The official job description of an average Odd Squad agent was "investigation of anything strange, weird, and especially odd." It was Agent O'Donahue's opinion, however, that the word "new" ought to be added to the description. Particularly if he and his partner, Agent Olga, were being sent to check out the new fruit stand on Main Street. Even more particularly if that fruit stand was apparently owned and managed by an eight-year-old girl.

"She looks familiar," Olga muttered to him, peering at the girl and her stand across the street. Then she snapped her fingers. "Now I remember. I saw her at the last entrance exams for the Academy. Hmm, she must have failed it if she's still out here as a pedestrian."

O'Donahue raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He still found it rather rude of his partner to call the average citizen a pedestrian, saying the word as if it were the grossest thing in the world. On the other hand, Olga had been an agent for two years shy of a century now, and O'Donahue, a relative newbie at only three years, would be insulting her to question her judgement.

"I don't know," he eventually replied. "The average kid doesn't go and set up her own business. Perhaps she failed the exams on purpose."

Oops. That last comment earned him one of Olga's signature patronizing looks. "Only a simpleton would do something like that. Clearly she wasn't good enough to make it in." Satisfied there were no oncoming buggies, Olga started across the street. "Come along, my dear partner. Let's see what she's up to."

Quickly O'Donahue hurried after her, and moments later stood in front of the new stand. Up close, it actually looked quite impressive. So did the girl, now staring them down with a suspicious look in her bright brown eyes, her wavy brown hair blowing freely in the breeze.

"If you're recruiting, I don't want to hear it," she said sternly.

Olga scoffed. "Oh, please. Like you would ever—"

"So you own a business, then?" O'Donahue interrupted. Something told him to risk Olga's temper and get her to stop with the insults. "What's your name?"

"Oprah," the girl answered, tipping the edge of her bonnet. "And yes, I sell fruit."

"Can you tell us about it so far?"

His politeness was rewarded with an eager smile. "Absolutely! I've always loved fruit and fruit juice, and I wanted to share that with other people. So I came up with this idea for a fruit stand business a year ago, and I have worked on it ever since."

"Where do you even get all the fruit from?" Olga ventured with a dubious look.

"Mr. Shmumbers. He has family that own orchards and trading companies out west, and he has access to a lot of fruit, but never bothered to sell it locally. So I offered to, and in return I pay him a share of the profits."

O'Donahue let out a low whistle. This girl had thought of everything. "And you're doing this all by yourself?"

Oprah shook her head. "Nope. His daughter Yucks is my employee. She manages the storehouse," she explained with a nod over her shoulder.

"And how old is she?"

"Four. She's really good at it, too. I told her to organize the fruit yesterday, and came back later to find everything alphabetized, priced per kilogram, and sorted by color, size, and amount."

And at just four years old... O'Donahue thought in awe. If only her name started with an O, we might have two potential recruits instead of just one. "This is really impressive, Oprah. The Odd Squad could use some more kids with your talents."

Her face darkened. "I told you, I don't want to hear about it. I have absolutely no intention of getting recruited, or even getting involved with all your oddness. Now, is that all you wanted to talk to me about, or are you actually going to buy some fruit?"

Olga had been eyeing two kiwis lying at the front of the display, and now spoke up. "I'll take one of those kiwis. Might as well have a snack for the road." She dug a coin out of her pocket and flicked it at Oprah, who caught it expertly. Olga then snatched a kiwi without any thanks. "Now if you'll excuse us, we've got very important top-secret work to do. Don't we, O'Donahue, dear?"

O'Donahue winced slightly, barely enough for Oprah to have heard it. "I'll, um, be there in a minute, Olga. Right now I, er, want to discuss the business with this girl a little longer."

"Suit yourself," Olga sniffed. "If you hurry, I shall save half of my kiwi for you." Then spinning on her heel, she strode off.

They watched her go. "Your partner seems to be a pleasant young lady," Oprah remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

O'Donahue sighed. "You get used to her. Olga's been on the squad for almost a century now, so she's entitled to brag."

