Secret Weapons

By Zilpha Keatley Snyder

The Castle Court Kids are back—and this time, they’re teaming up to fight the bad guys
Kate Nicely and her BFF, Aurora Pappas, haven’t told anyone about their top-secret science project that’s going to win first place at the Annual Interschool Science Fair. Carlos Garcia, Bucky Brockhurst, and Eddy Wong are working on one, too, if they could just agree on an idea that isn’t lame. But everyone could lose to Aurora’s kid brother, Carson, and Eddy’s younger brother, Web, who everyone at school knows is a genius. Does Web’s secret project have something to do with the two sinister-looking men in a black van who’ve been lurking around Castle Court? The rumors spread like wildfire: Web is developing some kind of secret weapon and terrorists are trying to steal it. That’s when the Castle Court Kids decide to form the top-secret AT Club (that’s Anti-Terrorist, of course). With the kids—and one enormous Saint Bernard—outnumbering the bad guys, all they have to do is wait for the perfect time to strike.
This ebook features an extended biography of Zilpha Keatley Snyder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Media
• Release date: Mar 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781480471627

Zilpha Keatley Snyder

Zilpha Keatley Snyder is the author of The Egypt Game, The Headless Cupid, and The Witches of Worm, all Newbery Honor Books. Her most recent books include The Treasures of Weatherby, The Bronze Pen, William S. and the Great Escape, and William’s Midsummer Dreams. She lives in Mill Valley, California. Visit her at ZKSnyder.com.

Book preview

Chapter 1

KATE NICELY CHECKED HER watch for the umpteenth time and then twisted around to look out the back window of the car. And for the umpteenth time Fifi had to look too. Standing on her skimpy hind legs, she shoved a face full of apricot-colored fuzz under Kate’s nose and yipped mournfully. Cool it, you dumb poodle Kate told her. Whining isn’t going to help.

Kate looked at her watch again and frowned—a fierce Karate Kate scowl. She was getting more frustrated by the minute, and having a frantic poodle whining in her ear wasn’t helping any either. Fifi always hated it when Kate’s mom went off and left her in the car, but this time she seemed more hysterical than usual. And, to make matters worse, Carson, Kate’s eight-year-old worrywart of a brother, had been slightly hysterical too—at least until a few minutes ago.

Where’s Mom, Kate? Where’s Tiffany? Carson kept saying. I bet the terrorists got them. (Carson had been worrying a lot about terrorists lately.) Do you think the terrorists got them? Do you, Kate?

But then, all at once—silence. Carson was like that. He could be right in the middle of a major anxiety attack and suddenly—clunk! Sound asleep.

Kate leaned over to check and, sure enough, he was still conked out in the front seat. She checked the time again and snorted. Then, in a very refined, adult-sounding voice, she said, We just have to pick up Tiffy’s new skirt, dear. Would you mind staying in the car to keep an eye on Carson and Fifi? We’ll be back in ten minutes. And then in her own voice she added, Gimme a break, Mom!

Gimme a break, for sure! How could anybody in their right mind believe that it was possible to take a teenager like Tiffany Nicely into a clothing store and be out again in ten minutes?

Putting her hand on the door handle, Kate considered—also for the umpteenth time—going into Macy’s to look for them. She’d have gone a long time ago, except that would have meant leaving Fifi and Carson alone in the car. And a public parking lot didn’t seem like a particularly good place to leave a hysterical poodle and an unconscious kid. Peeking over the front seat again, Kate nodded. Yep. Unconscious was the only word for it. She sighed and sank back on the seat.

Fifi was pawing at the window now and her yips were getting louder. In desperation Kate grabbed the poodle around the middle, flipped her over, and began to scratch her stomach. Stomach scratching usually took Fin’s so-called mind off her problems, at least for a while. It worked. Fifi’s lips pulled back in a doggy grin and one hind foot began to twitch. Kate sighed. Long-term scratching could get pretty boring, but anything was better than long-term yipping. So Kate went on scratching—and Fifi went on twitching.

