"Thank you for coming, Odd Squad! Sorry I'm not a little more dressed up."

Olive and Oscar hid their cringes. Their client today was an elderly woman wearing nothing but a bathrobe, slippers, and curlers in her grey hair. And, as per the stereotype, her darkened living room was filled with dozens of cats.

"Um, what's the problem, ma'am?" Olive asked, shooing away a calico cat that had taken an interest in her shoelaces.

"Right this way." The old woman motioned for them to follow, then very slowly shuffled into an adjacent room. Trying not to get impatient, the two agents just as slowly followed behind, nudging more than one cat out of their way with their feet.

When they finally made it inside the room, the old woman pointed at a writing desk in the corner. Three Siamese cats were sitting on top and acting very odd indeed.

Oscar blinked, resisting the urge to rub his glasses. "Are they writing calligraphy?"

"No, worse than that," the old woman complained. "Chinese calligraphy!"

"Whoa," Olive murmured. Sure enough, the three cats were dipping their tails into pots of ink and using them to draw Ancient Chinese symbols all over a stack of newspapers. "Do we have a gadget for that?" she asked her partner.

"Depends," Oscar replied. "Ma'am, how would you like us to solve your problem? Do you want the cats to stop writing completely, or just stop writing in Chinese?"

Olive hid a smile. It looked as though Oscar had finally lost his stutter.

"I think I'll take that second option, dear," the old woman said, pulling a stray mischievous patchy kitten out of her bathrobe and handing it to Olive, who immediately passed it on to Oscar. "I just want to read it. And who knows if my cats may ever need to warn me about something important!"

"Very true, heh!" Juggling the kitten in one arm, Oscar reached behind his back with the other and pulled out a gadget. "Olive? Would you mind using the Translatinator?"

"My pleasure!" she said, eagerly taking the gadget from him and pointing it at the three Siamese cats. With the flick of a button the three beams hit their targets, and in the next moment all of the cats' writing was transcribed into English.

"There you go, ma'am!" Olive said, handing the gadget back to Oscar. "No more Chinese calligraphy for you!"

The old woman leaned forward and squinted at it. "I can't see very well without my reading glasses," she said, "but I'll take your word for it. Thank you, Odd Squad! Oh, and you can keep little Nemo there, he could use a home to himself."

"Oh, uh, thanks! Happy to help!" Oscar said with a bewildered glance at the kitten in his arms as he turned to the front door to go. "Have a nice day!"

As they bid their goodbyes and headed outside to the nearest tube entrance, Oscar remarked to Olive, "When you have no idea what to do on the case, let the client tell you what to do, heh!"

Olive opened her mouth, then closed it. She wasn't sure that was quite how the process was supposed to work, but at the moment there was something more pressing that needed to be addressed. "So what exactly are we going to do with Nemo?"

Meanwhile, the old woman had found her reading glasses and was peering at the writing made by her Siamese cats. "There are dogs in your bathrobe sleeves," she read. "Dogs in my sleeves? Well that's ridiculous, why would I—"

No sooner had the words left her mouth then she felt an odd rustling in her robe, and suddenly four long-haired dogs burst out of her sleeves with loud barks and began chasing her frightened cats through the house.

"Oh, heavens!" the old woman cried, peeling a scaredy-cat off her face. "Odd Squad! ! !"

* * * * *

While still trying to figure out what to do with the kitten after ruling out the Creature Room as a possibility, the two agents heard the infamous call of their leader. "OLIVE! OSCAR! IN MY OFFICE, NOW!"

"We'll figure it out later," Olive said. "Now let's go."

"Okay, I'll bring Nemo!" Oscar replied, scooping up the kitten from his desk just before it could bat a gadget over the edge. He then led the way up the stairs and into Ms. O's office.

"There you two are," Ms. O said, setting down her purple macrame craft. "You just came back from a case, right?" Before either of them could answer, she went on. "Of course you did, which means you shouldn't be busy now. So I'm going to have you show around a new transfer agent from the Chicago squad."

"Oh. Cool," they both answered.

"Who is it?" Oscar asked.

