Fish Finelli Book 1: Seagulls Don't Eat Pickles Read Online Free PDF Page A

States.”
    “Yeah!” yelled Roger. “For the Lioness and the town of Whooping Hollow and the government of the United States!”
    “We’ll show him and stinky old Bryce, too,” I added.
    “Hey,” said Roger. “Maybe Mystery Man is a double agent for another country and posing as a spy for our country, whose cover is that he’s the director of the Whooping Hollow Library.”
    “You know what, Rog?” I shook my head. “You watch way too much TV.”
    “I’m just saying,” said Roger. “It could explain a lot, like why he’s got the poison darts in his shoes. If someone blows his cover, he can shoot them to silence them.”
    “Whoa!” said T. J. “We better tell Officer Babinski about this, since he’s the chief of police.”
    “We can’t,” I said. “Remember? I wasn’t supposed to be in the Special Collection in the first place. And in the second place, Roger’s just making up that double agent stuff. And in the third place, it’s no crime for someone to meet someone else at the duck pond.”
    “Then what are we going there for?”
    “We’re going because we’re trying to prevent a crime from happening.”
    “Oh, I get it,” said T. J. “Kinda like Batman and Robin.”
    “Exactly,” I said.
    “Bring some of your dad’s hunting clothes, too, T. J.,” said Roger. “You know, camo hats and shirts and stuff.”
    T. J. frowned. “Okay, but I get first dibs on the duck whistle, since it’s my dad’s.”
    “Quack! Quack!” Roger and I said.
    “Quack! Quack!” T. J. chimed in.
    “Every mission needs a name,” said Roger after we stopped quacking. “Let’s call it . . . Operation Quack!”

Quackerjacks!
    It was going to be a perfect night for a stakeout—warm but not too hot. The sky was blue, with just a few pink clouds. And there was a sliver of moon in the sky.
    I knocked on Roger’s back door.
    “Password?”
    “Roger, it’s me,” I said. “Let me in.”
    “Password.”
    “Come on, Roger. We don’t have time.”
    “I’ll give you a hint. It rhymes with
tack
.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Quack!”
    The door opened. Roger was wearing a camo fishing hat and a gigantic pair of hip waders. He had a garden hose tied around his waist to hold them up.
    I laughed. “How are you going to walk in those?”
    “Whaddya mean?” asked Roger, just as he tripped and landed on the kitchen floor. “A little practice is all I need.”
    “Where’s Summer?” I said as we headed down the basement steps.
    Roger pointed his finger up. “On the phone with the BFFs.”
    I smiled. That was why we were meeting at Roger’s house. His mom was working late and Summer was in charge. That meant as long as the house didn’t burn down, Roger could pretty much do what he wanted.
    T. J. was reading one of Roger’s vampire comic books. He was wearing a camo fleece and baseball cap, and was sucking down a cherry Pixy Stix. Roger tossed me a camo thermal.
    “Let’s go, guys,” I said.
    “Hold up, Finelli,” said Roger. “We need to do an equipment check.” He peered at a piece of paper that looked a lot like an old math test. Roger’s really good in math, but he hates to show his work, so the teacher puts red frowny faces next to his answers.

    “Binocs?” he asked.
    “Check.” I pulled a pair of binoculars out of my backpack.
    “Rope?”
    “Check.” I waved the rope around.
    “Flashlight? Wait! I’ve got that.” Roger dug around in the Bug Patrol backpack. “Ta-da!” He pulled out a pink Barbie flashlight.
    When we finished going over our equipment, T. J. jumped up. “Guys, you forgot the most important thing—snacks!” He tossed us each a Blow Pop.
    “Now for the final touch,” said Roger. He opened a tin of dark, goopy stuff. “Fish, you’re the first victim.”
    Before I could react, Roger smeared some all over my face. It was cold and gooey and smelled like skunk and toothpaste. YUCK!
    When we were finally all face-painted, we headed up the steps and outside. I could