Several more minutes had passed when, so suddenly that it scared Kate half to death, the peacefully twitching poodle exploded into a yapping tornado, ricocheting joyfully from one side of the car to the other. And sure enough, there they were, the long-lost Nicelys—Mom and Tiffany.

Well, Kate said, glaring at Tiffany, who was carrying two Macy’s shopping bags and looking very pleased with herself. That must have been the longest ten minutes in the history of the world!

Tiffany opened both doors, pulled Carson out of the front seat, and dumped him across Kate’s lap. Carson went on sleeping.

What’s eating you, twerp? she said to Kate as she climbed into the front seat.

Kate folded her double-jointed little brother into a knobby blob on the seat beside her. Glaring at the back of Tiffany’s stylish hairdo, she said, I’m late! Humongously, fatally late. That’s what’s eating me. I promised Aurora I’d be home by four to work on our science project. She probably gave up and did it herself, and our procedure rules say that we have to do it together.

Yuck, Tiffany said, pretending to gag. Everybody is so sick of hearing about your big old super-secret science-fair project. I mean, it’s been going on practically forever. When is this stupid science fair going to be over with, anyway?

Next month, Kate said. The Annual Interschool Science Fair is going to be held next month, and Aurora and I are going to win.

Tiffany had tipped the rearview mirror and was using it to check her makeup. Next month! she squealed around the lipstick she was slathering on her lips. Another whole month! I can’t stand it.

What’s it to you? Kate said.

"What’s it to me? Well, for one thing, there’s the smell. Whatever secret project you guys are working on, I know one thing about it. It stinks. Staring at herself in the mirror, Tiffany wiggled her lips together like a monkey eating a banana, checked the results, and then said, And you stink! Haven’t you noticed, Mom? Whatever it is she’s doing over there at the Pappases’, it definitely makes her stink."

Tiffany dear, Mrs. Nicely said absentmindedly as she waited for a chance to get out of the parking lot into the rush-hour traffic. "Stink is not a nice word to use about your sister."

But she does, Mom, Tiffany said. Haven’t you noticed? Every time she comes back from the Pappases’ lately she smells awful. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.

I don’t stink, Kate said. We always wash our hands after—

After what? Tiffany turned around quickly and gave Kate a sneaky smirk. After what, sister dear?

Kate smirked back. Wouldn’t you like to know.

Mrs. Nicely had been busy beating out a bright red sports car but, once out into the line of traffic, she finally got around to answering Tiffany’s question. Noticed—a smell? Well, I did notice something the other day. But I thought it was just Carson. She glanced back over her shoulder at the unconscious lump in the backseat. His room, that is. I thought the smell was probably coming from Carson’s room.

Yeah, Tiff, Kate said triumphantly. That’s all it was. You were just smelling Carson’s room. Carson’s bedroom, where he kept a huge menagerie of weird bugs and animals, always had a very strange odor.

Tiffany shook her head. No, that wasn’t it at all. She wasn’t anywhere near Carson’s room at the time. And she definitely smelled like a garbage pail.

Now stop that, Tiffany, Mrs. Nicely said firmly, and Tiffany, after giving Kate a final over-the-shoulder sneer, stopped.

Kate ignored her. She was checking the time again when Carson opened one eye and mumbled something.

Fish, he said. Kate smells like dead fish.

Kate gasped and sniffed her hands. They smelled okay to her. She glared at Carson but both his eyes were closed again. Carson, she whispered softly, not wanting Mom or Tiffany to overhear. Carson? But there was no answer. He’d either gone back to sleep, or he was doing a good job of pretending.

Kate sniffed her hands again, thoughtfully. Had she really been going around smelling like dead fish all this time? And it had been a long time. It had been way back in January that Mrs. Davis, the fifth-grade teacher at Beaumont School, started talking about the rules for the science fair. And the very first rule had been to get started right away, even though the fair was months away. So Kate and Aurora had picked out a hypothesis (which, according to Mrs. Davis, was a kind of educated guess) and started in