"Well, he's right—" Ms. O stopped, realizing she was pointing at empty air behind her. "Um...he was right there a minute ago—"

"POTATO!"

Olive and Oscar jumped in surprise and turned to find a smiling dark-haired boy standing in between them and waving. "I'm Olaf!" he said happily.

"He, um, doesn't say much," Ms. O admitted. "We haven't yet found anyone who can understand him."

"Potato!" Olaf said again.

"It seems he likes potatoes, heh," Oscar remarked. "We could take him to the Potato Room first."

"Great idea, Agent Oscar," Ms. O agreed.

Olaf seemed to think so, too. "Yay!" he cheered, throwing his arms up in the air.

Olive snapped her fingers as she realized something. "The Potato Room, of course! Oscar, that's next to the Pet Room. We can take Nemo there!"

"Sounds good! Is that okay, Ms. O?" Oscar asked, holding out Nemo. "Our client gave us this kitten for helping her with her odd case."

Ms. O opened her mouth, then closed it again. "That's a new one," she said to herself. "Yeah, sure! Nemo can live there." Years later, that's where her dog Whoops would live, too.

"Thanks, Ms. O!" Oscar said. "Come on, Agent Olaf. We've got a tour to do."

As Olive and Oscar led Olaf down the stairs, Oscar's eyes fell on the lab. "Hold on, Olive. Should we take him to the lab first? I know he's not a recruit, but it's a good foundation for every agent to know where they can pick up gadgets."

Before Olive could answer, Olaf's face turned stormy and he halted in his tracks. "Boooooo!" he said.

Olive pursed her lips. "That's a good idea and it makes sense, but it sounds like he wants to go straight to the Potato Room. Maybe we can show him later. Besides, the sooner we drop off Nemo, the less of your uniform he'll scratch up."

"My what?" Oscar looked down to find the kitten clawing at his jacket. "Hey, stop that!" he said, prying the kitten's claws out of the fabric. Nemo seemed to find this a game, however, and rolled over in Oscar's arm to bat at the outstretched hand.

"Never mind, we can worry about it later," Olive said. "We're keeping Olaf waiting."

Olaf howled his agreement.

Oscar shrugged and put his hand down. "Alright. I think the little guy's done, anyhow."

The little guy wasn't. No sooner had Olaf eagerly disappeared behind the Potato Door than Nemo's claws were once again shredding Oscar's jacket. "Nemo, stop that!" Oscar reprimanded the kitten, this time giving its paws a smack. Nemo didn't like that, and in retaliation the kitten hissed and clawed at Oscar's hand.

"Yeow!" Dropping Nemo, Oscar winced and clutched his bleeding hand.

Olive scooped up the kitten off the floor before it could escape. "Nemo, you bad kitty!" she chided sternly. "Oscar, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he managed, blowing on the cuts. "Just stings, that's all."

Olive wasn't so sure. "Do you want to go see Dr. O for some band-aids?"

Oscar shook his head. "N-no really, it's fine. Just throw the cat in the room and let's go."

Ignoring Nemo's meows of protest, Olive opened the door to the Pet Room and unceremoniously tossed the kitten in there. "Wasn't going to say it earlier, but I never liked cats," she commented. "Now, let me see your hand."

"I told you, it's fine!" Oscar insisted, but nevertheless he held out his injured hand.

Taking it, Olive inspected the cuts. "They're not bleeding anymore, but we should go to Dr. O anyhow. They might get infected if we don't clean them." She traced one with her finger, and Oscar winced and instinctively withdrew his hand. "Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot they still stung."

"No-no, it's...it's fine. Not your fault." Oscar cleared his throat and blew on his hand again. "You're right, we should go to Dr. O. After all, I'll need both hands to sew if I'm going to patch up my jacket, heh!" And with that, he spun around and hurried off toward the Medical Bay.

Olive trotted after him, feeling a little confused. Why did he change his mind so suddenly? she wondered. And why was he acting so weird when I was looking at his hand?

Then she realized the last part of what he'd said. "Wait!" she called. "You can sew?"

* * * * *

Oscar had been on several cases where he'd made a complete fool of himself, both with Opal and with Olive. But none had been more embarrassing than when he and Olive got called overseas to Animal Junction for an odd case there.

