Power to the Purple! Page 13

  “And double-v creepy,” Scarlet added. She was peering at what might have been a baby spiderpig, or maybe a giant sea monkey, floating in the murky water of a fat mason jar.

  “Well, I’ve got the Hevea Brasiliensis cells,” Iris whispered, reading the label off a Petri dish, “to replicate the latex.”

  “And I’ve got the, um, conjugated hydrocarbon dienes for the polymers,” Cheri checked off their list.

  “And I’ve got the purple food coloring from home,” Scarlet reminded them.

  “And we’ve got you, naughty girls.”

  At the sound of the chilly, clipped voice, the Ultra Violets froze in place, and Iris’s Princess Leia buns spontaneously popped loose, the two braids sprouting out like she was a purple Pippi Longstocking instead. Lights flooded the FLab, brighter than a thousand camera flashes. The girls rushed to cover their eyes.

  “The mamarazzi!” Cheri moaned, squinting out between her fingers.

  Next to her, Scarlet muttered, “Quoth the raven, d’oh!”

  Standing before them, in three sets of pink bunny slippers, their lab coats belted over their bathrobes, were the girls’ doctor-moms.

  “How did you . . . ?” Iris began, though she wasn’t sure she should ask.

  Dr. Tyler, the mom who had spoken before flicking on the lights, didn’t even bother to answer. She just pointed to the top shelf. At a panda bear plush toy. With wide, glassy eyes.

  “Is that my old teddy-cam?!” Scarlet exclaimed.

  “I brought it to the FLab for bonus security,” Dr. Jones said, wringing her hands, “since I thought you had outgrown the need for a stuffed babysitter, Scarlet!”

  “Apparently none of them has,” Dr. Tyler stated matter-of-factly, one bunny-slippered foot tapping the floor.

  “Mom,” Iris began, “we were just, um, getting some supplies for a science fair project?”

  “Latex and polymers?” she sniffed. “Are you competing against the kindergarten class? After four years of astronaut offspring boarding school, I expect more from you than common rubber balls, Iris Grace.”

  Iris flinched, her pigtails drooping down to her shoulders.

  “And your father and I thought you had stopped these shenanigans,” Dr. Jones chastened Scarlet. “Look at you! Your brand-new ballet slippers, already filthy!”

  Scarlet hung her head and balanced perfectly still en pointe, which was very difficult to do. It took much more strength for Scarlet to hold that pose, and to hold her tongue, than it would have to pirouette around the FLab ten times.

  “Cheri, honey, I’m not even going to ask what’s going on with the catsuit,” her mother sniped, sizing her up and down with a brisk zigzag of her finger. “On a school night?” She must have come straight from the bath, because Dr. Henderson’s hair was up in a towel turban and her face was covered in a chalky white mask. Yet she had gone to the trouble of slicking on some red lipstick. She reminded Cheri of the Joker—from her poker cards and from Batman.

  “Meouch, Mommy!” Cher pouted, folding her arms to hide the blingy Hello Kitty ring. “I tried not to overaccessorize!”

  “Well, whatever you three were attempting to prove with this little experiment,” Dr. Tyler said, eyeballing the shirking Violets, “we’ve got the result. And it’s conclusive.” As the other two mothers nodded along, she declared, “You girls are grounded.”

  Gossip Girls

  IN THREE SEPARATE BEDROOMS ACROSS SYNC CITY, three separated supergirls sat on their beds that Friday after school. One surrounded herself with her stuffed animals and started painting her nails lilac and black. One lay on her back and walked her feet up the wall until she was in a headstand on her mattress. One paused from the portrait she was drawing to gaze out her window at the raindrops.

  At the exact same moment, each girl breathed a deep sigh.

  Then, her nail polish nearly dry, Cheri could bear it no longer. She picked up her phone and began passionately texting.

  The insta-blurt popped up in the corner of Iris’s iCanvas digital sketchpad:

  chericheri: how is darth?!?

  Using the tip of her rhinestone stylus, Iris tapped back a quick response:

  purplegirl: safe up in club dont worry!

