Over the next two years, Oprah's fruit stand grew into a successful little business enterprise. Everyone in town came there to get their quality fruit and fruit juice, bypassing even the general store's cheaper prices. Not least of these customers were O'Donahue and, somewhat reluctantly, Olga. The fact was, O'Donahue's gentle and coaxing recruitment efforts weren't lost on his partner. Especially since the potential recruit had gotten older: now ten years old, the girl was a mere two years younger than O'Donahue, and only one year younger than her. She'd even ditched the bonnet and started putting her hair up in intricate braided buns, which clearly impressed O'Donahue. It didn't take much for Olga to come to the conclusion that there was more going on beneath the surface than just recruitment.

One afternoon in May, just before they stopped by the stand during their patrol of the town, she confronted him about it. "Alright, now tell me the truth. You fancy that girl, don't you?"

O'Donahue skidded to a halt and gawked at her like a deer in the headlights.

"Now don't give me your stupid face! I want an answer. Do you fancy her?"

"Wha—no! Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Everyone?"

"Well...Oprah, her employee Yucks, and now you. But that's it."

"That's it, eh? Then gee, I don't know, why does everyone keep saying that? Maybe it's because I caught you flirting with that new transfer Olesya a few weeks ago—"

"I wasn't flirting!" O'Donahue protested, the tips of his ears bright red. "I was just welcoming her to our squad!"

"You asked her if she liked it when people brought her flowers!" Olga retorted. "I heard you clear as day!"

O'Donahue coughed nervously, but said nothing more.

Olga tossed her braids and brought out the pouty face. "And to think I believed you when you said I was the only one for you. Ha! You little liar, you..."

"Well, I, uh—" Calm down, she's just having one of her moments, he thought. It'll blow over soon. Old Missie says it always does. It's all part of being Olga's partner, that's all.

Sure enough, the pouting soon shifted to the over-the-top pleading. "Oh my dear O'Donahue, I shall never know how I could've possibly chased you away. But the others all mean nothing to you, I can see it now. Tell me there's never been anyone else but me. Tell me, dear."

"Well, I, uh—"

"Wonderful! What did I ever do to deserve you? Now come on," she said briskly. "Let's get over to the fruit stand, like you wanted. I'm in the mood for peaches."

Wordlessly, and still quite shell-shocked, O'Donahue followed her. He still had no idea where Olga had gotten the notion he fancied her and only her, but obviously there wasn't any point in telling her otherwise. It hurt, however, that he wasn't even allowed to be friendly with other agents without risking her wrath. But never mind that. After all, she'd been an Odd Squad agent for a full century now, compared to his mere five years. Not to mention she was the daughter of James Hiller and Sarah Phillips, kid heroes in their own right and the first benefactors for Odd Squad in the New World. It was probably normal for privileged, well-connected veteran agents like her to monitor and control their rookie partners like this. Maybe when he was better established, she'd relax her grip a bit. In the meantime, it was nice having such a well-established agent as a partner. No one ever questioned Olga when she told them how to do something or solved a case, and all O'Donahue had to do was back her up. It certainly made his job easy to have a partner who was always right.

Or so he thought.

* * * * *

A week later, Oprah was convinced she was the craziest person in the world. So were all the Odd Squad agents when they saw her burst through the front door of headquarters and dash straight to the nearest desk. "O'Donahue! I need to talk to you, now!"

He glanced up at her from his work with a confused smile. "Sure, Oprah. What is it?"

Quickly she glanced around. "Olga's not around, is she?"

"Mm, no. Olga left to run an errand of sorts. Now what is it you need?"

Leaning in closer, Oprah muttered, "It's about that odd case from last week. With my stolen fruit." And then the last part, in a whisper: "I know who the thief is."

O'Donahue's eyes widened. "Really? Are you sure? How did you figure it out?"

"I'll tell you on the way to Big Red's homestead. But right now, we need to move before the thief strikes again. Come on!"

With that, Oprah dashed back out the door as quickly as she'd come, beckoning for the agent to follow her. Immediately O'Donahue scrambled to his feet and ran after her.

"So what made you figure it out?" O'Donahue asked once he'd caught up to her.