"So what seems to be the problem, sirs?" Oscar asked the two men, trying his best not to stare at the peculiar surroundings of the building.

"You see, we're not quite sure," the dark-haired man in the green shirt said. "Every day my brother Martin and I get letters from our animal helpers from around the world. But for the past week, every time a bird tries to fly in here to deliver a letter—"

"Hold on, Chris," the blonde man in the blue shirt named Martin interrupted, looking at his watch. "It's almost time for Sticky Feet to arrive. Let's just wait and show them what happens."

"Good idea," Chris agreed, motioning for the two agents to stand with them in the middle of the room. "Any second now..."

They didn't have long to wait. Within moments Oscar watched as a peregrine falcon appeared and began to fly down through the open roof toward them. But no sooner was the bird inside the building than a long, snakelike striped scarf appeared out of nowhere and coiled around it. With a screech, the falcon tried to escape, but before it could the scarf reared back and launched the bird into the sky and out of sight.

A shocked silence followed. "Looks like someone doesn't want you to get mail, heh," Oscar remarked.

"This is definitely odd," Olive added. "But not to worry, sirs. We have a fix." Olive leaned toward Oscar and muttered, "We've got a gadget for this, right?"

"Oh yeah, sure!" Oscar reassured her. "Lemme just see if I can find it..." Stepping forward in the direction of the entrance, he pulled out several gadgets from behind his back and looking through them. "No, not that one...no...no...no..."

"OSCAR, LOOK OUT!"

Without warning the long scarf reached out and wrapped around his ankles, yanking him to the ground. Oscar shouted in dismay and, dropping all the gadgets, grabbed the scarf and struggled to pull it off. Olive was just about to run and help him when Chris spotted something out the window. "Hey look, it's Zoboomafoo!" he called.

"Who?" she asked.

At that moment a black-and-white lemur hopped through the open window and began bounding toward them. Meanwhile, Oscar, still struggling with the scarf, rolled over onto one of the discarded gadgets and accidentally set it off.

Zzzap!

A rainbow-colored beam shot out and hit the lemur square in the chest, who immediately shrunk and turned into a tiny red jelly baby.

"Zoboo!" the brothers cried out in alarm, running toward it.

Hearing the added commotion, Oscar glanced around to see what had happened, but that was all the scarf needed. Quickly it wrapped itself further up around his legs until it had his arms in its grip, too. Startled, Oscar tried to yank his hands away, but only tightened the scarf's grip and knocked his glasses off in the process. "Olive!" he yelled in a helpless panic, unable to see a thing. "Get this thing off of me!"

And just like that, the scarf froze.

Literally.

Suddenly cold, Oscar felt his glasses slide into place and looked up to see Olive withdrawing her hand and watching him with terror and concern sparkling in her eyes. "I found the Freeze-rayinator," she explained, her voice trembling a little. "Should I get the Shrinkinator next?"

Oscar sat up and looked down. Sure enough, the long striped scarf was now coated in a thick layer of ice, completely immobile, and still tightly bound around him. He began to shiver. "Y-yeah, s-sure," he said, teeth chattering. "Th-that'll b-b-be gr-great, th-th-thanks."

A moment later, Oscar felt the scarf pop off and watched as the entire form shrank to the size of a tennis ball. He quickly got to his feet and brushed himself off while Olive slipped the shrunken frozen scarf into her pocket.

"Um, Odd Squad?"

Both agents turned as the brothers hurried back to them, Martin with the red jelly baby in hand. "You're gonna fix this too, right? He's our friend."

Olive looked at Oscar, who reached down to pick up a gadget off the floor. "Huh. Must've set it off by mistake. Yeah, sure I can—oh, no..."

"What happened?" the other three asked in unison.

Oscar bit his lip. "The Candyinator was on the 'Zap All' setting. That means every single lemur in the world got turned into a jelly baby. And there's no 'Unzap All' setting, which means..."

"We have to go fix them all ourselves?" Olive finished in disbelief.

He nodded sheepishly.

Olive groaned. "Well, let's fix Zoboomafoo first. I wasn't planning on sleeping tonight, anyhow," she said with a resigned half-smile.

