Ellie, Engineer

Also by Jackson Pearce

The Doublecross

The Inside Job

For my dad

(he’s the best)

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Ellie’s Very Favorite Tools

Ellie Bell was in her workshop.

Technically, it was a playhouse, because it was the little covered bit on her playset. But this was where Ellie worked, so that made it a workshop, if you asked her. And today, Ellie had a lot of work to do.

Ellie rattled her fingers inside one of the peanut butter jars full of screws and nuts and bolts until she found what she was searching for—two slightly rusty bolts about the size of her dad’s thumbnail. She looked out the window of the workshop. From this high, she could see over the fence and a few backyards over, to where the neighborhood boys were playing soccer. There was Dylan, who had giant feet, and the McClellan twins, who weren’t allowed to eat any junk food (like none), and Toby Michaels. Toby Michaels was the worst. He was the bossiest kid Ellie knew, and she was in Mrs. Funderburk’s third-grade class, so that was really saying something. That morning, when Ellie wanted to play soccer with them, the boys told her, No, this is a boys’ team.

(Which was really dumb since it wasn’t a team at all, just a bunch of people in the neighborhood playing soccer, and also Ellie was a really good goalie.)

(And now that she was remembering the whole thing, Ellie was getting mad all over again.)

Do you have the bolts? a voice called out from down below. It was the sort of voice you might expect to hear on television, coming out of a cartoon deer or bunny or talking piece of cake.

Yep! Ellie called back, and stuck the two bolts between her lips so her hands were free. She ducked out the door, grabbed hold of the fireman’s pole just outside it, and slid down to the ground, sneakers hitting the wood chips with a nice thud-crunch.

Great! What now? the talking piece of cake said. Only it wasn’t a talking piece of cake—it was Kit, Ellie’s next-door neighbor, best friend, and future vice president of the engineering company Ellie was going to run one day. (They’d considered being co-presidents, but then Kit decided she really liked being able to call herself VP.) (VP stands for vice president.)

Ellie and Kit were a lot alike. They even had a lot of the same clothes, and they wore them at the same time whenever they could. Today, they were both wearing skirts—but Ellie’s was fluffy and purple, and Kit’s was smooth and pink. Ellie also had her tool belt strapped snugly around her waist, over her skirt. In it were her most useful tools: a hammer, two screwdrivers, a tape measure, an adjustable wrench, her mini cordless drill (it was an extra-special Christmas present), and—maybe most important of all—a notepad with a little flat pencil. On the back of the notepad she kept a long numbered list of the projects she’d completed. She used the pages inside for sketching brand-new projects.

Ellie reached for the notepad and studied the sketch of today’s project. It was a good one.

If it all went according to her plan—which it sometimes did, but sometimes didn’t (building was tricky that way)—the water balloon launcher would work like a slingshot and throw water balloons way, way, way farther than Ellie and Kit could throw them on their own. To be more specific, it would throw water balloons way, way, way across the yards, right onto the neighborhood boys’ heads.

All the mad that Ellie was feeling over the boys’ not letting Ellie and Kit play soccer whooshed out of her body, and she rubbed her hands together sneakily. The boys were never going to see this coming!

Ellie pulled her hammer from her tool belt and got to work on the launcher. She nailed brooms together and used a garage sale sign to keep the whole thing nice and solid so it wouldn’t tip over when it shot out a balloon.

Is it time for this? Kit asked, holding up a funnel and pointing to Ellie’s drawing.

Yep, Ellie said. The funnel was Ellie’s dad’s—he used it to change the oil in the car. She figured he would understand why she needed to borrow it. Soaking the neighborhood boys for not letting girls play soccer was a pretty good cause.

Ellie pulled down her safety goggles and lifted her drill. She drilled two little holes in each side of the funnel, near the top. The drill was one of her favorite tools because it was the only electric tool she was allowed to use without her mom and dad watching. She’d written Ellie Bell’s Drill across the side in purple paint pen, then drawn some flowers and some dragons, which had mostly rubbed off by now since she used it so much. A drill was a very good tool to have—she could use it to tighten or loosen or put in screws, to put holes in things, and once she’d even attached a fork to the end of it and used it to mix a milk shake. It had worked really well, but her dad said that wasn’t an appropriate use of a drill (but then he’d whispered that it was a clever idea all the same).

Ellie looped stretchy exercise bands through the funnel, then tied them to the launcher. Then Kit, who had really good handwriting, wrote The Water Empress down one of the broomsticks in fancy swirly letters.

‘Water Empress’? Ellie asked.

We can’t just call it a water balloon launcher. It has to have a name—like roller coasters and boats.

Ellie nodded—this was the sort of thing Kit was always thinking of.

It’s beautiful, Ellie said, putting her hands on her hips proudly. She smiled—actually, she smirked—then wiggled her fingers anxiously. Let’s get the balloons!