"It was what I've been saying all along," Oprah panted, hitching up her calico skirts and picking up her pace. "The thief likes to divide things in two equal groups and steal exactly half. That's why my odd-numbered groups of fruit were left alone. But the twelve mailboxes—six were stolen, which means six are still left, which means it can be divided again, which means the thief is coming back to steal three more!"

O'Donahue looked amazed. "And you believe we'll catch this thief in the act?"

Oprah squinted at the bend in the road ahead of them. "We're about to find out."

As they rounded the corner and went through the fence, Oprah was relieved to see all six remaining mailboxes still there in the front yard. But her relief was short-lived, replaced by uneasiness: had she done all the calculations right? Would her plan work? Would the thief really come, and was it really who she thought it was? She shook the questions off. No, there was no way she was wrong. The facts lined up. The numbers told the truth. It all made too much sense.

"Good, there's still time," she finally said. "Hurry, we need to tell Big Red. If we're lucky, we may be able to ambush the thief and stop them from getting away."

With a rather bemused O'Donahue close on her heels, Oprah ran up to the front door and knocked. As soon as Big Red answered, the two of them quickly filled him in on the latest discovery. Then Oprah confidently led them all back to a cluster of bushes alongside the fence to crouch down and hide.

For several minutes, Oprah stared unblinkingly at the mailboxes. This better work, she thought nervously. Yet a small part of her relished the excitement of the moment. If this was what Odd Squad agents got to do for a living, it was actually kind of fun.

Wait a second...did I just think being an Odd Squad agent was fun?

* * * * *

The minutes ticked by. No one showed up, but Oprah didn't seem daunted. Big Red, however, couldn't stop fidgeting, and he had a beaded line of sweat on his forehead. "So we're just gonna let the thief steal three more of my mailboxes?"

"Big Red! Shh!" Oprah hissed, making a hand motion for silence.

She seems pretty confident the thief will be here soon, O'Donahue thought. I suppose I trust her, but still... "Oprah, are you sure this is gonna work?" he whispered.

"Numbers don't lie," was all he got for an answer.

O'Donahue shrugged and didn't argue. Secretly, he'd felt bad about abandoning the case of the stolen fruit and letting Oprah down just because Olga told him to. So if he did indeed help Oprah catch the thief in the act, it would be the perfect opportunity to redeem himself in her eyes.

Catching the thief in the act...Olga has such a knack for it, though. I've seen her do it time and time again. So why didn't she think of this idea sooner? And why didn't Oprah want me to bring her along? Something was wrong here. "Can we at least tell Olga?" he asked the fruit vendor.

For a brief moment, Oprah gave him a strange pitying look. Then her face hardened, and she turned back to face the mailboxes. "Sure. She's right there."

O'Donahue blinked. His mouth gaped.

That's not possible...

Odd Squad's most prominent veteran agent. Know-it-all, do-it-all, thief-catcher Olga. Olga, who parted her hair perfectly in half every day when she arrived at work. Olga, who ate exactly half of whatever lunch she brought, insisting she planned to save the rest for dinner. Olga, who got upset when he wouldn't take the other half of her kiwi. Olga, who taunted Oprah for failing the exam and looked down on anyone not involved in Odd Squad. Olga, who never listened to his opinions on a case. Olga, who insulted and tormented him daily for being a dimwit. Olga, who wanted him for herself and therefore kept him away from everyone else. Olga, the epitome of stuck-up, high-and-mighty Odd Squad agents.

Okay, so maybe it was possible. Stranger yet, maybe he preferred to think that way...?

"Let's move!" Oprah said, breaking cover and starting toward the thief. O'Donahue followed her and Big Red, still trying to process it all. But his shock and confusion were quickly turning into almost a pleased sort of apathy. So it was with satisfaction that he shouted with the other two: "STOP RIGHT THERE!"

Olga whirled around and dropped her hatchet. "Aah!" she yelped.

Then her eyes met O'Donahue's, and her whole body went rigid.

"Olga," he managed to say breezily, with a small smile. "Say it ain't so."

That broke the spell, and Olga growled and stamped her foot. "How did you know I'd be here?" she demanded, never taking her eyes off her partner.

Oprah, of course, jumped right in and explained everything. As the evidence came out, Olga's eyes slowly widened into a sort of awed look. But she soon recovered, and replaced it with an air of mockery. "Good job, Oprah," she said in a singsong voice, "but better job, ME!"