"Really?"

"No, Oscar, that was sarcasm."

"Oh."

* * * * *

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a pair of agents in possession of free time must be in want of a case.

But for whatever reason, Ms. O didn't seem to grasp that today. Which is why Olive found herself relaxing in the breakroom reading the Bears' stats in her latest copy of Shmumbers Illustrated, while Oscar was sitting across the table from her examining a Jacketinator.

Or at least, she was relaxing. Until...

"GOOSEBERRIES! ! !"

Olive yelped and dropped her magazine.

The voice cackled. "Got you good that time, Scribbles!"

"Afternoon to you too, Agent Todd," Olive said with an eyeroll as he came around to stand at the front of the table. "Aren't you supposed to be out on that case with the giant ladybug?"

Todd waved a hand dismissively. "Already solved it. Easiest thing ever." He leaned forward and peered at them shrewdly. "And what about you two, hmm? Shouldn't you be out solving some quote-unquote 'difficult' case, instead of reading some magazine or building gadgets like only the scientists are allowed to do?"

Oscar grabbed the pieces of the Jacketinator defensively. "I wasn't building one, I was taking it apart!" he insisted. "Any agent is allowed to do that!"

"Besides," Olive chimed in, irked at how disrespectful Todd was being to her partner (who definitely had seniority in length of service), "Ms. O hasn't called us on a case yet today."

"Don't—" Oscar began.

Too late. "There you two are," Ms. O said, popping up from out of nowhere. "Something very odd has—wait, Agent Todd? Are you back already?"

The triumphant grin melted from Todd's face. "Um, yeah. That last problem was easy."

"Well, in that case, I think I'll have you take this one instead. Meet me up inside my office." Winking at Olive and Oscar, Ms. O pivoted on her heel and marched away.

So much for your prank, Todd, Olive thought wryly.

Todd was clearly annoyed, but he hid his anger well. "Looks like I'll be seeing you around, then. Take care, Scribbles!" he added, tipping an invisible hat at Olive before sauntering off.

Oscar exhaled. "Whew, that was close, heh."

Olive raised an eyebrow. "What, do you not like Todd?"

"No! Well, kind of, but that's not it. I meant Ms. O changing her mind about assigning us that case."

"Oh?" Picking up her magazine and smoothing it out, Olive said, "Do tell."

"Well, um," Oscar scratched his head, "basically, if you say—you know, mention that we haven't had a case today—Ms. O immediately comes and assigns a case."

"Really?" Olive wrinkled her nose in confusion. "How does she hear that?"

Oscar shrugged. "I dunno, she just does. You saw it yourself a minute ago."

"Touche." There was a brief silence between the two of them, which for some reason Olive felt the urge to fill with conversation again. "So...why don't you like Todd?"

"Well..." Oscar had gone back to messing around with the Jacketinator, and was now focused on putting it back together. "I just don't," he said, without looking up. "There's something...off about him. Like he's hiding this no-good secret. I-I dunno, I could be totally wrong, but there's something about him that I can't put my finger on. Plus," he paused long enough in his work to look her in the eye, "I don't like how he talks to you."

"You don't what?" Olive had to laugh. Was Oscar actually jealous of Todd? "He doesn't talk to you very nicely, sure, but what has he ever said to me?"

"No, that's not what I mean. It's not what he says, it's how he says it. Like, when he calls you Scribbles, it's like he's saying you're not a very good agent, and at the same time it's like he thinks he owns you or something. As if you're his little sister, not my partner."

"Well, what's wrong with having a big brother?" she retorted, a little put out. "At least he pays attention to me for doing my job, and it's no secret he's the best of the best! And for your information I think the nickname Scribbles is kind of cute, actually. Plus he's nice to me! Nobody else except for you and Ms. O even talks to me." Her face fell. She hadn't meant to say that last part out loud, because now it felt even more true.

Oscar said nothing for a little while. But after a minute or so, he put aside the reassembled Jacketinator and leaned forward over the table. "Hey," he said. "You know why? Because whether Todd's the best or not, other agents know you're good. They know you're smart, and determined, and ambitious. They admire you, so they don't want to mess with you."

