7

MAMA WORKS EVEN LONGER HOURS ON THE WEEKEND, so she won’t be home
until really late. That means I’ve got no choice but to call her at work about
going to camp this summer. The phone call goes something like this:
Mama: What’s happened? Are you hurt? Is everything okay?
Me: I’m fine, Mama—
Mama: Amari. Renee. Peters. You know not to call me at work unless it’s
an emergency.
Me: It kind of is, though. I have to be somewhere tomorrow and I need
your permission.
Mama: You do remember that you’re still very much grounded?
Me: I know but . . .
Mama: But what exactly?
Me: It’s Quinton’s old summer camp. He must’ve nominated me before
everything happened.
Mama: (A long pause) Is that so. You got the number to the program?
Me: (Reads number listed in the “How to Deal with NonBureau Parents”
pamphlet.)
Mama: I’ll give them a call and let you know what I decide.
While I wait for Mama to call back, I go through the rest of the Starter
Kit. Inside is my own personal copy of One Thousand and One Careers,
Protected Edition. It’s so protected that I can’t even read it. All the pages
are blank.
There’s also a list of items I’ll need to bring.

Items Needed

—Yourself, everything else will be provided

Last is a tiny vial of blue liquid. The attached tag reads:

TRUE SIGHT
BY VOILÀ PHARMACEUTICALS
One drop in each eye. Take immediately.
On the rare occasion that you find yourself
with X-ray vision, please consult a doctor

It takes me a few tries but eventually I get the drops in my eyes. Nothing
happens, though. Not even the Xray vision. But I’m still so proud of myself
I do a little dance in the mirror.
A knock sounds in the living room.
I dash to the front door, wondering if it’s something to do with the
Bureau of Supernatural Affairs. But one look through the peephole and I
can see it’s Mrs. Walters. Her permanent frown brings down my good mood
even from outside. She’s one of those people you can’t ever imagine
smiling. The type of person who looks annoyed even when they’re on TV
accepting a check for winning the lottery. I open the door and say in my
most polite voice, “Hello, Mrs. Walters. How can I help you?”
“Don’t you Hello, Mrs. Walters me! Your mama told me to keep an eye
on you in case you tried to sneak out. And I caught you! Saw you at that
bus stop, and I saw who you were talking to. Wait till your mama hears
about . . .”
I’m right in the middle of coming up with a really sorry excuse when I
blink, and Mrs. Walters’s facial features begin to swell and shrink. And
that’s not even the biggest change. “Um, Mrs. Walters? How long has your
face been green?”
Mrs. Walters stops midsentence, reaching up to touch the end of her
suddenly long, pointed nose. Her beady eyes bulge in surprise. “You can see
me? Really see me?”
I nod. “You look like the Wicked Witch of the West from that really old
movie . . .”
Mrs. Walters shrieks and steps back away from my door. “That’s what I
get for buying that discount concealer!” She throws down some powder and
disappears into a cloud of smoke.

No way. I step out into the hallway and wave my hand through the fading
haze. Mrs. Walters is really gone. I guess Mr. Ware knew what he was
talking about—there really are supernatural beings in the world. In my
neighborhood!
Not that I didn’t believe him—but seeing it is way different from just
hearing about it. And I guess I know why those eye drops are called True
Sight. I’ve seen Mrs. Walters a hundred times and never knew she was a
witch.
What have I gotten myself into?