  Cheri, who was a master at concealing clandestine pets, had discreetly handed off Darth to Iris before her Joker-faced mother had marched her back home last night. Cheri’s mom had awful allergies, so Cheri had never been allowed to have even a hamster all to herself. Not that her mother would have allowed a skunk in the house, even if she wasn’t allergic!

  chericheri: what r u doing? im bored

  purplegirl: drawing sebastian

  scarlojones: how can u think abt boyz at time like this? u r obsessed!

  Scarlet had joined the conversation.

  NW! Iris typed back. UVs 4evs! drawing helps me think Operation Get-O Plan D?!? MUST. CRASH. PARTY!

  For those keeping track, Operation Get-O Plan A was the derailed ice-cream intervention. Plan B—which wasn’t really planned, it sort of just happened—was the surprise hug in Chrysalis Park. Plan C was . . . well, as a matter of fact, it did involve rubber, thank you very much, Iris’s smartypants mom! But more on that later.

  Plan D was yet to be D-termined.

  chericheri: r u sure u dont just wanna go 2 party bcuz graff boy might b there?

  purplegirl: haha o doesnt know him! but scar mayb tuff lil frecks there spying?!

  Scarlet had been texting semi–upside down till this point, but when she read Iris’s message, her feet fell toward her face and she tumbled backward off the bed. “Owie,” she muttered from the carpet before typing her response.

  scarlojones: SO?!!

  chericheri: so i think he likes u do u like him alas?!

  Just in case you’d forgotten, Cheri believed in love. In love against the odds! Be it vampire–werewolf, Olympian–couch potato, supergirl–clueless boy, or even supergirl–spyboy! On the road to true love, allegiance to an evil biocosmetic empire was, in Cheri’s opinion, a minor speed bump.

  Scarlet, however, was not so sure. Every time she caught herself thinking about the blue-eyed Agent Jack Baxter, she’d thump herself in the shoulder to stop it, then dance a waltz to distraction. But last night at the FLab, balancing there in her pointe shoes before the doctor-moms, hanging her head and holding strong to her position, she remembered him doing the same. The only reason he’d cracked on the toilet was to help his obnoxious partner, Big Red. That was honorable, wasn’t it? Even if he was spying on them for BeauTek?

  scarlojones: hes a bad guy u guys! end of story!

  chericheri: i think hes cute. purrfkt 4 u!

  purplegirl: mayb just confused like O? mayb we can turn him?

  scarlojones: u cant just paint them good riri! not that e-z.

  Scarlet had a point. Never mind the Black Swans: Ever since Iris had been grounded, she’d been trying to think of how the UVs’ superpowers could stop Opaline from zombotomizing their entire class. With her crazy electric currents, Opal could somehow short-circuit brains. How could Iris’s camouflage and solar radiation, or Scarlet’s dancing and strength, or Cheri’s psychic computer stop that? How could they even try? The party was tomorrow and they were forbidden to leave their rooms!

  Iris wrapped a pinkie finger around one of her purple tendrils, tugging on it as she thought for a second or three. oops hear mom . . . The message came in from Cheri.

  me 2 ruh-roh! Scarlet typed.

  LOOK OUT! Iris insta-blurted, right before her own mother opened her bedroom door to check on her. Iris quickly clicked to some homework for her science class and flashed it at her mom as proof of her good behavior. But different scenes played out at Scarlet’s and Cheri’s:

  Dr. Jones: “I thought I told you no Interweb!”

  Scarlet: “But Mom, I was only texting!”

 
; Dr. Henderson: “I don’t care, give that to me right now. No phone for the rest of the weekend.”

  Cheri: “But Mommm!”

  Doors slam, mothers exit. Scarlet punches her pillows, Cheri stamps her feet. Cheri breaks a nail. Scarlet breaks a lamp (completely by accident). Then both go to their bedroom windows . . .

  Both go to their bedroom windows because of the last thing Iris had written:

  LOOK OUT!

  So they did.

  And there, as if a ray of sunshine had burned through the mists, written in the thick gray rain clouds covering Sync City, was a message. Cheri and Scarlet had to read the blue-sky words fast; already the winds were blowing them to wisps:

  Prism Break

  IT WAS STILL GRAY ON SATURDAY. NOT DOWNPOURING, but threatening to, and drizzling now and then.

