Nanny X Returns by Madelyn Rosenberg Page B

and Nanny X came over to us, too. So did Howard.
    We fanned out on the same step, side by side, like a team. Ursula had one last beetle near her foot. She reached down to catch it—and save it—and when she did, Nanny X lunged.
    She twisted Ursula’s arm behind her back and handcuffed her with a teething ring. She attached the other cuff around her own wrist.
    â€œArt is about creating,” said Nanny X. “Not destroying.” She pulled out her diaper phone and pressed a button. “X, reporting in,” she said. “We’ve got her.”
    I’d heard that before. But this time it was true. We’d caught The Angler, squished a bunch of bugs and saved a lot of national treasures from destruction. We hadn’t saved all of them, though. I didn’t know what NAP would have to say about that. Would we get another case after this one?
    â€œYou know,” Jake told Urusla as the rain eased up and the sun started to look out on us again, “I thought your fish sculpture was very realistic. And your squirrel is totally tundra.” Leave it to my brother to be polite to a criminal. He was right, though.
    â€œYou mean you think I’m good?” Ursula said. She didn’tmean “good person,” which was in question at the moment. She meant “good at art.”
    â€œYes,” said Jake.
    â€œYes,” Stinky and I agreed.
    Jake frowned. “I’m not so sure about your poetry, though,” he said. “Plus, you said you were going after something tall. None of the national treasures you picked was really very tall.”
    Ursula froze, her eyes wide. “But I did try to destroy a tall thing,” she said. “Washington, D.C.’s tallest lawn ornament. It was the obvious choice.”
    We all looked down the Mall and saw it towering in the distance. The Washington Monument. Of course.
    â€œIt looks okay from here,” I said.
    Nanny X pulled out her baby-powder spyglass. She turned the dial. Then she turned it again, three more times. She looked at Ursula. “Hand me that remote,” she said.
    â€œThey don’t work with my remote,” Ursula said. “They’re automated. They just chew.”
    Nanny X ran to the curb at Nanny X speed. She whistled for a pedicab, but none came. I guess they didn’t like the weather. Then she spied a row of Segways leaning against the wall. The owners must have gone somewhere to get out of the rain, which had now stopped completely.
    â€œMergenthee,” said Eliza.
    â€œEmergency,” agreed Nanny X. She pulled a card out of her bag and handed it to Boris. “Congratulations!” it said. “Your __________ has been borrowed by a Top Secret Government Agency. It will be returned immediately after __________. Thank you for your cooperation.”
    Boris took a pencil out of his pocket and filled in the blanks:
Segway/We save the Washington Monument
. He attached the card to the wall above the Segways.
    Nanny X unhooked Ursula’s handcuffs. She handed her the helmet that was hanging from the handlebars. “Climb on.”
    â€œUs too?” I said.
    â€œYou too.” Nanny X bent down and slid on her bunny slippers. They were still miraculously fuzzy, even after the rain and a day on the streets of D.C.
    Boris gave us a Segway lesson. “Lean forward to go. Pull back to stop—but not too far back or you’ll go in reverse. And don’t let go of the handlebars.”
    â€œGot it!” yelled Jake.
    â€œGot it,” I said. I fastened my helmet and mounted my Segway, which I was way too young to drive unless the nation’s most famous obelisk was in peril. I leaned forward. The wheels began to roll. I rolled, too, slow and shaky at first, but then straighter and faster as we followed our nanny to the Washington Monument. Ursula leaned right near Fourteenth Street and her Segway turned. Wait. That wasn’t the way to the monument!
    I’d