Oprah raised an eyebrow. "You really believe that."

"Well, she has had ninety-eight years of experience, and I've only got three. Talking of which, she mentioned seeing you at the exams. I don't mean to pry, but...why you aren't interested in joining the squad? I mean, I meant it when I said you would be a great addition. The exams weren't too difficult for you, were they?"

"Of course not," Oprah scoffed. "The exams were too easy. I just don't want to join."

"But why not?"

Oprah pointed in the direction Olga had gone. "Because of kids like her. All you agents think you're so much better than everyone else! You don't know anything about honest hard work. Yucks and I, we do. I spent over a year organizing my business with her help, and next we plan to revolutionize the juice industry. We're making an honest living, and we don't need your Odd Squad to do it!"

O'Donahue opened his mouth to reply, then stopped. He thought much of what she said about Odd Squad was untrue and unfair, but it would be pointless for him to say so. Besides, she wasn't wrong about Olga. For all he knew, the only agents she'd known were the egotistical ones. "Alright, so you refuse to be persuaded. However," he smiled slightly, " maybe I refuse to give up."

Oprah gave him a wary look. "Now don't tell me you're doing this because you fancy me, Agent...?"

"O'Donahue. Agent O'Donahue." Trying to be gentlemanly, he took off his hat and awkwardly bowed. "Milady."

But for all his efforts, all he got was an eyeroll. "Don't try to flatter me. You have your partner, after all."

"Well..." O'Donahue coughed and squirmed a little. "Olga has her notions. I, erm, wouldn't say more than that. But no, I don't fancy you and that's not why I want to recruit you, if that makes you feel better."

Oprah laughed dryly. "If you say so. Now, do you plan to continue wasting your time in useless conversation, or are you going to go back to work?"

"You're right, I need to go now. But first," he dug out a coin, "I may as well take your other kiwi off your hands."

* * * * *

Later that afternoon in the fruit warehouse, little Yucks Shmumbers was proudly totaling up the sales. "So how much did we sell on our first day, boss?" she asked, her voice lisping.

"Let's see..." Oprah consulted her list. "Five apples, four mangos, three oranges, both the kiwis, and one bunch of bananas. Also eight cups of juice. Not bad for our first day."

Yucks made a few tallies on her clipboard. "It's fantastic! Daddy will be so proud of us."

"Yes, he will." Then Oprah gasped. "Oh no, how could I forget? What are we going to do when school starts again next month? I can't run the fruit stand during school hours, and Auntie will throw a fit if I don't attend."

"Easy!" Yucks declared. "I'm only four, and I don't hafta go to school yet. I'll watch the stand 'till you get back! There's not much to do in the warehouse, anyway."

Oprah sighed with relief. "What would I do without you, Yucks? Now if only you could help me on my history tests—"

"Hey, do not badmouth history! It's the fruitiest subject, y'know."

"What do you mean?"

"'Cuz it's got dates!"

Oprah had to giggle. "You and your jokes, Yucks. And you're right. I like history, it's just hard to remember what all happened when. And of course I love math. It's grammar and writing classes that are the worst. It's as if the teacher's speaking Ubbi-Dubbi or something."

Yet through all of the agonizing grammar lessons, Oprah knew she liked school overall. The math was fun—and easy of course—the teacher was nice, and the kids were, well, kids. They were rowdy and mischievous and downright rambunctious much of the time, sure, but that was normal. They weren't acting all stuck up or better than adults like those Odd Squad agents always were. Even the nice agents. Even that O'Donahue.

* * * * *

Back at headquarters, as O'Donahue sat at his desk filing a report and finishing off his kiwi, he mulled over the last part of the conversation at the fruit stand. That Oprah had hit closer to the mark than she realized with her comment about Olga, and not in a good way. But never mind about that. Oprah seemed friendly enough, as long as she was doing business and Odd Squad wasn't mentioned. She'd probably get used to the two agents as regulars if they stopped by often enough. And shy as he was, O'Donahue had meant what he said earlier. He'd find a way to get her recruited, if it took spending all his money on fruit to do it...