MY BEST FRIEND IS A SECRET AGENT, Book 2: How C.H.I.P. Took a Dive to Dash...

Chapter 4: "Art Appreciation"

I jumped out of my sleeping bag and ran down to the lake.

Dad was in his swimsuit, struggling to get up after trying to dive into what he thought was fresh lake water. (He likes going swimming in freezing water in the morning whenever we go camping. Go figure.)

I examined the lake more closely. Was it frozen? Was the pinkness some sort of freak algae that spread overnight?

If so, this was a very bad thing because Lake Vortville was where Vortville got all its water.

Then I realized there was actually pink velvet on top of the water—and it covered the whole lake!

That's when I remembered: My mom had told me that, today, this world-famous artist was going to unveil her latest work of art at Lake Vortville. Her name was Pinkie, and, apparently, her work of art was actually a huge piece of pink velvet on the lake!

Mom said that Pinkie did this kind of thing all over the world. She poured pink frosting all over the Eiffel Tower. 

She built a life-sized replica of the Empire State Building with packages of pink bubblegum.

And she had a thousand skydivers with pink parachutes jump out over the Mojave Desert. (That one didn't go too well. You know, with all the cacti.)

I looked across the lake to the beach right next to Vortville Dam, the dam that kept Lake Vortville from flooding the city down below. And there was Vortville's Mayor Brad Mooney with a bunch of news reporters and a big crowd of people. Dad and I hiked over there to check it out.

My mom and my sister, Stella, were actually already there 'cause Mom wanted Stella to see a real artist in person. "It'll be so educational!" she said. (She says that a lot.) 

Mayor Mooney looked super proud as he gave this big speech: "The City of Vortville is honored that its lake was chosen as the blank canvas for Pinkie, the world's most renowned creator of really big art!"

Then Pinkie herself stepped up and bowed as everybody cheered and applauded. "Residents of Vortville, I give you my latest grand creation, Covered Lake," she said, gesturing to all the pink velvet. "Thank you for your hospitality and your appreciation of true artistic talent!" 

Pinkie was dressed really weird, with a funny hat and lots of scarves, and she was all theatrical every time she moved. It was like everything about her was supposed to be artistic.

I thought it was kind of cool. I wondered what would happen if I tried to look and move like Pinkie at school. Would people respect me for expressing my artistic side without shame? Not likely. Corey Smertz would probably rail on me even more than he already does. 

But Stella was unimpressed by Pinkie and her really big art. "What's the point?" she asked. "Seems like a big waste of pink velvet, if you ask me."

"It's such a bold artistic statement!" Mom gushed. "Nobody puts herself out there like Pinkie. And the artwork has the added benefit of stopping the evaporation of Lake Vortville! The water level is dangerously low this year because of the drought." That was so Mom. She always loves it when you can cram two educational lessons into one thing.

Dad didn't have much to say about Pinkie's Covered Lake exhibit. He just stared at it kind of funny. Or maybe he'd just hurt his nose earlier diving onto the thick velvet, and it left him a little cross-eyed. 

Anyway, the mayor said the pink velvet would be on the lake for a week, then Pinkie would roll it all up and donate it to a homeless shelter. I thought that was nice of her – but Dad wasn't happy at all. Because of Pinkie, we'd have to cut short our camping trip.

"How's a man supposed to do any fishing on a fuzzy pink lake?!" he snarled.

I, of course, was secretly happy. I was tired of fishing. And sleeping in a smelly sleeping bag. On rocky ground. Dreaming of being attacked by a giant Gert von Brugen. Pinkie had just saved me a lot of trouble. Now I could go home and sleep in my own bed without having to tell Dad that I actually wanted to.

"There there, Nort," Dad said, patting my shoulder. "You'll get your chance to catch a big one next time."

Uh-oh. "Next time" could be next weekend, for all I knew.

Too bad Pinkie couldn't leave all that velvet on the lake forever.