He doesn't mean that, Olive immediately thought. I'm slow at solving cases and I don't know as much as him or Todd. But his voice sounded so nice. "You really think so?"

He reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "Hey, I'm not that much of a failure. That's one of the few things I know. That, and your notebook smells like FranScent."

Olive shot him a look. "What are you talking about?"

"Uh..." Oscar's ears turned bright red. "Never mind, I-I-I didn't mean to say that, I—"

"No, not that! What makes you think you're a failure?"

"Oh!" Oscar laughed nervously, visibly relieved. "That part. Well, come on, that case at Animal Junction last summer?"

"Whatever," Olive scoffed. "Everyone makes mistakes, partner."

Oscar looked away. "Not everyone makes the same mistakes sometimes twenty-five times in a row."

Oh. He went there. Well, what do I say to that? Olive wondered. It's not like he doesn't have a point—I mean, I have gotten frustrated with him a few times—but he shouldn't beat himself up about it either. Maybe I should change the subject. He likes it when I ask him questions. "So...you've never told me what your favorite...um...gadget was! I mean, you like using gadgets and you always know which one to use on a case, so you have to have a favorite, right?"

With a little flush in his cheeks, Oscar rewarded her with a smile. "Oh, there's so many gadgets, I don't know if I even have a favorite. I mean, sometimes I love the Parrot Ray or the Candyinator, other times the Plaid-Go-Bye-Bye-Machine-Thing or the Un-Cheesy-Curlinator. Today I think it's the Truth-Snifferinator..."

The Truth-Snifferinator. Olive had seen that gadget used once before, and knew it worked like a lie detector but with objects instead of people. So why did Oscar's mentioning it suddenly give her butterflies? I mean, sure, he just said some really nice things about me, but he's my partner. That's no reason to be nervous, and I've got nothing to hide from him.

Right?

Poor Olive. She couldn't know what was going through his head at the moment:

I make too many mistakes, even my own partner agrees. Oscar heaved a huge internal sigh. My three years will be up in a few months. Maybe she'll like me better as a scientist who loves gadgets instead of a partner that messes things up.

* * * * *

"Thank you for coming, Odd Squad!"

Olive and Oscar sized up their surroundings. The tubes had popped them out somewhere along the beach of Lake Erie, right next to a picnic table with a large yellow and blue-polka-dotted box sitting on top. Standing in front of them was a young girl about their age.

"What seems to be the problem, miss?" Olive asked.

Oscar stood back a little ways and watched. Time to let her take charge of the case for a change, he thought, a little ruefully.

"Well," the girl began, "it's this darn box. My friend Billy told me, 'Nadia, there's a whole party in there with balloons and everything!' Then my friend Isabel told me, 'Nadia, the most adorable kittens are inside!' And my friend Jerome told me, 'Nadia, there's a genie in there, like from Aladdin!' So now," she sighed dramatically, "I don't know what to think. Which one of those three is really inside the mystery box, or is it something totally different?"

Olive glanced back at Oscar expectantly. Normally this was when he would start asking more questions or looking for a gadget, and he felt a little bad for not doing so today. But he had a promise to keep, so he just shrugged and nodded for her to take over.

"Um..." Giving Oscar a weird look, she turned back to Nadia. "If you really want to know what's inside, why don't you just open the box?"

Nadia made an exasperated noise. "Because it's a mystery box!" she explained. "I can't just go snooping inside there! Besides, what if what's really in there is something I don't like?"

Oscar could almost see the gears in Olive's mind turning, and watched as the lightbulb flickered on. "If it's really a mystery box," she reasoned slowly, "then anything could be inside. Or be put inside."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you don't have to guess what's in there. You can decide for yourself, and make it the mystery for the next person who wonders what's inside. Maybe that's what your friends were all doing."

"Hmm..." Nadia looked up at the box. "It's a big box. You could fit almost anything in there." She looked back at Olive. "But what if there's still something else inside?"

Olive sighed. "Well, if you really want, we have a Scaninator." Pulling a gadget out from behind her back, she showed it to Oscar. "This is it, right?"