What came next happened too fast for anyone to stop it. But the next moment, a lasso was bound and tightened around the trio, and Olga was making her escape. "You'll never catch me!" she taunted, running out into the street.

The three kids struggled to get out of their binding, but it was no use. Even worse for O'Donahue, it was slowly dawning on him that Olga's crime and escape might just spell doom for his Odd Squad career...

* * * * *

But nobody had thought to factor in six-year-old Yucks Shmumbers.

In one swift stroke, it was all over. Yucks was just putting away her juiceboxes when she heard the applause. Looking up, she saw Oprah, Agent O'Donahue, and Big Red clapping and cheering for her, even while stuck in the lasso. Yucks beamed and curtseyed obligingly, but on the inside she was giggling triumphantly.

After all, it's not every day one sees their OTP literally bound together.

* * * * *

That evening, Oprah found herself standing outside Odd Squad Headquarters with Agent O'Donahue and her dear friend Yucks. All of the stolen items, many from years' worth of robberies, had been returned to their rightful owners, even what was left of the now-spoiled fruit. On request, Oprah had told O'Donahue the full story of how she and Yucks created their own "mathematical figuring-out locale" to solve the case. And now, before the two girls could go back to their fruit stand, he had a few things he needed to say.

"Yucks, that was very brave and clever of you to catch Olga with your new invention," he said, giving her a nod. "Odd Squad thanks you."

"All in a day's work!" she replied, chipper as ever. "And just wait until you see Yucks' Boxes go on the market. It'll take our business to the next level!"

Oprah hid a wince. If our customers can get past the brand name, that is. I should probably tell her to use her last name instead.

"And Oprah," O'Donahue went on, turning to look her in the eye (albeit with a good deal of effort), "you solved the case. Even though you were fed up with Odd Squad, even though we told you that you and your numbers were wrong, you still took on that responsibility and turned out to be right all along. Not only that, but..." he cleared his throat, "I believe you saved my career."

Oprah cocked her head. She hadn't thought about that. "Really?"

O'Donahue looked away, shuffling his feet awkwardly. "Well, If Olga hadn't been exposed for the thief she is, I could have been accused of being an accomplice. That might have gotten me kicked off the squad. So I, er, appreciate what you did. I owe you one for saving my career."

And I thought I was only getting back at Olga, Oprah thought incredulously. Or at least getting my fruit back. "Um, you're welcome. No trouble, really."

"Which, er, brings me to my second point," O'Donahue said, looking back at her with a grin stretching from ear to ear. "You clearly have all the makings of an extraordinary Odd Squad agent. The way you solved that case—particularly with your, er, math room—was unlike anything I've ever seen before. And you said it yourself before, the exams were too easy for you."

Oprah sighed. "For a shy guy, you never give up, do you?"

"Nope, never," he shrugged, his grin widening even more. "But admit it: not all Odd Squad agents are snooty and privileged as you said they were. And it seemed an awful lot like you were enjoying yourself on this case, even with how dangerous it was."

"It's true," Yucks chimed in. "You were having fun out there."

Oprah was flabbergasted. "Not you too, Yucks!" she protested indignantly. "Why is everyone against me—?" She stopped. "Although..."

It had been fun.

Odd Squad agents aren't all that bad, after all.

Oprah glanced at the front door to HQ. Somewhere behind it, Agent Olga was facing Old Missie and a dishonorable discharge. And O'Donahue needs a new partner.

Still...am I ready to give up the fruit stand so soon?

"So what do you say?" O'Donahue prompted. "Will you join?"

At that moment a memory came to mind: Auntie May arguing with Lunette about finding a husband; Molly arguing with Uncle Chester about being in love with another handsome stranger on the street; Oprah escaping to her attic bedroom and plugging her ears.

Ugh, would I become like my cousins if I didn't join?

"I owe you one..." O'Donahue told me. But how much did he mean what he promised...?

Suddenly, out of absolutely nowhere, the perfect solution came to her.

"My family wants me to join," she finally said. "And now maybe I want to join. But if I'm going to make such a big commitment...I think I may need to do something dramatic first."

And that was how, two days later, Oprah found herself on an Odd Squad-owned ship crossing the Atlantic Ocean.