Meet the Security Girls!

Meet the Security Girls, eleven-year-old Sam Stonemather and her best friend Dessie. They join forces with two talented cats and the local teen-queen of technology to track down a missing TV star who may or may not be hiding in Blissfield, Michigan--a town that sounds boringly perfect but isn’t. As Sam says, “The trouble with Blissfield is it’s so quiet, people stop paying attention.”

Dessie and Sam are always on the lookout for what grownups miss. When a Lurker appears in Dessie’s neighborhood, followed by a Hollywood agent who can’t tell one Midwestern state from another, the Security Girls know something’s up. They enlist the special skills of Jennifer Yin Goodhue, a fourteen-year-old scientist training herself for a career with either NASA or the CIA. If only Sam’s big sister Alex would offer to drive once in a while. Bicycling everywhere is hard, even with satellite guidance systems. Then along comes Ryder, the coolest real-life detective the Security Girls have ever met. Okay, he’s the only one they’ve ever met. Surprisingly, they teach him a few things.

Following Fiona Whiffer, a cat who sniffs out mysteries, and Ruby Tiger, a kitten with helpfully oversized ears, the Security Girls have a brush with fame--and flames--and manage to save a family.

Want to know more??? Then you'll want to read The Fine Art of Following Cats, a new middle-grade mystery by Nina Wright. This book is looking for the right publisher. If that might be you, contact Nina at nina@ninawright.net, and she'll hook you up with her agent.... Take a peek at Chapter One below.


CHAPTER ONE
Trouble in the Neighborhood

Fiona Whiffer is coming through my bedroom window, and her head is purple. I mean she has a purple streak on her head. Fiona Whiffer is an all-white cat except when she’s our Emergency Messenger. Dessie and I have a code and some watercolor markers. When Fiona Whiffer arrives with a purple head, that can mean only one thing: There’s trouble in the neighborhood. This time Dessie saw it first.
Don’t ask me how, but Fiona Whiffer knows what color she’s wearing. If we give her a purple streak, she moves fast. If we paint a red streak, she moves faster. Red is the most serious alert in our system. It means EMERGENCY. Purple is the second most serious, and Fiona Whiffer knows it. She leaps from my windowsill to my bed. Next she starts rubbing against my arm. If I don’t get up, she’ll knock something off my dresser. She makes sure I see her purple head.
You’re probably wondering why Dessie didn’t just phone me. At this level of crisis, Security Girls don’t leave traces. We spring into action.
Dessie Preston is waiting for me at her house. Her real name is Doris Esther, the same as her great-grandma. But she hates that name as much as you would. She calls herself Dessie and so does everybody else. My name is Sam. Really, it’s Samantha Rose Stonemather, but that’s way too long. Like Dessie, I’m eleven years old and a Security Girl. In fact, I’m the original Security Girl. I started this business with Fiona Whiffer. Then Dessie joined up.
Eleven is a good age for security work because people don’t expect you to be doing it. In fact, they don’t expect you to do much of anything except go to school, do your homework, and maybe play an instrument or a sport.
That means you’re almost invisible if you want to try something else. And that’s a good thing in this business. Especially in a small town like ours.
Let me tell you something about Blissfield. My parents say it sounds like a perfect place. And it almost is, most of the time. The trouble with Blissfield is that things are so calm, people stop paying attention. Then when there’s a crisis, they’re not ready. But Dessie and I always have a plan.
Fiona Whiffer won’t follow me when I hurry out the door. For now, her work is done, except for washing the streak off her head. And she’s starting to do that already. Afterwards, she’ll stretch out on my bed for a long peaceful nap. She expects me to keep Ruby Tiger away from her. Ruby Tiger is my red tabby kitten. She’s a nuisance and very immature. Sometimes she tries to help with security work. But, as my mom the lawyer says, “The jury’s still out on Ruby Tiger.”
My mom says Fiona Whiffer is her own cat. By that she means Fiona Whiffer is too independent to belong to anybody. One day last year she showed up out of nowhere. Using her special sniffing talent, she helped me solve a mystery. In fact, she was whiffing, as I call it, the first time I saw her. That’s how she got her name and became a Security Cat.
My family and Dessie’s family take turns taking care of her, so she always has food, water, and a safe place to stay. As my dad the lawyer says, “Fiona Whiffer doesn’t owe anybody anything.”
She only comes around when she wants to. But that always turns out to be when we need her.
It takes me exactly six minutes to get dressed, brush my teeth and hair, and fly out the door. Luckily, it’s a workday for everybody except old people and kids on summer vacation. My parents are at their office, so I don’t need to tell them anything. That can really slow you down.
Riding my bike to Dessie’s house also takes six minutes. I call my bike the Mean Machine because one of my sister’s boyfriends painted a frowning face on the front fender. My sister told him to do that, and her boyfriends do whatever they’re told. In this case, I like the result. It reminds people that I’m a force to be reckoned with, even if I am still a kid.
I park the Mean Machine in front of Dessie’s house. She’s waiting for me on the porch swing, her notebook open on her lap. Fortunately, her mom’s at work, too, so we can get right to it.
Dessie nods at the house next door.
“We’ve got us a Lurker,” she whispers.