  In the backyard of her family’s bluestone townhouse, Scarlet rain-danced, pausing every so often to, as Iris had sky-written, “watch that space.” She’d been making such a wretched racket bouncing off the walls in her bedroom, her mother finally had given in and told her to get out! Outside, that is. “Maybe some fresh air and exercise will calm you down,” Dr. Jones had said, although she doubted it. Scarlet never stopped for long.

  Scarlet was glad for a chance to stretch her legs and practice her routines for the school play. But her thoughts churned like the clouds in the sky, and no number of leaps or twirls could clear them. Soon Opaline’s birthday party would be starting. By Monday morning, would she, Cheri, and Iris be the only students left in their right minds? What was Opal going to do with their class once they were completely under her control? And what if Iris was right and the Black Swans showed up after all? Agent Jack was spying for BeauTek—for Opal’s mom. Did he even know about Opal? Would he let her get away with brainwashing all those powerless kids? Would he actually help Opaline?!

  Then he is absosmurfly a bad guy! her head told her, although a lil’ part of her heart refused to believe it.

  Pondering these imponderables, Scarlet searched the clouds as she spun in circles. Maybe she was making herself dizzy, because it seemed as if the mist was coming closer. Closer . . . Closer! Like a smog monster from an old horror movie! She slowed down, steadied herself, and took a second look.

  “Oh. Swell. No,” she whispered.

  Descending from the sky, far too low to be normal, was a thick oblong cloud. Its millions of minuscule droplets glinted in the gray daylight like dirty diamond chips. Any moment now, it would land right on the grass of Scarlet’s backyard! She backed up toward her house but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight. It seemed to puff and steam like a living, breathing beast! A whole new bunch of even more imponderable imponderables filled Scarlet’s head. Opaline’s birthday brainwash-a-thon suddenly became the least of her worries, since she was about to be ABDUCTED BY ALIENS! In a ghostly, cloud-shaped spaceship!

  Candace warned us about this! Scarlet thought, her feet suddenly tap-dancing in panic. About being PROBED!

  She watched in wide-eyed terror, statue-still above the waist, shuffle-stepping below, as the shimmering smog floated just over the lawn. Klick! she heard, then berzunk! then jeewhirrr! And a stubby stairway stuck out like a metallic tongue, straight from the middle of the mist.

  Scarlet was dancing as fast as she could. In place. I won’t let them take me without a fight! she vowed, clenching her fists. But she couldn’t seem to flee.

  “Scarlet!” The hissed command came from the misty spaceship. “Get in the cloud!”

  Scarlet always figured aliens would speak their own weird language, like Klingon or Na’vi or Shyriiwook. (If, like Scarlet, you have three older brothers, you might know about those, too.) But maybe the aliens had already tricked her mind into understanding them!

  “Scarlet!” The order came again, in a voice that sounded eerily familiar. “Get. In. The Cloud!” Maybe the aliens had tricked her mind into thinking they were friends!

  “SCARLET!” Iris’s face popped out of the mist, her purple ringlets bright against the wavery gray vapors. “C’mon!’

  Scarlet stared skeptically. “How do I know you’re not just an alien disguised as Iris?” she asked.

  Iris rolled her eyes. “Catch!” she said. And the next thing Scarlet knew, a lollipop flew through the air. Cinnamon-flavored. She caught it just as she heard her mother calling for her from inside the house. And finally she managed to move her feet forward, tap-dancing toward the fog and up the three steps into the cloudship.

  Jeewhirrr, berzunk, klick! The stairway folded up behind her and the cloud floated up into the sky. Down below, Scarlet could see her mother standing in the backyard, scanning the lawn, shaking her head, hands on her hips.

  Giving the lollipop a hesitant lick, Scarlet took in her surroundings. Candace sat in the pilot’s seat, steering. At first Scarlet thought she was wearing some sort of futuristic metal headset; then she realized it was just the silver sporks sticking out of her hair. Iris was buckled into the seat beside her. Behind them, Cheri brushed the knots out of Darth’s tail. At her feet were bags of clothes, a small jar of purple cream, and a mangled mess of holiday lights.