It’s Sunday afternoon and Mama is late. When she finally called me back
last night we agreed that she’d leave work today at 3:00 p.m. in order to
make sure we had plenty of time to get across town.
Instead, it’s after four when she comes stumbling through the front door
with shopping bags in both hands. She drops the bags when she sees me and
wraps me up in a great big hug. “This is so wonderful,” she says. “Just what
you need. When Quinton came back that first summer he was different.
More mature.”
“What’s in the bags?” I ask.
“Oh, I just picked up a few things for you. I know they claim you don’t
need to bring anything but, trust me, you’ll be glad. I grabbed you some
new pajamas, all your hair products, ooh, those fuzzy socks you love . . .”
My ears automatically tune her out the moment I catch sight of the Best
Buy bag. I scramble over and open it up, gasping once my eyes land on
what’s inside. The sleek wooden box contains the cell phone I’ve wanted
practically my whole life. It’s even the newest version.
“I thought we couldn’t afford for me to get a new cell phone?” I ask. In
fact, how can we afford any of this stuff?
Mama just smiles. “I won’t have my daughter gone for most of the
summer without a reliable way to keep in touch.”
“But Mama,” I say. She totally avoided my question.
She puts her hands on her hips. “Okay, I went to the payday loan place,
but this won’t be like last time.”
I’m like a balloon with a brandnew hole, the way my excitement spills
out of me. Last time Mama took out a loan, she had to use bill money to pay it back and we almost got kicked out of our apartment for missing rent.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Mama says, that familiar sadness creeping
into her expression. “Just let me do something nice for you for once.”
I don’t have the heart to fight with her when she gets like this. So I just
say “okay,” and force a smile.
Mama smiles too and then adds, “I had a little bit stashed away in case of
an emergency, and seeing as the program offers a scholarship, I won’t have
to put it toward your tuition next year.”
“The scholarship isn’t guaranteed,” I say. “There’s a chance I won’t get
it.”
“You are my daughter and Quinton’s baby sister. Ain’t a chance in the
world they won’t give you that scholarship.”
I open my mouth to remind her I’m not nearly as good at everything as
Quinton is, but I stop myself. That would only make her sad again.
“Remind me—what time did you need to be there?” she asks.
“Six,” I say, glancing at the clock. It’s 4:07 p.m. “How long is the drive?”
“Oh, we’ve got plenty of time,” says Mama.
“Even with the big music festival going on downtown?”
“Is that tonight?” she asks. “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot. Traffic is
going to be a nightmare.” We exchange a panicked look and make a mad
dash to get ready. Mama swears she can get us to the address on time as long as she sticks to
her side roads and backstreets. These aren’t nearly as busy as the main
roads but they are definitely way more . . . interesting than I remember.
First, Mama cuts off a man who waves a fist at us, except it’s not a fist
but a paw. And he isn’t so much yelling at us as he is growling. My jaw
drops and I turn to see what Mama makes of it, but she doesn’t seem to
notice. It has to be the eye drops, right?
It gets weirder. A man waiting at the next bus stop is literally on fire, but
he doesn’t seem bothered by it. Like, at all. He even lights a cigarette on his
forehead. The lady that lets Mama turn in front of her? Snakes for hair. I try
not to meet her eyes in case she decides it would be fun to turn me into
stone, Medusastyle, but Mama just waves thanks and keeps on driving. It isn’t until we spend the longest red light ever next to a dark alley filled
with glowing eyes that I decide maybe I’ll just keep my own eyes inside the
car from here on out.
I assumed supernaturals like Mrs. Walters were rare, but they’re all over
the place, hiding in plain sight. As it hits me where I’m going, I can’t tell if
I’m shaking with excitement or fear. Or maybe it’s a little of both. I’m
about to be part of their world. The supernatural world. Something I didn’t
even know existed two days ago.
I wish I could tell Mama about all of this. It doesn’t feel right to keep
secrets from her. Especially secrets that are this big. But something tells me
she wouldn’t be thrilled about her daughter going to the same secret agency
that had something to do with her son going missing. Honestly, it makes me
nervous too.
To keep myself from completely freaking out, I pull One Thousand and
One Careers out of my bag. Only this time, thanks to those eye drops, every
page is filled with words and pictures.
As I flip through it, Mama glances over and asks, “What’s that?”
I panic and slam it shut.
“No need to be so dramatic,” says Mama. “Is that your journal?”
Just that fast, I forgot that she isn’t able to read it. Keeping all this a
secret is going to be harder than I thought. “It’s for camp this summer.”
Avoiding the question feels better than not being honest.
Mama just shrugs and focuses on changing lanes.
I open the book again and flip through until I reach a page that catches
my eye. It’s a fullpage photo of a bulky, bearded guy in a cowboy hat,
decked out in a dark gray suit. He’s aiming a flaming ax toward the camera
and his gray eyes are so intense it’s like he’s daring me to turn the page
without reading first. So I read.
The caption says, “The closest thing to a superhero in the supernatural
world. Join Agent Beauregarde Magnus at the Department of Supernatural
Investigations and start your journey toward becoming a Special Agent
today!”
On the opposite page is a job listing:

DEPARTMENT OF SUPERNATURAL INVESTIGATIONS
Junior Agent
Minimum badge allowed to perform this job: Bronze

Chief Responsibilities: To serve and protect both humans and nonhumans alike against supernatural threats, foreign and
domestic. Enforcement of the laws that govern supernatural
entities living in the known world. Those who excel in this
position may be promoted to Senior Agents, Surveillance
Agents, Special Agents, and more.
Noteworthy Agents: Beowulf, Captain Ahab, Abraham Van Helsing,
Captain Nemo, Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde (part-time researcher/parttime agent), Sherlock Holmes, Maria Van Helsing, and Quinton
Peters

I can’t believe it! Quinton’s an agent. Just like this guy in the picture. Of
all the crazy things I’ve learned, this might be the craziest. Agent Magnus
looks like the person you’d call if a bear got loose at the zoo. Quinton is
afraid of spiders. Even the tiny ones.
As the clock on the dashboard blinks to 5:26, a question pops into my
head. “Mama, how much do you know about this summer camp?”
“It’s a really fancy leadership camp,” says Mama. “You guys take classes
and go on trips to meet with CEOs and government leaders. Plus you’ll get
to mingle and make friends with other high achievers. These kinds of
programs will really pay off later as an adult. When it comes down to
getting those cushy jobs, it’s not what you know but who you know.”
So Mama thinks this is just a leadership camp. That must be what they
told her when she called. And what Quinton used to tell her too.
“Just make me a promise, okay?” Mama continues. “Promise me you’ll
go to college. You won’t follow Quinton into whatever he was doing.”
“So you think this, um, program had something to do with Quinton going
missing?”
“Of course not,” says Mama, “or I wouldn’t let you near it. I don’t know
what could’ve happened to your brother. I just want you to use this program
to get into a good university somewhere and live a safe and happy life.”
Safe and happy life. I can’t help wondering if maybe deep down Mama
does know that his job is the reason he’s gone. “I promise,” I say. I’m only
entering this program to find out what happened to my brother. Once I do, I
don’t care if I ever see the supernatural world again.
Even with all Mama’s shortcuts we don’t turn onto the treelined entrance
to the Vanderbilt Hotel until 6:02. I can’t believe we’re late.

The building looks so cool, like one of those famous cathedrals, topped
with a beautiful golden dome. A large white guy in a gray suit is headed up
the wide stairs at the front of the building. I recognize his cowboy hat.
“That’s your escort,” says Mama. “Catch him before it’s too late!”
I push open the door and step outside. “Agent Magnus! I’m here!”
If Agent Magnus hears me, he doesn’t stop or even turn around. I can’t
believe we’ve come all this way only to be too late.
“Hey! It’s me. Quinton’s little sister.” I bounce back and forth, waving
my hands over my head, praying that Agent Magnus will turn around.
At Quinton’s name Agent Magnus pauses and turns to face me. He’s
twice as intimidating in real life. Those intense gray eyes size me up as he
comes down to meet us.
Mama gets out of the car and thanks him. He says something that makes
her laugh and then gives her hand a kiss. Mama blushes and giggles. Of
course they know each other, Mama used to drop Quinton off here every
summer.
“Babygirl?” says Mama. “Introduce yourself.”
Now that he’s right here in front of me, I can’t find any of the confidence
I had a minute ago. “Hello,” I say, not able to meet Agent Magnus’s eyes.
“You’re late.” His voice is deep, with a raspy southern twang. “Believe
Mr. Ware said to be here at six.”
“I know,” I say. “There was traffic and—”
He puts up a hand to cut me off. “One thing you’re gonna learn is we
don’t make excuses. If you were anybody else, you’d be headed back home.
But you had one favor owed to you on account of being Quinton’s little
sister. That favor’s used up now. Understand?”
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
Agent Magnus turns his attention to Mama. “Always a pleasure, Renee.
I’ll make sure Amari is well looked after.”
Mama smiles. “I know you will. You and Quinton were so close—I’m
thankful you’re taking the time to escort Amari on her first day.”
“Great kid, Quinton.” A flicker of emotion passes across Agent Magnus’s
face. “I’ll send somebody down to collect Amari’s things.” His eyes find
me again. “You ready?”
“I think so,” I say.
Agent Magnus grins. “Oh, I doubt that very much.”