s just have a normal day at the mall.

Tom was surprised by Jim’s whining. As he walked over to get his bike, he answered, "Jeez, Jim. It’s not that big of a deal. I was just running. But if it bothers you that much, I’ll try to be normal for a day."

The mall was about two miles from Tom’s house and mostly downhill. The hard part was always going back home—when it was mostly uphill. Tom’s wet hair and clothing kept him cool as they whizzed down the hill. The heat had dried him completely by the time they arrived. They locked up their bikes in the racks and headed in.

Oaktown’s indoor mall had just opened the past spring and was long overdue. Before that the main shopping area was Barton Plaza. The outdoor plaza had existed for decades and a few of the older residents of Oaktown had protested against an indoor mall. But most residents were happy to finally have one; and the kids loved it. The new mall was already the center of the summer universe for the under eighteen population. Everyone was there, even if they didn’t have any money to spend. You’d probably meet other kids that you knew and with a few bucks you could get some food and see a movie.

As the boys entered, the world around them changed from hot summer hills to cool urban marketplace. The mall was it’s own little city with distinctly different neighborhoods. Outside, skateboarders roared over the cement pathways. When it got too hot, they’d be in the downstairs arcade, playing virtual skateboard games. Tribes of young girls roamed the halls and the clothing stores—always chattering, always looking for the hottest new fashion. Similar groups of boys would lean against the walls trying to look cool and detached while the girls giggled at them. Teenagers working at the shops would meet in dark corners of the service hallways to avoid the younger crowds. Moms and their small children would be bustling around, waiting for summer to be over, when they would have the mall back to themselves.

It was always Jim’s idea to go to the mall. He enjoyed the indoor social environment and seeing all the other kids. When the mall first opened, Tom had been excited. He’d figured a new indoor mall would bring some adventure to town. Now that he’d had a chance to get used to it, he hated it. He preferred the Plaza, where at least you could run around. If you ran too much inside the mall, the security guards would kick you out. And other than food and movies, the shops all seemed to sell clothes for girls. He went along because it was what Jim liked to do.

Tom really wanted to be having adventures, but the mall had too much security for anything exciting to ever happen there—unless you thought that a sale at Bloomingdale’s was the height of excitement. The only person Tom had ever met who could get excited about that was his older sister Lisa. Luckily, her summer job was at a burger stand in the old downtown area. Tom didn’t have to worry about her pestering him at the mall. He just spent most of his time following Jim around and imagining the amazing adventures he might be having if he was out chasing bad guys.

This day was no different. After making the usual circuit of the mall and finding nothing exciting at all, Tom decided to park himself on a bench outside the bookstore. Jim stood over him.

Man, you’re really no fun today, said Jim. Look at Lynda and her friends over by the food court. They look like they’re having fun. Why don’t we go talk to them? Jim tried to tease Tom into action. You know she likes you.

But Tom wasn’t looking in Lynda’s direction and wasn’t even listening. He was just staring into the bookstore.

Tom, hey! Jim waved his hand in front of Tom’s face.

Jim, stop it! Tom grabbed Jim’s hand and pulled him down onto the bench as he whispered, Don’t draw attention. And be quiet.

What are we whispering for?

You see that man over there in the bookstore, the one in the blue polo shirt and black slacks, looking at the comic books. I think I know him.

Okay, so go say, ‘Hi.’

No, I mean I know who he is, said Tom. He’s a real live spy! He’s with the Office of National Intelligence and Security.

Jim shook his head slowly and sighed, "So much for normal. I don’t want to play spy stories right now, Tom. Let’s go talk to Lynda and the other girls."

I’m not playing. He’s one of the pictures in my spy scrapbook. I’m almost certain. Mr. Samuel Johnson. I think he’s some kind of manager. I lucked out to get his name and picture. It was in his hometown paper when he got promoted and my uncle sent it to me. I don’t think that kind of stuff’s supposed to be printed. It’s all top secret. I wonder what he’s doing here.

You’re actually serious? You think that man is an ONIS agent? What would a spy be doing in Oaktown? It’s boring town, USA. Jim slumped down in his seat dejectedly for a moment. Then he sat up, looked at Tom and grinned slyly. I dare you to go ask him.

Oh yeah, that’d work. ‘Hello, Mr. Johnson, I know you’re a spy and I’m so pleased to meet you. So, what sort of spy caper brings you to Oaktown?’ He’d probably kill me just for asking.

He’s been looking at those comic books for a long time, said Jim. What do you think he’ll pick—Superman? Spiderman? X-men? Wait, I know. There’s probably a coded message in the comics. If we just knew the code, we could learn all the national secrets. Jim started laughing.

The comic books aren’t important, replied Tom seriously. He’s just looking at them to blend in with the shoppers. He’s probably waiting for a contact or maybe he’s following someone.

Or maybe he’s just shopping like all normal people do. Lynda’s voice startled the boys and they turned around.