  “Explain,” Scarlet said simply, taking a seat and strapping herself in. The spicy cinnamon candy stung her lips. But not in an unpleasant way.

  Candace glanced over her shoulder, tilting the gearshift as she did, and the cloudship tipped a bit to the side. “Sugarsticks,” she muttered, righting the craft again. “Still getting the hang of this thang!”

  “But where did it come from?” Scarlet asked.

  “I built it,” Candace said, swerving to pass a gaggle of gingham geese. They honked back at her for cutting them off.

  “You built . . .” Scarlet strung out the words “. . . a spaceship.”

  “Ever since I officially finished high school two years early, I’ve had a lot of free time,” Candace remarked. “After I’d successfully launched the MAUVe satellite, the next logical step was a load-bearing airborne vehicle.”

  “That load being us,” Cheri said.

  “So you just built a spaceship?” Scarlet repeated in disbelief.

  Cheri giggled. “Candace, we thought you were acting spacey because you were dating an astronaut.”

  “Very funny, Cheri.” Candace adjusted a dial on the dashboard. “Building a spaceship is infinitely more probable. As long as you adhere to the basic principles of aerodynamics.”

  “Lift, thrust, gravity, and drag,” Cheri quipped. “Lift coefficient times density times velocity squared, divided by two, multiplied by span, for example, to take off.”

  Scarlet sucked on the hot cinnamon lollipop. “If you say so,” she said at last. “But what’s up with the misty stuff?”

  “Oh, that was my idea!” Iris chimed in, pivoting around in her copilot seat. “When we were texting yesterday, I had this vision that the best way to sneak up on Opaline would be as a cloud! Because she’s always making clouds, you know? With her weird electrical storm powers?”

  “Uh-huh . . .” Scarlet said.

  “So I sketched out a design, sent it to Candace, and then she covered the spaceship with a zillion tiny prisms. Like on a mirrorball!”

  “That way we’re practically invisible,” Candace explained while rubbing condensation off the windshield with the sleeve of her sweater. “The prisms reflect their surroundings, so you can’t see the spaceship itself.”

  “And Candace built it so that the ventilation system recycles moisture in the atmosphere,” Cheri added. “All those tiny fog particles are actually exhaust fumes.”

  “Glittering over the zillion tiny prisms!” Iris grinned.

  “Right . . .” Scarlet said, letting it all sink in. “So we’re flying around in the sky in an environmentally friendly disco cloud?”

  “Totally!” Iris and Cheri nodded together.

  Scarlet was silently imp
ressed. Candace could sometimes be bumbling on the surface, but there was no doubt the erstwhile babysitter was a genuine teenius underneath. (It’s been a while since the last “erstwhile,” so it found a spot to sneak back into the story.)

  “I had this sudden realization,” Candace said, steering their cloud between towers toward the center of Sync City, “that Opal is going to override the brain circuitry of all your classmates at this birthday party of hers!”

  Iris raised her eyebrows as Cheri shook her head. But since Candace had just swooped in on a homemade spaceship to get them, Scarlet resisted the urge to say, “We told you that!” She thought it, though.

  “That’s why I had to prism-break you out of being grounded,” Candace continued, oblivious. “Because only the Ultra Violets can stop Opaline and save Sync City from a roving band of zombotomized students!”

  “You mean we’re crashing the party like we planned after all?” Scarlet said hopefully.

  Cheri pointed to the bags at her feet. “Outfits!” she said, excited.

  “We shall roll in on a cloud,” Candace declared dramatically, “like the Greeks rode in on the Trojan horse!”

  Confused, Scarlet said under her breath, “Is that from Percy Jackson?”

  “Dunno!” Iris whispered back. “I’m only on the first book!”

  Unfashionably Unfabulous

  YOU KNOW HOW, IN THOSE MOVIES THAT ARE SNOTTILY slammed as “chick flicks,” there’s always a fashion montage? A scene when the heroine(s) scramble(s) to try on ton(s) of different outfit(s), in (s)earch of ju(s)t the right one for (s)ome (s)pecial occa(s)ion?

  This is that scene! But in a book! With lots of exclamation points!!!