Oscar nodded and smiled. "Mm-hmm, that's the one."

Holding it in front of her, Olive clicked it on, and a blue beam shot out and scanned the box. "It says the box is—empty," she said, staring at the reading on the display. "Just a small piece of paper with writing on it. Maybe if you—"

But Nadia was already opening the lid and reaching inside. She pulled out the note and read, "Jump right inside, there's plenty of space." Putting down the note, she looked back up at the mystery box. "Hmm...I wonder..." Then before Olive or Oscar could react, Nadia climbed up onto the picnic table and took a running leap, disappearing inside the box.

The two agents ran up to the table. "Is it just me, or is that box bigger on the inside?" Oscar wondered.

Then without warning, Nadia poked her head out. "Because it's a mystery box!" she answered, giggling. "I'm the mystery now! Thank you, Odd Squad!"

"Um, no problem! Happy to help," Olive said, still a little bemused.

"Have a good day!" Oscar called, and the two of them turned to go, leaving Nadia to her mystery box. "Hey, nice work on the case," he told Olive as they searched for the tube entrance in the sand. "I had no idea what to do, and you figured it out yourself."

"Really," Olive said casually. But deep down she was dubious. Something told her Oscar wasn't telling the whole truth...

* * * * *

"Who's that in the picture?" Olive asked one morning in the early summer of 2003, pointing to a framed photograph on her partner's desk.

"This?" Oscar picked it up. "Oh, that's me with my cousin Polly. She lives in the Scarborough area. Last year she started a lemonade and hot chocolate stand, and I got to be her first customer. Look." He held it up.

Olive took the photo and examined it. She saw Oscar posing in front of a stand in a driveway, next to a girl dressed all in pink with honey-blonde pigtails. "You had a mohawk then," she noted, cocking her head at Oscar.

"So I did, hehe," Oscar laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his shaggy hair. "I like to try new things sometimes. Speaking of which, I guess I'm due for a haircut soon." Taking the framed photo again, he set it back in its place on the desk. "It's funny, Polly likes to tease me by graphing the 'success level' of all the different haircuts I've gotten."

"Graphing?" Olive pulled her chair over and sat down next to him. "Does she like to make graphs?"

"Oh boy, does she, haha! Polly'll graph anything if it's important to her or her business, and sometimes she even sells her services. Never to me, of course—I always get them free because I'm family!"

"Really?" Olive thought about that for a moment. "Would selling her services include to Odd Squad? I mean, you and I have had several odd cases where a graphing expert would've been a huge help to us."

Oscar opened his mouth, then stopped. "Y'know, I never actually thought about it," he admitted, a sad look creeping onto his face. "Heh, probably would have been a good idea to think of it sooner, then. Ms. O would've liked to know."

Aw, he's so sweet when he's upset. "Hey, don't be silly!" Olive said, trying to cheer him up. "Not every Odd Squad agent has a cousin who's a graphing expert and sells lemonade and hot cocoa. Ms. O will be happy to hear about Polly at all, better late than never!"

"Yeah...if you say so..." Oscar checked his watch and did a double take. "Oh my, look at the time, heh! Dr. O said she wanted to meet me about, um, something. Be right back!" And with that he suddenly bolted out of his chair and was gone.

Feeling a little wistful, Olive watched him go. That was the third time this week he'd made an excuse and gone off like that. Why was he suddenly so jumpy all the time?

Part of her found it exasperating. She'd already been sent on her first solo case once this week because Oscar was allegedly still stuck in the bathroom. Or the Math Room, one of the two. It was difficult to get all their work done when he wasn't around. After all, no matter what he said, they both knew he was the one with the knowledge and experience, not her.

On the other hand...part of her found it kind of, well...cute.

Olive giggled to herself. Never mind that she was only about eight years old. Pulling out her FranScented notebook (which she still insisted was to help her think clearly, not just to smell nice), she flipped to the last page and wrote:

Oscar. I like him. I really, really like him.

And I think he likes me too. :-)

* * * * *

In the lab's back room, Oscar sat on the floor with a gadget in his lap and head in hands.

Olive. I like her. I really, really like her.

If only she liked me too. :-(